Summary: After weeks of hesitation, Y/N finally opens their mother’s diary. With Wanda by their side, the past is unearthed.
Word Counter: 11k+
Warnings: Angst, Domestic Abuse, Non-consensual, child abuse, Misogyny, little fluff, mention of smut, (18+).
A/N: This chapter is extremely heavy and contains descriptions of past trauma that may be triggering for some. Be prepared to cry!
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
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Wanda’s POV
In a few days, things had changed for Wanda. The study no longer felt new. It felt lived in. Shelves that once stood empty were now filled—books carefully arranged, some stacked where she had yet to decide their place. Letters rested neatly on one side of the desk, sealed and organized. Fresh flowers sat by the window, their scent light but present, catching the breeze slipping through the open panes.
It was hers. Entirely.
Wanda sat at the desk, posture relaxed but focused, one hand briefly resting over her stomach before returning to the parchment in front of her. Her other hand moved steadily as she wrote, pausing only to review the documents laid out in careful order.
Reports. Requests. Decisions.
“Have these sent to the council,” she said calmly to the attendant nearby, handing over one letter. “And this one—” she tapped another, “—I want reviewed again before it’s approved.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Wanda nodded once, already reaching for the next. There was no hesitation in her movements. No second-guessing. Just quiet confidence.
The door opened softly.
Wanda didn’t look up immediately. “Give me a moment,” she said, still focused.
A pause.
Then—“…I can wait.”
That voice.
Wanda’s pen stilled. She looked up.
Y/N stood by the door, one hand still resting against it like they had stopped mid-step. Watching her. And for a second, they didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just… looked. A faint smile tugged at their lips, something softer lingering behind it.
Wanda raised a brow slightly. “…You’re staring.”
Y/N exhaled quietly and stepped further inside. “I am.”
Wanda leaned back slightly in her chair, studying them now. “Is there a problem, Your Majesty?”
Y/N’s smile deepened just a little. “Yeah.”
They walked closer, slow and deliberate. “I leave you alone for a few hours and you are deep in your work.”
Wanda looked up at them, brows lifting. “That’s not the same,” she said immediately.
Y/N tilted their head. “Oh?”
“I’m not like you,” Wanda continued, gesturing lightly to the papers. “I take breaks.”
Y/N let out a quiet laugh. “That’s debatable.”
“It’s not,” she insisted, though her lips were already curving.
Y/N stepped closer to her desk, close enough now that their shadow fell over her work. “Mm,” they hummed. “From where I’m standing, it looks very familiar.”
Wanda narrowed her eyes slightly. “I was about to take a break.”
“Convenient timing.”
“It’s true.”
Y/N smiled. Slow. A little mischievous. “Good,” they said.
Before Wanda could react, their hands slid to her waist, and in one smooth motion, they lifted her.
Wanda let out a small, surprised sound, her hands instinctively grabbing onto their shoulders. “Y/N—!”
“Nope,” they said easily.
“I was working—”
“You were thinking about taking a break.”
“That counts!”
“It doesn’t.”
Wanda huffed, though she was already smiling despite herself. “Put me down.”
Y/N shook their head, that same playful grin still there. “I’m stealing you.”
Wanda blinked. “…You’re what?”
“For a bit,” they added, completely unbothered.
Wanda tried to look offended. Failed. “…You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
And just like that, they carried her out.
---
The corridors passed in a blur of quiet laughter and half-hearted protests until the doors finally opened and the garden greeted them.
The Queen’s garden.
Once Y/N’s mother’s. Now named in both Eleonora and Wanda’s honor.
The oak tree stood tall at the center, its branches wide and familiar, casting soft shade across the space below. And there, beneath it, sat a blanket and basket already prepared.
Y/N walked straight toward it, still carrying Wanda like she weighed nothing.
“…You planned this,” Wanda murmured.
“Maybe.”
Wanda looked at them. “You absolutely did.”
Y/N only smiled as they lowered her carefully onto the blanket. Gentle. Always gentle.
Wanda settled against the cushions, looking around at the quiet garden, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, the soft rustle of wind through the branches. Then she looked back at them.
“…You pulled me out of work for this.”
Y/N crouched beside her, reaching for the basket. “Correct.”
Wanda shook her head, though her smile lingered.
Y/N flipped open the lid with quiet satisfaction and began pulling things out one by one, setting them neatly across the blanket. “Fresh juice,” they said first, handing her a glass bottle. “Not too sweet.”
Wanda accepted it, amused. “You planned that too?”
“I plan everything,” Y/N replied simply.
A soft laugh escaped her.
Next came small plates of cut fruit. “Strawberries,” they said. “Because you keep stealing them from the kitchen.”
“I don’t steal,” Wanda protested lightly.
“You absolutely do.”
Wanda smiled and took one anyway.
Y/N raised a brow. “…Case in point.”
She ignored that completely.
Then came warm bread, soft enough that steam still lingered when Y/N tore it apart. Cheese. Small pastries. Nothing too heavy. Everything carefully chosen. Thoughtful.
“You’ve been paying attention,” Wanda said quietly.
Y/N glanced at her briefly before looking back into the basket. “I always do.”
Something in Wanda’s expression softened at that.
Y/N handed her another small dish before finally settling beside her. “Eat.”
Wanda took it, though her attention remained fixed on them. “…You really pulled me out of my study for this.”
Y/N nodded once. “Good decision, right?”
A faint smile curved Wanda’s lips. “…It is.”
They ate slowly. No rush. No interruptions. Just the quiet rhythm of the garden—the soft rustle of leaves overhead and the distant sounds of the palace far enough away to feel unimportant.
Wanda leaned comfortably against Y/N’s side, picking at the fruit and occasionally handing them pieces without even looking. Y/N accepted them every time without comment. At some point, their hand found hers, fingers loosely intertwined where they rested between them on the blanket.
After a while, Wanda shifted closer until she was half against them, her head brushing their shoulder. Y/N adjusted immediately, their arm slipping around her waist to pull her in a little more. They stayed like that quietly together while a breeze moved through the oak tree above them, leaves whispering softly as the shade shifted across the blanket.
Y/N’s hand tightened slightly around hers. Then, almost absently, they said, “I wish my mother had met you.”
Wanda stilled for a moment before lifting her head to look at them.
Y/N wasn’t looking back. Their gaze had drifted somewhere distant, thoughtful.
“She would have liked you,” they added quietly.
Wanda’s expression softened completely. She turned more fully toward them, one hand lifting to rest gently against their cheek. “I wish I could have met her too,” she said softly. “From the portraits… from the stories, I can tell.” A faint smile touched her lips. “You resemble her a lot.”
Y/N huffed quietly and shook their head. “No.”
Wanda raised a brow. “No?”
“Lina does,” Y/N said. “She looks like her. Even Alaric thought so.”
Wanda tilted her head slightly. “Yes,” she admitted. “Lina does look like Queen Eleonora.”
Her thumb brushed gently along Y/N’s cheek. “But so do you.”
Y/N’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “I don’t.”
“You do,” Wanda replied softly, not arguing—just certain.
Y/N looked at her for a long moment before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Fond. Grounding.
Wanda smiled faintly, her eyes closing for a second.
But when Y/N pulled back, something in their expression had shifted. Subtle, but there. Their gaze drifted again, distant in a different way this time.
Wanda noticed immediately. “…What is it?”
Y/N hesitated before exhaling softly. “I never read her diary.”
Wanda stilled.
Y/N’s fingers tightened slightly around hers. “After reading his…” they said more quietly, “I didn’t want to.”
A pause.
“…I was scared.”
Wanda’s expression softened even further.
Y/N glanced down briefly. “But I want to know what she thought. What she felt.” Their voice lowered slightly. “What she couldn’t say.”
Wanda slipped her hand from their cheek down to their intertwined fingers, holding them gently. “You don’t have to read it alone,” she said softly.
Y/N looked at her. A small silence passed between them before they asked quietly, “…Will you read it with me?”
Wanda didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Something in Y/N visibly eased, like they had been carrying the weight of it for too long.
Wanda squeezed their hand gently. “When you’re ready.”
Y/N nodded. “…Soon.” They leaned closer, resting their forehead briefly against hers—but the quiet didn’t last long.
A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips before, without warning, their fingers slipped lightly against Wanda’s side. Teasing.
Wanda jolted slightly. “Y/N—”
Too late. They did it again, brushing along her side and lower just enough to make her squirm. “Careful,” they murmured, a grin slowly forming.
Wanda laughed, trying to push their hands away. “What are you doing—”
Y/N ignored the complaint completely. Their touch moved to her other side, then lightly along her thigh as they shifted, gently guiding her back onto the blanket.
“Y/N!”
She laughed again as she landed against the soft fabric, and Y/N followed immediately, bracing themselves above her while their hands continued their relentless teasing. They nudged her legs apart just enough to settle comfortably between them.
Wanda swatted weakly at their arms, caught somewhere between protesting and laughing. “Someone might see us!”
Y/N leaned down, entirely unconcerned. “Let them,” they murmured.
Wanda gasped softly as their lips brushed against her neck, warm and playful, more teasing than anything. “Y/N—!”
They kissed her neck again, slower this time, lingering just enough before letting their breath ghost over her skin to make her squirm beneath them.
Wanda laughed again, trying to push them away with very little actual effort. “You’re terrible—”
“I know,” Y/N replied easily, sounding far too pleased with themselves.
Still smiling, Wanda finally let her hands settle against their shoulders. Then she pulled them down. The kiss was deeper this time. Not rushed. Not teasing. Just full in a way that made everything else fade quiet around them.
Y/N responded instantly, one hand steady against her side, grounding her as they kissed her back just as slowly.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads brushed together for a brief second. Y/N smiled softly before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek—and another quick one to her lips.
“Should we go back?” they asked quietly.
Wanda exhaled softly, still close enough to feel their warmth, her fingers lingering against their shoulders before she nodded.
“…Yeah.”
Y/N pushed themselves up first, then offered her a hand. Wanda took it immediately, letting them pull her back to her feet.
They didn’t let go right away.
And together, they walked back toward the palace, leaving the blanket beneath the oak tree behind—but carrying the moment with them anyway.
---
That Night
Wanda’s POV
The chambers were quiet again. Night had fully settled outside, the palace softened into a calmer rhythm after supper. Candles flickered gently along the walls, casting warm light across the room.
Wanda sat at the vanity, slowly brushing through her hair, the repetitive motion steady and calming.
Behind her, Y/N hadn’t moved much. She had noticed it earlier, but now, when she finally set the brush aside and turned slightly, she saw it clearly. Y/N sat in the large sofa chair near the window, still and silent. The diary rested in their hands unopened, their gaze fixed on the cover like it might speak first.
Wanda’s expression softened immediately. Without a word, she stood and crossed the room quietly. Y/N didn’t notice her approach until she was already there.
She gently took hold of their arms, moving them just enough before settling directly into their lap.
Y/N blinked, startled. “…Wanda—”
But she was already there. Close. Grounding. Carefully, she took the diary from their hands like it was something fragile, then looked back at them with a soft, steady expression.
“Do you want me to read it for you?” she asked quietly.
Y/N didn’t answer right away. Their hands hovered uncertainly for a moment before finally settling lightly at her waist. “…I don’t know,” they admitted.
Wanda nodded gently. “That’s okay.” She shifted slightly, one hand holding the diary while the other lifted to rest against their cheek. “You don’t have to rush it.”
Y/N’s gaze dropped briefly to the book resting in her hands. “…What if it’s like his?”
Wanda’s thumb brushed softly against their skin. “Then we’ll face it together.”
Y/N looked back at her, quiet for a moment. “…And if it’s not?”
A faint smile touched Wanda’s lips. “Then you finally get to meet her the way she wanted to be known.”
Something in Y/N’s expression changed at that. Softer. Still hesitant, but no longer carrying the weight of it alone.
Wanda adjusted slightly on their lap, opening the diary just a little—not reading yet, simply holding the moment between them. “Tell me when,” she said softly.
Y/N exhaled slowly, their hand tightening just slightly at her waist.
Then—“…Okay.”
Wanda nodded. And gently, she began.
---
“The day I arrived in Virelia, the sun was bright.”
A small pause.
“It felt wrong for a day like that to be so beautiful.”
Y/N’s arms around her tightened slightly. Wanda continued.
“The people gathered to celebrate. They believed it was a union of kingdoms.”
Her voice slowed.
“I let them believe that.”
“It was easier than telling them I had come to surrender my freedom.”
The room grew quieter.
“I remember the first time I met Alaric.”
Wanda glanced briefly at Y/N—then kept reading.
“He was not king then. Just a prince standing alone on a balcony, watching a celebration he clearly did not enjoy.”
A faint softness entered her voice.
“We spoke as if we were equals. As if neither of us belonged to crowns.”
“I think… that is why I remembered him.”
Y/N’s hold shifted. Barely.
Wanda continued.
“Years passed. And then I heard what he had become.”
Her voice dropped slightly.
“A king born from blood.”
“A man who took a throne by force—and kept it the same way.”
Silence pressed in.
“When his proposal came, my father refused.”
Wanda’s thumb brushed the edge of the page.
“I was relieved.”
“Until the army arrived.”
Y/N’s breath hitched—so quietly only Wanda felt it.
“Virelia’s banners stood outside our walls for three days.”
“On the fourth, I went to him.”
---
Eleonora’s POV
The tent was colder than I expected. Not from the weather—from him.
Alaric stood at the center, armored not for battle, but for presence. Power. Control.
I stepped inside without hesitation. I would not give him fear. Not even if it already lived inside my chest. “You’ve changed,” I said, because it was the truth and because I needed him to hear it.
He looked at me like nothing had changed at all. “You remember me.”
I did. That was the problem. “I remember someone else.”
Silence settled between us, tight and measured. Then I asked the question I already knew the answer to. “If I refuse… you will attack my kingdom?”
“Yes.” No pause. No hesitation.
My chest tightened. “You would destroy Ardelia.”
“If necessary.” There it was. Not anger. Just certainty.
That frightened me more. I closed my eyes briefly because I needed that moment—one breath before everything changed. And when I opened them again, I was no longer only a daughter. No longer only a princess.
“I will marry you.”
The words came steady even if my hands wanted to shake. Not for him. Not for love. Not for alliance. But because I had seen the soldiers. The numbers. The reality. And I knew Ardelia would not survive.
So I would. For them.
---
The palace doors closed behind me with a weight I felt deep in my chest.
The air inside Virelia was different from Ardelia—colder, quieter. The halls stretched vast around me, polished stone and gold perfected into something beautiful but entirely without warmth.
I did not slow. If I hesitated now, they would see it.
Servants lined the corridors with bowed heads while nobles watched from a distance, measuring me with careful eyes. I could feel the curiosity, the judgment, the silent question hanging between them all:
What kind of queen will she be?
I kept my posture steady. I did not know yet. But I would not be weak.
My chambers had already been prepared. Lavish. Impersonal. Nothing inside them belonged to me.
A maid stepped forward carefully. “Your Majesty, preparations for the ceremony are underway.”
I inclined my head. “How long?”
“An hour.”
Of course. Not even enough time to breathe.
“Very well.”
The maid hesitated. “…Do you require anything?”
I paused before answering quietly, “Yes. Open the window.”
The maid blinked in surprise but obeyed.
Cool air rushed into the room, and for one brief moment I simply stood there with my eyes closed, letting myself feel it.
Freedom.
Just for a second before it disappeared again.
The wedding was held in the great hall.
Magnificent—that was the word everyone would use. High ceilings draped in gold. Long banners of Virelia hanging proudly overhead. Nobles dressed in their finest, gathered to witness what they believed was a triumph. Music filled the space, bright and celebratory—everything it should not have been.
I stood at the end of the hall dressed in white. Not by choice. By tradition. My hands remained steady because I forced them to.
When the doors opened, every eye turned toward me. I walked forward slowly, each step measured and controlled. Not because I felt like a bride, but because I refused to look like a prisoner.
At the far end, Alaric waited in black and gold, every inch the king he had become. He watched me approach with that same calm certainty, like everything was unfolding exactly as it should.
I stopped before him.
The priest began speaking words I had heard before—words that once meant something.
Now they were empty. A ritual. A performance.
“Do you accept—”
“Yes,” Alaric answered before the question had even finished.
A faint murmur passed through the hall.
I never looked at him.
When it was my turn, I spoke clearly.
“I do.”
Not for him. Never for him. For Ardelia. For my people. For the lives that would continue because of this moment.
The rings were exchanged, cold metal settling against my skin like a chain disguised as a promise.
The priest raised his voice again. “By the authority of the crown—”
I barely heard the rest because, in that moment, I understood something terrifying. This was not the end of anything. It was the beginning of a life I would have to survive.
Alaric stepped closer, his hand closing around mine once more—firm, unyielding.
The hall erupted into applause.
Celebration. Joy.
A lie they had all agreed to believe.
I turned toward the crowd beside him, my expression calm, composed, unbroken.
Because if I was going to stand here as queen, then I would do it on my own terms—even if no one else could see them.
---
The celebration eventually faded into the stone walls of the palace. I was led to the royal bedchamber. It was large—too large. The fire in the hearth crackled, but it provided no warmth. I stood by the edge of the bed, still in that white dress, waiting for the finality of the day to claim me.
When the door opened, I didn’t have to look to know it was him.
Alaric didn't speak. He didn't offer a kind word or a soft touch to ease the transition of a woman who had just traded her life for her kingdom's safety. He moved with a cold, predatory efficiency.
He was not kind.
There was no tenderness in the way he reached for me, no reverence for the union we had just sworn to. Everything he did was self-centered—a claim of ownership rather than an act of intimacy.
I had prepared myself for many things. I had prepared for a cold husband, a distant king, a lonely life. But I had not prepared for the sheer weight of his disregard.
I felt a pain I had never known. Not just the physical sting, but the hollow, aching realization that to him, I was merely a conquest. A prize won through the threat of steel.
I wanted to cry. The heat burned behind my eyes, a desperate urge to sob, to scream, to crawl away.
But I didn't.
I refused to give him that. I kept my face turned away, my gaze fixed on the velvet hangings of the bed. I would not let him see me break. I would not let him own my tears. When it was over, he pulled away from me without a word of comfort. He stood, adjusting his clothes as if he had just finished a tedious task.
He looked down at the sheets. I felt his eyes on me, and then, I heard it. A small, dark chuckle. I knew he saw the stain on the sheets—the proof of what he had taken—and a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.
"Good," he murmured.
He leaned down then, pressing a kiss to my sweat-dampened forehead. The touch made my skin crawl.
"That was good, Eleonora," he said, his voice smooth and triumphant. "I will return tomorrow. Rest." He turned and walked out, the heavy thud of the door echoing through the room.
Only when the lock clicked did I move.
I didn't sit up. I didn't reach for a robe. I stayed exactly as he had left me, staring blankly at the ceiling, watching the shadows of the fire dance like ghosts.
And then, finally, I allowed the first tear to fall.
---
Wanda’s POV
Wanda stopped reading.
The words lingered heavily in the air, suffocating in a way that made the entire room feel smaller. She could feel Y/N beneath her—tense. Too still. She turned slightly, ready to say something, but before she could, Y/N moved. Not abruptly, but with a sharp, controlled motion.
They helped her carefully off their lap, hands firm against her waist before standing and turning away from her completely.
Their shoulders were tight.
Wanda frowned immediately and stepped closer. “Y/N…?”
They didn’t answer. Their hands curled into fists at their sides before they finally spoke.
“How could he do that?” Their voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room sharply enough to make Wanda still. Y/N turned just slightly—not enough to fully face her, but enough for her to see the anger written openly across their face. Raw. Unfiltered.
“How could someone do that?” they continued, jaw clenched tightly. “How could he just—” The words stopped abruptly, like even saying them aloud was unbearable. Their breathing grew uneven.
“He knew,” Y/N said, voice tightening further. “He knew she didn’t choose that. He knew and he still—” Their fist clenched harder. A sharp exhale left them before they paced once across the room like they needed movement just to keep themselves together.
“That’s not…” They shook their head roughly. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”
Wanda watched them carefully, her chest tightening painfully.
“Y/N…”
“I don’t understand it,” they said more quietly now, though no less intensely. “I don’t understand how someone can just take like that and not—” Their voice cracked slightly. But Wanda heard it.
Y/N stopped moving entirely, and suddenly the anger didn’t disappear—it broke. “I was scared,” they admitted suddenly.
Wanda blinked softly.
Y/N’s voice dropped lower, fragile now. “The first time with you… I was terrified I’d hurt you.”
Wanda’s expression softened instantly.
For the first time since standing, Y/N finally looked at her properly. Their eyes were glassy. Unsteady. “I kept asking if you were okay,” they continued, voice trembling now. “Every second I kept thinking—what if I do something wrong, what if I—”
Their breath hitched sharply. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
And there it was. The anger cracked fully open, revealing something softer underneath. Something vulnerable enough to hurt. Tears filled their eyes.
“And he just…” Y/N whispered weakly, shaking their head. “…like it was nothing.”
Wanda moved immediately. She crossed the distance between them without hesitation, both hands rising gently to cup their face.
“Hey… hey,” she murmured softly. “I’m here.”
Y/N’s breathing had turned uneven now, their shoulders trembling beneath her touch.
Wanda brushed away their tears carefully with her thumbs. “You didn’t hurt me,” she said quietly. “Not once.”
Y/N squeezed their eyes shut.
“You were careful,” Wanda continued softly. “You listened. You cared.” She rested her forehead gently against theirs. “That’s who you are.”
Y/N shook their head weakly, but they didn’t pull away. “It shouldn’t be like that,” they whispered brokenly. “For anyone…”
Wanda swallowed against the tightness in her chest. “I know.”
A brief silence passed between them before she whispered, “But you’re not him.”
Y/N’s breath caught again.
Wanda pressed a gentle kiss against their forehead. “You’ll never be him.” Then she pulled them into her arms completely, holding them close—steady, grounding, safe.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered softly.
And this time—they didn’t hold it in.
---
Hours Later
Y/N’s breathing had finally evened out. Slow and steady.
Their arm remained wrapped around Wanda, holding her close even in sleep like some part of them still refused to let go.
Wanda didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not with everything still sitting heavily inside her chest. Her eyes stayed fixed on the dim chamber, watching candlelight flicker softly across the walls while her hand rested over Y/N’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath her palm, grounding. But her mind was somewhere else entirely.
She had come to Virelia the same way. Not truly as a bride. As a solution. A peace offering. A way to stop war. She remembered it too clearly—the tension in Sokovia, the fear, the decision that had never really been a choice at all. And then this palace. These walls. This life.
Her fingers tightened slightly against Y/N’s shirt. If they had been like Alaric—her chest constricted painfully.
That could have been her. By every expectation the world had placed on queens and kingdoms, it should have been her. A king who conquered. A forced marriage. A queen with no say. A wedding night that took instead of gave.
Wanda swallowed hard, her eyes stinging faintly.
But that wasn’t what happened. Y/N had looked at her that night with careful, quiet hesitation. Almost afraid—not of her, but of hurting her. They hadn’t touched her like that. Not even close. Instead, they had cut their own hand.
Wanda’s breath caught softly at the memory.
The way they had looked at her afterward—apologetic, protective, like they were trying to shield her from something she already understood too well. They had chosen her comfort over expectation. Over tradition. Over proof.
Wanda shifted closer instinctively, pressing herself further into their warmth. Her hand slipped from their chest down to their arm, holding onto them now.
The first time they had been together, it hadn’t been fear or obligation. It had been them choosing each other with trust, care, and love.
Wanda closed her eyes briefly and exhaled slowly, before lifting her head just enough to look at them properly. Even asleep, their brow remained faintly furrowed, like the weight of everything still hadn’t fully left them.
Her hand rose gently to brush through their hair. “Thank you for being you,” she whispered. Her fingers lingered there, combing lightly through the strands as she watched them sleep. So different. So gentle.
Wanda swallowed softly before whispering again, her voice barely more than a breath.
“Thank you… for not being like him.”
The words settled quietly between them. Not heavy. Just honest. Her hand drifted back down to rest over their chest once more, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her palm.
“For loving me,” she added softly.
After a small pause, her other hand moved instinctively to her stomach, covering it protectively.
“And for loving our baby.”
Her thumb brushed lightly over the fabric as her expression softened completely. Wanda leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss just beneath Y/N’s jaw before tucking herself closer against their side, settling where she fit so naturally.
And this time, when her eyes closed—they stayed that way.
---
Eleonora’s POV
Alaric was a man of his word.
The next night, the heavy thud of the door arrived at the same hour. And the night after that. And the night after that. The regularity of it was its own form of torture. I would spend the daylight hours in a state of suspended animation, performing the duties of a Queen with a frozen face and a heart made of lead, all while counting the minutes until the sun dipped below the horizon. The setting sun wasn’t a signal for rest; it was the tolling of a bell for my return to that room.
Every night was a hollow repetition of the first.
Alaric did not seek to know me. He did not ask how I fared in his cold halls or if I missed the warmth of Ardelia. To him, my presence in that bed was a logistical fact—a requirement of the treaty, a biological necessity for an heir, and a nightly re-assertion of his dominance.
The pain of the first few times was sharp and blinding, a physical intrusion that made me feel as though I were being split in two. I would bite my lip until the copper taste of blood filled my mouth, just to keep from giving him a sound.
He didn't care. He never looked at my face long enough to see the agony.
Eventually, the sharp, tearing sensation began to dull, replaced by a deep, throbbing ache that never truly left my bones. But the pain of the skin was nothing compared to the skin-crawling discomfort that settled over me like a second shroud. The weight of him was suffocating. The heat of his breath against my neck, the rough callouses of his hands on my waist—every touch felt like a brand. I became an expert at leaving my body. I would stare at the intricate carvings on the bedposts, counting the grain of the wood, imagining myself as a bird flying over the borders of Virelia, far away from the stone walls and the man who held me captive.
I learned to be a statue. I learned to be silent.
But no matter how much the physical sting reduced, the discomfort remained—a constant, sickening reminder that I was no longer my own. I was a vessel, a prize, a ghost inhabiting a body that Alaric used at his whim. And every morning, when he would leave with that same look of cold satisfaction, I would wash myself until my skin was raw, trying to scrub away the feeling of his touch. But some things do not wash off. Some things sink beneath the surface, waiting in the marrow, silent and heavy.
I was surviving. But with every passing night, there was less and less of Eleonora left to save.
---
I learned quickly that survival required more than endurance. Endurance kept me breathing, but it did not keep me whole.
So I changed my strategy. If the nights belonged to him, then the days would belong to me.
The first time I stepped beyond the inner palace without ceremony, the court whispered. A queen was meant to sit still—to be seen, not to see. I ignored them.
Virelia was harsher than Ardelia. Louder. Sharper. Its people moved like they had learned to live beneath constant weight. They bowed when they saw me. Not all of them smiled. That told me enough.
So I began walking the city more often. At first, only to escape the palace walls. But soon, I started listening. To merchants speaking of rising costs. To mothers speaking of empty pantries. To priests speaking of unanswered prayers. They did not always realize they were speaking to their queen.
And when they did, some became afraid. Others hopeful. I held onto the latter.
The palace disapproved. I could feel it in the way conversations stopped when I entered rooms, in the way nobles watched me like I was doing something improper simply by existing outside expectation.
Let them watch. I would not sit quietly while a kingdom suffered beneath polished floors.
Music came next.
I had always played in Ardelia—soft melodies that filled silence. One evening, I asked for an instrument. The servants hesitated before obeying. At first, I played only for myself in an empty hall. But sound travels through stone places. Slowly, people came. Not nobles. Not courtiers. Servants. Guards. The ones who lived in the shadows of the palace.
They never interrupted. Never spoke. They simply listened. And for a little while, the palace felt less cold. Less hollow. So I played again the next night. And the next. Until the silence that once defined Virelia began to shift.
Alaric noticed.
Of course he did. He noticed everything. But he never stopped me. Never questioned my walks through the city or the music filling his halls.
Sometimes I caught him watching from a distance, silent in the shadows of a doorway. I never asked why. Because permission was never something I intended to rely on. Only something I would use when it was given.
I did not try to change him. I knew better. A man who carved his path through blood would not be reshaped by gentle hands. But that did not mean I would become like him. So I remained myself.
Even if quieter now. Even if hidden in smaller moments. Even if pieces of me had already been taken.
---
When I learned I was with child, I did not know what I felt first.
Relief. Fear. Or grief for the life that would now exist because of choices that were never mine.
But as the days passed, something else grew. A connection. A quiet awareness. A presence within me untouched by the world outside.
Something that was still mine.
When he was born, everything changed. Not the kingdom. Not the palace. Not Alaric.
But me.
They placed him in my arms, small and warm and impossibly alive, and for the first time since arriving in Virelia, something inside me broke open that was not pain.
He had my eyes.
That was the first thing I noticed. Not his title. Not his future. Just that. I held him closer, carefully, like he might disappear if I wasn’t gentle enough.
“My son,” I whispered.
Not the kingdom’s heir. Not the continuation of a throne.
Mine.
Alaric stood beside the bed watching silently. And when they placed the child into his arms, I saw something shift in his expression. Not softness.
Something closer to satisfaction. Certainty. Like a piece of something had finally fallen into place. He looked at the child differently than I did.
Where I saw life, he saw legacy. Where I felt love, he felt control secured. I understood that immediately. And I knew then what I had to protect.
Y/N would grow in this palace, in these halls, beneath his shadow. But not only his. Never only his.
I pressed a kiss to my son’s head as he slept against me. “You will not become him,” I whispered softly. A promise. Not to the kingdom. Not to the crown.
But to the child in my arms.
And to the part of myself I refused to lose. I was still surviving. But now, I had a reason to fight.
Because if there was anything left of Eleonora—it would live on in him.
---
For a time, Alaric said nothing. He did not interfere with how I raised our son. Perhaps because Y/N was still young. Perhaps because he believed there would be time later to shape him into whatever image he carried in his mind. Or perhaps because even Alaric found himself unable to disrupt the strange light that followed the child everywhere.
He visited occasionally. Never for long. He would appear in doorways or at the edge of gardens, silent and unreadable, watching Y/N from afar with that same measured expression he wore for everything. Sometimes Y/N noticed him. Sometimes not. But Alaric rarely approached, rarely touched, rarely spoke.
And because of that, my son grew freely.
Y/N was a happy child. So unbearably happy. He laughed at everything—birds splashing in fountains, servants making funny faces behind noble backs, flowers bending strangely in the wind. His joy came easily, spilling from him without restraint, bright enough to soften even the coldest corners of the palace.
The servants adored him. The guards smiled more when he passed. Even the old maids who had served through generations found themselves laughing quietly when Y/N ran through the halls chasing sunlight like it was something he could catch.
And every morning, he searched for me first. Always.
“Mama!”
The sound would echo through the corridor before I even saw him. Then came the quick footsteps, fast and excited, before Y/N threw himself into my arms with enough force to nearly knock the breath from me.
“Mama, look!”
“Mama, I found a bird feather!”
“Mama, Happy says I ask too many questions!”
“Mama, can flowers sleep?”
I never tired of it. Not once.
His smile… Gods. His smile could light the entire palace. It reached his eyes completely, warm and genuine in a way this kingdom did not deserve. And every time he looked at me like that—with complete trust, complete love—something inside me healed just a little.
Y/N made unbearable days survivable. Nights easier to endure. He reminded me that softness was not weakness. That kindness could still exist even inside walls built by fear.
---
The oak tree became ours slowly. Not through declaration. Just habit.
It stood at the far edge of the gardens, older than the palace itself, its branches wide enough to cast shade over half the grass beneath it. Most people avoided that part of the grounds. I preferred it for exactly that reason. And so did Y/N.
“Mama!”
I barely had time to set the blanket down before tiny hands grabbed at my skirts. Y/N stood beside me with grass stains already covering his little shoes, hair messy from running through the gardens despite the maids’ best efforts.
“You’re supposed to help me,” I said with mock seriousness.
“I helping.”
“You are sitting on the basket.”
He looked down, then back up at me with complete confidence. “That helping.”
I laughed despite myself. Gods, I laughed more because of this child than I had in years. Y/N beamed immediately at the sound, pleased with himself. Everything pleased himself at three years old. Especially making me smile.
We spent afternoons there whenever duties allowed. Simple afternoons. Bread. Fruit. Small pastries stolen from the kitchens because Y/N had already learned which servants were easiest to charm.
The child sat between my legs on the blanket, happily kicking his feet while babbling about things only half understandable. “There was bird,” he explained very seriously, holding up sticky fingers for emphasis. “And it was looking at me.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“And what did the bird say?”
Y/N gasped softly. “Mama,” he whispered dramatically, “birds no talk.”
“Of course. Forgive me.”
Y/N nodded, satisfied by my apology, then immediately forgot the conversation entirely when a butterfly passed nearby.
“Mama LOOK!”
Before I could answer, he scrambled clumsily off the blanket, chasing after it with tiny determined steps. He never caught butterflies. But that never stopped him from trying. I watched him run beneath the sunlight, laughter echoing through the gardens. So small. So alive.
There were moments when fear gripped me so sharply it stole my breath. Because this child—this bright, beautiful little soul—had been born into a kingdom that devoured softness. And yet somehow… Y/N remained soft anyway.
He cried when servants were sad. Shared food without being asked. Brought flowers to injured guards because he believed flowers fixed everything. Once, he found a dying bird near the fountain and sobbed so hard into my dress that I thought his little heart might break with it.
I held him for nearly an hour afterward.
“It hurts,” he whispered tearfully.
I kissed his hair. “Yes,” I told him honestly. “It does.”
Eventually, Y/N wandered back to me carrying something hidden behind his back. His smile already betrayed him.
“Mama.”
“Yes?”
“I got you gift.”
My heart melted every time he said it like that. “Did you?”
He nodded proudly and revealed a flower. Crushed. Slightly broken. Clearly picked with tremendous effort.
“It’s beautiful,” I said immediately.
Y/N’s entire face lit up. “Really?”
“Really.”
I took it carefully, like it was precious. Because it was. To me, it was worth more than every jewel in the treasury.
Y/N climbed clumsily back into my lap afterward, pressing against me with complete trust as I tucked the flower into my braid.
“There,” I said softly. “So I can carry your gift with me.”
Y/N stared at it proudly for a moment, then leaned back against my chest with a happy sigh.
“Mama?”
“Yes, darling?”
“I love you.”
The words came so easily from him. Without hesitation. Without fear. I closed my eyes briefly, holding him tighter. “I love you too,” I whispered.
More than my own life. More than crowns. More than kingdoms.
And beneath the oak tree, with sunlight filtering through the leaves and my child safe in my arms, I allowed myself, just for a moment, to believe happiness might survive here after all.
---
But happiness in Virelia was always fragile. Beautiful things rarely survived untouched within those walls.
I had only left for a few minutes. Y/N had been sitting on the carpet near the western gardens, happily surrounded by toys while I went to ask the kitchens for more fruit and honey cakes. Y/N had insisted he was “very busy” and could not possibly come with me.
I remember smiling as I walked away. Gods. I remember thinking how peaceful he sounded.
By the time I returned, the palace felt wrong. Not loud. Worse. Quiet. The kind of silence that comes just before something breaks.
Then—a sound. A sharp crack.
And suddenly—crying.
My child crying.
I dropped the tray before I realized I had done it. Fruit scattered across the floor as I ran.
The sitting room doors were open. And inside, Y/N was on the floor. Crying. Small hands trembling against the carpet. The doll lay several feet away.
And Alaric stood over them.
Cold. Towering. Watching.
For one horrible second, my body refused to move. Because I knew. I knew immediately. I rushed forward. “What are you doing?”
I dropped to the floor beside Y/N, gathering him into my arms immediately. He clung to me at once, sobbing against my dress hard enough his tiny body shook.
“Mama—”
“I’m here,” I whispered quickly, holding his head against my shoulder. “I’m here.” His cheek was already red. My stomach twisted violently.
I looked up at Alaric. “He’s three years old.” My voice shook with anger. “He doesn’t even understand what you’re angry about.”
“He understands weakness.”
I stared at him in disbelief. Y/N cried harder against me. “No,” I snapped. “He understands play.”
Alaric’s eyes shifted toward the toys. Toward the doll. And suddenly he crossed the room, grabbing the wooden horse from the floor before throwing it violently against the wall.
The sharp crack echoed through the room as it split apart. Y/N flinched so hard he nearly climbed into my skin.
“This,” Alaric said coldly, “is how weakness begins.”
I stood slowly, still holding my child tightly against me. “You’re frightening him.”
“Good.” The word made my blood run cold.
“He’s a child.”
“He is the heir to Virelia.”
Y/N buried his face fully into my neck now, crying so hard he could barely breathe. I held him tighter.
“And children become strong when they are ready,” I said sharply, “not when they are beaten.”
The slap came before I could prepare for it. Pain exploded across my face as my head snapped sideways. For a moment the room blurred. But I did not fall. I refused to fall.
Y/N cried out louder immediately. “Mama!”
I straightened slowly, one arm still wrapped around him protectively.
And when I looked back at Alaric, something inside me had changed. Not fear. That had existed for years already. This was something else.
A terrible, aching disappointment. Because for one foolish moment—one tiny foolish moment—I had believed he might leave Y/N untouched. I had believed love for his child might soften something inside him.
I was wrong.
“He is three,” I said quietly. The room had gone deathly still except for Y/N’s sobbing. “Let him be a child.”
Alaric’s gaze moved to Y/N again. To the tears. To the doll still lying abandoned on the carpet. And I watched his expression harden further instead of soften.
“No.” The word settled like a death sentence.
My chest tightened instantly. “Alaric—”
“He begins tomorrow.”
I stared at him. “…What?”
“Training.”
My entire body went cold. “You would start now?”
“Yes.”
“He can barely hold a spoon by himself!”
“Then he will learn.”
“He is a baby,” I snapped.
“He is my heir.”
Y/N’s fingers twisted desperately into my dress, frightened by the shouting he did not understand. I could feel his heartbeat racing against my chest.
“You will break him,” I whispered.
And gods, I meant it. I saw it already. The beginning. The first crack.
Alaric looked at our son with the same expression he wore when discussing war strategy. Controlled. Certain.
“No,” he answered coldly. “I will make him strong.”
And in that moment, holding my crying child while the shattered remains of a toy lay across the floor, I realized something terrifying. The palace had finally noticed Y/N’s softness.
And now, it intended to carve it out of him.
---
The training began the very next morning.
I remember the cold most clearly. The courtyard stones still damp from dawn, the air sharp enough to sting the lungs—and my son standing in the middle of it all barely awake, rubbing sleep from his eyes while a wooden sword far too large for him sagged in his tiny hands.
Three years old.
Gods. He was still small enough to reach for me in his sleep, still small enough to cry over scraped knees. And Alaric placed a sword in his hands like childhood itself was a flaw to be beaten out of him.
Y/N tried. That was the cruelest part. He always tried.
The sword slipped from his grip almost immediately, clattering loudly against the stone. The sound made him flinch before Alaric even moved, as though some part of him already understood what came next.
“Hold it straight,” Alaric ordered.
Y/N tried again. His little arms trembled violently beneath the weight. When the sword fell a second time, Alaric struck him.
Not enough to truly injure. Enough to teach fear.
Y/N cried instantly. The sound tore through me. But Alaric looked at the tears with cold indifference, like they were another weakness to correct.
Every dropped sword, every stumble, every frightened hesitation was punished.
“Enough.”
I remember how small Y/N looked when I lifted him from the stones. His hands shook so badly he could barely grip my dress. His face buried instantly against my shoulder.
“Mama…”
I held him tighter. “He can’t even lift the sword,” I told Alaric.
“He will.”
“He’s three.”
“He is my heir.”
Like that answered everything. Like heir meant child no longer mattered.
I stepped in front of Y/N when Alaric approached. I knew what would happen. I did it anyway.
The first strike made the guards look away. The second nearly knocked the breath from my chest. By the third, I had wrapped both arms around my son completely, shielding him with my body while he sobbed against me.
Alaric stopped eventually.
Not out of mercy.
Simply because the point had already been made.
---
But the training never stopped after that.
Every morning. Every day.
And slowly—terribly—the sword became easier for Y/N to hold. Not because he enjoyed it. Not because he wanted to learn. But because fear teaches quickly. Especially to children.
Something changed in Y/N after those mornings began. The laughter still existed, but softer now. More careful. He started watching doors before speaking. Flinching when voices rose too suddenly. Looking at Alaric with wide uncertain eyes, desperate for approval they no longer understood how to earn.
And every night after training, I would hold him in my arms while he slept, kissing bruised knuckles and sore little hands after the healers left.
Whispering the same promise over and over again into his hair.
“You are still gentle. You are still good. You are still my baby.”
Because I needed him to remember.
And perhaps, I needed to remember too.
---
Years passed.
And little by little, the palace grew quieter. The music became rarer. The laughter that once slipped so easily through the halls faded into something softer, more careful.
Even I changed.
There is only so long a person can live beneath constant fear before pieces of them begin disappearing quietly.
I smiled less. Spoke less.
And my son—my beautiful, gentle child—changed with me.
Y/N stopped crying during training. At first because he learned fear only worsened Alaric’s anger. Then because he simply… stopped allowing himself to.
That frightened me more than the tears ever had.
He grew quieter too. More watchful. Speaking only when necessary, eyes constantly searching a room before he dared relax inside it.
Alaric called it discipline. But I called it survival.
But despite everything—despite bruises and fear and endless mornings in cold courtyards—Y/N remained kind. Stubbornly kind. He still apologized to servants when he bumped into them. Still carried injured birds to the healers. Still crawled into my lap at night seeking comfort he had become too old for according to palace standards.
And every time I saw those pieces survive inside him, I protected them harder.
I stepped between him and Alaric more times than I could count. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with my body. I stopped caring about bruises long ago.
If pain bought my child one moment of safety, then it was worth enduring.
---
When Y/N was five, something changed again.
We were in the courtyard as always, morning fog still clinging to the stones while Y/N struggled through another exercise far too advanced for a child his age. The sword slipped from his hands.
I saw Alaric move immediately. I stepped forward on instinct, already prepared to shield Y/N before the strike came. But before I reached him, Y/N moved first.
Small. Shaking. But determined.
He stepped in front of me.
I still remember the look in his eyes. Not confusion. Not fear.
Anger.
Bright and raw and far too old for a five-year-old child. His little arms spread slightly like he truly believed he could protect me. It shattered something inside me. And terrified me at the same time.
Because I realized then what the palace had done. What Alaric had done. My child no longer looked at his father with longing or confusion. Only hurt and hatred.
I pulled Y/N back against me immediately, holding him close, whispering softly until his trembling eased. But Alaric had already seen it. And the worst part—the truly terrible part—was that he looked pleased. Like this was what he had wanted all along. Not love.
Strength sharpened through fear until it became something colder.
The training continued after that. Every day. Every year. And I finally understood something I had spent too long refusing to face: Alaric did not care if Y/N loved him. He only cared whether he survived becoming his heir. And I spent every remaining piece of myself trying to make sure survival did not cost my child his soul.
---
When Y/N was twelve, everything shattered again.
Though perhaps the truth is that things had been breaking slowly for years, and I was simply foolish enough to believe we still had pieces left to save.
I noticed the changes before Alaric did. The layers of clothing even in warmth. The way Y/N crossed his arms tightly over his chest whenever servants entered unexpectedly. Fear lived in him differently by then—quiet, constant. He had learned to hide pain young.
But never from me.
The night Alaric found out, I was not in the room. I only remember the screaming. And then someone shouting my name.
By the time I reached the courtyard, chaos had already consumed it. Guards shouting. Servants frozen in terror. Blood staining the dirt.
And my child—
my baby—
on the ground bleeding.
For one terrible second, I could not breathe.
Y/N looked so small despite being nearly grown now, curled instinctively around the wound in his chest while blood slipped through trembling fingers. And Alaric stood above him with a sword in his hand.
Not horrified, but furious at him, I ran before I even realized I was moving. I fell beside Y/N, pressing my hands against the wound while he clung to me desperately.
“Mother…”
Gods. That voice still haunts me.
Alaric called him cursed, as though our child had chosen this. As though his body was some betrayal instead of simply… himself.
Y/N kept trying to explain through tears that he had done nothing wrong. But Alaric no longer listened to reason. Only fear. Only rage.
When he raised the sword again, I shielded Y/N with my body without thinking.
I remember screaming at him to stop. Remember blood soaking through my hands faster than I could hold it back.
And then—being dragged away.
That was the worst part. Not the strikes. Not the bruises. Hearing my child scream for me while I could not reach him.
“Mother!”
The sound followed me into every nightmare afterward.
Y/N survived. Barely.
But something inside him changed after that day. Not softness. That never fully died no matter how hard the palace tried to kill it.
No. What changed was trust. The fragile hope that perhaps one day Alaric would love him as he was. That hope bled into the dirt beside him. And it never returned.
Alaric buried the truth quickly. Witnesses disappeared. Servants reassigned. By morning, the kingdom had already begun pretending nothing had happened.
As for me, Alaric no longer allowed distance between us afterward. He blamed me for Y/N. For his kindness. For his body. For every piece of humanity our child still possessed despite him.
And eventually, I became pregnant again. Again, not from love. But because Alaric wanted another heir. A “proper” one.
I remember sitting beside Y/N’s bed while he recovered, watching him sleep through fever and pain while my hand rested unconsciously over my stomach.
One child wounded beside me. Another growing within me.
And for the first time since arriving in Virelia, I truly hated my own body. Because it kept giving this kingdom children it did not deserve.
But even then—even broken, bandaged, and terrified—Y/N still reached for my hand when he woke. Still leaned into me when nightmares came. Still whispered apologies for things that were never his fault.
And every time he did, I loved him harder. Because Alaric had tried to make him believe he was a curse.
But he was never a curse.
He was proof that something beautiful could survive even here. And perhaps that was what frightened Alaric most of all.
---
The pregnancy drained me faster than the first ever had.
Perhaps because my body had never truly recovered from years of surviving. Or perhaps because grief consumes strength long before illness does.
Either way, with each passing month, I grew weaker.
And Y/N noticed immediately.
He had barely recovered from his own injuries when he began hovering around me like a worried shadow. At twelve, he was already taller than me sitting beside the bed, all long limbs and careful movements, trying so hard not to frighten me with the strength Alaric had forced into his body.
But no matter how much training hardened him, he remained gentle with me.
Always gentle with me.
“You should rest more,” he said almost daily now.
“And who decided that?” I asked faintly.
“You look tired.”
“I am tired.”
His expression tightened instantly with guilt, like he had done something wrong just by noticing.
Gods. Alaric had taught him to apologize for every feeling.
Y/N moved closer after a moment, kneeling beside my chair. His hands hovered uncertainly near my stomach before finally resting there lightly.
Protective. Afraid.
“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.
But I only brushed his hair back gently. “Not when you fuss over me this much.”
That earned the smallest smile. Rare enough now that I treasured every one.
He spent more time in my chambers after that. Reading beside me while I rested. Fixing blankets when the dizziness became too strong. Bringing flowers from the gardens like he used to as a child, though now he placed them quietly in water instead of proudly presenting crushed petals with grass-stained hands.
Once, I woke from an afternoon sleep to find him asleep at the foot of my bed, still in training clothes, sword abandoned nearby.
He had been watching over me. Even exhausted, he still tried.
The nightmares worsened during the pregnancy. Sometimes I woke gasping from dreams of blood and swords and screaming. And almost every time, Y/N was already there.
“Mama.”
Always soft. Always careful. I would reach for him immediately, and despite being nearly grown now, despite everything the palace demanded he become, he still climbed into bed beside me when I asked.
Still my child. Always my child.
One evening, while brushing my hair, he suddenly asked, “Do you think the baby will hate me?”
The question stole the breath from my lungs.
“I scared the servants today,” he admitted quietly. “They looked afraid when I walked in.”
My heart broke all over again. Because in that moment, he sounded so young.
Not an heir. Not a prince. Just a child terrified of becoming the monster his father believed he already was.
I reached for his face immediately. “Look at me.”
He did reluctantly, eyes full of something fragile and wounded.
“You could never make someone hate you by existing.”
“But Father—”
“No.” The word came sharper than intended. I softened immediately after. “Your father is wrong.”
Y/N still looked unconvinced, so I pressed my forehead gently against his.
“This baby will love you,” I whispered. “Because I love you.”
A small silence followed before he answered quietly,
“I love you too, Mama.”
Those words never stopped hurting beautifully. Because every time he said them, I became more terrified of leaving him behind in this place.
---
By the final months, walking exhausted me. The healers worried more often than they spoke aloud.
And Y/N noticed that too. He noticed everything.
He began escorting me everywhere himself, glaring at servants who moved too quickly near me, staying close enough to catch me whenever dizziness struck.
Once, when I nearly collapsed in the corridor, he caught me before I hit the ground. Panic flashed across his face so intensely it frightened me.
“Mama—”
“I’m alright.”
“You’re not.”
The words came broken. Angry. Scared.
And suddenly I realized Y/N already knew. Perhaps not fully. But enough. Enough to fear what was coming.
That night, he stayed beside me until I fell asleep, his hand holding mine the entire time.
Like if he let go, I might disappear.
---
Soon I knew something might happen. No healer said the words aloud. But I knew my own body.
And my body was tired. Not the ordinary exhaustion of pregnancy. Something deeper. Heavier. Like my bones themselves had begun letting go.
The mornings became the hardest. Sometimes it took all my strength simply to sit upright while maids brushed my hair. Food made me nauseous more often than not. Walking blurred my vision. Even breathing felt difficult some days, as though my lungs no longer wished to carry the weight of the world inside them.
And through all of it, Y/N watched me.
Constantly.
I caught him staring when he thought I was asleep, his expression tight with fear he did not know how to voice. He had grown taller again recently. Broader shoulders forming beneath training clothes. Hands roughened from swords and bruises.
But when he looked at me like that, he was still my little child beneath the oak tree.
Still reaching for me with flower-stained fingers.
---
One evening, I found Y/N standing alone in the nursery. The room had only recently been prepared. Soft blankets folded carefully. Tiny clothes resting untouched in drawers. Y/N stood beside the cradle silently, one hand resting lightly against the wood.
I leaned against the doorway for support. “You don’t like it?”
He startled immediately. “I do.”
“Then why do you look ready to fight the cradle?”
That earned the faintest huff of laughter. Small. But real.
Gods, I missed that sound.
I walked closer slowly, my body aching with every step. Y/N noticed immediately and moved to steady me before I could even ask. Always watching. Always careful.
He helped me sit beside the cradle, then stood awkwardly nearby.
“What’s wrong?” I asked softly.
He looked down. “…I heard the healers talking.”
My chest tightened.
Ah.
So this was the fear behind his eyes.
“They think you’re weak.”
I smiled faintly. “I am weak.”
“No.”
The answer came instantly. Sharply. Almost angry. His jaw tightened afterward like he regretted the emotion.
I reached for his hand. “My love, bodies are not meant to survive everything.”
Y/N’s expression cracked slightly. “Don’t say things like that.”
There it was. The fear. Raw and terrified beneath years of silence and discipline.
“You can’t leave.”
The words barely rose above a whisper.
I looked at my child—my beautiful child who had spent years surviving pain no one should endure—and realized he was still so young. Far too young to carry this kind of fear.
I lifted my hand slowly to his face. “You know what I am most proud of?”
He shook his head weakly.
“You stayed kind.”
Tears filled his eyes immediately.
Even now. Even after everything. Still gentle enough to cry.
“This palace tried very hard to take that from you,” I whispered. “But it couldn’t.”
Y/N looked away. “…Father says kindness makes people weak.”
“Your father is wrong.”
The words came easily now. Death has a way of making truth less frightening.
I rested my hand over his again. “You will hear cruel things in your life. About your body. Your heart. The way you exist. But none of those things make you wrong.”
His breathing hitched softly. Then slowly, Y/N knelt beside my chair, resting his forehead against my knee like he used to after nightmares when he was small. And for a moment, he let himself be held again.
I ran my fingers through his hair quietly, memorizing the feeling.
Because somewhere deep inside me, I already knew. This might be one of the last times I would ever get to.
---
Wanda’s POV
Wanda turned the page carefully. Her vision blurred slightly. She blinked hard, trying to steady herself enough to continue—but then she realized there was nothing else.
The diary ended there.
No more entries. No final thoughts. No explanation. Just silence. And tucked carefully between the last pages were two letters.
One marked in familiar elegant handwriting:
Y/N
And the other—
Baby
Wanda’s breath caught softly, her fingers trembling against the paper.
Behind her, Y/N broke again quietly against her neck. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just exhausted grief finally unraveling after years of being buried too deep. They had long since hidden their face against her shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around her waist from behind while she sat between their legs against the headboard. One of their hands rested protectively over her stomach even now. Like despite everything—despite all the pain—they still needed to hold onto something gentle. Something alive.
Their body shook against hers with silent crying they clearly no longer knew how to stop.
And gods—
Wanda wanted to cry too.
Her chest hurt so badly she thought it might split open, because suddenly she understood so much. The carefulness. The fear. The constant need Y/N had to protect everyone around them. Why they apologized for taking space. Why anger frightened them even when directed elsewhere. Why kindness felt almost sacred to them.
Eleonora had fought for every soft piece still living inside them. Every single one.
Wanda closed the diary slowly, carefully. Y/N couldn’t take more tonight. Neither could she.
She set the diary aside on the bedside table before immediately turning her attention back to them. Her hand slid behind their neck gently, fingers threading softly through their hair while she turned enough to press trembling kisses against their cheek.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered.
Her voice shook too. She hated that it did. But maybe pretending strength right now wasn’t the point.
Y/N’s grip around her tightened desperately. A broken sound left them against her throat, and Wanda’s eyes burned immediately.
“Oh, my love…”
She shifted carefully in their arms, trying to hold them closer despite the awkward angle between them. One hand stayed at the back of their neck. The other rested over theirs on her stomach, grounding them both.
“She loved you so much,” Wanda whispered softly.
Y/N cried harder at that. Not loudly. That somehow made it worse, because it sounded like someone trying not to fall apart while already shattered.
Wanda kissed their temple again. “She fought for you,” she murmured. “Every day.”
Their breathing stuttered unevenly against her skin.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The room remained dim and quiet except for Y/N’s muffled crying and the faint crackling of the fireplace. Then finally—very quietly—Y/N spoke.
“…I miss her.”
The words sounded unbearably small. Young. Not a king. Not a ruler.
Just a child missing their mother.
Wanda turned as much as she could in their hold, tears finally slipping free despite her efforts.
“I know,” she whispered.
Then she pulled one of their hands carefully from her waist and pressed a kiss into their knuckles.
what is so special about your fics if I can also ai generate them too?
You’re absolutely right. You can use AI to generate fanfiction too.
I’ve never hidden that I use AI, and I’ve always been open about it. But the stories I post are still my ideas. I come up with the plots, settings, character dynamics, scenes, and overall direction of the story. I also spend a lot of time changing, rewriting, and regenerating parts when they don’t match what I have in mind.
Nothing is stopping anyone from using the same tools I do. The question isn’t whether someone can generate a fic. It’s whether they’ll come up with the same ideas, make the same creative choices, spend the same time refining scenes, and actually post complete stories for people to read.
AI is a tool. Two people can use the same tool and create completely different things. Someone else could generate a fanfic, but they wouldn’t generate my story because they aren’t me.
At the end of the day, people don’t read my fics because of the tool I used. They read them because they enjoy the story being told. If AI-generated fanfiction isn’t your thing, that’s completely fine. Nobody is forcing you to read mine.
Summary: Y/N release a new song that goes viral immediately.
Word Count: 9,398
Request: Yes
Warning: Fluff, Little Smut, (18+), Reader has a P.
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
---
---
The internet didn’t explode right away.
It cracked first.
Like a glass under pressure—silent, subtle fractures spreading before anyone realized it was about to shatter.
Y/N’s name had already been trending that morning. That wasn’t unusual anymore. Ever since her debut, everything she touched turned into noise—charts, headlines, speculation. But this… this was different.
Because at midnight, without warning, she dropped a new single.
“Pillowtalk.”
No teaser.
No countdown.
No explanation.
Just a black cover, her name, and the track.
---
Lizzie’s POV
Elizabeth woke up to the sound of her phone vibrating relentlessly against the nightstand. She groaned, burying her face deeper into the pillow—Y/N’s pillow, she noted absently, still faintly smelling like her—before blindly reaching for the phone.
“...what,” she mumbled, eyes barely open.
Notifications flooded her screen.
Mary-Kate: DID YOU HEAR IT??
Ashley: Lizzie. Call me. Now.
Trent: Uh… so is this about you or—
Unknown Number: “Pillowtalk?? Girl???”
Lizzie frowned.
“…what did she do now…”
She tapped one of the links. A music app opened, and the song started.
---
Climb on board…
We’ll go slow and high tempo…
Lizzie froze.
Her eyes snapped open.
“…oh no.”
---
Y/N’s POV
Across the city, Y/N was very much awake—pacing, phone in hand. Regret? No. Nerves? Definitely. She stared at the ceiling of her apartment, jaw tight as notifications rolled in faster than she could process. Streams skyrocketing. Fans losing their minds. Speculation threads already forming.
And then—
Lizzie ❤️ calling…
Y/N stopped pacing immediately. “…shit.” She answered.
“Hey—”
“Did you write a sex song about me?”
Straight to it.
Y/N blinked. “…good morning to you too?”
“Y/N.”
There it was—that tone. The one that made her both want to laugh and immediately behave. She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “Okay, first of all—”
“—it’s very detailed,” Lizzie cut in.
“I—”
“Second of all, my entire family just woke me up.”
Y/N winced. “…okay, that part I’m sorry about.”
“Y/N.”
“…yes?”
A pause. Then, softer—dangerously softer: “…is it about me?”
Y/N leaned back against the wall, staring at nothing. There it was. The real question. Not teasing. Not playful. Something vulnerable underneath it. And suddenly, all the confidence she had at midnight? Gone.
“…you tell me,” she said quietly.
Lizzie huffed on the other end. “Don’t do that.”
“I’m serious,” Y/N replied, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “You’ve been in my life long enough. You know how I write.”
Lizzie didn’t answer right away—because she did know. Y/N didn’t just write songs. She documented feelings. Moments. People. And this song—the intimacy, the tension, the want threaded through every line—
Her cheeks flushed. She pressed her lips together, pacing once before dragging a hand through her hair. “…you’re unbelievable,” Lizzie muttered, but there was no real bite to it now—just warmth, familiarity… recognition.
On the other end, Y/N smiled softly. Not nervous this time. Just… fond.
“You know,” Y/N said, voice quieter, steadier, “it’s about this girl I’ve been dating for over six months.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes immediately, even as her heart picked up. “Oh really? Tell me more,” she said dryly.
Y/N huffed a quiet laugh. “She’s kind of a menace. Steals my clothes. Judges my cooking. Wakes up grumpy if I’m not there—”
“I do not—”
“—and I’ve been in love with her for a while now.”
That stopped her.
Not because it was new—it wasn’t. Y/N had said it before, softly, late at night, half-asleep, pressed into her skin like a secret meant only for her. But this—hearing it now, wrapped inside a song the whole world was dissecting… it hit differently.
“…you’re really leaning into this, huh,” Lizzie murmured, quieter now.
Y/N smiled. “I mean, it’s not exactly breaking news.”
Lizzie let out a small breath, shoulders relaxing despite herself. “No,” she admitted. “…it’s not.”
A pause settled between them—comfortable, lived-in. Then Lizzie spoke again, quieter now. “…come over tonight.”
Y/N didn’t hesitate. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
There was a soft shift on the other end, like Y/N had straightened, like something in her had warmed at the invitation. “I’ll be there.”
Lizzie nodded to herself, even though she knew Y/N couldn’t see it. “…good.”
A beat. Then, softer—almost shy, but not quite: “And for the record…”
Y/N hummed. “Yeah?”
Lizzie’s lips curved, her heart steady now. “I really like the song.”
Y/N’s smile grew, slow and certain. “Good,” she said. “Because I wrote it thinking about you.”
Lizzie shook her head, huffing under her breath—but she was smiling. Of course she was. Because this wasn’t the beginning. It wasn’t some sudden confession. It was just them—six months in, already in love, and now, apparently… with a hit song to prove it.
---
Lizzie’s POV
The apartment felt quieter after the call ended. Not empty—never empty—but… full in a different way, like the air itself had shifted. I stared at my phone for a few seconds longer than necessary, Y/N’s contact still open, her last words lingering in my ears. Because I wrote it thinking about you.
God.
I dropped the phone onto the bed beside me and fell back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. “…she’s insane,” I whispered, but my lips were already curving. Because this wasn’t new.
That was the thing. Anyone else listening to Pillowtalk would think it was some bold confession, some reckless, romantic reveal—but they didn’t hear her the way I did.
They didn’t know how she sounded at 2 a.m., voice low and soft, tangled up in me as she murmured I love you like it was the easiest thing in the world. They didn’t know how she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention.
They didn’t know the way she felt.
I did.
And somehow… that made the song feel even more intimate—not because it was the first time, but because it wasn’t. Because it was ours—just… louder now.
I turned my head, glancing at the nightstand—at her hoodie half hanging off the edge, at the faint imprint of where she’d slept last time she stayed over. My chest tightened, soft and warm. “…six months,” I murmured. It hadn’t felt like six months. It felt like something that had just… settled into place, like she had always been there and I just hadn’t noticed until suddenly I couldn’t imagine anything without her in it.
And now the entire world was trying to piece her together through a three-minute song.
I huffed, sitting up again and reaching for my phone. Big mistake. Notifications exploded across the screen the second it lit up, but curiosity got the better of me anyway. I tapped into Y/N’s page—and immediately, chaos. Comments flooding in faster than I could even read them.
“WHO IS THIS ABOUT???”
“SHE’S IN LOVE I CAN HEAR IT 😭”
“I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE—PICK ME Y/N”
“WHOEVER SHE’S DATING IS LIVING MY DREAM”
“GIRL WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER???”
I snorted despite myself, scrolling—thread after thread, fans dissecting every lyric like it was a crime scene. Some were sweet, some unhinged, most were… thirsty.
My eyes paused on one:
“I wish I was the one she’s singing about.” Another: “The way she sings?? I’d fold instantly.”
I shook my head, lips pressing together to hide the smile creeping in. “…you have no idea,” I murmured.
But then—another comment.
“Have you SEEN her Calvin Klein shoot?? Whoever she’s with is GOD’S FAVORITE.”
I froze. Oh. That. That week.
I groaned, dropping my head back dramatically. “…don’t remind me.” I could still picture it perfectly—those photos, the way she looked at the camera, the comments that followed, the absolute feral energy her fans had unleashed.
I had been so annoyed—not at her, never at her—but at… everything else. At the fact that everyone got to look. At the fact that people talked about her like she wasn’t—
Mine.
I rolled onto my side, staring at my phone again. And yet… now? Now I was just smiling. Softly. Because the comments kept coming—
“WHO IS SHE AND HOW DID SHE PULL Y/N???”
“SHE MUST BE INSANE LEVELS OF LUCKY.”
“I’D NEVER SHUT UP IF Y/N WROTE THIS ABOUT ME.”
My chest warmed, a quiet, almost smug kind of warmth. “…yeah,” I whispered. Because they didn’t know. They didn’t know what it felt like to have Y/N’s hands on you, steady and sure. To hear her voice drop just for you. To be the one she *looked at* when the world wasn’t watching. They didn’t know how soft she could be—how gentle, how *hers* she was when it was just the two of us.
I locked my phone, bringing it down to rest against my chest. A small smile stayed on my lips. Because for all the noise—for all the speculation, for all the people wishing, hoping, imagining—
Y/N was mine.
Only mine.
And tonight?
I’d have her right here again. Not through a song, not through a screen—just…
Mine.
My phone buzzed again against my chest.
I groaned. “Please don’t be—”
Ashley.
Of course.
I unlocked it slowly this time, bracing myself.
Ashley:
So… we’re all just going to ignore the fact your girlfriend dropped the horniest love song of the year?
I snorted. Before I could even type back—another notification.
Mary-Kate:
Be serious for one second. Is this the same girl you’ve been secretly smiling at your phone about for six months?
“…I hate both of you,” I muttered under my breath, already typing.
Lizzie:
You’re both dramatic.
Three dots appeared instantly. Then—
Ashley:
That’s not a no.
Mary-Kate:
That’s VERY much not a no.
I pressed my lips together, fighting the smile that was trying to give me away—even though they couldn’t see me.
Lizzie:
You already know I’m dating her.
Ashley:
Dating is one thing.
Being the muse of THAT song is another.
I rolled my eyes, flopping back against the pillows again. God, they were relentless.
Mary-Kate:
Okay, jokes aside—
That made me pause.
Because Mary-Kate only said that when she actually meant something.
Another message came through.
Mary-Kate:
We need to meet her.
My fingers stilled over the screen.
Ashley:
Yeah. Before this whole thing goes public and suddenly she’s everywhere with you.
A small knot formed in my chest—not bad, just… real. Because they weren’t wrong. This—whatever this was turning into—It wasn’t going to stay quiet forever.
I sat up again, pulling my knees in slightly as I read the next message.
Mary-Kate:
If she’s important to you, Lizzie… we want to know her.
Ashley:
Also I need to see if she’s actually worthy of inspiring THAT song.
I huffed out a laugh at that, shaking my head.
“…you two are unbelievable.”
But my heart had softened. Because underneath the teasing—they cared about me. About who I was letting into my life.
And Y/N…
My gaze drifted briefly to the hoodie still draped over the chair. To the quiet presence of her that lingered everywhere.
“…she is,” I murmured.
More to myself than anything.
Then I looked back at my phone and typed.
Lizzie:
You’ll meet her.
A pause. Then I added—
Lizzie:
Soon.
The replies came instantly.
Ashley:
Oh my god it’s serious serious.
Mary-Kate:
Of course it is Ash! They’ve been dating for six months!
I laughed, shaking my head as I locked my phone again.
“Idiots,” I said fondly.
But the word soon lingered in my mind. Because tonight—
Tonight wasn’t about family. Or the public, or any of that. It was just us.
But after that?
After the song…
After everything it stirred up—things were changing.
And maybe—Just maybe—I was ready for them to.
---
At Night
Lizzie’s POV
By the time I got home, my head was full.
Meetings always did that—too many voices, too many opinions, too many versions of my future being laid out in neat little bullet points like it was something that could actually be controlled.
My PA had gone over scripts, scheduling conflicts, press timelines… the usual. I said yes to some things. Maybe to others. No to a few I already knew I didn’t want. But through all of it—there was this quiet pull in the back of my mind.
7 p.m.
I slipped my shoes off by the door, exhaling as the silence of my apartment wrapped around me again.
Finally.
Just me.
Well…
Me—and her, in all the little ways she seemed to exist here even when she wasn’t.
My phone buzzed in my hand. Right on cue.
Y/N ❤️:
Still alive? Or did your meetings kill you?
I smiled instantly, dropping my bag onto the chair.
Lizzie:
Barely. I think I signed my soul away to at least two projects.
The reply came fast.
Y/N ❤️:
Damn. Should I be jealous?
I scoffed, walking toward the kitchen.
Lizzie:
You wish.
Three dots.
Y/N ❤️:
I mean… I am the one getting you tonight, so I think I’m winning.
My cheeks warmed.
God.
I leaned against the counter, biting back a smile.
Lizzie:
Don’t get cocky.
Y/N ❤️:
Too late.
Another message followed right after.
Y/N ❤️:
I’ll be there around 7. Still at the studio right now.
I glanced at the time. Just past five. Two hours.
My chest did that annoying little thing again—tightening, but in a way that felt more like anticipation than anything else.
Lizzie:
Okay.
I hesitated. Then—
Lizzie:
Drive safe.
A pause. Longer this time.
Then—
Y/N ❤️:
I can’t wait to see you.
And with that I smiling stupidly. I stared at that for a second longer than necessary before locking my phone.
“…okay,” I murmured to myself.
Two hours. I pushed off the counter, looking around my apartment again.
Still clean.
Still… very obviously lived-in by two people, if anyone looked close enough.
I walked into the bedroom, opening my closet without really thinking about it.
My hand hovered over a few options.
Something casual?
Something comfortable?
Something that would absolutely get a reaction out of her?
I huffed a quiet laugh.
“…why am I like this?”
Because it mattered. Because she mattered.
I pulled out one of her shirts instead. Of course I did. Slipping it on, I caught my reflection in the mirror—hair a little messy from the day, her shirt falling just right on me.
My lips curved slightly.
“…yeah. That’ll do.”
I left the room, glancing at the clock again.
6:12 p.m.
Still time.
I tried to distract myself—turned on the TV, flipped through channels, didn’t actually watch anything. Checked my phone. Put it down. Picked it up again.
Scrolled. Locked it.
“…this is ridiculous,” I muttered.
But my leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. Because no matter how many times she’d been here—no matter how normal this should’ve felt by now—it didn’t. Not completely. There was always that little spark. That anticipation. That pull.
And tonight…
After the song.
After everything it stirred up—
It felt just a little more intense.
6:47 p.m.
I stood up.
Paced once.
Twice.
Then stopped in front of the door, like somehow that would make time move faster.
“…relax,” I told myself.
As if that was going to happen.
6:55.
The handle moved. I blinked.
“…wait—”
The door unlocked before I could even react, and then it opened—
And there she was.
Like she had just appeared.
Y/N stood there, slightly breathless, hair a little messy like she’d run a hand through it too many times, jacket still on—
And the second her eyes landed on me—
She smiled.
Wide.
Immediate.
Like it had been longer than three days. Like those three days had actually mattered.
My chest tightened.
“Hi—”
I didn’t even get to finish.
She stepped in, closing the door behind her without looking, already moving toward me—and then her arms were around me, pulling me in like she’d been waiting all day for this.
Like she needed it.
The height difference made it effortless. I barely had time to react before I was pressed against her, her warmth wrapping around me—her face burying into the side of my neck.
“Hey,” she murmured, voice soft, a little rough.
I exhaled, my hands coming up instantly, gripping onto her like I had something to prove.
“Hi,” I whispered back.
God. Three days. It wasn’t long. It shouldn’t have felt like this.
But it did.
She held me tighter, like she was making up for lost time. “Gosh, I missed you,” she mumbled against my skin.
And this time—I didn’t tease her.
“…I missed you too,” I admitted, quieter.
She stilled for half a second at that, like she felt it—really felt it—before pulling back just enough to look at me. Her eyes softened, something warm and a little undone flickering there. “Yeah?” she asked gently.
I nodded, not trusting myself to say it again without sounding… too much. But she already knew. She always did.
And then—she kissed me.
Not rushed. Not playful. Slow. Like she was grounding herself, like she was reminding herself I was actually here. My hand slid up to her jaw, holding her there as I leaned into it, letting it linger just a little longer than usual.
When we finally pulled back, my forehead rested briefly against hers. “…you’re early,” I murmured softly.
Y/N smiled faintly. “Couldn’t stay away.”
That did something to my chest. Of course it did.
Her gaze dropped slightly—and she paused. “…is that my shirt?” she asked.
I glanced down, then back up at her, completely unapologetic. “Maybe.”
Her smile returned, softer this time. “…looks better on you.”
I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t move—didn’t step away. Because after three days, this—this was exactly where I wanted to be.
Her smile lingered for a second longer before she finally shifted, like she’d just remembered something. “Oh—” Y/N pulled back slightly, one arm still loosely around my waist as she lifted the other.
A takeout bag.
I blinked. “…you brought food?”
She raised a brow, a hint of amusement slipping into her expression. “You just noticed?”
I glanced down at it, then back up at her, a little sheepish. “I was… distracted.”
Y/N huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah, I could tell.” She gently nudged the bag toward me. “Figured you wouldn’t have eaten properly,” she added, tone casual—but there was that underlying care she didn’t even try to hide anymore.
My chest warmed. “…I had a meeting,” I defended weakly.
“Exactly,” she said, like that proved her point.
I rolled my eyes, but took the bag from her anyway, peeking inside. The smell hit immediately. “…oh my god.”
Y/N watched my reaction, clearly pleased with herself. “Yeah?”
I looked up at her, genuinely impressed. “You got my favorite.”
“I know.”
Of course she did.
I shook my head, smiling as I walked toward the kitchen, setting the bag down on the counter. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to,” she cut in easily, shrugging off her jacket.
I turned back just in time to see her toss it over the chair, already making herself at home like she always did—like this place was just as much hers as it was mine. And honestly? It kind of was.
“You eat yet?” I asked, opening the containers.
Y/N shook her head, leaning casually against the counter across from me. “Not really.”
I paused, glancing up at her. “Then we’re sharing.”
She smirked. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
I grabbed two sets of chopsticks, handing one to her as I nudged the food between us. We stayed by the counter at first, eating straight from the containers like we always did when neither of us felt like being proper—comfortable, easy, familiar.
But it didn’t take long before the silence shifted—subtle, but noticeable. Because there was something sitting between us. Unsaid.
I glanced at her, catching the way she was focused on her food a little too much. “…so,” I started casually, leaning my hip against the counter. “The song.”
Y/N’s chopsticks paused mid-air for a second. Then she resumed eating like nothing happened. “Mm,” she hummed. “What about it?”
I narrowed my eyes slightly. “You really just dropped that,” I said. “No warning. No heads-up. Nothing.”
She glanced up at me, already reading the tone behind it. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” she said simply.
I blinked. “…a surprise?”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah.”
“For who?” I asked, half incredulous.
“For everyone,” she replied—then her eyes softened slightly when they met mine. “For you, too.”
That… did something to me. But still—
“You couldn’t have, I don’t know, mentioned it?” I pressed, though there wasn’t real anger behind it. “Like, ‘hey Lizzie, I’m about to release a very—very—specific song’?”
Y/N huffed a quiet laugh, scratching the back of her neck. “Okay, yeah… maybe I should’ve.”
I raised a brow. “Maybe?”
She exhaled, her expression shifting—more serious now. “I didn’t think it would hit like this,” she admitted. “The reactions. The speculation… all of it.” Her gaze flickered over my face, searching. “And I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she added quietly. “So if it did, I—”
“Hey.”
I didn’t even let her finish. My chopsticks clattered softly onto the counter as I stepped forward, closing the small distance between us.
She looked up, slightly caught off guard.
I didn’t say anything else—just moved.
One second I was standing in front of her—the next, I was settling onto her lap, turning slightly so I was facing her properly.
Her hands instinctively came to my waist, steadying me.
“Liz—”
“I liked it,” I said immediately.
She blinked.
“…what?”
“I liked the song,” I repeated, softer this time, my hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “A lot.”
Something in her expression shifted—like tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding started to ease.
“You did?” she asked, almost careful.
I nodded, a small smile pulling at my lips.
“Yeah.”
Her thumbs brushed absently against my sides, grounding, but there was still a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.
“…it didn’t freak you out?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“No.”
A pause. Then, quieter—“It’s not the first time you’ve said those things to me,” I added. “It’s just… the first time the world heard it too.”
Y/N watched me for a second, really watched me.
“…and you’re okay with that?” she asked.
I held her gaze.
There was still that carefulness in her eyes—like she was bracing for something, like she didn’t want to push too far.
God.
She really didn’t get it sometimes.
My hands slid up slightly on her shoulders, grounding myself before I spoke.
“I love you too,” I said softly.
The words landed between us—familiar, but still heavy in the best way. Her breath caught just a little.
And I didn’t look away.
“I’ve loved you,” I continued, quieter but steadier now. “This doesn’t change that.”
Her eyes searched mine, like she was making sure—really making sure.
So I gave her more.
“And I don’t care if the world knows about us,” I added.
That did it.
I felt the shift in her hands immediately—tightening just slightly at my waist, like something in her had finally settled.
“Lizzie…” she murmured.
“I mean it,” I said, brushing my thumb lightly along her shoulder. “Yeah, it’s a lot. And yeah, people are going to talk and speculate and be… insane.”
That pulled the faintest smile from her.
“But they already are,” I added softly. “And none of that changes what this is.”
I leaned in just a little closer.
“What we are.”
Her gaze dropped briefly to my lips, then back up again. Something warm. Something certain.
“…you sure?” she asked, almost like she needed to hear it one more time.
I smiled.
“Yeah.”
A small pause.
Then, a little teasing—because I couldn’t help it:
“Besides,” I murmured, “if you’re going to write songs like that about me…”
Her lips twitched.
“…kind of hard to stay a secret.”
She let out a quiet breath, somewhere between a laugh and something more emotional.
“Fair point,” she said.
But then her expression softened again, deeper this time.
More real.
Her hand came up, brushing lightly against my cheek.
“…I meant what I said too,” she murmured.
“I know.”
And I did.
Because I could feel it—
In the way she held me.
In the way she looked at me.
In everything she didn’t even have to say anymore.
Her forehead rested briefly against mine.
“…you’re really okay with this?” she asked one last time.
I didn’t hesitate.
“I’m okay with you.”
That was the answer. That had always been the answer. And whatever came with it—the world, the noise, the attention—
None of it mattered as much as this.
As her.
Y/N smiled then. Not the confident, teasing smile the world knew. Something softer. Something only I got to see.
“…come here,” she murmured.
I was already there.
Her lips were already on mine before I could say anything else.
This time, it wasn’t slow. It wasn’t careful.
It deepened almost immediately—like something that had been building all day, all week, all three days apart finally snapping into place.
I inhaled sharply against her, my hands sliding up into her hair as hers tightened at my waist, pulling me closer—closer—until there was barely any space left between us.
“Y/N…” I breathed, but it came out softer than I intended.
She answered by tilting her head, kissing me deeper, more certain—like she didn’t want to stop now that she had me again.
And I didn’t want her to.
God, I didn’t.
My fingers curled slightly in her hair, holding her there as I leaned into it, completely giving in to the warmth, the familiarity, the pull of her.
Her hands shifted—one pressing firmer against my lower back, grounding me, keeping me right where she wanted me.
And somewhere in the middle of it, I start to grind down on her lap.
It wasn’t intentional. Not really. Just instinct. Just the way my body reacted to hers—
The way I shifted on her lap, closer, seeking more without even thinking about it.
A soft, breathless sound slipped out of me before I could stop it. The sound was barely more than a ghost, but in the quiet of the kitchen, it felt deafening.
Y/N let out a low, rough groan against my mouth, and I felt it everywhere—vibrating through my chest, settling deep in my stomach. It was raw, unfiltered want. The kind of sound that never belonged in public, never belonged to the polished version of us the world saw.
Hearing it now, after everything today, made something in my blood spark.
I didn’t pull away. I leaned into it.
My hands tightened in her hair, and I started to move—slow, deliberate. A gentle roll of my hips, pressing myself down into the heat of her lap, testing, teasing.
Y/N hands, steady on my waist just seconds ago, suddenly gripped harder. Fingers digging into the fabric of the shirt—her shirt—that I was wearing.
“Lizzie,” she rasped.
Her voice cracked just slightly as she pulled back an inch, her forehead still resting against mine. Her breathing was uneven, her eyes dark and completely locked onto me.
I didn’t stop.
If anything, I slowed down, making every movement count. Every shift of my hips more intentional, more precise.
And then I felt it.
That firm, growing pressure beneath me—impossible to miss, impossible to misunderstand. The heat of her, even through the denim, sending a sharp, electric feeling straight through me.
My lips curved before I could stop them.
Not soft. Not shy.
A smirk.
Because I knew exactly what I was doing to her.
“Oh…” I whispered, letting it trail into a quiet hum as I shifted again, deliberately chasing that friction. “Is that for me?”
Her eyes fluttered shut, her jaw tightening like she was trying to hold herself together—and failing.
Another groan slipped out of her, deeper this time.
“You know it is,” she managed, her hands sliding from my waist down to my hips, guiding me—or maybe just holding on. “God, Lizzie… you’re going to be the death of me.”
I let out a quiet, breathy chuckle, the sound brushing right against her lips.
Leaning in, I nipped lightly at her jaw before murmuring into her ear, “Good. Because after that song… I think you owe me.”
I pressed down once more—slow, firm—feeling the way her breath hitched, the way her whole body reacted under me.
The rest of the world could keep talking, guessing, analyzing. Right here, in this dim kitchen—there was only one thing that mattered.
And I was sitting right on top of it.
The heat in the kitchen had become too much—too consuming, too intense to stay contained against the counter. I barely remember how we moved, only that I didn’t let her go for more than a second before we ended up in the living room, collapsing together onto the couch.
The change of space didn’t cool anything down. It made it worse.
The kiss deepened instantly—hungrier, more desperate—like the three days apart had left something aching under my skin that only she could fix. My hands moved over her without thinking, tracing the lines of her body through her clothes, relearning, needing more.
Too much fabric.
I grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up, the motion urgent, wordless. She understood immediately, breaking the kiss just long enough to lift her arms so I could drag it over her head and toss it somewhere behind me.
The second her skin was bare, she was back on me—her mouth crashing into mine with a force that made my head spin.
Then it was my turn.
Her hands found the bottom of the oversized shirt I was wearing—her shirt—and tugged it up and off. The moment it cleared my head, our skin met, and—
God.
It was like fire.
I let out a shaky breath as I settled back into her lap, straddling her, my chest rising and falling against hers. Without the layers between us, everything felt sharper. Every movement, every shift of my hips—
I felt her.
Firm. Heavy. Pressing through the denim of her jeans. Familiar.
My lips curved slightly despite how unsteady my breathing had become.
“You’re so desperate for me tonight,” I murmured against her mouth, the smirk slipping back into place even as my voice came out softer than I intended.
Her hands slid down to the small of my back, pulling me closer—flush against her.
“Can you blame me?” she breathed. “I spent twelve hours in a booth singing about exactly this. Having the real thing is… a lot better.”
Then she moved.
Her hips tilted up, pressing against me in a way that made my head fall back, a sharp gasp tearing out of my throat before I could stop it. The directness of it—the way she reacted to me so openly, so unapologetically—it sent a rush straight through me.
My hands moved on instinct, fumbling slightly in my haste as I reached for the button of her jeans. I popped it open, dragging the zipper down, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room.
She exhaled—long, shaky—as she was released from the constraint of the denim, the tension eased.
And I felt it. Her cock, already slick and aching, sprang free, pulsing against my stomach. My eyes dropped, my breath catching as I took her in, my hand moving almost automatically, wrapping around her—warm. Soft. Alive under my touch.
I tightened my grip, drawing a slow, deliberate stroke that pulled a broken sound from her.
“Lizzie…” she warned, her head dropping on my shoulder, her voice strained.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured, my voice dropping—lower, steadier, something possessive threading through it without effort. I shifted slightly, moving in a way that teased both of us, letting the contact build just enough to make her react again.
“I’ve got you,” I repeated softly, closer this time, my lips brushing near her ear. “And I’m not going anywhere.” The “soon” I’d promised earlier—everything waiting outside this moment—felt impossibly far away. Right now, none of that existed. No public. No expectations. No noise. Just her beneath me—and the undeniable, electric reality of us.
The air felt thick—heavy with the scent of us, with everything that had been building since that song dropped at midnight.
I didn’t slow my hand.
I kept that same steady rhythm—firm, knowing—and I felt the exact moment her composure started to crack. She leaned into me, her hips lifting instinctively into my touch, like she couldn’t help it anymore. Our kiss turned messy—desperate, teeth catching, breath mixing—until she pulled away, like she needed air just as much as she needed more of me.
Then her face was in my neck.
Her breath hit hot and uneven against my skin, and I shivered as she started moving—slowly, deliberately—her lips dragging along my jaw, then down my throat. Every small bite, every soft press of her tongue after, pulled sharp, shaky breaths out of me before I could stop them.
“Don’t stop,” she murmured against my skin.
I felt it more than I heard it.
“God, Lizzie… don’t stop.”
I wasn’t going to. My grip tightened, my thumb sweeping over the crown of Y/N’s cock, catching the beads of moisture gathering there. I watched her—really watched her—the way her eyes rolled back, the tension in her arms as she braced herself against the couch.
It did something to me.Seeing her like that. Undone. Because of me.
But she wasn’t the only one losing control.
Her hands moved over me, sliding up my sides, fingers spreading over my ribs like she was feeling everything—my breath, my heartbeat. Then higher, thumbs brushing just beneath my breasts before her mouth followed.
I gasped softly, my head tipping back as she moved lower, her kisses turning slower, heavier, more deliberate along my collarbone. My fingers tightened in her hair, holding her there without even thinking.
And when Y/N reached my chest—She didn’t hesitate. The moment her mouth closed around my nipple, her tongue moving in a way that sent a sharp, direct pulse straight through me—I gasped, my hips jerking forward on instinct.
The movement pressed me harder against the base of Y/N’s pulsing length, the friction sudden and overwhelming, and for a second it was almost too much.
But I didn’t stop. If anything, I sped up. My hand moved faster, more urgent now, feeling the way she was swelling, the way everything in her was starting to give.
I could feel it—the way she was winding up again, every small break in her control finally collapsing into something much sharper, much heavier. And I held onto it. Pushing her right to the edge.
The room felt smaller, like everything had narrowed down to just us—the sound of our breathing, heavy and uneven, and the soft brush of skin against skin.
I barely had time to think before her hands moved to the clasp of my bra. Even with the slight tremor in her fingers, she was sure, steady. A quick flick—and it gave way, the lace loosening and falling from me. Y/N pulled back just enough to reach for the clasp of my bra, her fingers sure and steady despite the slight tremor of adrenaline. With a deft flick, she released it, letting the lace fall away.
A sharp, cut-off gasp slipped from my lips.
Y/N’s mouth was on me immediately—warm, firm, claiming—while her hand cupped the other one. The sensation hit all at once, overwhelming and grounding at the same time, like the only thing keeping me tethered while everything else blurred.
My hand never stopped. Still wrapped around her, still moving—firm, slick—feeling every pulse, every shift in her as she reacted. My other hand stayed tangled in her hair, holding her there, silently urging her not to stop.
“God, you’re so good to me,” she groaned against my skin. I felt it more than I heard it, the vibration running straight through me. She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes dark—heavy with something deeper than just want.
“Lizzie, you’re perfect. Everything about you.”
The smirk I’d been holding onto slipped away. All I could do was look at her, breathless, my chest rising and falling as I felt the way she harder and harder beneath me—the tension building in her thighs, her breathing turning sharp, uneven. Her cock starting to throb in my hand.
“Lizzie… I’m close,” she rasped, her voice breaking. “I’m so close.”
I didn’t answer. I just tightened my grip. My hand moved faster, more focused, every movement deliberate as I pushed her closer. My thumb brushed the crown focusing there, and her head fell back to my shoulder, a deep, raw sound tearing from her.
Then suddenly—
She surged forward, pulling me into a kiss that stole whatever breath I had left.
And I felt it. Her whole body tensed, a sharp shudder running through her as a hot, heavy release coated my fingers as she came in my hand—hot, overwhelming, the force of it making her go weak against me. She collapsed into me, arms wrapping tight, almost desperate, her face pressed into my shoulder as she rode it out.
I held her there, my own breathing uneven, my heart pounding against hers. For a moment, neither of us moved. Just that—our hearts racing, bodies pressed together.
Then she shifted.
Before I could react, her arms hooked under my thighs and she flipped us in one smooth motion. A breathless laugh escaped me as I landed back against the couch, her body now above mine.
Y/N reached for her bra, tossing it aside like it didn’t matter anymore, her hands already moving to the waistband of my jeans. I looked up at her—and the look in her eyes made my breath catch again.
Bright. Focused. Dangerous in a way I knew meant I was in trouble.
“My turn,” she whispered, her smile slow, certain.
My breath hitched as I felt her tug at my jeans, my heart already racing for what came next.
---
Next Morning
The next morning came softly—warm, quiet.
And then—
Ding dong.
I groaned, my face still buried somewhere warm and familiar. “…no,” I mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Ding dong.
I shifted slightly—and that’s when I realized.
I wasn’t in bed.
I was… on the couch.
More specifically—on Y/N.
My eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the soft morning light spilling through the windows. Y/N was still asleep beneath me, completely still except for the steady rise and fall of her chest. One arm was wrapped securely around my back, the other resting loosely at my side, like even in her sleep she hadn’t wanted to let me go.
And we were—
Oh.
Right.
Naked.
I huffed a quiet, sleepy laugh, my lips curving as I took her in. “…you’re going to have the worst back pain,” I murmured softly. Because somehow, at some point, we’d ended up here—half tangled, half collapsed—falling asleep in the middle of everything. There was a blanket thrown over us, barely covering anything, like one of us had tried… and then given up halfway.
I didn’t remember when. Or how. I must’ve passed out.
But still—she’d held onto me. Even like this.
My fingers lifted, brushing gently through her hair, slow and careful. God. She looked peaceful. Soft in a way the world never got to see.
Ding dong.
I groaned again, dropping my forehead lightly against her shoulder. “…whoever that is, I hate them.”
The bell rang again. Persistent. Annoying. Very much not going away.
I sighed, reluctantly pushing myself up—careful not to wake her as I slipped out of her arms. She shifted slightly at the loss, brow furrowing just a little, but didn’t wake. “Sorry,” I whispered, pressing a quick kiss to her shoulder.
Then I stood.
And immediately paused.
“…oh my god.”
The living room was a mess. Clothes everywhere—on the floor, on the couch, half hanging off the table. And—
I pressed my lips together, trying, and failing, not to smile. Used condoms. Two on the floor, one definitely on the coffee table, wrappers scattered around like we hadn’t even tried to be discreet.
“…wow,” I muttered under my breath.
I shook my head, heat creeping up my neck despite everything. “…okay.”
Grabbing a robe quickly, I slipped it on and tied it tight before making my way to the door, running a hand through my hair in a half-hearted attempt to look presentable.
Ding dong.
“I’m coming!” I called, still a little hoarse. I reached for the handle, pulling the door open—and froze.
“…oh my god.”
There she was. Mary-Kate. Standing on my doorstep like she hadn’t just flown across the country on a mission, looking way too pleased with herself.
Her eyes flicked over me instantly—taking in the robe, the messy hair, the very obvious context. Her lips curved. “Well,” she said casually. “Good morning.” She leaned slightly to peek past me into the apartment. “…I came to meet your girlfriend,” she added, far too calm.
I just stared at her.
“…you said soon,” she continued, completely unapologetic. “I interpreted that as immediately.”
I blinked once. Twice. Then glanced back over my shoulder—at the very naked, very asleep singer currently on my couch, and the very incriminating state of my living room—then back at her.
“…you have got to be kidding me.”
Mary-Kate’s smile only grew. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
I immediately stepped out just enough to block the doorway. “No,” I said quickly. “No, it’s not. You can’t just—show up like this—”
“Lizzie,” Mary-Kate cut in, already trying to peek around me again, “you’re wearing a robe at”—she checked her phone—“eight in the morning.” She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to take in the details. “…and your hair looks like that.”
I deadpanned. “Thank you.”
Her smirk turned sharper. “So she’s here.”
I crossed my arms. “That is not the point.”
“That is exactly the point.”
She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice just enough to make it worse. “…I can smell it.”
I froze. “…you can—what?”
Mary-Kate waved a hand vaguely. “Not literally. Just—” she gestured toward me, then past me—“the vibe.”
I stared at her. “…you’re insane.”
“Move,” she said simply.
“No.”
“Lizzie.”
“No.”
A beat.
Then Mary-Kate spoke again, calm as ever—“Is she naked?”
I choked. “Okay—nope—conversation over.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, she is.”
I pressed my lips together, trying very hard not to laugh and scream at the same time. “You are not coming in here right now,” I said, lowering my voice. “She’s asleep.”
That made her pause. A small shift. Because despite everything—she wasn’t completely heartless.
“…I flew all the way here,” Mary-Kate said, softer this time—but still stubborn.
“And you’ll survive waiting five minutes,” I shot back.
She studied me for a second. Then, unexpectedly—she smiled. Small. Knowing.
“…you really like her,” she said.
I didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
No deflection. No teasing. Just—yeah.
Her expression softened, just for a second. “…okay,” she said, holding her hands up slightly. “I’ll behave.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t know how to behave.”
“That’s fair,” she admitted.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “…give me a minute.”
She nodded—reluctantly.
I stepped back inside, closing the door just enough to leave them outside, then leaned against it for half a second. “…oh my god,” I whispered to myself.
Then I pushed off and turned—and immediately softened. Because there she was. Still on the couch. Still asleep. Barely shifted from where I left her, except now one arm was stretched out where I had been, like she’d reached for me even in her sleep.
My chest tightened.
“…hey,” I murmured quietly, walking back over. I crouched beside Y/N, brushing my fingers gently through her hair again.
She stirred this time—brows furrowing slightly before her eyes blinked open, slow and heavy with sleep. “…Lizzie?” she mumbled, voice rough.
“Hi.”
She squinted up at me, clearly still half asleep. “…what time is it?”
“Too early,” I said.
That earned a faint, sleepy huff from her. Then her gaze focused a little more. “…why are you dressed?”
I smiled despite myself. “Because—”
I didn’t get to finish.
Her hand caught my wrist, tugging me forward before I could react. A soft yelp left me as I lost my balance, landing right back on top of her, the blanket shifting around us. “Y/N—” I started, but it came out more breath than protest. She was already smiling—sleepy, warm, dangerous in that quiet way of hers.
“Mm,” she hummed, eyes still half-lidded as her hands settled at my waist. “You left.”
“I was gone for like—two minutes,” I said, but my voice softened automatically as she pulled me closer.
“Too long,” she murmured.
Her fingers brushed the edge of my robe, slowly, like she was rediscovering me all over again. My breath caught slightly.
“Y/N…” I warned, though there wasn’t much strength behind it.
She looked up at me, a small smirk tugging at her lips.
“What?”
Her hands slid a little higher, pushing the robe open just enough to expose my shoulder. “You are not supposed to wear this yet,” she added, quieter now.
My breath hitched as her lips brushed just under my ear—soft at first, then a light nip that sent a sharp shiver down my spine. I bit my lip instantly, trying to keep quiet, but it barely helped.
“Y/N…” I whispered, already losing a bit of my resolve.
She hummed against my skin, clearly pleased with herself, her voice dropping as she murmured teasingly into my ear—“Thought you liked it when I take my time…”
That did it.
I turned my head, catching her lips in a kiss that was anything but slow this time—harder, needier, like the night before hadn’t been nearly enough. Her hands moved instinctively, sliding along my sides, pushing the robe further open—and then one of them lifted, settling against my chest—
“Wait—”
I caught her wrist gently but firmly, breaking the kiss just enough to breathe.
She frowned slightly, confused, still close enough that I could feel her breath against my lips. “…why?”
I let out a shaky exhale, pressing my forehead lightly against hers. “Because,” I said, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected, “my sister is outside.”
A pause.
Y/N blinked. “…your sister.”
“Mm-hm.”
Another pause.
Then her eyes closed briefly as she groaned under her breath. “…that is incredibly bad timing.”
I laughed softly, still a little breathless. “You think?”
She opened her eyes again, looking at me—really looking—like she was debating whether or not it was worth ignoring that fact. “…we have five minutes,” she said slowly.
I raised a brow. “Y/N.”
“I’m just saying—”
“No.”
She huffed, but there was a faint smile tugging at her lips. “…fine.”
I leaned in, pressing a quick, softer kiss to her mouth—gentler this time. “Later,” I murmured.
Her expression shifted instantly at that. “…yeah?” she asked.
I smiled. “Yeah.”
That seemed to satisfy her.
For now.
I pushed myself up with a quiet exhale, forcing my brain to actually function. “Okay—move,” I muttered, already stepping off her.
Y/N let out a soft, reluctant groan as I left her, but she didn’t argue this time. Instead, she ran a hand through her hair and sat up, blinking away the last of her sleep.
I grabbed the nearest thing—a shirt from the floor—and started picking up whatever I could reach. “…condoms,” I muttered under my breath, scooping up the very obvious evidence from the table and floor. “Great. Fantastic. Love that for me.”
Y/N snorted softly behind me. “Hey,” she said, voice still rough, “that’s teamwork.”
I shot her a look over my shoulder. “You’re helping.”
“I am helping,” she said, already leaning down to grab her boxers from the floor.
I huffed but didn’t argue, tossing wrappers into the trash as fast as I could. Behind me, I heard the soft rustle of fabric as she pulled on her boxers, then reached for the rest of her clothes—her bra, her shirt, her jeans—moving quickly but without that earlier rush. Now it was… focused. Real.
“We have, like, two minutes,” I said, glancing at the door.
“We’re fine,” she replied, way too calm for someone about to meet my sister for the first time.
“Easy for you to say.”
She smirked faintly. “I’m charming.”
I rolled my eyes, grabbing the last of the mess before backing toward the hallway. “Bathroom,” I pointed.
“Got it.”
I disappeared into my room while she headed the other way.
---
A few minutes later, I stepped out, now fully dressed, hair quickly fixed, trying to look like I hadn’t just—well. Everything.
At the same time, the bathroom door opened. Y/N walked out, running a hand through her hair one last time, looking… annoyingly put together for someone who had been asleep on my couch five minutes ago.
She glanced at me immediately. “…do I look okay?” she asked.
I didn’t even hesitate.
I stepped closer, reaching up slightly before leaning in and pressing a quick, soft kiss to her lips. “You look perfect,” I murmured.
Her shoulders relaxed just a fraction at that. “…good.”
I smiled faintly, then grabbed the perfume from the table, spraying it quickly. “Okay,” I said, more to myself than anything. “We’re doing this.”
Y/N nodded once. “Yeah.”
I took a breath, reaching for the door. And then—I opened it.
Mary-Kate was still there. Waiting. Watching.
And the second she saw us, her expression shifted—curious, assessing, and just a little too amused.
I glanced back at Y/N briefly, then stepped aside.
“Alright,” I said. “You wanted to meet her.”
A small pause.
Then—
“This is Y/N.”
I stepped aside, giving her a clear view.
For a split second, everything went… still.
Y/N, standing just behind me, lifted her hand in a small, polite wave—calm, composed, like she wasn’t standing in front of my sister for the first time after… all of that. “Hi,” she said simply.
Mary-Kate didn’t wave back.
She just looked at her—up, down, then back up again. A slow, impressed hum left her.
“…okay,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “You’re hotter in person.”
“—Mary-Kate,” I snapped immediately.
Y/N blinked, clearly caught off guard—and then, just slightly, she blushed. Actually *blushed*. Which somehow made it worse.
Mary-Kate let out a quiet breath through her nose, clearly amused—but at least she didn’t push it further. “What?” she said, glancing at me. “I’m just being honest.”
“You’re being inappropriate,” I shot back.
Y/N cleared her throat softly, lowering her hand with a small, slightly awkward smile. “…hi,” she said again, a little more unsure this time.
Mary-Kate stepped forward then, shifting gears. “Hi,” she replied calmly this time, extending her hand. “I’m Mary-Kate.”
Y/N took it immediately, grateful for the normal interaction. “Nice to meet you.”
There was a brief pause. A weird one. Not uncomfortable exactly—but new. Everyone taking each other in.
I cleared my throat, stepping in before Mary-Kate could say anything else that would make this worse. “…so,” I said, forcing a small smile, “how about breakfast?”
That seemed to break the tension just enough. Mary-Kate shrugged. “I flew here. I’ll take food.”
“Great,” I said quickly, already turning toward the kitchen—and, without thinking, reaching back to grab Y/N’s hand and pull her along with me.
The second we were out of direct view, I let out a quiet breath. “…oh my god.”
Y/N chuckled softly beside me. “That went well.”
I shot her a look. “Did it?”
She smiled, relaxed despite everything. “I’m still alive, so yeah.”
I huffed a laugh, moving around the kitchen to grab plates. Then, out of nowhere—
“You know,” Y/N said casually, leaning against the counter, “you really do look like her.”
I paused. “…what?”
She gestured vaguely toward the living room. “Your sister. You look like twins.”
I stared at her for a second—then laughed. “Okay, first of all—rude. And second, she has her own twin.”
She grinned. “I’m serious.”
I shook my head, still smiling as I turned back to the counter. But then—I glanced at her again, a thought clicking into place.
“…wait,” I said slowly, narrowing my eyes. “Is that why you blushed?”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
“Earlier,” I pressed, pointing slightly. “At the door. When she said…” I stopped myself, rolling my eyes. “When she said you were hotter in person.”
She immediately lifted her hands in defense. “No—no,” she said quickly. “That’s not—”
I raised a brow.
“I was just caught off guard,” she added, a little more carefully this time.
I studied her for a second. “…uh-huh.”
“I was,” she insisted, softer now.
Then she stepped closer—and just like that, the teasing faded a little.
“Yeah, you look alike,” she said, voice quieter. “But…” Her eyes met mine. “…you’re different.”
Something in my chest shifted. “How?” I asked, before I could stop myself.
Y/N smiled—small, but real. “You’re you.”
Simple. But the way she said it—like it meant everything.
“…smooth,” I muttered, but there was no bite to it.
She huffed a quiet laugh. “I mean it.”
I looked at her for a second longer, then shook my head, turning back to the counter to hide the way I was smiling. “Yeah, yeah,” I murmured. “Help me before she comes in here and starts judging my cooking.”
Y/N pushed off the counter immediately. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, stepping beside me.
And just like that—it felt normal again.
Well.
As normal as it could be—with my sister in the other room, and the girl I loved standing right next to me.
---
Everything… actually went well.
Surprisingly well.
There were a few teasing comments—mostly from Mary-Kate—but nothing Y/N couldn’t handle. In fact, she handled it better than I expected. Calm, easy, just the right amount of charm without trying too hard.
Mary-Kate warmed up to her quickly. That quiet, observant way she had? Y/N met it with the same kind of steady presence, and somewhere between breakfast and coffee, they just… clicked. Mary-Kate, of course, still tested her a little. Pushing. Waiting to see if Y/N would crack.
She didn’t.
And by the time they were both laughing over something stupid I’d said—completely at my expense, obviously—I realized something.
Y/N fit.
Not perfectly. Not instantly. But naturally.
Like she wasn’t forcing her way into my world—she was just… stepping into it.
---
Later, after MK left—after the apartment finally went quiet again—my phone buzzed.
I glanced down.
A message from Mary-Kate.
Mary-Kate:
Y/N is approved! I really like her.
I smiled before I could stop myself. Then—another message came through.
Ashley:
So you’re telling me you met her WITHOUT ME?
A second one, almost immediately—
Ashley:
I’m offended.
…another.
Ashley:
Actually no, I’m jealous.
I huffed out a quiet laugh. Of course she was.
Mary-Kate:
You were busy.
The reply came instantly.
Ashley:
That’s not the point and you know it.
I shook my head, locking my phone. “…unbelievable.”
But I was smiling. Of course I was. I looked up from my phone—and there she was. Y/N, sprawled comfortably on my couch like she belonged there, scrolling through something on her own phone, completely unaware of the messages I’d just gotten.
My chest softened.
“…hey,” I said.
She glanced up immediately. “Yeah?”
I shook my head, smile still lingering. “Nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “You’re smiling.”
“Am I not allowed to smile?”
“Not like that,” she said, already suspicious.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Just—come here.”
She didn’t question it—just got up and walked over, settling beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Which, at this point—It was.
---
Outside our little bubble, though—the world hadn’t slowed down.
Pillowtalk kept climbing. Streams rising, charts updating, the buzz getting louder. It hit Billboard.
And the speculation? It only got worse.
Fans digging through interviews, clips resurfacing, every glance, every interaction, every *moment* being picked apart.
“WHO IS SHE???”
“SHE HAS TO BE SOMEONE FAMOUS.”
And all the while—we stayed quiet. Stayed in this space that was still ours, for a little while longer.
---
Until few weeks later—we were spotted.
Just a simple moment. A walk, a laugh, a hand that lingered a little too long.
Summary: The forced proximity of a long road trip is finally wearing down the walls between Wanda and Y/N. Trapped in a cramped car with an incredibly perceptive Yelena Belova, the unspoken tension reaches a boiling point.
Words: 13k+
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Soulmate AU, Mentions of Past Hydra Abuse/Experimentation, Reader has a P, mention of smut.
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
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Yelena’s POV
The road stretched endlessly ahead of them beneath heavy grey clouds that turned the late afternoon dim and cold. Trees blurred past outside the windows in dark smears of green and black, occasionally broken by tiny gas stations or forgotten roadside towns as the car pushed steadily south.
Inside, it was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the faint music drifting from the radio. Yelena drove with one hand resting lazily on the wheel, sunglasses pushed into her hair despite the lack of sunlight. Wanda sat in the passenger seat with one knee slightly pulled up, staring out at the distant hills passing by. In the backseat, Y/N sat sideways behind Wanda, one arm draped across the top of the seat. Her attention seemed split between the scenery outside and Wanda beside her. Even now. Always.
Yelena had noticed it in the rearview mirror probably a hundred times already. How the taller woman acted around Wanda. A faint smirk tugged at Yelena’s mouth before she finally broke the silence.
“Tell me again what happened.”
Wanda blinked and looked over. “The mission?”
“Yes, mission,” Yelena replied dryly.
Y/N snorted softly from the backseat.
Wanda ignored it, shifting slightly before answering. “We were ambushed during a retrieval mission. Hydra knew we were coming.”
Yelena’s amusement faded immediately. “That is bad already.”
Wanda nodded faintly. “There were too many of them. Too organized. They knew exactly how we’d move.” Her jaw tightened slightly at the memory. “It wasn’t random.”
“Someone leaked information,” Yelena said.
“Maybe,” Wanda admitted quietly. “Or they’ve been studying us longer than we thought.”
In the backseat, Y/N’s posture stiffened almost instantly.
Wanda noticed immediately. Her fingers twitched faintly in her lap before she continued. “We escaped. Barely. But during the escape we had to split up.”
“Nat, Steve, and Bucky went one way,” Y/N added quietly. “Me and Wanda went the other.”
Yelena glanced toward the mirror again. “And Natasha told you to run.”
“A week ago,” Wanda said. “She contacted us through an encrypted burner. Told us to stay off-grid, keep moving, change locations constantly, and not go near the compound.”
“Until they figured out what happened,” Yelena murmured.
Wanda nodded. Silence settled inside the car again as light rain began tapping softly against the windows. The windshield wipers swept once across the glass.
“And after that?” Yelena asked.
Wanda’s expression dimmed slightly. “Nothing.”
Yelena’s grip shifted slightly on the steering wheel. That bothered her. Natasha never stayed silent unless she had a reason. Or couldn’t answer. The thought lingered heavily in the car for a few seconds, mixing with the sound of rain against the windows and the steady rumble of tires against wet pavement.
Wanda noticed the slight tension settling into Yelena’s shoulders. “…Where are we going exactly?” she asked quietly.
Yelena blinked once, pulling herself back from the thought. “South coast.”
“That narrows it down so much,” Wanda muttered.
Yelena ignored the sarcasm easily. “There’s a place,” she said after a moment. “Old safehouse Natasha used years ago after Red Room.”
That immediately got Wanda’s attention. “You think she’d go back there?”
“No,” Yelena said simply. “Which is exactly why she might.” A faint smirk tugged at Yelena’s mouth. “Yes.” Yelena adjusted her grip on the wheel before continuing. “It’s near the coast. Small town. Forgettable.” Her expression dimmed slightly. “One of the first places Natasha brought me after we escaped Dreykov.”
Wanda’s gaze softened.
Yelena shrugged one shoulder casually, though there was something quieter beneath it. “She used it sometimes when things became... too loud.”
In the backseat, Y/N listened silently, chin resting against her folded arm near the window while rain streaked across the glass beside her.
The silence thickened again after that. Rain continued tapping softly against the windows while the car pushed farther south through long empty roads. Yelena drove one-handed again, though this time her eyes kept flicking toward the rearview mirror, but because she was studying Y/N now. Curious.
Eventually she spoke again.
“So,” Yelena said casually, “how were you able to smell Natasha on me?”
Wanda glanced over slightly.
In the backseat, Y/N blinked once. “…What?”
“At the alley,” Yelena explained. “You said I smelled like her.”
“Oh.” Y/N shifted slightly. “You do.”
“You can smell family connections?”
“No. I just have a good nose.” Y/N hesitated briefly, like she was trying to explain something obvious to someone who lacked the context for it. “I can turn into a wolf.”
Silence. Yelena stared at the mirror for a full second.
“Wait.” She glanced toward the backseat. “Like actual wolf?”
“Yes.”
“Big wolf?”
“…Yes.”
“How big?”
Y/N paused slightly. “…Big.”
Wanda smiled faintly despite herself.
Yelena barked out a laugh immediately. “That is amazing.”
Y/N relaxed slightly at the reaction. Then Yelena’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she looked at Y/N through the mirror again. “So are you enhanced too?”
Y/N frowned. “What?”
Yelena gestured vaguely toward her. “You are giant. Strong. Dramatic. Broody. I’m trying to determine if you are enhanced or just hot.”
Wanda’s head snapped toward Yelena instantly. A visible frown formed on her face.
Y/N, meanwhile, looked deeply confused again. But answered anyway, “It’s part of the wolf,” she explained quietly. “Strength. Senses. Healing.”
Yelena tilted her head slightly. “And Hydra did this?”
Y/N shook her head. “No.” A small pause. “I was born this way.”
That got Yelena’s full attention immediately. “…Seriously?”
Y/N nodded once.
For a second, Yelena just stared at her in the mirror. Then a grin spread across her face. “That is coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Wanda’s frown deepened.
Y/N looked surprised by the enthusiasm. “…Really?”
“Yes,” Yelena said immediately. “You are giant magical wolf woman.”
Another pause.
“Can I see later?”
Wanda turned sharply toward Yelena again.
Y/N blinked once. “…The wolf?”
“Yes, the wolf.”
“…Okay.”
Wanda’s jaw tightened slightly. Yelena caught it immediately finding amusing.
Wanda stared ahead at the road in complete silence now.
Yelena smirked to herself before continuing to poke at Y/N. “Can you understand people while wolf?”
“Yes.”
“Can you talk?”
“No.”
Wanda pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yelena.”
“What?”
“You are interrogating her like she is a zoo exhibit.”
“I am learning,” Yelena corrected.
Y/N tilted her head. “I don’t mind.”
“See?” Yelena pointed triumphantly.
Wanda made a noise of irritation and looked out the side window again.
Yelena was absolutely certain now. The more she complimented Y/N, the grumpier Wanda became. And Y/N was somehow too oblivious to notice any of it. Which only made it funnier.
“This is amazing,” Yelena continued.
Y/N blinked once, slightly unsure how to respond to that level of enthusiasm. “…Okay.”
“No, seriously.” Yelena pointed dramatically toward the backseat. “Do you understand how cool this is? Natasha never told me the Avengers had an actual werewolf.”
“I’m not a werewolf,” Y/N corrected automatically.
Yelena waved a dismissive hand. “Close enough.”
“It’s not.”
“What is difference?”
Y/N frowned slightly, genuinely considering it. “…I’m not cursed.”
Yelena barked out a laugh loud enough to echo through the car. Wanda stayed facing the window. Silent.
“You are funny too,” Yelena informed Y/N.
Y/N looked mildly alarmed by that statement. “I wasn’t joking.”
“That makes it better.”
Another soft laugh escaped Yelena as the car rolled down the road. In the backseat, Y/N relaxed a little more into the seat, one arm resting against the door while she watched the road ahead through the windshield.
Yelena glanced toward the mirror again. “So how does it work?”
Y/N tilted her head slightly. “What does?”
“The wolf thing.”
“Oh…I shift.”
Yelena stared at her reflection for a second. “…You are terrible at explaining things.”
Wanda’s lips twitched faintly despite herself before she forced the expression away again.
Y/N noticed immediately. Her attention shifted toward Wanda for a second longer than necessary, lingering there briefly before returning to Yelena.
“Okay!” Yelena glanced back again. “Do you chase things?”
Y/N looked genuinely confused. “…What things?”
“Cars. Squirrels. Tiny annoying animals. A ball.”
“No,” Y/N said immediately, mildly offended. “I’m not a dog.”
Wanda covered her mouth quickly to hide another laugh as she very briefly—and disastrously—imagined throwing something just to see what Y/N would do.
Y/N looked immediately pleased by the sound. That tiny shift in her expression didn’t escape Yelena either. God, these two were obvious.
“So,” Yelena said casually, still grinning to herself, “if I buy squeaky toy later—”
“No.”
“Very fast answer.”
“Because it’s stupid.”
“You thought about it though.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Wanda let out another quiet laugh before she could stop herself. Y/N’s attention snapped toward her again immediately, expression softening all over again like flipping a switch.
Wanda looked away toward the window quickly before Y/N could notice the heat returning to her face.
Unfortunately, Yelena noticed both.
The car slowly settled into a quieter rhythm after that. Rain tapped softly against the windows while the highway stretched endlessly ahead of them, illuminated only by distant headlights and occasional road signs flashing past in the dark. Yelena hummed quietly along with the radio. Wanda stayed turned toward the window, though the faint smile never fully disappeared from her mouth. And in the backseat, Y/N relaxed deeper into her corner, calm and content in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. Mostly because Wanda kept laughing.
---
Wanda’s POV
By the time they finally stopped, Wanda felt like her entire body had gone numb from sitting in the car for so many hours. The road had long since emptied into stretches of darkness, civilization thinning until there was barely anything left except trees, old gas stations, and occasional flickering signs glowing weakly in the distance.
When the motel finally appeared, it looked like something pulled straight out of a horror movie. A buzzing neon VACANCY sign flickered unevenly near the road. Half the letters were dead. Wanda stared at it through the windshield. “…Absolutely not.”
Yelena parked anyway. “Perfect hiding place,” she declared.
“It looks like we’re about to get murdered.”
“Exactly. Nobody searches for someone in murder motel.”
That was... annoyingly logical.
The gravel crunched beneath the tires as they pulled into the nearly empty parking lot. The motel itself was old and weatherworn, paint peeling along the doors and railings. A single dim light buzzed outside the office. Wanda climbed out of the car slowly, stretching her arms above her head with a quiet groan. Cold air hit immediately. Before she could even react properly, warmth settled at her back.
Y/N.
She had moved beside Wanda almost instantly after getting out, standing close enough that their shoulders brushed lightly while golden eyes scanned the parking lot carefully. Wanda tried very hard not to notice how automatic it had become.
Yelena absolutely noticed. Again. The blonde grabbed the car keys and headed toward the office with an amused little hum under her breath. “I’ll get the rooms,” she announced.
Wanda watched her disappear inside before exhaling quietly. Beside her, Y/N tilted her head slightly. “Tired?”
Wanda glanced up at her. Even exhausted, Y/N still looked unfairly good. Which was a problem Wanda was aggressively not thinking about.
“A little,” Wanda admitted.
Y/N nodded once, gaze flicking briefly toward the dark edges of the parking lot again before settling back on Wanda.
“You should sleep.”
Something about the simple certainty in her voice made warmth spread through Wanda’s chest again. Dangerous. Very dangerous.
A few minutes later, the office door opened again. Yelena stepped back outside, twirling two keycards between her fingers. “One room for me,” she said casually. Then tossed the second card directly at Y/N. “One room for the couple.”
Wanda nearly inhaled her own soul. “We are not a couple!”
Yelena raised one eyebrow slowly, visibly amused. “…Okay.”
The way she said it somehow made it infinitely worse.
Wanda’s face burned hotter instantly. “We’re not!”
“Mhm.” Yelena smirked faintly before turning away, already walking toward her room with her duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
“Goodnight, married people.”
“Yelena!”
The blonde only waved dismissively without looking back.
Wanda stood frozen in the middle of the parking lot for a full second, absolutely mortified before she grabbed her own bag quickly. “Come on.”
The motel walkway creaked softly beneath their footsteps as they crossed the parking lot. The farther they moved from the office lights, the darker everything became, shadows stretching long between the doors. Y/N walked slightly behind Wanda this time, close enough that Wanda could feel her presence without looking.
It made her chest ache in that confusing, dangerous way again.
Wanda unlocked the door quickly and pushed it open. The room was exactly what she expected. Old and small with a single buzzing lamp cast soft yellow light over faded floral wallpaper and worn carpet that had definitely seen better decades. There were two bedside tables, a tiny bathroom tucked near the back, an old TV mounted crookedly on the wall—and one bed.
Wanda stopped walking and slowly, she turned toward Y/N.
Y/N blinked once. “…What?”
“There’s one bed.”
Y/N looked at the bed. Then back at Wanda. “…Okay?”
Right. Of course that wouldn’t bother her. They’ve been sleeping on the same bed this whole time.
“It’s fine,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “We’ve shared beds before.”
Y/N nodded immediately. “Yeah.”
Because for Y/N, this really was normal. Wanda hated how much that calmed her.
Y/N quietly locked the door behind them before setting her bag down near the wall. The room immediately felt smaller afterward. Quieter.
Wanda busied herself taking off her jacket, avoiding eye contact completely. But unfortunately, Y/N noticed her mood almost instantly. “…Wanda?”
“I’m fine.” The answer came sharper than intended.
Y/N went still for a second.
Wanda immediately regretted it. She rubbed a hand over her face tiredly. “Sorry. I just—”
Before she could finish, warmth suddenly wrapped around her making her freeze. Y/N had stepped closer without a sound and pulled her gently into a hug. Not tight. Not restraining. Just there. Warm arms around her shoulders. Y/N chest against hers. Steady heartbeat beneath her ear.
“I don’t want to fight,” Y/N murmured quietly.
Wanda’s breath caught.
Y/N held her carefully, like she was afraid Wanda might pull away if she moved too suddenly.
“I just want to know if you’re okay.”
The honesty in her voice shattered something soft inside Wanda immediately. Because there was no accusation there. No frustration. No confusion. Just concern.
Wanda felt herself melt against her before she could stop it. Her forehead slowly dropped against Y/N’s shoulder as tension drained out of her body all at once.
“I know,” she whispered tiredly.
Y/N’s arms tightened slightly around her at the sound. Warm and safe.
Wanda closed her eyes.
God.
This was becoming a serious problem.
---
Wanda stayed there longer than she meant to, pressed against Y/N’s chest while the motel room hummed quietly around them, the old air conditioner rattling softly somewhere near the window.
Y/N didn’t rush her. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t push. She just held her. One hand rested carefully between Wanda’s shoulder blades while the other stayed warm against her waist, grounding and steady in that effortless way only Y/N seemed capable of.
Wanda hated how much she needed it.
After a long moment, Y/N spoke quietly. “Did I do something wrong?”
The question was so soft, so genuinely worried, that Wanda’s chest tightened painfully. She pulled back just enough to look up at her.
Y/N’s expression was open, uncertain now in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. Like Wanda’s reactions mattered more than her own comfort.
“No,” Wanda said immediately. “No, you didn’t.”
Y/N studied her face carefully, searching for any sign she was lying. “…Then why are you upset?”
Because you smile every time I laugh. Because you look at me like I’m something precious. Because I can’t breathe when you touch me anymore. Wanda swallowed hard. “I’m just tired,” she said instead.
Y/N kept looking at her for another second, then slowly nodded. “…Okay.”
She believed her enough not to push further. That somehow made Wanda feel even worse.
Y/N finally loosened her hold, though one hand lingered lightly against Wanda’s waist for a second longer before falling away completely. The loss of warmth was immediate.
Wanda tried very hard not to notice.
Y/N stepped back and glanced around the room before wrinkling her nose slightly. “This place smells weird.”
The abrupt change nearly made Wanda laugh.
“It’s a motel.”
“It smells like cigarettes and sadness.”
A startled laugh escaped Wanda before she could stop it. Y/N’s entire expression softened instantly at the sound again.
There it is. That look. Wanda felt heat crawl back into her face immediately. Wanda turned away quickly before Y/N could notice her spiraling again and dropped her bag near the bed. Behind her, she heard Y/N moving quietly around the room, checking windows and locks automatically out of habit. The familiar sounds settled something anxious in Wanda’s chest.
A few minutes later, Wanda sat near the edge of the bed while Y/N disappeared briefly into the bathroom to wash up. The second the door closed, Wanda dropped her face into her hands with a groan.
“This is bad,” she whispered to herself. Very bad. Because now every little thing affected her. The hugs, the smiles, the protective instincts, the way Y/N looked happier whenever Wanda laughed. And the worst part?
Wanda liked it. A lot.
The bathroom door opened again. Wanda looked up automatically—and immediately regretted having eyes. Y/N stepped back into the room wearing loose grey sweatpants and a black sports bra, hair still damp from washing it quickly in the sink.
Wanda forgot how breathing worked. Again.
Y/N glanced at her immediately. “…What?”
“Nothing.” That answer came way too fast.
Y/N stared at her for a second. Then, to Wanda’s absolute horror, a small smirk appeared.
“Why is your face red?”
Wanda nearly choked. “It’s not.”
“It is.”
“It’s warm in here.”
Y/N glanced around the room. The ancient air conditioner rattled loudly from the window. “…No, it isn’t.”
Wanda hated everything.
Y/N took another step closer, still looking genuinely curious despite the faint amusement lingering on her face.
“You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“The red face thing.”
Wanda grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at her. But Y/N caught it automatically. And the smirk got slightly bigger.
Wanda wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you know something.”
Y/N frowned slightly, clearly trying to understand what Wanda meant. Then, instead of backing off, she stepped closer.
Wanda immediately regretted saying anything.
“Why?” Y/N asked.
Wanda opened her mouth but nothing came out.
Y/N tilted her head. “Am I the one making you blush?”
The question hit Wanda like a freight train. Her entire brain stopped functioning. For one horrifying second, neither of them spoke. Y/N watched her carefully. Wanda stared back completely frozen. Y/N kept watching her, golden eyes focused entirely on her face. There was no teasing there. No smugness. Just curiosity. Which somehow made it ten times worse.
Slowly, Y/N reached out and took Wanda's hand.
Wanda's breath caught. “Y/N—”
“You keep doing it.”
“What?”
Y/N shifted a little closer. Far too close. Wanda could feel the warmth radiating from her.
Y/N tilted her head. “Is it?” The question came out quiet. And somehow that was the problem. Because Y/N wasn't trying to corner her. She actually wanted to understand.
“You blush when I get close,” Y/N continued carefully. “And when I touch you.”
Another inch closer.
“Your heartbeat gets faster.”
“Y/N.”
“And when I hug you—”
“Y/N.”
“Is it because—”
“Stop.”
The word came out sharper than Wanda intended.
Y/N immediately fell silent.
Wanda hated the flash of uncertainty that crossed her face. This was exactly why she couldn't do this. Because one more second and she was going to say something she couldn't take back. Something that would change everything.
Wanda pulled her hand free and stood abruptly. “I need a shower.”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
“A shower.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
Y/N glanced toward the bathroom. Then back at Wanda. Still confused.
“Did I say something wrong?”
The guilt hit instantly.
“No.”
“You seem upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
“You pushed me.”
Wanda groaned and scrubbed both hands down her face. “I just need five minutes, okay?”
Y/N studied her for a moment.
Then nodded slowly. “…Okay.”
The disappointment she tried to hide made Wanda feel even worse. Without trusting herself to say anything else, Wanda grabbed her clothes and headed for the bathroom. The door shut behind her. The lock clicked.
For a long moment, Wanda simply stood there staring at her reflection in the mirror. Then she dropped her forehead against it.
“Oh, this is a disaster.”
---
Y/N’s POV
The bathroom door clicked shut.
Y/N remained exactly where she was on the edge of the bed, staring at it. Very confused. A few minutes ago she had been certain she was finally understanding what was happening. Wanda’s heartbeat accelerated whenever Y/N got close. She blushed, she looked away and she got nervous when Y/N touched her.
Those signs seemed obvious. At least, they did to Y/N.
So why did Wanda keep denying it? It didn’t make sense.
Because Wanda was her imprint. The certainty of that sat deep inside her bones. Unshakable. The moment Y/N had seen Wanda for the first time, something had changed. Every instinct she possessed had immediately recognized her.
Protect. Stay close. Keep safe. Make her happy.
It wasn’t something Y/N had chosen. It simply was. As natural as breathing. As natural as her heartbeat. Which was why Wanda’s reactions confused her so much.
Y/N wasn’t afraid.
Why would she be?
Wanda was Wanda. Her imprint. The person her instincts trusted more than anyone else in the world. Even now, with a locked bathroom door between them, Y/N could hear Wanda moving around inside. Running water. Soft footsteps. Safe.
The knowledge settled her immediately. So why wasn’t Wanda settling too?
Y/N rubbed the back of her neck.
Maybe other people were just complicated. That seemed increasingly likely. She thought back to the car ride. The way Wanda smiled when Yelena was being ridiculous. The way her face turned red. The way she’d melted into Y/N’s arms earlier. And then five minutes later acted like Y/N had asked her to dismantle a bomb with her teeth.
None of it made sense. Y/N’s frown deepened. Maybe Wanda was afraid Y/N didn’t feel the same way. The thought made her sit up straighter.
Was that it?
Normal people needed things said out loud sometimes. Maybe Wanda couldn’t feel what Y/N felt. Maybe she didn’t understand.
Y/N stared at the bathroom door.
Of course she didn’t understand. She didn’t even know what imprinting was.
The realization hit all at once.
Y/N had spent so much time assuming Wanda knew. Assuming she could somehow see it.
But Wanda wasn’t a wolf.
She had no reason to know why Y/N always ended up beside her. Why Y/N watched every room for threats. Why her attention always drifted back to Wanda no matter what else was happening. Why hearing Wanda laugh felt better than winning a fight.
Y/N exhaled slowly.
Maybe Wanda thought those things were choices. Not instincts. Not something woven into the very core of Y/N’s existence.
The thought made her chest ache unexpectedly. Because if Wanda didn’t know…
Then from her perspective, Y/N probably looked insane.
Y/N frowned, then sighed.
Humans were confusing. Wanda was confusing. And somehow she was still the easiest person in the world to be around.
---
Wanda’s POV
The next morning, they were back on the road before sunrise.
Wanda had barely slept. Not because of the motel. Not because of the old mattress or the rattling air conditioner.
Because of Y/N.
After escaping into the shower the night before, Wanda had spent nearly twenty minutes standing under lukewarm water trying to get her thoughts under control. By the time she finally came back out, Y/N had been sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her.
Wanda had immediately announced she was tired before Y/N could continue whatever conversation they'd almost had earlier. Y/N had looked like she wanted to ask something, but after a second she'd simply nodded and said okay.
Then they'd gone to bed.
One bed. One very small bed.
Wanda was refusing to think about that too.
The motel coffee had been terrible, Yelena had insulted the complimentary waffles for five straight minutes, and somehow Y/N had still eaten four of them.
Now the three of them were driving farther south beneath a cloudy grey sky. This time, Y/N was driving. Wanda was absolutely not thinking about that. Not thinking about the way Y/N's hands looked on the steering wheel. Or the way she drove—steady, calm, one arm resting loosely near the window while the other guided the car effortlessly down the empty road. Wanda sat in the backseat behind her, staring out the window while trying very hard not to focus on the sound of Y/N laughing. Again.
For the past few hours, Yelena and Y/N had been talking almost nonstop. At first it had been practical things—roads, Natasha, safehouses, possible routes. Then somewhere along the way it had devolved into complete nonsense. And Y/N was participating.
Willingly.
Wanda still didn't understand how Yelena had managed this so fast.
When Y/N first joined the Avengers, it had taken months before she willingly joined conversations with the others. Even longer before she started joking back.
But now?
Yelena said one ridiculous thing and suddenly Y/N was relaxed enough to laugh every five minutes.
It was ridiculous.
“See?” Yelena said from the passenger seat, gesturing dramatically with half a granola bar. “This is why I don't trust goats.”
Y/N glanced at her briefly.
“…Goats?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“They look like they know secrets.”
A quiet snort escaped Y/N before she could stop it. Wanda stared at the back of her head in betrayal.
“That’s not a reason,” Y/N said, still amused.
“It is absolutely a reason. I saw one stare at me for twenty straight seconds once.”
“Maybe it didn't like you.”
“Exactly. Suspicious.”
Y/N laughed again. Wanda frowned harder at the passing scenery outside. How was this happening?
Yelena leaned back smugly in her seat.
“You laugh because you know I’m right.”
“I laugh because you sound insane.”
“Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment.”
“In my culture, it is.”
Y/N shook her head slightly, smiling to herself as she focused back on the road.
Wanda crossed her arms tighter. This was really ridiculous. She should've been happy Y/N was comfortable.
And she was. Mostly.
So why did something unpleasant twist in her chest every time Yelena made her laugh?
Wanda frowned deeper.
No. She was not jealous. Yelena was just... easy to talk to. Loud, blunt and strange. And Y/N responded well to that apparently.
---
A few hours later, they stopped at a gas station somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The place looked old and tired, tucked beside a long empty road with faded signs and only two working pumps. A tiny convenience store buzzed beneath fluorescent lights while bugs repeatedly sacrificed themselves against the windows.
Y/N had gone inside a few minutes ago after muttering something about needing the bathroom and “more snacks.”
Which really meant: Many snacks.
Wanda stayed leaning against the side of the car while Yelena finished pumping gas. The air was cooler now, carrying the smell of asphalt and distant rain.
For a minute, neither of them spoke. Until Yelena starts—“So,” Yelena said casually, screwing the gas cap back on.
Wanda immediately narrowed her eyes. That tone never meant anything good.
“What.”
Yelena leaned against the pump. “What exactly is your deal with giant wolf woman?”
Wanda nearly choked on air. “What?”
“I ask simple question.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Yelena looked deeply unconvinced.
“You sleep together.”
“We do not—”
“You literally share a bed every night.”
“Because we’re hiding!”
“Mhm.”
“And there’s usually only one bed!”
“Convenient.”
Wanda glared at her immediately. “Nothing is happening.”
Yelena hummed. “Okay. Then explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain!”
“So you are really not a couple?”
“We’re not,” Wanda said quickly.
“Very convincing.”
“We’re just—” Wanda stopped. What were they?
Yelena noticed instantly. “Oh my god.”
“Stop.”
“You don't even know.”
Wanda hated that she was right.
Yelena folded her arms. “You hold hands. You sleep together. She watches you like emotionally damaged guard dog.”
“She does not.”
“She absolutely does.”
Wanda looked away. Because the worst part? A small, traitorous part of her knew Yelena was right.
Yelena stepped closer, lowering her voice. “She looks at you like you hung moon.”
Wanda's face heated instantly. “That’s not true.”
Yelena stared at her flatly. “You know I was trained from childhood to read people, yes?”
“…Unfortunately.”
“And you”—Yelena pointed directly at her—“look at her like you want climb her like tree.”
Wanda nearly died. “Oh my god!”
Yelena burst out laughing. “You should see your face!”
“I hate you.”
“I don’t care.”
Wanda dragged both hands down her burning face miserably. This was horrible. Because now that Yelena had said it out loud, she couldn't stop thinking about it.
The touching. The closeness. The way Y/N smiled every time Wanda laughed. The way she always seemed happiest when Wanda was happy. The way Wanda immediately relaxed whenever Y/N touched her. And worse—how much she wanted it.
Yelena's amusement faded slightly.
“So why are you fighting it?”
Wanda blinked. “…What?”
“You are very obvious,” Yelena said more gently. “Both of you.”
Wanda swallowed hard. “It’s complicated.”
Yelena snorted. “No. It is actually extremely uncomplicated. You like giant wolf girl. Giant wolf girl likes you.”
If only it were that simple. Wanda thought about the motel room. About Y/N asking if she was the reason Wanda blushed. About those golden eyes looking at her with absolute sincerity while trying to understand. About how confused Y/N had seemed when Wanda ran away to the shower.
Wanda looked away. “It’s not that simple.”
“Is because of robot guy?”
Wanda's head snapped toward her. “How do you know about him?”
Yelena looked completely unbothered. “Giant wolf woman told me.”
Wanda blinked. “…What?”
“The motel.”
Yelena shrugged.
“You went to the bathroom this morning. I asked her the same question I am asking you now.”
A feeling of absolute dread settled over Wanda immediately. “You asked Y/N if she liked me?”
“Obviously.”
“And?”
Yelena stared at her. “Wanda.”
“What did she say?”
“She spent ten minutes looking confused that it was apparently not obvious.”
Wanda felt her face heating already. “Oh my god.”
“She talked about you the entire time.”
That did absolutely nothing to help.
“What exactly did she say?”
Yelena thought for a second.
“Mostly things that sounded concerning.”
“That is not an answer.”
“She said she likes being around you. That you make her happy. That she feels calmer when you are nearby. That she worries when you are upset.” Yelena paused. “And then she looked at me like I was stupid for asking.”
Wanda suddenly found the cracked pavement very interesting. “Right.”
Because how could she? Y/N didn't know about the guilt.
About Vision.
About the part of Wanda that still felt responsible for everything that had happened. That it hasn’t been long since the break up. The thought twisted sharply in her chest.
“…Partly,” Wanda admitted quietly.
Yelena leaned back against the car, some of the teasing fading from her expression. “You know Natasha told me once that love is not always dramatic thing.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes it is just a person who feels like home.”
Wanda's chest tightened painfully. Because that was exactly the problem. Before she could answer, the convenience store door opened.
Y/N stepped back outside carrying two bags absolutely stuffed with snacks. She paused immediately after seeing their expressions.
“…What happened?”
Wanda straightened so fast she almost injured herself. “Nothing.”
Yelena grinned. “Wanda was just telling me how much she enjoys your company.”
Wanda made a horrified sound.
Y/N blinked once. Then—very softly—she smiled.
Wanda’s face burned instantly. “Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath.
Y/N blinked once, still holding the overloaded snack bags in both hands. “…What?”
“Nothing,” Wanda said quickly. Far too quickly.
Yelena’s smirk widened. Wanda refused to look at either of them. She immediately turned and walked toward the car before this conversation could somehow become even worse.
Behind her, she heard Y/N following automatically. Wanda climbed into the backseat without a word, pretending to be deeply interested in literally anything outside the window.
A second later, the back door beside her opened. Wanda looked over automatically—and found Y/N holding out a candy bar.
“…I got you this.”
Wanda blinked.
“What?”
“You liked it yesterday.”
“…Thanks,” she murmured softly, taking it from her.
Y/N nodded once, visibly pleased by her reaction before closing the door and heading back toward the driver’s seat. From the front passenger side, Yelena watched the entire interaction with the expression of someone having every suspicion confirmed in real time.
Neither of them noticed.
A few minutes later, the car pulled back onto the empty highway. The sky had darkened further while they stopped, low clouds hanging overhead as distant thunder rumbled somewhere far away. Inside the car, the atmosphere felt different now. Softer.
Wanda unwrapped the candy bar quietly while trying very hard not to think about the fact that Y/N had remembered her favorite snack after a single offhand comment the day before. Or the fact that, according to Yelena, she'd apparently spent the morning talking about Wanda.
That thought refused to leave.
In the front seat, Y/N drove with one hand resting loosely on the wheel while the other occasionally disappeared into one of the snack bags. Every few minutes, her eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror automatically. Toward Wanda.
Every single time their eyes met, Y/N smiled a little without seeming aware of it. And every single time—Wanda’s stomach flipped embarrassingly hard.
Beside her, Yelena looked out the window to hide another smirk.
---
Nobody’s POV
They reached another motel long after dark. This one was somehow worse than the last.
The neon sign buzzed loudly overhead, missing half its letters, and the entire parking lot smelled faintly like gasoline and old cigarettes. A trucker smoked near one of the vending machines while static crackled from a tiny radio somewhere nearby.
Y/N parked the car and immediately started scanning the area automatically. Four occupied rooms. Two people near the ice machine. No immediate threats. Safe enough.
Beside her, Yelena stretched with a groan.
“If I die in sleep tonight because of cursed motel ghost, I blame both of you.”
“You’d fight the ghost,” Wanda muttered tiredly as she climbed out.
“Obviously.”
Y/N grabbed their bags from the trunk while Yelena headed toward the office to get rooms.
A few minutes later, she returned twirling keycards between her fingers. “One for me,” she announced. “One for emotionally repressed couple.”
Wanda immediately groaned.
Yelena smirked and handed Y/N the second keycard before disappearing toward her room.
Y/N barely paid attention to the teasing this time. Mostly because she was tired. Partly because Yelena had spent the entire day making comments like that. She adjusted the bags over her shoulder and followed Wanda across the parking lot toward the far end of the motel.
The night air was cold enough that Wanda folded her arms tightly across herself almost immediately. Without thinking, Y/N moved a little closer. Then—
“Actually...”
Y/N looked down immediately at the sound of Wanda's voice.
Wanda wouldn't meet her eyes. “You should sleep with Yelena tonight.”
“No.” Y/N frowned slightly, genuinely confused now. “I want to stay with you.” The words came out before she even thought about them.
Simple.
Obvious.
True.
Wanda's face immediately turned red. Again.
Y/N stared. There it was. The thing she'd been trying to understand since the motel the night before.
“That’s not the point,” Wanda muttered.
“Then what is the point?”
Wanda looked away.
Y/N stood there holding both their bags while trying to understand why Wanda suddenly seemed upset again. Just a few hours ago things had been fine. Wanda had laughed. They talked. Y/N bought her favorite candy bar. And Wanda had smiled. Everything had felt normal.
Now it felt like she'd somehow missed an important conversation.
Again.
A thought occurred to her. “…Is this because of yesterday?”
Wanda froze.
Y/N immediately knew she was right. “The bathroom thing?”
“Y/N.”
“I wasn't trying to upset you.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you avoiding me?”
Wanda closed her eyes briefly.
Y/N's confusion only grew. Because she wasn't avoiding Wanda. She wanted to be around Wanda. Always.
That was the problem. At least, it seemed to be the problem from Wanda's perspective. And Y/N still had absolutely no idea why.
Now suddenly Wanda was pulling away again. It made something uncomfortable twist in Y/N's chest.
Wanda rubbed a hand over her face tiredly. “I just want some privacy...”
The words hit harder than they probably should have. Y/N went quiet immediately.
Oh.
For a second, she just stood there beneath the dim motel lights, trying to understand why her chest suddenly felt tight. Then she remembered what Yelena had told her earlier.
Humans needed space sometimes. Especially when they were confused. And Wanda was definitely confused.
Y/N looked down briefly before nodding once. “…Okay.” Her voice came out quieter than before. She shifted the bags in her hands and stepped forward, handing Wanda hers.
Their fingers brushed. Usually Wanda unconsciously leaned toward contact. This time she pulled her hand back first.
Y/N immediately noticed. Something in her chest sank.
“…Goodnight,” she said softly.
Then she turned before she could ask another question she wouldn't get an answer to.
Wanda watched her walk away toward Yelena's room, shoulders slightly tense, steps quieter than usual.
And for the first time since they'd met—Y/N didn't look back. The realization hit Wanda immediately. A sharp ache spread through her chest as she stood alone outside her room. That wasn't what she wanted. Not even close. The motel suddenly felt colder.
Wanda looked toward Yelena's door just as it opened.
Yelena stepped out, took one look at Y/N, then looked across the parking lot toward Wanda. The assessment took less than two seconds. Y/N's expression.
Wanda standing alone. The distance between them. Understanding flashed across Yelena's face immediately. Her amusement disappeared.
“…What happened?”
Y/N shook her head once. “Wanda wants privacy.”
Yelena glanced at Y/N. Then at Wanda. Then back again.
“Come on.”
Y/N hesitated for one last second. Not looking at Wanda. Not checking if she was following. Then she stepped inside.
The door clicked shut behind them. Leaving Wanda alone beneath the flickering motel light while guilt settled heavily in her chest. Because somehow, in trying to create distance, she'd managed to hurt the one person she least wanted to hurt.
---
Y/N’s POV
Yelena’s motel room looked almost identical to other motels. Same dim yellow lighting.
Y/N stood near the door for a moment after stepping inside, one hand still loosely holding her bag while Yelena quietly locked the door behind them.
The silence stretched. Usually silence around Wanda felt easy. This one didn’t.
Yelena noticed immediately.
“…You look like someone’s kicked puppy.”
Y/N frowned slightly. “Nobody kicked me.”
“Mhm.” Yelena tossed her jacket onto the second bed before sitting down cross-legged against the headboard. She watched Y/N carefully for another second.
“You are upset.”
Y/N shook her head automatically. “…No.”
“Very convincing.”
Y/N stayed quiet. Because she didn’t really understand what she was feeling. Her chest just hurt. A little, not physically. Something tighter than that.
Yelena’s expression softened slightly. “She didn’t mean it badly.”
Y/N nodded. “I know.”
And she did know. Wanda wasn’t cruel. Never cruel.
But—
Y/N sat slowly on the edge of the second bed, shoulders lowering as exhaustion finally started catching up to her. “She wanted space,” she murmured quietly, more to herself than Yelena.
Yelena hummed.
“And you do not like space.”
Y/N immediately shook her head. “It’s not like that.”
Yelena raised one eyebrow. “No?”
Y/N frowned, trying to explain the uncomfortable feeling twisting inside her chest. “I just...” She hesitated. “I like knowing she’s okay.”
That part was true.
If Wanda was nearby, Y/N could relax. Sleep deeper, breathe easier. Distance felt wrong in a way she couldn't fully explain to people who weren't like her. Or people who didn't know what an imprint was.
Yelena watched her quietly. “You are aware normal people do not look physically distressed because they sleep in different room for one night?”
Y/N blinked. “…Oh.”
“Mm.”
Y/N looked down again. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”
Y/N's chest tightened again. Because Wanda had never asked for distance before.
Not really.
Even during the strange, confusing moments lately, Wanda still stayed close. Still leaned against her when tired. Still reached for her without thinking.
Tonight felt different.
Y/N rubbed her thumb absently against the edge of her sleeve. “She sounded...” Her voice lowered. “…frustrated.”
Yelena sighed and leaned back against the headboard. “She is frustrated.”
Y/N immediately looked up. “With me?”
“No.”
The answer came so fast that Y/N blinked. “Then with what?”
Yelena stared at her. For a long moment. Then groaned, “Oh my god.”
“What?”
“You genuinely have no idea.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“I know.”Yelena pointed at her. “That is the problem.”
Y/N frowned deeper.
Yelena dropped her hand over her face dramatically. “Natasha is never going to believe this.”
“Believe what?”
“That two smartest people I know are somehow both idiots.”
Y/N looked mildly offended. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Debatable.”
Y/N stared at her. Completely lost.
Yelena stared back. Completely exhausted. After several seconds, Yelena sighed heavily. “She is not frustrated with you.”
“Then why does she keep running away?”
The question slipped out before Y/N could stop it.
Yelena's expression softened immediately. Because there it was. The real problem.
Y/N looked away. “She keeps getting close.”
Closer. Laughing. Smiling. Leaning against her. Looking at her like she wanted to say something. Then the moment Y/N tried to understand, Wanda would panic and retreat. The pattern was becoming impossible to ignore.
Yelena was quiet for a moment.
“Have you considered she might be scared?”
Y/N frowned. “Of me?”
“No.” Yelena pointed at her again. “Of this.”
Y/N blinked. “This what?”
Yelena dropped backward onto the mattress with a groan. “Unbelievable.”
Y/N remained exactly as confused as before. Which somehow made Yelena groan even louder.
“With herself.”
That confused Y/N even more.
“…How?”
Yelena stared at her for a long moment. “See, this is why I asked if you liked her yesterday.”
Y/N frowned. “I do like her.”
“Yes, I know.”
“No, I mean I like her.”
Yelena pointed at her. “That. That right there.”
Y/N looked even more confused. “What?”
“You say it like it is obvious.”
“It is obvious.”
“To you.”
Y/N hesitated. Then slowly sat back against the edge of the bed. “Maybe because she’s my imprint.”
The room went silent. Yelena blinked. “…Your what?”
“My imprint.”
“What is imprint?”
Y/N frowned slightly, surprised she didn't know. “It’s a wolf thing.”
That explained absolutely nothing. Yelena waited.
Y/N seemed to realize that. “Oh.”
A pause. Then she tried again.
“When wolves find their person.”
Yelena immediately sat up straighter.
“Their person?”
Y/N nodded.
“The one they're meant to protect. Stay with. Take care of.”
Yelena stared. “Oh my god.”
Y/N tilted her head. “What?”
“You never told me that part.”
“I thought it was obvious.”
“Nothing about this is obvious.”
Y/N frowned again. “But Wanda is my imprint.”
Yelena pointed both hands at her.
“Does Wanda know this?”
“No.”
“Have you told her?”
“No.”
“Then how is it obvious?”
Y/N opened her mouth. Paused. Then slowly closed it again. For the first time, she looked uncertain. “…Oh.”
“Exactly.” Yelena dropped back against the headboard. “From Wanda's perspective, you are just showing up everywhere and looking at her like she invented happiness.”
Y/N looked down. That explained a few things.
After another moment, Y/N quietly stood and gathered her clothes. She paused near the bathroom door.
“…Do you think Wanda’s upset with me?”
The uncertainty in her voice softened Yelena’s expression immediately. “No,” she answered honestly. “I think Wanda is trying very hard not to be upset with herself.”
Y/N absorbed that silently before heading to the bathroom.
A few minutes later, the sound of running water filled the small motel room.
Yelena leaned back against the headboard with a long sigh and stared at the ceiling.
“This is painful,” she muttered to herself.
Because somehow these two idiots had managed to fall catastrophically for each other while operating with completely different instruction manuals. It was honestly impressive.
---
Wanda’s POV
The room felt wrong without Y/N in it. Wanda realized that approximately three minutes after closing the door. Which was completely ridiculous. She sat on the edge of the motel bed, still fully dressed, staring at the muted TV while silence pressed heavily around her.
The room suddenly felt colder than it had before. Wanda rubbed both hands over her face with a frustrated groan before falling backward onto the mattress. “This is stupid.”
Because this was what she wanted, wasn't it? Space. Distance. A chance to breathe. So why did her chest ache now that she had it?
Wanda stared at the ceiling while Yelena's words replayed mercilessly in her head.
You like giant wolf girl.
God.
The worst part? Yelena wasn't wrong. Wanda turned onto her side with another frustrated sound, burying half her face in the pillow. Everything had become too much too fast. The touching, the closeness, the way Y/N always noticed her first, the way she smiled every single time Wanda laughed, and now there was something else she couldn't stop thinking about.
The conversation Yelena had told her about.
The fact that Y/N had apparently spent a long time that morning talking about Wanda. The fact that she'd been confused when Yelena asked if she liked her. Like the answer was obvious. Because to Y/N, apparently, it was.
Wanda groaned into the pillow. Because once she admitted that to herself, everything else became harder to ignore too. The jealousy. The way seeing Y/N with Yelena all day had made something ugly twist in her stomach.
The realization made Wanda sit upright immediately.
“Nope.” Absolutely not. She stood and started pacing the tiny motel room instead. Because this was dangerous territory.
Vision had barely been out of her life for a month. And now Wanda was spiraling because a giant wolf woman smiled at her too sweetly?
It made her feel guilty. Confused. Excited. All at once.
Wanda stopped pacing near the window, arms folded tightly across herself. Outside, rain had started again, droplets tapping softly against the glass beneath the flickering motel lights. Her eyes drifted automatically toward the neighboring room.
The ache in her chest returned immediately. Because now all Wanda could picture was Y/N's face after she'd asked for space. That tiny shift in her expression.
The way she'd gone quiet, the way she'd said goodnight, the way she hadn't looked back. That part hurt most. Y/N always looked back. Always checked. Always made sure Wanda was there. Tonight she hadn't.
Wanda pressed a hand against her forehead. Maybe she'd been too harsh.
No. Not harsh. Just—panicked. That was the problem. Because every time Y/N got close, Wanda felt herself wanting things she wasn't ready to want. And every time Y/N pulled away, it felt worse. A miserable realization settled over her.
She missed her. She'd sent Y/N away less than twenty minutes ago. And she already missed her.
“This is insane,” Wanda muttered to herself.
Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she grabbed her clothes and headed toward the bathroom before she could think herself into another crisis.
---
Y/N’s POV
Something woke her up. Y/N’s eyes snapped open instantly. For a second, she stayed completely still on the motel bed, listening. The room was dark except for faint moonlight leaking through the curtains. Across from her, Yelena was asleep sprawled diagonally across the mattress with one arm hanging dramatically toward the floor.
The motel itself was quiet. No footsteps outside. No strange engines. No weapons clicking into place. Nothing dangerous. And yet—something felt wrong.
Y/N sat up slowly, frowning. Her chest felt tight. Restless. Like an instinct tugging somewhere deep inside her. Across the room, Yelena shifted slightly in her sleep but didn't wake. Y/N looked toward the wall separating this room from Wanda's. Her heartbeat. Still there. But the uneasy feeling didn't leave.
Y/N quietly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. The floor creaked softly beneath her bare feet as she crossed the room and pulled on her hoodie.
A few hours ago she'd told herself she would give Wanda space. That she'd stop pushing. Stop making things harder. But now she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Not danger. Something else. Something she couldn't explain.
Cold night air wrapped around her the moment she stepped outside. The parking lot sat silent beneath flickering neon lights while distant thunder rolled somewhere far away. Y/N's eyes drifted automatically toward Wanda’s room. Her chest tightened immediately. Before she could stop herself, her feet were already moving. She crossed the parking lot and stopped outside the door.
Silence.
Y/N stared at it. Wanda wanted privacy. The reminder sat heavily in her stomach. She shouldn't bother her. Especially not after tonight. Y/N rubbed the back of her neck and paced once in front of the room. Maybe Wanda was sleeping. Maybe she was finally getting the space she'd asked for. Maybe she was happier without Y/N hovering nearby every five minutes.
The thought hurt more than it should have.
Y/N stopped again. Her instincts screamed at her to check. Just once. Just make sure Wanda was okay. She lifted her hand toward the door—Then froze.
Because what if Wanda opened it and looked disappointed to see her? The thought made her immediately lower her hand.
No. Don't push. She stepped back.
Paced once more. The feeling refused to leave. Y/N glanced around the empty parking lot before exhaling quietly through her nose. Then an idea occurred to her. A familiar one. Something she'd done dozens of times before. Back at the compound. When Wanda couldn't sleep. When nightmares woke her up. When neither of them wanted to talk.
Decision settling into place, Y/N stepped into the shadows beside the railing. Bones shifted beneath skin, and a second later, a massive wolf stood where she'd been. Golden eyes catching the faint motel lights. The wolf padded quietly back toward Wanda's door. This felt different. Safer. Not pushing. Not asking questions.
The wolf lifted one massive paw. Then, Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
Three soft scratches against the motel door. The exact same pattern she'd always used at the compound.
A silent question. Are you okay?
Then the wolf sat down outside the room patiently. Golden eyes fixed on the door while distant thunder rolled across the night sky.
Waiting.
---
Wanda’s POV
Wanda jolted upright in bed with a sharp breath, heart hammering violently against her ribs. The nightmare still clung to her. Fragments of it flashed through her mind. Darkness. Loss.
Watching people disappear and being unable to stop it. The familiar panic sat heavy in her chest even after waking. Then again—Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
For one disoriented second, Wanda thought she was back at the compound. Back in her room. Back when nightmares still woke her almost every night. Back when a giant wolf would quietly scratch at her door before curling up beside her bed until she fell asleep again.
Then reality caught up.
Wanda was already moving before she fully processed it. She threw aside the blankets and hurried toward the door, pulse racing for an entirely different reason now. The second she opened it—she froze.
A massive wolf sat quietly beneath the flickering motel light. Golden eyes lifted immediately toward her.
Y/N.
Relief hit Wanda so hard her knees almost weakened. Immediately followed by guilt. Because she'd sent her away. And somehow Y/N had still come.
“Oh my god—Y/N!”
The wolf's ears flicked backward slightly. Wanda grabbed the door quickly and looked around the parking lot. Empty. Thank god.
“Inside,” Wanda whispered urgently. “Now.”
The wolf immediately stood and slipped past her into the room. The second the door shut, Wanda turned toward her with exasperated disbelief.
“What are you doing?” she hissed quietly. “You can't just turn into a wolf outside the motel!”
The wolf lowered slightly. Ears flattening immediately.
“What if someone saw you?”
A soft whine escaped her. Wanda crossed her arms. “I’m serious.”
Another quieter whine. The ears lowered even further. And instantly—all of Wanda's frustration evaporated. Because somehow Y/N looked guilty. Even as a giant wolf.
Wanda let out a long sigh. “You can't do that,” she repeated, softer this time.
The wolf lowered her head. God. Wanda's chest ached. Not because of the nightmare anymore. Because she'd spent the entire evening missing her.
Without thinking, Wanda stepped forward and wrapped both arms around the wolf's neck, burying her face deep in warm Y/H/C fur.
Immediately, warmth surrounded her. The wolf made a soft sound deep in her chest and leaned into her instantly. Like she'd been waiting for permission.
Wanda closed her eyes. “You scared me,” she whispered into the fur.
The wolf huffed softly against her shoulder. For a long moment neither of them moved. Wanda simply stood there holding her while her heartbeat gradually slowed from the nightmare. While the lingering fear drained away. While the horrible emptiness she'd felt all evening quietly disappeared.
Her fingers threaded slowly through thick fur.
“You know,” she murmured after a while, “I think you were right.”
The wolf's ears twitched. Wanda smiled weakly. “The room was awful without you.”
The wolf immediately perked up. Wanda actually laughed. A real laugh. The wolf's tail thumped once against the carpet.
Wanda stared. “Don't.”
Another thump.
“You are enjoying this.”
The tail thumped again.
Wanda rolled her eyes fondly before resting her forehead against soft fur. Then, more quietly—“How do you always know?”
The wolf tilted her head.
Wanda swallowed against the last remnants of the nightmare.
“…When I have nightmares,” she murmured. “How do you always know?”
The wolf stared at her silently.
Then stepped closer until her large head pressed carefully against Wanda's chest. Like the answer was obvious. Like she'd always know.
Wanda's expression softened painfully. She reached up and cradled the wolf's face between her hands before pressing her forehead against soft fur again. And just like that—the room didn't feel cold anymore. Neither did she.
---
Wanda stayed wrapped around her for another long moment, fingers buried deep in soft dark fur while the last remnants of the nightmare slowly loosened their grip on her chest. The wolf stayed perfectly still for her.
When Wanda finally pulled back, golden eyes were already waiting for her, focused entirely on her with that same endless attentiveness that always made her chest ache.
“You really scared me,” Wanda murmured softly.
The wolf's ears lowered immediately. Apologetic.
Wanda sighed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Y/N ears twitched upward again. That made Wanda laugh quietly.
Without really thinking about it, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against the wolf’s muzzle.
The reaction was immediate. A quick warm lick swept instinctively across Wanda’s lips.
Both of them froze. Silence filled the motel room.
Wanda blinked. The wolf stared at her with wide golden eyes. Then suddenly— a distressed whining sound escaped Y/N while her paws shuffled anxiously against the carpet.
I DIDN’T MEAN TO DO THAT.
Wanda blinked again. The whining got louder.
I’M SORRY. OH MY GOD.
Another panicked sound.
THAT WAS A REFLEX.
Wanda stared at her for one long second—then burst out laughing. Not a small laugh. Bright and helpless and exhausted all at once.
The wolf looked absolutely horrified.
I DIDN’T BITE YOU, RIGHT?
That only made Wanda laugh harder. “No,” Wanda managed between laughs, covering her mouth. “No, you didn’t bite me.”
The wolf immediately shoved her nose against Wanda’s shoulder miserably like she wanted to disappear into the fabric of her shirt. Another embarrassed whine escaped her. Wanda’s entire chest warmed painfully at how genuinely mortified she sounded.
“Oh my god,” Wanda laughed softly, rubbing both hands through her fur. “You’re adorable.”
The wolf made an offended sound at that word. Which somehow made it worse. Wanda shook her head, still smiling helplessly before stepping back slightly. “Shift back,” she murmured softly.
The wolf paused. Golden eyes lifted toward her carefully.
Wanda’s heart squeezed immediately at the uncertainty there. Then softly—“Come to bed with me.”
The wolf went completely still. For a second, Wanda thought maybe she’d imagined how intensely Y/N reacted to things in wolf form—until the giant tail behind her thumped once violently against the dresser.
Wanda smiled helplessly before waving one hand lightly. Scarlet magic flickered around the room lamps. “Okay,” she murmured. “Shift back.”
The wolf hesitated. Then slowly stood.
Wanda turned around immediately to give her privacy as the familiar sound of shifting filled the room behind her—bones moving, breath catching softly, claws retracting against carpet.
A few seconds later, silence returned.
Wanda lifted one hand and used her magic automatically, summoning one of Y/N’s shirts and sweatpants from the other room. The clothes appeared and floated gently backward through the air.
“…Thanks,” Y/N murmured quietly behind her.
Wanda’s chest squeezed at how soft her voice sounded now. Still embarrassed.
“You’re welcome.”
Wanda climbed back onto the bed while Y/N got dressed behind her. The mattress dipped softly a minute later as Y/N carefully settled beside her. Not touching. Leaving space which Wanda noticed immediately.
Y/N sat tense near the edge of the mattress for a few seconds before finally speaking quietly into the darkness. “…Is this really okay?”
Wanda turned her head slightly.
Y/N was staring down at her hands now. “You said you wanted privacy,” she added softly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
The guilt hit Wanda immediately.
Wanda rolled onto her side with a quiet sigh until she was facing her fully.
“You don’t make me uncomfortable.”
Y/N looked up immediately at that. Moonlight from the window softened her features, silver-blue across tired eyes and damp dark hair. Wanda reached up without thinking and brushed her fingers gently through that hair. Y/N immediately leaned into the touch.
Wanda’s chest ached painfully.
Her hand slid lower until she was cupping Y/N’s cheek softly, thumb brushing warm skin. Y/N visibly melted beneath her hand.
“I just panicked,” Wanda admitted quietly.
Y/N frowned slightly. “…Because of me?”
“No.” Wanda smiled faintly. “Well—yes. But not in a bad way.”
That only confused Y/N more. “I don’t understand.”
“I know.”
Y/N’s eyes searched hers carefully before words suddenly started tumbling out all at once. “I didn’t mean to crowd you and I know I stay close a lot and Yelena keeps teasing and maybe I should stop doing that and I know I hover sometimes but I just—”
Wanda leaned forward suddenly and pressed a soft kiss right against the center of Y/N’s nose.
Y/N froze instantly.
Wanda smiled a little despite herself. “There,” she murmured softly. “That stopped you.”
Y/N stared at her with wide eyes.
Wanda’s heart skipped hard in her chest.
God. She was so beautiful like this.
Wanda’s thumb brushed slowly across Y/N’s cheek again.
“…Did it only work because you were in wolf form?” she whispered softly.
Y/N’s breath caught.
Wanda leaned closer before she could lose her nerve. Then gently, but carefully, she pressed her lips against Y/N’s.
Soft. Barely there. A question more than a kiss.
Wanda felt Y/N stop breathing entirely. Their lips lingered together for one suspended second.
Then Wanda whispered softly against her mouth—“…What about there?”
It did. The second the words left Wanda’s lips, Y/N moved. Like instinct finally snapped.
Her hand came up carefully—almost hesitantly at first—cupping Wanda’s jaw as she kissed her back immediately. Not soft this time.
Wanda made a small sound against her mouth, surprised by the sudden intensity of it. Y/N kissed her like she’d been holding herself back for weeks and finally couldn’t anymore.
Which—God. Maybe she had.
Y/N shifted closer instinctively, one hand sliding carefully to Wanda’s waist while her other stayed against her cheek like she was afraid Wanda might disappear if she let go. Wanda melted instantly. Her fingers tangled into Y/N’s dark hair while she kissed her back harder, deeper this time, heart pounding violently against her ribs.
Y/N made a quiet sound low in her throat at that. The noise went straight through Wanda. Every kiss after that became less careful. Though still tender and hesitant in places, it was desperate underneath. All the restrained affection between them suddenly had somewhere to go. Wanda felt Y/N’s hand tighten slightly against her waist when she kissed her deeper, and god—that warmth, that need. It made Wanda dizzy.
Because suddenly every thought she’d been trying to bury for weeks came rushing back all at once.
Budapest. The way she’d imagined pulling Y/N closer beneath her hands. The way she’d woken up flushed and breathless after that stupid fantasy she absolutely should not have had. And now—Y/N was actually here. Kissing her. Wanting her back.
Wanda made another soft sound against her lips before instinct took over completely. Her hands slid from Y/N’s hair down to her shoulders, gripping firmly as she pulled her closer across the mattress. Y/N came willingly immediately. Like she’d been waiting for permission. The movement pressed them flush together, chest against chest beneath the blankets, and Wanda physically felt Y/N shudder at the contact.
God. That reaction alone nearly destroyed her.
Y/N kissed her again instantly, deeper this time, careful restraint cracking apart little by little with every passing second. One of her hands slipped around Wanda’s waist while the other stayed cradling her face like something precious.
Wanda couldn’t stop touching her.
Her fingers dragged through soft dark hair, down the back of Y/N’s neck, across warm shoulders beneath the thin shirt Wanda had summoned earlier.
Real. This was real.
Y/N pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against Wanda’s while both of them tried and failed to calm down. Her eyes searched Wanda’s face carefully. “Is this…Okay?” Y/N whispered softly.
The concern in her voice right after kissing her senseless made Wanda’s chest ache so hard it almost hurt. Instead of answering normally, Wanda slid one hand up into Y/N’s hair again and pulled her back down into another kiss.
A soft sound escaped her as Wanda tugged her fully on top of her this time, their bodies fitting together against the motel mattress in a way that felt almost terrifyingly natural. Wanda’s heart pounded harder the second Y/N settled between her legs.
Y/N kissed her deeper almost instantly, one hand braced beside Wanda’s head while the other slid carefully along her waist like she still couldn’t believe she was allowed to touch her like this.
Wanda definitely wanted her to. Her fingers moved down Y/N’s back slowly, dragging over muscle beneath the thin shirt before gripping the fabric firmly. Y/N shivered against her mouth.
Wanda tugged upward instinctively. Y/N immediately lifted enough to let her pull the shirt off completely without breaking the kiss for more than a second. Wanda’s breath caught instantly at the feeling of Y/N’s bare chest against hers through the oversized shirt she slept in.
Her hands roamed before she could stop them, sliding across toned shoulders and down Y/N’s back again, nails scratching lightly against warm skin. Y/N gasped softly into her mouth. The sound made heat coil low in Wanda’s stomach immediately. Every touch after that became hungrier. Still messy and inexperienced in places. But desperate. Y/N kissed like she felt things too deeply to hold back once she started.
Wanda could feel it in every movement.
Every rough inhale.
Every trembling touch against her waist.
Her fingers curled harder into Y/N’s back when Y/N pressed closer instinctively, and—
Y/N suddenly froze. The kiss broke abruptly. Wanda blinked up at her, breathless and confused. Y/N had pulled back just enough to stare downward, visibly panicked now.
“What?” Wanda whispered immediately.
Y/N looked horrified. “I—”
She swallowed hard and tried shifting backward quickly like she wanted to put distance between them.
Wanda’s brows pulled together instantly. “Y/N?”
Y/N wouldn’t look at her. And then Wanda realized why.
Oh.
Heat rushed straight into her face again. Because pressed between them, unmistakable now, she could feel how hard Y/N had gotten.
Y/N looked mortified. “I’m sorry,” she blurted immediately, panic flooding her voice. “I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to—I can stop—”
“Hey.” Wanda caught her face gently before she could spiral any further. “Hey.”
Y/N finally looked at her. Absolutely terrified she’d done something wrong. Wanda’s chest tightened painfully at the sight. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Wanda whispered softly.
Y/N still looked unconvinced. “But—”
“You’re turned on,” Wanda said gently, trying not to smile at how scandalized Y/N looked by the concept. “That tends to happen when people are making out.”
Y/N looked away again, visibly embarrassed now, her hands planted awkwardly against the mattress like she suddenly didn’t know what to do with them. “I know what it means,” she said quietly. “I just…”
She stopped.
Wanda stayed still beneath her, waiting patiently.
Y/N swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to think that’s all this is.” The words came out rushed, almost panicked. “That I just—I don’t know—got excited and that’s why I kissed you or—”
“Y/N.”
“I mean I did get excited obviously, but that’s not why—”
“Y/N.”
That finally stopped the spiral. Wanda reached up, brushing her fingers gently against Y/N’s cheek until those anxious eyes finally met hers.
“I know.”
Y/N’s shoulders loosened slightly. Only slightly. Because there was still fear there.
Real fear.
Wanda could see it now beneath all the embarrassment.
Y/N hesitated before speaking again, quieter this time. “I’ve never done this properly before.”
Wanda frowned softly.
Y/N immediately looked away again. “I just...” Her jaw tightened. “I was thirteen when Hydra took me…They did things.”The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Wanda’s chest tightened hard.
Y/N’s fingers curled against the blankets like she already regretted saying anything. “They wanted more of me,” she murmured quietly, voice flattening in the way it only did when she talked about Hydra. “More wolves.”
Wanda felt cold all over.
Y/N stared somewhere over her shoulder instead of at her. “And when they couldn’t...” She swallowed once. “They tried other ways.”
That was enough. Wanda understood immediately. Pain ripped through her chest so sharply she almost stopped breathing.
Y/N laughed once. Bitter.
“So technically I know what sex is.” Her voice dropped even quieter. “But not like this.”
Not safe. Not wanted. Not hers.
Wanda’s eyes burned instantly.
Y/N shook her head quickly, like she wanted to take the words back. “I don’t really like talking about it.”
“You don’t have to,” Wanda whispered immediately.
Y/N finally looked at her then.
For a moment neither of them spoke. The motel room felt impossibly quiet.
Then Wanda reached up and gently took one of Y/N’s hands in both of hers.
“You never have to explain those things to justify yourself to me.”
Y/N blinked.
Wanda squeezed her hand softly. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
Something fragile crossed Y/N’s face. The kind of vulnerability she almost never allowed anyone to see. “You’re not... bothered?”
The question shattered Wanda’s heart.
“Y/N.” Wanda lifted their joined hands slightly. “You survived.”
Y/N looked down.
“That’s not something you need my forgiveness for.”
Silence.
Y/N’s throat worked once. Twice. Then she laughed softly through her nose. A little unsteady. “You make everything sound simple.”
“It is simple.” Wanda brushed her thumb across Y/N’s knuckles. “What happened to you was wrong.”
Y/N’s eyes closed briefly.
“And none of it changes how I feel about you.”
When Y/N looked at her again, something in her expression had softened. A little less alone.
But suddenly Wanda heard, loud and clear.
Dirty.
Wanda reached up immediately, both hands cradling Y/N’s face firmly.
“Hey.”
Y/N’s eyes flickered uncertainly between hers.
“You are not dirty.”
The thought had barely crossed Y/N’s mind before Wanda answered it out loud. Y/N froze. Fear flashed across her face so quickly Wanda almost missed it. Not fear of Wanda. Fear of what Wanda might have seen. Her breath caught.
“Did you—” She stopped.
Wanda understood instantly.
Y/N’s eyes searched hers anxiously now, bracing for disgust. For pity. For horror.
Wanda’s heart broke all over again. Very gently, she leaned forward and kissed her. Soft. Slow. When she pulled back, she kept their foreheads touching.
“I didn’t look,” Wanda whispered.
Y/N visibly stilled.
“I only heard that thought because you were thinking it so loudly.” A tiny, sad smile touched Wanda’s lips. “Your brain practically shouted at me.”
A horrified sound escaped Y/N immediately. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know.” Wanda brushed her thumbs beneath Y/N’s eyes. “I would never go digging through your head like that.”
Y/N stared at her quietly. Still scared and uncertain. So Wanda kissed her again.
A tiny kiss. Then another against the corner of her mouth.
“You hear me?” Wanda whispered softly. “I don’t need to see anything to know Hydra hurt you.”
Y/N’s throat moved.
Wanda’s hands remained steady against her face.
“And I don’t need to see anything to know none of it was your fault.”
For a second, Y/N just looked at her. Then her eyes dropped. Like hearing the words was somehow harder than saying them. Wanda felt her chest tighten.
“You survived,” she continued quietly. “That doesn’t make you dirty.”
Y/N closed her eyes. Wanda could see the fight happening behind them. Years of shame, of pain. Years of being treated like something that belonged to other people.
“You are still you,” Wanda whispered.
Y/N’s breath shook.
“And I still see the same person.” Slowly, Y/N opened her eyes again.
Wanda smiled faintly. “The person who brings me my favorite candy bar.”
A tiny huff escaped Y/N.
“The person who scratches at my door when I have nightmares.”
Another tiny huff.
“The person who accepted Yelena, even though she doesn’t stop talking.”
That finally earned the smallest laugh. Wanda’s smile widened.
“The person who always notices when I’m upset.”
Y/N’s expression softened immediately.
“The person who somehow knows exactly what I need before I do.” The laugh faded into something quieter. Something warmer. Wanda brushed her thumb gently across Y/N’s cheek.
“The person who makes me feel safe.”
Y/N froze. Wanda felt her own heart pounding now. Because this part was terrifying. But not nearly as terrifying as losing the chance to say it.
“The person who made me miss her after twenty minutes.”
A startled sound escaped Y/N. Wanda laughed softly. “It was very annoying.”
Y/N’s eyes never left hers. Like she was afraid to blink. Wanda swallowed.
Then Wanda reached up and gently pulled Y/N down toward her.
“The person who I can't stop thinking about.”
Y/N’s breath caught.
“The person who makes me nervous.”
A faint smile tugged at Y/N’s mouth.
“You?”
“Yes, me.”
Another tiny laugh. Wanda’s chest squeezed painfully.
“The person...” She hesitated, suddenly feeling far more vulnerable than she had during any fight she'd ever been in. “The person I think I'm starting to fall for.”
Silence. Complete silence. Y/N stared at her. For one horrible second, Wanda wondered if she'd broken her.
Then Y/N's eyes softened. Not with surprise. With certainty.
“I know.”
Wanda blinked. “You know?”
Y/N nodded once. “You blush every time I get close.”
Despite everything, Wanda groaned. “Oh my god.”
A tiny smile appeared on Y/N's face. “I like you too.”
The words landed so gently that for a second Wanda almost missed them. Then her heart stopped.
“What?”
Y/N looked embarrassed immediately. But she didn't look away.
“I like you.” Simple. Honest. Like she'd been carrying the truth for a long time.
Wanda stared at her. Then before she could overthink it, she grabbed the front of Y/N's shirt and pulled her down into a kiss. Y/N made a surprised sound against her lips before kissing her back immediately. All the fear that had been sitting between them seemed to disappear at once. Wanda smiled into the kiss. Y/N kissed her again. And again. Neither of them seemed capable of stopping. The world narrowed down to warmth, laughter, and the relief of finally being honest with each other.
After a moment, Y/N shifted closer instinctively. The movement was completely automatic. Unthinking. She moved further between Wanda’s legs, pressing closer as the kiss deepened.
Wanda felt it immediately. The firm pressure of Y/N’s arousal brushing against her through their clothes. For a split second, neither of them seemed to process what had happened. Then Y/N shifted again without thinking and accidentally pressed more firmly against her. Both of them froze.
The kiss breaking apart.
Y/N’s eyes widened in horror as realization crashed over her. Wanda stared up at her, equally stunned. For one long second, neither of them moved. Then Wanda buried her face against Y/N’s shoulder as a breathless laugh escaped her.
“I think...” she managed between embarrassed laughter, “maybe we should sleep tonight.”
The mortified sound Y/N made only made her laugh harder. Y/N went bright red. Immediately.
“Right.”
“Very much right.”
“Sleep.”
“Yes.”
Y/N nodded so fast it was almost impressive.
“Definitely sleep.”
Wanda laughed again and brushed a kiss against her cheek.
Neither of them moved for several seconds. Still tangled together, smiling.
Eventually Y/N carefully settled beside her beneath the blankets. But Wanda immediately rolled toward her anyway. Y/N's arm wrapped around her without hesitation. Safe. Home.
Within minutes, the tension that had haunted the entire day finally began to fade. And for the first time in a long time, both of them fell asleep smiling.
---
Yelena’s POV
By the next morning, Yelena knew something had happened.
Not because anyone said anything. Because both of them were acting weird.
Well—weirder.
Yelena leaned against the hood of the car, sipping terrible gas station coffee while watching Wanda and Y/N approach from the motel office carrying breakfast.
Y/N was smiling. Not occasionally. Constantly. At Wanda talking. At Wanda handing her coffee. At Wanda literally existing.
It was honestly disgusting.
And Wanda—
Wanda wasn't much better. Yesterday she'd been tense. Guarded. Pretending not to stare. Today she kept drifting closer without even realizing it.
When they reached the car, Y/N handed her a coffee. Wanda accepted it, then immediately reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair out of Y/N's face. The movement was completely natural.
Neither of them seemed to notice.
Yelena nearly threw her coffee into traffic. Interesting. Very interesting.
Also—Y/N never came back to her room last night. Which already told Yelena something important.
Not what she'd originally assumed.
Because one look at them made it obvious neither of these idiots had gotten much farther than finally admitting their feelings. They had the exact same energy as two people who had stayed awake all night talking and then spent the morning staring at each other like they'd discovered fire.
Yelena hated it.
Y/N opened the passenger door for Wanda automatically. Wanda rolled her eyes but smiled anyway before getting inside.
Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.
Y/N started walking around toward the driver's side when Wanda reached out instinctively and caught the sleeve of her flannel. Tiny movement. Barely noticeable.
But Y/N stopped immediately. Turned around without hesitation. Wanda said something too quiet for Yelena to hear. Y/N's entire face softened.
Oh my god. They were unbearable already.
Yelena climbed into the backseat with the exhausted expression of someone trapped between two people who were one shared playlist away from becoming completely insufferable. The engine started a moment later.
And immediately—Wanda reached over and stole one of Y/N's hash browns without asking.
Y/N looked offended for approximately half a second before sighing dramatically and handing her the entire bag.
“You said you weren't hungry.”
“I changed my mind.”
“That's my breakfast.”
“You're big. You'll survive.”
Y/N muttered something under her breath, but there was absolutely no annoyance behind it. Worse. She looked fond.
Yelena stared at the back of Y/N's head in horror. Oh, they were down catastrophically bad.
A few minutes later, Wanda noticed a smear of ketchup near the corner of Y/N's mouth. Without thinking, she reached over. Y/N immediately stopped talking. Wanda wiped it away with her thumb.
“Thanks,” Y/N said softly.
“You're welcome.”
Then Wanda went right back to eating Y/N's breakfast like she hadn't just short-circuited the driver's brain. Yelena considered jumping out of the moving vehicle. The car rolled back onto the empty highway while morning sunlight slowly spread across the road ahead.
Nobody said a word. Nobody had to.
By then, Yelena had reached to a conclusion. Natasha absolutely owed her money for putting her in the middle of this emotional disaster.
---
Unknown POV
The motel looked almost abandoned in the afternoon light.
Most of the guests had already left hours ago, leaving behind an empty parking lot shimmering beneath the heat. Somewhere nearby, a broken ice machine rattled loudly while insects buzzed lazily around the flickering neon sign. A motel room door opened quietly. A man stepped outside, shielding his eyes briefly against the sun before looking toward the far end of the parking lot. His gaze slowly lifted toward the old security camera mounted above the motel office. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. The call connected immediately.
“Yes,” he said calmly. A pause. “The wolf was here.”
His eyes drifted briefly toward the motel rooms again. “The camera caught it.” Another pause. “No. I’m certain.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small flash drive between gloved fingers. “The fur color changed,” he continued quietly. “H/C this time.” Silence answered him for a moment. The man’s expression shifted slightly at whatever was said next. “Yes,” he murmured. “That’s what I thought too.”
A truck rumbled loudly past the motel on the distant highway. The man watched it disappear southbound. “They left this morning,” he said. “Heading south.” Another long pause.
Then—“No. They didn’t notice surveillance.” His gaze flicked once more toward the camera above the office. “The Maximoff woman is still with her.”
A faint crackle came through the speaker. The man listened carefully before nodding once. “…Understood.” The call disconnected.
For a few seconds, he remained standing there in the afternoon heat, thumb resting lightly against the flash drive in his hand. Then slowly—he smiled.
Soft light slipped through the curtains, brushing over warm skin and tangled sheets, the quiet of the northern palace wrapping around them like a cocoon.
Y/N was moving faster as they felt their climax close.
“Y/N…ah…I’m close” Wanda moan into Y/N ear.
Y/N’s breath caught as Wanda’s voice broke against their ear, soft and desperate and full of trust.
“Me too, my love,” Y/N whispered again, kissing slowly along Wanda’s neck before pressing their forehead against hers.
Their movements never stopped.
Steady. Deep. Loving.
Wanda clung to Y/N’s shoulders, trembling harder with every passing second, her breath turning uneven as quiet moans slipped between them. Y/N held her close through it all, one hand tangled with Wanda’s, the other resting against her waist like they couldn’t bear even an inch of distance.
Then Wanda shattered first.
A broken gasp left her lips as she arched against Y/N, clutching tightly to them while the pleasure rolled through her in waves. The sound of Wanda falling apart like that pushed Y/N over the edge right behind her.
Y/N buried their face against Wanda’s neck with a low, breathless groan as their own climax hit, body shaking while they held Wanda tightly through every second of it.
For a while, neither of them moved.
Only slow breaths filled the room.
Y/N hovered over Wanda afterward, both of them flushed and still catching their breath, foreheads nearly touching beneath the soft morning light.
Wanda’s fingers brushed weakly through Y/N’s hair, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips.
For a moment—they didn’t move. Just stayed there feeling each other. Wanda’s hands rested against Y/N’s back, fingers curled slightly, her chest rising and falling beneath them. Y/N’s arms held her securely, careful despite how close they were, mindful of every shift, every breath.
Their gaze dropped to her face. Flushed and beautiful.
Y/N leaned down, kissing her—slow, deep, unhurried. Not chasing anything now. Just savoring.
Wanda kissed them back just as softly, her lips lingering, her hands sliding up to their shoulders.
When Y/N pulled back, just enough to look at her, a smile spread across their face.
“Happy birthday, my love.”
Wanda’s expression softened instantly, her eyes warm as she smiled back.
She kissed them again. Gentle and sweet.
Y/N exhaled quietly against her lips, their nose brushing hers as their hand slid along her side, grounding.
“We should…” they murmured between kisses, voice low, still a little rough. “I need to get things ready for you.”
Wanda didn’t let them move.
Her hand came up, slipping behind their neck, pulling them back down before they could even try to pull away.
“I’m not done,” she whispered.
Y/N let out a quiet, helpless breath.
“…Wanda.”
“Just one more time,” she murmured against their lips, already kissing them again.
And that—
that was all it took.
Y/N melted instantly, giving in without another word, kissing her deeper this time, slower, like the morning belonged only to them.
Their hand slid along her thigh, careful but instinctive, hooking gently beneath her knee to pull her closer—to keep her there with them, like they couldn’t get enough.
Wanda let out a soft breath against their lips—
but then—she broke the kiss.
Y/N froze immediately.
“…Wait,” Wanda whispered, her voice still soft but different now.
Y/N blinked, breath uneven, hovering just above her.
Y/N frowned faintly—then felt it. A strong, sudden kick against their stomach. They both paused—and then Y/N let out a quiet, breathless laugh.
“Okay—” they murmured, dropping their forehead against hers. “That was definitely on purpose.”
Wanda laughed softly beneath them, her hands sliding up to their shoulders.
“I told you.”
Y/N shook their head slightly, still smiling, then shifted carefully, one hand immediately moving to her stomach again, palm spreading protectively.
“Hey,” they whispered, amused. “Good morning to you too.”
Another faint movement answered.
Y/N huffed softly. “Yeah, yeah… we hear you.”
They leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her bump, lingering there a moment. Y/N huffed softly, their lips still brushing against her skin as they lingered there.
“You were not supposed to wake up yet,” they murmured, voice low and amused. “It’s still Mama and Papa’s time.”
Wanda laughed quietly above them, fingers sliding into their hair.
“Tell them that,” she whispered.
As if in response—another small, insistent kick.
Y/N stilled—then let out a quiet, incredulous laugh.
“Oh, so now you’re answering back?” they said, lifting their head slightly before looking down again, their hand spreading protectively over her bump.
“Already stubborn,” they added.
Wanda smiled, watching them, her eyes soft.
“They take after you.”
Y/N glanced up at her. “That is not absurd.”
Wanda giggled.
Another faint movement followed. Y/N shook their head, smiling despite themselves, then leaned down again, pressing a softer, gentler kiss this time.
“Alright, alright,” they murmured. “We’ll share.”
Their thumb traced slow circles.
“But just this once.”
Wanda laughed, pulling them back up by the back of their neck, kissing them again—slower now, more affectionate than before.
“I guess my plan to have you inside me the whole day is ruined,” she whispered against their lips.
Y/N chuckled softly against her lips, the sound low and warm as they rested their forehead briefly against hers. “Careful,” they murmured, amused. “You’re setting expectations I might not be able to meet.”
Wanda’s fingers tightened slightly at the back of their neck, her eyes still heavy with warmth as she looked at them.
“I was very serious,” she whispered.
Y/N smiled, brushing their nose lightly against hers.
“I know you were.”
Their hand slid gently over her side, grounding, before settling again over her stomach.
“But,” they added, softer now, “I have a surprise for you tonight.”
Wanda’s brows lifted slightly.
“A surprise?”
Y/N nodded.
“Mm. A proper one.”
A small pause—then they leaned closer again, voice dropping just enough to tease, “Maybe we can… continue your plan after that.”
The look Wanda gave them—warm, heated, unmistakable—made something in Y/N’s chest tighten.
“Oh,” they breathed, before kissing her again. This time deeper. Hungrier. Like they forgot, just for a second—everything else.
Wanda responded instantly, pulling them closer, the moment slipping again—until—Y/N stilled. Again.
They pulled back just enough, eyes dropping between them as they felt it.
Another firm kick.
Clear.
Insistent.
Y/N exhaled sharply, then laughed under their breath, shaking their head. “…Fine,” they muttered. “Got it.”
Wanda burst into laughter, her hand covering her mouth as she leaned back slightly.
“They really don’t like being ignored.”
Y/N sat back a little more, still smiling but clearly defeated for the moment.
“Apparently not.”
Wanda looked at them, still amused—but there was a hint of shared frustration there too.
“…Tonight,” she reminded softly.
Y/N met her gaze, a faint smirk returning.
“Tonight.”
And this time—they both meant it.
---
By the time Y/N stepped out into the corridors, the warmth of the morning still lingered on their skin—but their mind had shifted. Today wasn’t just any day. It was Wanda’s.
And they were going to make it right.
They found Happy near the main hall of the northern palace, already overseeing the preparations. Servants moved quietly around him—carrying flowers, setting tables, adjusting candles.
It wasn’t grand. Not like the capital.
But that was the point.
Y/N approached, hands resting briefly behind their back as they took everything in.
“Happy.”
Ser Hogan turned immediately, a small, respectful bow following.
“Your Majesty.”
Y/N glanced around once more.
“Everything alright?”
Happy’s expression softened slightly. “It is,” he said. “The preparations are going well. Just as you instructed.”
Y/N nodded.
“Keep it simple,” they reminded. “No unnecessary extravagance.”
“Of course.”
A small pause. Then Happy added, more gently—“Her Majesty will like this.”
Y/N’s expression softened. “…I hope so.”
Happy smiled. “She will.”
Y/N exhaled quietly, nodding once before stepping further into the space.
The hall had already begun to transform. Soft lights. Fresh flowers—nothing too arranged, just natural, warm. A long table, but not formal. More like something meant to gather people, not impress them.
This wasn’t for nobles. Not for politics. This was—
for them.
The knights. The servants. The people who stayed.
And the people who mattered.
Y/N’s gaze lingered on the details for a moment longer before turning back.
“Food?”
“Already being prepared,” Happy replied.
“Music?”
“A small group. Nothing overwhelming.”
Y/N nodded.
“Good.”
Another pause.
Then, quieter—“Lina?”
“Her maid is helping her get ready. She’s… very excited.”
Y/N huffed softly.
“That sounds about right.”
Happy’s lips curved faintly.
Y/N stood there for a moment after that. Just looking. Taking it in. Not as a king—but as someone preparing something for the person they loved most.
“…It’s not much,” they murmured.
Happy tilted his head slightly.
Then asked, carefully—
“May I ask, Your Majesty… why keep it this small?”
Y/N glanced at him.
“Small?”
“Her Majesty’s birthday,” Happy continued gently. “It is usually… something the whole kingdom would celebrate.”
Y/N let out a quiet breath.
“…I know.”
Their gaze drifted back to the hall. To the simple arrangements. The warmth instead of grandeur.
“My father would have made it… loud,” they said after a moment. “A display.”
Their expression tightened slightly.
“He liked to show off. Power. Wealth. Control.”
A pause.
“I never did.”
Happy didn’t interrupt.
Y/N crossed their arms loosely, still watching as a servant adjusted a table setting. “And we just became stable,” they added. “The kingdom is only starting to settle. I won’t pull resources just to impress people.”
They shook their head faintly.
“That’s not what this is.”
Happy’s expression softened.
“…Then what is it?”
Y/N’s gaze shifted again—this time, warmer.
“Family,” they said simply.
A small pause.
“Friends.”
They exhaled quietly.
“She deserves a day that feels… real.”
Not watched. Not performed.
Just—hers.
“And we want to spend it with the people who actually matter to us.”
Happy smiled.
A quiet, approving kind of smile.
“I believe that is far more meaningful.”
Y/N glanced at him.
“…I think so too.”
Then, after a beat, a faint smirk touched their lips.
“And it also means fewer speeches.”
Happy chuckled softly.
“A wise decision, Your Majesty.”
Y/N huffed lightly.
“Exactly.”
---
Wanda’s POV
The garden was quieter than the rest of the palace.
It always had been.
The northern air carried a soft chill, the kind that felt refreshing rather than cold, and the flowers here grew a little wilder—less arranged, more natural. Wanda liked that.
She sat on a stone bench beneath a flowering tree, one hand resting over her stomach, the other lightly brushing the petals beside her.
Across from her, Ser Romanoff stood at first—as always. Composed.
Wanda glanced up at her. “You can sit, you know.”
Nat hesitated slightly. “…Your Majesty—”
“Nat.”
Nat exhaled quietly and sat beside her. Not stiff, but not fully relaxed either.
Wanda smiled faintly. “Better.”
Nat glanced at her. “…You used to say that all the time.”
Wanda hummed softly.
“And you used to ignore me every time.”
“That is still accurate.”
Wanda laughed quietly. The sound felt easy here.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the wind brushing gently through the garden. Then Nat’s gaze shifted—to Wanda’s stomach. “…How are you feeling?” she asked.
Wanda followed her gaze, her hand instinctively smoothing over the fabric. “Good,” she said softly. “Tired sometimes.”
Nat nodded. “That’s expected.”
Wanda glanced at her, amused. “You sound like a healer.”
“I listen,” Nat replied simply.
Wanda smiled. “They moved two days ago,” Wanda said quietly.
Nat’s head turned immediately. “…The baby?”
Wanda nodded, her expression softening. “For the first time.”
Nat’s features shifted—subtle, but there. Something warmer. “…How was it?”
Wanda let out a quiet breath. “Everything.”A small laugh followed.
“I cried.”
Nat’s lips curved faintly. “I would have expected nothing less.”
Wanda nudged her lightly. “You’re terrible.”
“I am accurate, Your Majesty.”
They both smiled.
Then Nat leaned back slightly, her posture easing just a little more than before. “…And Their Majesty?” she asked.
Wanda smiled immediately. Soft. Fond. “They’re… excited,” she said.
Nat raised a brow slightly. “That is one way to describe them.”
Wanda laughed quietly. “They’ve been hovering over me since yesterday.”
“I am not surprised.”
“They won’t let me carry anything,” Wanda continued, amused. “They keep asking if I’m tired, if I’ve eaten, if I need to sit—”
Nat nodded. “That is also expected.”
Wanda glanced at her. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Wanda shook her head, smiling.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The breeze moved softly through the garden, carrying the scent of flowers and something familiar—something that reminded Wanda of a place far away.
“…Do you remember the south courtyard in Sokovia?” Wanda asked suddenly.
Nat glanced at her. “With the broken fountain?”
Wanda laughed. “It wasn’t broken.”
“It was,” Nat said calmly. “You insisted it added ‘character.’”
“It did,” Wanda defended.
Nat’s lips twitched.
“You used to sit there for hours.”
Wanda leaned back slightly, looking up through the branches above them.
“It was quiet,” she said. “Before everything got… loud.”
Nat nodded.
“I used to stand three steps behind you,” she added.
Wanda glanced at her. “You didn’t have to.”
“I did.”
Wanda smiled faintly.
“…You always stayed anyway.”
“I always will.”
The words settled between them—simple, but steady.
Wanda’s expression softened. “This is my first birthday without Pietro,” she said.
Nat’s gaze shifted to her immediately.
Wanda looked down at her hands. “I sent him a gift,” she added softly. “Before we left.”
Nat nodded. “I sent one as well.”
Wanda looked at her, a small smile forming. “He’ll like that.”
“He will complain first,” Nat said. “Then he will like it.”
Wanda laughed quietly.
A small pause followed. Not heavy—but felt. Wanda’s hand moved over her stomach again, grounding herself in the present. Then she glanced at Nat. “What about Yelena?” she asked. “Have you heard from her?”
Nat exhaled quietly, leaning back slightly. “We write often,” she said. “She was… not pleased I chose to stay.”
Wanda laughed softly. “I feel like I should apologize.”
“You should not.”
Wanda tilted her head. “Is she still mad?”
Nat considered that. “…Less.”Then Nat added—“She wants to come here.”
Wanda blinked. “To Virelia?”
Nat nodded. “She said she would rather be annoyed at me in person than through letters.”
Wanda laughed.
Nat’s expression softened just slightly. “She wants to be close.”
Wanda looked at her. “Would you want that?”
Nat didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” Honest.
Wanda smiled warmly. “Then I hope she comes.”
Nat glanced at her. “…You would allow it?”
Wanda raised a brow. “Of course I would.”
A small pause.
“Anyone important to you is welcome here.”
Nat held her gaze for a second—then nodded. “…Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Wanda rolled her eyes lightly. “Don’t start that again.”
Nat let out a quiet laugh—soft, but real.
Wanda blinked, then laughed too, the sound easy and familiar, like it used to be. “There it is,” Wanda said, nudging her lightly. “You can laugh.”
“Rarely,” Nat replied dryly.
Wanda hummed, clearly unconvinced. A small pause settled between them, comfortable again—until Wanda tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just a little with mischief.
“So,” she said casually.
Nat glanced at her. “…So?”
Wanda’s lips curved. “Did you mention Ser Barnes in any of those letters?”
Nat stilled just for a second before saying, “…No.”which came out too quick.
Wanda’s smile widened immediately. “Not even once?”
“No.”
Wanda leaned a little closer, her tone turning lighter—teasing. “Not even to complain about him?”
“I do not complain.”
“Not even to mention that you spend an interesting amount of time training with him?”
Nat looked straight ahead. “I train with many people.”
Wanda hummed softly. “Of course you do.”
A beat passed before she added, far too casually, “…But not like that.”
Nat turned her head slowly. “…Like what?”
Wanda met her gaze without a hint of shame. “Like the way you look at him.”
Nat blinked once, then immediately looked away. “…You are imagining things.”
Wanda laughed under her breath. “I’m really not.”
A faint flush crept up Nat’s neck—subtle, but impossible to miss. Wanda noticed instantly.
“Oh,” she said, delighted. “That’s new.”
“It is not new.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Nat exhaled quietly through her nose, trying very hard to stay composed and failing just enough for Wanda to enjoy it.
Wanda leaned back, entirely too pleased with herself. “You didn’t tell Yelena because you know exactly what she would say.”
Nat went still for half a second. “…She would be insufferable.”
Wanda grinned immediately. “So you did think about telling her.”
Nat closed her eyes briefly, already regretting this conversation. “…That is not what I said.”
“Mm-hm,” Wanda laughed.
Nat shook her head faintly, but there was no real denial left anymore—only quiet resignation and something softer lingering underneath it.
Wanda watched her for another moment before smiling to herself. Because some things were finally starting to change.
---
They lingered there a while longer, their conversation drifting from teasing to quiet again, the garden wrapping around them in a calm that felt almost untouched by the rest of the world. Until they heard footsteps approaching. Familiar ones.
Wanda looked up first. And there—Y/N.
Walking toward them through the garden path, sunlight catching lightly on their shoulders, a small bundle of fresh flowers in their hand. Their eyes found Wanda immediately. And softened.
A smile followed—easy, a little charming, a little proud.
“For my queen,” they said as they approached, holding the flowers out toward her. A small tilt of their head. “The birthday girl.”
Wanda’s lips parted slightly, caught off guard for just a second—then she smiled softly and warm. “Thank you,” she said, reaching out to take them carefully her fingers brushing theirs.
Y/N didn’t pull away immediately. Their gaze lingered.
“Picked them myself,” they added, quieter now. “So… don’t expect perfection.”
Wanda glanced down at the flowers. Then back at them. “I think they’re perfect.”
Y/N huffed softly, but there was no hiding the smile that followed.
Behind them, Nat stood quietly, giving them space as she always did. “…Your Majesty,” she said, inclining her head slightly.
Y/N glanced at her and nodded once. “Romanoff.” But their attention returned to Wanda almost immediately, their hand already settling lightly against the small of her back.
“…You’ve been out here a while,” they said softly. “Are you tired?”
Wanda smiled, amused. “I’m fine.”
Y/N narrowed their eyes just slightly. “That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
“It’s not a useful one.”
Wanda laughed under her breath. Behind them, Nat looked away—but not before the faintest flicker of amusement crossed her face. Adjusting the flowers in her hands, Wanda looked back at Y/N. “What now?”
Something playful slipped into Y/N’s expression. “…Lunch,” they answered. Then, softer, “And after that, I’ll steal you away again.”
Wanda lifted a brow. “Steal me?”
Y/N only leaned closer, brushing a lingering kiss against her cheek before straightening again. Then they glanced toward Nat. “Join us for lunch.”
Nat blinked, visibly caught off guard. “That won’t be—”
“We insist,” Y/N interrupted gently, wearing that familiar smile that never really left room for refusal.
Nat opened her mouth, paused, then let out a quiet breath. “…yes, Your Majesty.”
Wanda tried not to smile at that. Failed immediately.
Y/N looked satisfied as they turned toward one of the nearby maids. “Have lunch brought here,” they instructed. “Something light.” The maid bowed quickly.
“And,” Y/N added, glancing briefly back at Wanda, “see if Lina would like to join us.”
Wanda’s expression softened instantly. Beside her, Nat folded her hands behind her back again—but this time, she didn’t step away completely.
Once the maid hurried off, Y/N returned to Wanda’s side, their hand naturally finding its place at her back again. “Better than the dining hall,” they murmured.
“Much,” Wanda agreed.
Nat glanced around the garden, then at the two of them. “…It is,” she admitted quietly.
Y/N smirked faintly. “See? Good decisions.”
Wanda laughed softly, flowers still gathered carefully in her hands as the breeze drifted through the garden once more, gentler now, carrying the quiet promise of a slow afternoon.
And for once, no one was in a hurry.
---
Later that Day
The warmth of the bath still lingered on Wanda’s skin.
The chamber was softly lit, candles flickering gently as the last traces of steam faded into the air. The scent of the oils Lily had used—something floral, something calming—clung lightly to Wanda, wrapping around her like a quiet embrace.
Lily moved with practiced ease behind her.
Careful. Attentive.
She had already helped Wanda bathe, her hands gentle as she worked the aromatic oils into her skin, easing every bit of tension from the day. It had been slow, soothing—enough that Wanda had nearly fallen asleep more than once.
Now, she stood before the mirror as Lily helped her into her gown. The fabric was soft and elegant. Flowing in a way that didn’t restrict her, but still shaped her beautifully—fitted just enough to highlight her form, while allowing room for her growing bump without pressure.
Wanda’s fingers brushed lightly over it as Lily adjusted the final ties.
“…This is new,” Wanda murmured.
Lily smiled faintly in the reflection. “It is, Your Majesty.”
Wanda tilted her head slightly. “It’s beautiful.”
Lily stepped back just enough to smooth the fabric along her sides. “Their Majesty had it made for you,” she said gently.
Wanda stilled.
“…Y/N did?”
Lily nodded. “They gave very specific instructions.”
Wanda’s lips curved slowly. Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach, smoothing over the fabric there.
“They made sure it wouldn’t be tight,” Lily added softly. “And that you would be comfortable sitting for long periods.”
Wanda let out a quiet, fond breath.
“That sounds like them.”
Lily smiled.
Wanda looked at herself in the mirror again. The gown. The softness of it. The way it fit her now—not who she used to be, but who she was becoming.
Her fingers traced the edge of the fabric lightly. “They didn’t have to do all this,” she murmured.
Lily met her gaze through the reflection.
“They wanted to.”
Wanda’s expression softened.
Yes.
They did.
She could see it in every detail.
Every stitch. Every choice.
Her hand rested more firmly over her stomach.
“…They’re trying to make today perfect,” she said quietly.
Lily stepped closer, adjusting a final strand of Wanda’s hair.
“I believe,” she said gently, “they already have.”
Wanda smiled. Then took a breath.
“…Are we ready?”
Lily stepped back fully now, giving her a small nod.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Wanda glanced at herself one last time—then turned.
Ready to see what Y/N had been planning. Ready—for whatever came next.
A soft knock echoed through the chamber.
Wanda turned slightly—and the door opened.
Y/N stepped in.
And for a moment—Wanda forgot to breathe.
They looked… stunning.
Dressed simply, but perfectly—everything fitted just right, clean lines, dark tones that made their presence feel steady, commanding without trying. Their hair was slightly tousled, like they hadn’t cared enough to fix it completely, and it only made them look better.
Wanda’s eyes moved slowly—taking them in from head to toe. Unapologetically. Lingering. And in her mind—brief, quiet flashes of later. Of when they would be alone again.
Her lips curved faintly. Then her gaze lifted—meeting theirs.
Y/N was already looking at her. Smiling. A little breathless in a way they tried to hide.
“Well,” they said quietly, stepping further into the room, their eyes trailing over her just the same, “that’s unfair.”
Wanda raised a brow.
“Unfair?”
Y/N nodded, stopping just in front of her.
“You weren’t supposed to make me want to cancel everything I planned tonight.”
Wanda laughed softly.
“I didn’t plan this.”
“No,” Y/N said, voice lowering slightly, “I did.”
Their hand lifted, hovering for just a moment before gently brushing along her arm, down to her hand.
“…You look beautiful.”
Wanda’s expression softened instantly.
“So do you.”
Y/N hummed quietly, but their thumb brushed over her knuckles.
“Ready?” they asked.
Wanda nodded. But didn’t move. Her eyes lingered on them for just a second longer—warm. Full of love. Then—she stepped closer. Close enough that her voice dropped just slightly.
“Try not to ruin your plans tonight,” she murmured.
Y/N blinked once.
“…That sounds like a threat.”
Wanda smiled. “It might be.”
Y/N’s lips curved.
“…Noted.”
They offered their arm and Wanda took it.
The corridor felt different at night—warmer somehow, lit by soft candlelight that flickered along the stone walls as they walked side by side. Wanda’s hand rested lightly on Y/N’s arm, her fingers occasionally brushing their sleeve while they guided her through the quiet palace halls.
Y/N hadn’t said much the entire walk.
Unusual.
Wanda noticed immediately.
“You’re hiding something,” she murmured, glancing up at them.
Y/N kept their gaze forward for another second before answering, far too calmly, “…I have no idea what you mean.”
Wanda smiled. “You’re terrible at pretending.”
A soft huff escaped them. “I’m trying.”
“That’s the problem.”
For a moment, silence settled between them again before the corner of Y/N’s mouth finally curved upward.
“…Just wait.”
Wanda didn’t press any further.
But her curiosity only grew.
As they turned the final corner, warm light spilled into the corridor ahead of them.
Then the doors opened.
The hall had been transformed—not into something grand or overwhelming, but something beautiful in a quieter, more thoughtful way. Soft lights hung across the room while candles glowed along the tables, flowers arranged simply but carefully, every detail intentional rather than extravagant.
Voices filled the space almost immediately. Familiar ones.
The knights were there. The servants too. People smiling not because duty demanded it, but because they genuinely wanted to.
“Your Majesties,” several greeted warmly as they entered, bowing their heads.
“Happy birthday, Your Majesty,” others added, softer now, more personal.
Wanda stilled for just a moment, quietly taking everything in.
Beside her, Y/N’s hand shifted lightly against the small of her back.
“…Do you like it?” they asked in a lower voice.
Wanda turned to look at them, and her expression softened instantly.
“I love it.”
Something subtle eased from Y/N at that—a quiet exhale, almost relieved.
Good.
Because this was exactly what they had wanted for her. Not a spectacle. Not something loud or extravagant.
Just something that felt like them.
“Wanda!”
Lina’s voice cut through the room instantly as the little girl rushed forward, stopping herself at the last second before colliding into her. Clearly remembering she wasn’t supposed to.
“You look so pretty!” Lina said brightly, practically glowing herself.
Wanda laughed softly. “Thank you.”
Lina immediately turned toward Y/N. “You too.”
Y/N gave a solemn nod. “High praise.”
That earned an immediate grin from Lina.
By then, soft music had begun drifting through the hall, gentle enough to fill the silence without overwhelming it. Around them, people slowly relaxed into conversation, laughter rising here and there as the celebration settled into something warm and easy.
And for a moment, Wanda simply stood there taking it all in.
The lights. The voices. The people she loved gathered around her.
Then her hand found Y/N’s.
She squeezed gently. “…You did this.”
Y/N glanced at her. “…We did this.”
Wanda shook her head, smiling softly. “No.”
Her gaze warmed even more as she looked at them.
“You did.”
This time, Y/N didn’t argue.
Because maybe, just this once, they wanted to take the credit.
For her.
They stayed close for the rest of the evening, moving through the room together with an ease that felt natural now. Greeting people. Laughing softly at quiet conversations. Pausing here and there while music drifted warmly through the hall around them.
And every so often, Wanda would catch Y/N looking at her.
Never for too long.
Just a second longer than necessary. Like they were checking. Making sure she was happy. Making sure all of this had been worth it.
And every single time, Wanda smiled when their eyes met.
Because she was.
---
Later, Lina disappeared for only a moment before hurrying back again, this time slower, more careful, a small box clutched tightly in both hands.
“Wanda,” she said a little breathlessly as she stopped in front of her, holding it up carefully. “This is for you.”
Wanda blinked in surprise before her expression immediately softened. “For me?”
Lina nodded eagerly. “It’s your birthday.”
Something warm melted across Wanda’s face at that. She crouched slightly to Lina’s level first, pulling her into a gentle hug.
“Thank you,” she murmured, kissing the top of her hair softly.
Lina hugged her back just as tightly before Wanda finally pulled away enough to smile at her. “Can I open it?”
“Yes!” Lina answered instantly.
Wanda accepted the box carefully, handling it like it was something precious. Y/N stepped a little closer beside her, their hand naturally settling against the small of Wanda’s back while a few nearby guests watched with quiet curiosity.
Inside was something simple.
Handmade.
A small woven bracelet, slightly uneven in places, colorful threads twisted together with a tiny charm tied carefully at the center.
Wanda went completely still.
Her fingers brushed lightly across it as she looked back up at Lina. “…You made this?”
Lina nodded, suddenly shy now that it was open. “I asked for help,” she admitted quietly. “But I did most of it.”
Wanda’s eyes shone almost immediately.
“It’s beautiful.”
Lina’s entire face lit up. “Really?”
“Really,” Wanda said without hesitation, warm and certain.
And before anyone could say anything else, she slipped it onto her wrist.
“It’s perfect.”
Lina beamed so brightly it nearly made Y/N smile wider too. They reached over and gently ruffled her hair.
“Well done,” they said quietly.
Lina grinned even harder.
Then Y/N glanced toward Wanda again, expression softer now beneath their usual composure. “…Why don’t we open the others too?”
Wanda smiled. “Now?”
Y/N nodded once. “Before Lina explodes from excitement.”
“I will not explode,” Lina argued immediately.
Y/N raised a brow. “…We’ll see.”
That finally made Wanda laugh softly. “Alright.”
---
They moved to sit together near the center of the hall, though slightly apart from the larger crowd. Nothing formal. No throne waiting for them.
Just chairs placed close together in the warm candlelight.
Servants began bringing over the gifts one by one, arranging them carefully nearby. There were far more than Wanda expected—different sizes, different wrapping, some simple and others elaborate.
She blinked softly at the growing pile. “…There’s a lot.”
Beside her, Y/N rested one arm along the back of her chair, relaxed. “There’s more.”
Wanda turned toward them. “More?”
Y/N nodded once. “In our chambers.” A brief pause followed before they added casually, “And more back in the capital.”
Wanda let out a quiet breath, already overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to—”
Before Wanda could respond, Y/N reached for one of the boxes nearby. This one, though, they held a little longer before finally handing it over.
“…This one first.”
Wanda looked down at it, then back at them. “…From you?”
Y/N nodded once.
Her hands became noticeably more careful as she took it, slower now, like it carried more weight than the others.
Because it did.
The room seemed quieter somehow as Wanda opened the box. Inside wasn’t jewelry or anything extravagant, but something far more personal.
A small handmade book.
Wanda blinked softly, fingers brushing over the worn leather cover. It felt intentionally aged, the pages uneven enough to show it had been assembled by hand.
“…What is it?” she asked quietly.
Y/N shifted slightly beside her, suddenly looking far less composed than before. “Open it.”
Wanda did.
The first page held a simple sketch of the northern palace. The lines weren’t perfect, but it was unmistakable. Familiar.
She turned the page.
The garden.
The tree she’d been sitting beneath earlier that day.
Another page showed the village they’d visited together.
Then she stopped completely.
A sketch of her.
Simple. Not detailed. But undeniably her—sitting quietly with one hand resting over her stomach.
Wanda’s breath caught softly.
“…Y/N…”
Beside her, Y/N rubbed the back of their neck almost shyly. “I asked someone to help bind it,” they admitted. “But the rest… I did.”
Wanda looked at them fully now. “You made this?”
A small nod.
“…I wanted you to have something from here,” they said quietly. “Something we could keep adding to.”
Her fingers traced lightly across the page.
“Our life,” Y/N added softly.
Not grand gestures. Not ceremonies or politics.
Just moments.
Wanda closed the book carefully and held it against her chest for a second before leaning forward to kiss them.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Like she was pouring every unspoken feeling into it.
When she pulled away, her forehead rested against theirs.
“I love it,” she whispered.
Y/N exhaled quietly, relief slipping through at last. “…Good.”
Wanda smiled, slipping her hand into theirs.
And suddenly the gift no longer felt like something finished.
It felt like the beginning of something they would continue building together.
The moment lingered a little longer—Wanda still holding the handmade book close, Y/N’s hand still intertwined with hers—before the gentle rhythm of the celebration slowly returned around them.
Voices filled the hall again. Movement. Warmth.
Carefully, Wanda set the book beside her rather than farther away, like she couldn’t quite bear losing contact with it yet.
Then Nat stepped forward.
No wrapping paper. No ornate box.
Just her.
Wanda blinked softly, tilting her head. “…Nat?”
Nat stopped in front of her, posture as straight and composed as ever, though something about her expression felt different tonight. Softer somehow beneath the control she always carried so carefully.
“I did not bring something elaborate,” she said quietly.
Wanda smiled faintly. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”
Nat shook her head once. “I wanted to.”
After a brief pause, she reached to her side and drew something free.
A dagger.
Not a ceremonial one. Not something decorative meant only for display. This one was smaller, refined, the polished blade catching softly in the candlelight while delicate engravings traced the hilt.
Wanda’s eyes widened slightly.
Nat held it out carefully—not like a weapon.
Like trust.
“This was mine,” she said. “From before.”
Wanda looked from the dagger back to her.
“I carried it when I first became a knight,” Nat continued quietly. “It kept me alive.”
A hush settled briefly around them.
Wanda accepted it slowly, fingers curling carefully around the hilt. It felt balanced. Familiar. Real.
“…Nat…”
“I want you to have it,” Nat said before she could continue. “Not because I think you’ll need to use it.” A slight pause. “But because you should never feel unprotected.”
Wanda’s grip tightened faintly.
Her expression softened immediately.
“You’re here,” she said quietly.
“I am.”
“Then I’m already protected.”
Nat didn’t answer that.
But something shifted in her face all the same.
Wanda stood just enough to lean forward and hug her.
Nat froze for half a heartbeat before carefully returning it—brief and restrained, but genuine in a way that mattered far more.
“Thank you,” Wanda murmured softly.
Nat nodded once as they pulled apart. “You’re welcome, Your Majesty.”
That earned her a look from Wanda.
And for the briefest second, Nat almost smiled.
Just like that, another quiet piece of the evening settled perfectly into place.
The atmosphere softened again as Nat stepped quietly back into place.
Wanda held the dagger carefully for another moment before setting it beside the other gifts, her fingers lingering briefly over the hilt like she understood exactly what it meant for Nat to hand it over.
Y/N watched her for a second before reaching for another box.
“This one,” they said, offering it to her, “is from Pietro.”
Wanda’s expression changed immediately—warmth flickering across her face alongside the faint ache that always came whenever her brother was mentioned.
“…You have it?” she asked softly.
Y/N nodded once. “It arrived before we left the capital.”
Wanda accepted it carefully, slower than she had taken the others. Her fingertips brushed lightly over the wrapping before she finally opened it.
Inside was a pair of riding boots. Fine leather. Soft but durable, practical in design with delicate etched details running subtly along the sides. Sokovian patterns.
Wanda exhaled quietly the moment she recognized them.
A folded note rested inside the box. She picked it up carefully, unfolding it with a small smile already forming before she even began reading.
“He says,” she read softly, “‘that since I insist on living so far away, I should at least not forget how to ride properly.’”
Y/N chuckles.
Wanda laughed under her breath, fingers brushing gently over the boots again.
“He also says…” Her voice softened further as she continued reading. “‘That he expects to see me wearing them when he visits. And if I don’t, he’ll be offended.’”
Y/N smirked faintly. “Then I suppose you don’t really have a choice.”
“…No,” Wanda admitted with another quiet laugh.
For a moment, she pressed the note lightly against her chest before folding it again with careful hands.
“I miss him,” she said softly.
Y/N’s hand found hers immediately.
“I know.”
The gentle squeeze grounded her instantly.
Wanda nodded once, then looked back down at the boots and smiled again.
Y/N reached for another box, their expression quieter this time as they handed it over.
“This one is from your parents. Your mom left with before she departed to Sokovia.”
Wanda looked up immediately, something soft and deeply fond settling across her face before she accepted it carefully with both hands.
Inside was fabric.
Rich. Familiar.
Wanda lifted it slowly, breath catching almost at once.
A shawl.
Deep crimson with intricate Sokovian embroidery woven in fine gold thread along the edges—delicate, elegant, unmistakably royal.
“…This is from home,” she whispered.
Y/N watched her closely while Wanda found the second item tucked beneath it.
A letter.
She unfolded it carefully, her eyes moving across the page as her expression softened more and more with every line.
“They send their love,” she murmured, smiling faintly. “My mother says I should rest more.”
Y/N let out a quiet huff. “I agree with her.”
Wanda laughed softly under her breath before pulling the shawl closer around herself, holding it like something grounding, something familiar enough to bridge the distance between here and home.
Beside her, Y/N’s hand rested gently against her back.
“Good?” they asked softly.
Wanda looked at them, eyes warm and full in a way words couldn’t quite capture.
“Perfect.”
And surrounded by the people she loved—both beside her and far away—it truly was.
---
The night had quieted.
The laughter had faded into soft echoes down the halls, the last of the candles burning low as servants finished clearing what remained of the celebration.
Their chambers were warm. Just the two of them.
Wanda stood near the window for a moment, the shawl from her parents draped loosely around her shoulders, the bracelet still on her wrist, the book resting carefully on the table nearby.
She exhaled softly. Then turned.
Y/N was there—removing their jacket, slower now, the energy from earlier replaced with something calmer. Softer.
Wanda watched them for a second.
Then crossed the room.
Without a word, she stepped close—close enough that Y/N barely had time to react before her arms slipped around them.
Y/N relaxed immediately, their arms wrapping around her just as easily. “…Hey,” they murmured.
Wanda buried her face against their shoulder. “Thank you.”
Y/N’s hand moved up her back, slow, grounding. “You don’t have to thank me,” they said softly.
“I do,” Wanda replied, pulling back just enough to look at them.
Her eyes were warm. Bright.
“You made today… perfect.”
Y/N’s expression softened. “It was just a small—”
“It wasn’t,” she interrupted gently. Her hand came up, resting against their cheek. “It was everything.”
A small pause.
Then, softer—
“I love you.”
Y/N didn’t answer right away. Not with words. Their hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her in just enough to kiss her—slow, steady, like they meant it with everything they had.
When they pulled back, their forehead rested against hers.
“…I love you too.”
Wanda smiled.
Then—something shifted.
Subtle.
Her gaze changed just slightly.
Warmer.
A little mischievous.
“…Do you remember what you promised me this morning?” she asked quietly.
Y/N’s lips curved immediately. A slow, knowing smirk. “…Absolutely.”
Wanda’s smile matched it. Then she stepped closer—and kissed them.
Harder this time. Hungry.
Like she had been waiting all day.
Y/N didn’t hesitate. Their hands found her instantly, pulling her closer as they kissed her back just as deeply.
And just like that—the rest of the world disappeared.
---
Few Days Later
Y/N’s POV
The week in the northern palace passed faster than any of them expected.
What had started as a quiet retreat slowly became something more—days filled with lingering moments, peaceful walks through the hills, slow mornings tangled in warmth, and evenings ending in soft laughter beneath candlelight.
And now it was time to leave.
The courtyard had already come alive with movement by early morning. Servants crossed back and forth carrying trunks toward the carriages while the horses shifted impatiently in the cold air, their breath visible in pale clouds.
Near the front of the procession, Y/N stood reviewing the final preparations with practiced calm.
“Everything secured?” they asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” one of the guards answered immediately.
Y/N nodded once, scanning the courtyard out of habit more than concern before finally turning back.
Wanda stood several steps away with Lina beside her, one hand resting unconsciously over her stomach again. Her gaze drifted over the palace behind them—the stone walls, the quiet windows, the gardens just beyond.
A small breath escaped her.
Y/N noticed immediately.
They crossed the distance without hesitation, settling a gentle hand against the small of her back.
“…You alright?”
Wanda nodded softly. “Just… looking.”
Y/N followed her gaze for a moment before answering quietly, “…We’ll come back.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “I know.”
Beside them, Lina shifted from foot to foot, clearly unhappy.
“I don’t want to leave,” she admitted quietly.
Y/N glanced down at her before crouching slightly to meet her eyes. “Of course you don’t.”
“I like it here.”
“We’ll come again,” Y/N promised.
Lina studied them carefully. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
That seemed to ease something in her, even if only a little.
Footsteps approached behind them.
“Your Majesty.”
Y/N looked up to find Happy already dressed for travel, standing straighter than usual though something lighter rested in his expression now.
“You’re coming with us,” Y/N said simply.
It wasn’t phrased like a question.
Happy inclined his head. “As agreed.”
“Good.” A brief pause followed before Y/N added more quietly, “…The capital could use you.”
Happy’s expression softened slightly. “And I will serve where I am needed.”
Y/N held his gaze for another second before nodding once more.
“Ready,” Ser Wilson called from near the horses.
Nearby, Nat sat already mounted, composed and alert as always, her sharp attention never fully leaving the surroundings.
Y/N inhaled slowly, then turned back toward Wanda and offered her an arm.
“Come.”
Wanda took it easily.
Lina climbed eagerly into the carriage with help, immediately peeking back out the window despite her earlier sadness. Y/N helped Wanda up more carefully, steady hands focused entirely on her until she was settled comfortably inside before climbing in after her.
The carriage door closed.
A signal was given.
The horses began to move.
And just like that, the northern palace slowly started to disappear behind them.
Wanda looked back only once.
Just once.
Then she turned forward again—toward the road stretching ahead, toward the capital, toward the life waiting for them there.
Beside her, Y/N’s hand found hers and squeezed gently.
And this time, she didn’t look back again.
---
The journey back had been long and quiet, and by the time the carriages finally rolled through the palace gates, night had already settled over the capital.
Torches flickered warmly across the courtyard while guards stood at attention as the wheels slowed to a stop.
Inside the carriage, both Wanda and Lina had fallen asleep.
Lina was curled awkwardly against one side, peaceful despite the uncomfortable position. Wanda rested against Y/N’s shoulder, breathing softly, one hand still settled protectively over her stomach even in sleep.
Y/N didn’t move immediately. They just looked at them for a moment.
Then the carriage door opened.
“Your Majesty.”
Ser Barnes stood outside with Ser Rogers beside him.
Y/N nodded once. “They’re asleep.”
Rogers stepped forward first, instinctively lowering his voice. “I’ll take the princess.”
Carefully, Y/N shifted just enough for Rogers to gently lift Lina into his arms. She stirred faintly but didn’t wake.
“Careful,” Y/N murmured automatically.
“Always,” Rogers replied.
Then Y/N turned back toward Wanda.
Slowly and carefully, they slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, lifting her effortlessly into their arms. Wanda barely reacted beyond unconsciously leaning closer, her face brushing softly against their shoulder.
Y/N’s expression softened immediately.
“…Got you,” they murmured quietly.
As they stepped out into the courtyard, Barnes moved alongside them. “We can go over everything tonight if you—”
“Tomorrow,” Y/N interrupted gently while adjusting their hold on Wanda.
Barnes paused, then nodded. “Tomorrow.”
Y/N inclined their head slightly before their gaze flicked briefly toward Ser Romanoff standing nearby—watching, composed as always.
Then back to Barnes.
A slow grin tugged faintly at Y/N’s mouth as they leaned closer while passing him.
“…Why don’t you check on a certain knight first?” they murmured under their breath.
Barnes froze for exactly half a second before the tips of his ears turned faintly red.
Y/N didn’t wait for an answer.
They were already walking away with Wanda secure in their arms while Rogers carried Lina carefully inside behind them.
Barnes remained standing there another moment longer before, very casually, his eyes drifted toward Romanoff.
Nat didn’t look directly at him.
But she didn’t move away either.
Inside the palace, the halls were quiet and dimly lit, familiar in a way that settled something deep in Y/N’s chest. They walked carefully through the corridors, steady and unhurried, never loosening their hold on Wanda.
When they reached their chambers, Y/N nudged the door open easily and stepped inside.
Stillness greeted them.
Warmth.
Home.
They crossed to the bed and lowered Wanda carefully onto the mattress, hands lingering briefly to make sure she was comfortable before pulling away.
Wanda stirred faintly at the movement.
“…Y/N…” she murmured sleepily.
“I’m here,” they answered softly at once.
Her breathing settled again almost immediately.
Y/N brushed a loose strand of hair gently from her face before leaning down to press a soft kiss against her forehead.
And for the first time since returning to the capital, they finally let themselves breathe.
Because they were home.
---
Wanda’s POV
The room was quiet when Wanda finally stirred awake.
Soft morning light filtered through the curtains, spilling gently across the bed where she lay alone. For a moment, she stayed still, eyes only half-open as her hand instinctively drifted to her stomach.
Warm. Familiar.
Then came a soft knock at the door.
“Your Majesty?”
Lily.
Wanda exhaled quietly. “Come in.”
The door opened carefully and Lily stepped inside with her usual quiet grace, dipping her head politely. “Good morning, Your Majesty.”
“Good morning, Lily,” Wanda replied softly as she pushed herself upright, blankets sliding around her.
Lily crossed the room to adjust the curtains, letting a little more morning light spill inside. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did. Thank you.”
Wanda’s gaze drifted briefly around the room before settling back on her again.
“…Where is Y/N?”
Lily paused only slightly before answering calmly. “Their Majesty is with Ser Barnes, receiving updates after your absence.”
Wanda nodded faintly.
Of course.
Work never truly waited in the capital.
Still, Lily smiled softly as she added, “They said they would return for breakfast with you.”
A quiet breath left her as something soft settled in her chest. “Alright.”
“Shall I prepare your bath?” Lily asked gently.
Wanda glanced once more toward the brightening window before nodding. “Yes.”
Lily moved quietly through the chamber, already preparing everything while Wanda remained seated at the edge of the bed, slowly waking into the morning.
The capital palace felt different from the northern one.
Larger. Busier.
Even now, there was a faint hum somewhere beyond the walls—a reminder that life here never truly slowed down.
But inside the chamber, everything remained calm.
Still.
Wanda rested her hand over her stomach again, thumb brushing lightly across the fabric of her nightdress.
“…Good morning,” she murmured softly beneath her breath.
As though answering her, a faint movement fluttered beneath her palm.
Small.
But there.
Wanda smiled instantly, her shoulders relaxing. “You’re awake too,” she whispered.
Another gentle flutter followed, weaker than before but enough to make her smile deepen.
The sound of water pouring softly nearby eventually pulled her attention back. Steam had already begun rising from the bath while the scent of oils slowly filled the room—warm, calming, familiar.
“Would you like help, Your Majesty?” Lily asked.
Wanda nodded as she stood carefully. “Yes.”
Lily stepped closer, helping her out of her nightdress before guiding her toward the bath chamber. Warmth wrapped around Wanda immediately as she stepped into the water, tension leaving her body almost at once.
Beside her, Lily worked quietly, adding oils before moving behind her to gently massage her shoulders.
The exhaustion from the journey, from the long week away, slowly melted under careful hands.
Wanda closed her eyes. Just breathing. Just existing in the quiet.
“…You may rest your hands there,” Lily said softly, guiding her hands toward her stomach.
Wanda obeyed instinctively, palms settling protectively over the curve of her bump.
Warm.
Safe.
Lily’s hands moved slowly along her shoulders and back, never pressing too firmly, always careful.
“You should not overexert yourself today,” Lily added gently.
A faint smile touched Wanda’s lips, eyes still closed. “I’ll try.”
“You have to do more than try, You Majesty.”
Wanda let out a quiet huff of amusement. “That sounds like something Y/N would say.”
Lily smiled softly. “They are very attentive.”
Wanda opened her eyes slightly at that.
“They are.”
There was no hesitation in her voice. Only certainty.
After a while, Lily helped Wanda out of the bath, wrapping her carefully in soft fabric before drying her off and guiding her back into the main chamber.
Fresh clothes had already been laid out—light, comfortable, chosen carefully so nothing pressed too tightly against her stomach. Wanda dressed slowly while Lily adjusted the fabric where needed, smoothing everything into place with practiced care.
When it was done, Wanda stood in front of the mirror for a quiet moment.
Just looking.
At herself. At the subtle changes in her body. At the life growing beneath her hands.
Then the chamber door opened without a knock.
Wanda smiled faintly before even turning around. “…You’re late.”
“I said I’d be back for breakfast.”
She turned then, smile lingering as Y/N stepped fully into the room like they hadn’t even paused outside the door. Their eyes found her immediately and stayed there.
“…You’re staring,” Wanda said, amused.
“I am,” Y/N answered easily as they crossed the room toward her, gaze traveling slowly over her.
“Problem?”
“Yeah.” A small pause. “I’m supposed to focus on work today.”
Wanda laughed softly. “That sounds like your problem.”
“It is.”
They stopped directly in front of her, fingers brushing lightly along her arm before settling naturally at her waist.
“You look good,” they murmured.
Her expression softened instantly. “So do you.”
Almost automatically, Y/N’s hand slipped down to rest over her stomach.
“…Morning,” they murmured quietly.
A second later, a faint movement fluttered beneath their palm.
Y/N smiled immediately. “Did you miss Papa?”
Another small flutter answered them.
A pleased huff escaped Y/N at once. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Wanda laughed gently, covering their hand with hers. “You’ve been gone for, what, an hour?”
“Long enough.”
Their thumb traced slow circles over her stomach while the softness in their expression remained completely unhidden now.
“Next time I’ll bring you with me,” they said quietly. “Meet everyone early.”
Wanda shook her head, amused. “They’re not even here yet.”
“Planning ahead.”
She watched them for another moment before smiling more softly. “They’ll be just as attached to you as you are to them.”
Y/N glanced up at her, something uncertain flickering briefly behind their eyes. “…You think?”
“I know.”
They held her gaze for a second, searching it, before some quieter tension eased from their expression.
“…Good,” they murmured.
Their hand remained against her stomach a little longer, thumb brushing gently like the contact itself grounded them.
Then, more quietly, “I don’t want them to ever feel like they have to reach for me.”
“I do,” she replied steadily. “Because you’re already there.” Her fingers tightened softly around theirs. “They won’t have to reach. You’ll be right beside them.”
Y/N looked down briefly at her stomach before meeting her eyes again. “…I’ll try.”
Wanda smiled faintly and shook her head. “You don’t have to try.”
One brow lifted. “No?”
“You just have to be you.”
Y/N huffed softly. “…And what is that?”
Wanda didn’t answer right away.
She simply looked at them fully before lifting her hand to brush her fingers gently along their cheek.
“Someone who stays,” she said quietly.
Y/N went still.
“Someone who listens, even when nobody says anything.” Her thumb traced softly against their skin. “And someone who cares too much.”
A faint huff escaped them. “That sounds exhausting.”
Wanda laughed quietly. “It is.”
Then, softer, “But it’s also why I love you.”
This time Y/N didn’t joke or look away.
Their hand only tightened slightly around hers.
“…You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not,” Wanda said gently after a brief pause. “But it’s you.”
Something shifted in Y/N’s expression then—quieter, steadier somehow.
Their thumb brushed slowly across her knuckles.
“…Alright,” they murmured.
Wanda smiled before leaning in to press a soft kiss against their lips.
“Let’s eat,” she whispered.
---
They settled into breakfast slowly, the quiet of the morning wrapping around them. Sunlight filled the room, soft and warm. Y/N stayed close, as always—pouring her tea first, making sure her plate was filled before touching their own.
Wanda noticed.
“You’re doing it again,” she said lightly.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do.”
“I’m being efficient.”
“You’re hovering.”
Y/N glanced at her. “…Yes.”
Wanda laughed softly.
They ate unhurriedly, talking between bites.
“What do you have today?” Wanda asked.
“Meetings,” Y/N said. “Reports. There are still things to fix.”
Wanda nodded. “I don’t want you to go back right away,” she admitted quietly.
Y/N looked at her, expression softening. “…I know, my love. But I’m not going yet.”
Wanda tilted her head. “No?”
Y/N’s lips curved faintly. “I have something else for you.”
Wanda blinked. “…Another surprise? You already gave me one.”
“I know.”
“That was enough.”
“I disagree.”
Wanda laughed.
---
After breakfast, Y/N stood and offered Wanda their hand.
“Come on.”
Wanda took it easily, letting them guide her through a quieter corridor within their wing of the palace, one she realized she’d barely noticed before.
“…We don’t usually come here,” she murmured.
“Not yet,” Y/N replied.
They stopped at a door and opened it.
Wanda stepped inside—and immediately stilled.
The room was entirely new. Renovated. Sunlight streamed through tall windows while empty shelves lined the walls, waiting to be filled. A large desk sat near the light, thoughtfully placed, surrounded by comfortable seating and open space designed for quiet work and reflection.
A room meant for presence.
“…What is this?” Wanda asked softly.
Y/N stepped in behind her. “…I wanted to give you my mother’s study.”
Wanda turned slightly toward them. “But she never had one.”
A quiet pause followed as Y/N’s gaze drifted around the room.
“My father never allowed her a voice in matters of the kingdom,” they said quietly. “He never gave her space to be part of it.” Their eyes lowered briefly before lifting back to Wanda again. “But she still tried. She always tried.”
Silence settled softly between them.
“I won’t repeat that,” Y/N continued, voice steady now. Certain. “You are my queen, Wanda. Not just in title.”
They stepped closer.
“You make me stronger. Wiser. Better.” Their hand found hers naturally. “I want you beside me in every way that matters.”
A small pause.
“This is your study.”
Wanda looked around the room again, but this time differently. Not just seeing it anymore. Understanding it. Feeling what it meant. “…You did this for me,” she whispered.
Y/N didn’t deny it.
Instead, Wanda stepped forward and wrapped her arms around them. Y/N held her immediately, close and grounding, like they’d been waiting for her to do it.
“I love it,” she murmured against them.
Y/N rested their cheek lightly against her hair and exhaled softly. “…Really?”
Wanda pulled back just enough to look at them properly. “Really.”
Her fingers brushed gently along their jaw. “It’s not just the room,” she said softly. “It’s what it means.”
Y/N held her gaze quietly while she smiled faintly.
“You didn’t just give me a place to work,” Wanda continued. “You gave me a place beside you.”
Something in Y/N’s expression shifted at that—quieter, more vulnerable than they usually allowed anyone to see. “That’s where you were always meant to be,” they said softly.
Wanda’s eyes warmed immediately. “I know.”
After another moment, her attention drifted back around the room, excitement beginning to slip through her expression now.
“I can put books here,” she said, gesturing lightly toward one side. “And letters—maybe a writing desk near the window…”
Y/N watched her fondly.
Wanda turn slipping her arms around them again and leaned in and kissed them softly, lingering just long enough to leave warmth behind when she finally pulled away, forehead resting gently against theirs.
“Thank you,” she whispered again.
Y/N’s thumb brushed lightly along her side. “…You’re welcome.”
A comfortable silence settled between them after that—warm and full in the way only home could feel.
Then Y/N sighed quietly. “I really do have to work now.”
Wanda groaned softly. “I knew this was coming.”
That earned a faint smile from them. “I won’t be long.”
She narrowed her eyes immediately. “You always say that.”
“…This time I mean it.”
Wanda finally stepped back, though her fingers lingered in theirs a second longer. “Fine. But you’re coming back to me.”
Y/N squeezed her hand gently. “Always.”
And this time, it didn’t sound like a promise. It sounded like a fact.
Summary: Wanda and reader are ready to become marked mates.
Word Count: 13k+
Warnings: Fluff, Smut, (18+), A/B/O Dynamic (Alpha/Omega), Heat/Rut, Marking/Biting, Knotting, Reader has a P.
A/N: Hey guys! You asked for part 3, you shall have part 3 😉
Part 1 || Part 2 || Main Masterlist
---
---
Y/N’s POV
Two months.
That’s how long it had been since everything changed. Not loudly. Not all at once. But in quiet, steady ways that settled into something real.
Something theirs.
Wanda didn’t hide anymore—not completely. She still picked her moments, still held parts of herself close when the room felt too crowded or too loud… but she wasn’t shrinking anymore.
Not around Y/N.
Never around Y/N.
And Y/N learned her in a different way now.
The way Wanda’s scent softened when she was relaxed. The way her omega instincts curled into Y/N’s instead of fighting them. The way she reached for her without hesitation—like it was natural.
Like she was hers. Like Y/N was hers.
And now—Now they were waiting.
For Wanda’s heat.
A real one. Not rushed, not triggered by stress or proximity or chaos.
A choice. A beginning.
One more month.
---
The mission had taken longer than expected.
Nothing serious—just delays, complications, the usual—but it was enough to stretch that quiet thread in Y/N’s chest tighter than she liked.
Being away from Wanda still felt wrong.
Even now.
Especially now.
By the time Y/N got back to the compound, her body was tired—but her instincts were wide awake, restless in that low, persistent way that only meant one thing:
Omega. Close. Find her.
She didn’t even stop in the common room. Didn’t check in. Didn’t slow down. Her feet carried her straight down the hallway—past familiar doors, past voices, past everything—until she reached theirs.
Their room.
That still felt new. It just felt… right.
Y/N exhaled slowly, grounding herself before opening the door. The second it clicked open—“Y/N!”—and then Wanda was there.
No hesitation. No pause. Wanda ran straight at her.
Y/N barely had time to brace before Wanda jumped, arms wrapping tight around her shoulders, legs hooking around her waist as Y/N caught her instinctively.
“Hey—” Y/N huffed out a quiet laugh, arms locking around her securely. “Hi to you too.”
Wanda buried her face into Y/N’s neck immediately, breathing her in like she’d been holding her breath for days.
“I missed you,” she mumbled against her skin.
Y/N’s grip tightened without thinking. “I was gone three days,” she murmured, softer now.
“Too long,” Wanda said instantly.
Y/N smiled into her hair.
Yeah.
Too long.
---
She kicked the door shut behind her, carrying Wanda further inside without setting her down.
Wanda didn’t let go. Didn’t even try. Her fingers curled into the back of Y/N’s shirt, holding her there like she needed the contact—like letting go wasn’t an option yet.
“You’re tired,” Wanda said after a second, pulling back just enough to look at her.
Y/N huffed softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she shook her head.
“For you?” she murmured, voice low and warm. “Never.”
Before Wanda could respond, Y/N leaned in—slow, deliberate—her nose brushing along the side of Wanda’s neck. She inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second as she took in her omega’s scent.
It was soft. Familiar. Home.
Her grip tightened just slightly around Wanda’s waist, grounding herself in it. “Missed this,” Y/N admitted quietly, her voice rougher now—not from exhaustion, but something deeper. “Missed you.”
Wanda’s breath hitched, her fingers curling gently into Y/N’s shirt again as she tilted her head just a little, giving her more space without even realizing it.
“You always do that,” Wanda whispered, a small smile in her voice.
“Do what?”
“Like you need to make sure I’m real.”
Y/N hummed softly against her skin, not pulling away.
“Because I do,” she said simply. “Out there, everything’s loud. Messy. But this—” her nose brushed once more along Wanda’s pulse, slower this time, calmer “—this is how I know I’m back.”
Wanda’s arms tightened around her shoulders, holding her close.
“You’re back,” she said softly.
Y/N smiled faintly against her neck. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I am.”
Wanda pulled back just enough to look at her—really look at her—taking in the softened edges of Y/N’s expression, the way her eyes were still a little heavy with exhaustion but steady, grounded.
Then her hands came up, gentle but sure, cupping Y/N’s cheeks.
“Hey,” Wanda whispered, thumbs brushing lightly along her skin.
Y/N’s breath stilled.
And then Wanda leaned in. The kiss was soft at first—slow, intentional. Not rushed, not demanding. Just warm. Familiar.
Y/N melted into it almost instantly, her hands settling more firmly at Wanda’s waist as she leaned forward, meeting her halfway. Her eyes slipped shut, tension easing out of her shoulders like something finally unclenching.
Wanda deepened it just slightly, tilting her head, her fingers still cradling Y/N’s face like she didn’t want her going anywhere. Like she couldn’t.
Y/N let out a quiet breath against her lips, something close to a hum, and for a moment she forgot about the mission, the exhaustion, everything outside this room.
It was just Wanda.
Just this.
When they finally pulled apart, it wasn’t far—foreheads resting together, breaths mingling.
“Still not tired?” Wanda murmured, a teasing softness in her voice.
Y/N let out a quiet huff of a laugh, her nose brushing Wanda’s. “Ask me again later,” she said, low and warm.
Wanda smiled, eyes shining just a little. “Okay,” she whispered.
Wanda was still in Y/N’s arms when Y/N shifted her grip slightly and walked them both further into the room. Instead of heading straight for the bed, Y/N stopped at the desk tucked against the wall and gently set Wanda down on top of it. Her hands lingered at Wanda’s waist for a moment, steadying her before pulling back.
Wanda tilted her head, watching her closely.
Y/N reached up, tugging at the collar of her mission jacket, rolling her shoulders slightly as she started to peel it off.
“What are you doing?” Wanda asked, brows lifting—though there was a faint spark in her eyes now, something warmer, a little teasing.
Y/N huffed softly, glancing at her as she shrugged the jacket off her shoulders. “Taking this off,” she said simply. “So we can actually lie down without me dragging half the mission dirt into the bed.”
Wanda’s lips twitched, but she shook her head, crossing her arms lightly. “You’re still dirty,” she pointed out. “And sweaty.”
“Wow,” Y/N deadpanned, tossing the jacket aside. “You really know how to make a girl feel wanted.”
Wanda smirked faintly, but didn’t back down. “Go shower.”
Y/N paused, then nodded once. “Yeah. I probably should.” She stepped closer again, hands finding Wanda’s waist like it was second nature. “I’ll be quick.”
But the moment she started to pull away—Wanda’s legs tightened around her. Firm. Unyielding.
Y/N blinked, caught off guard as Wanda pulled herself closer, arms sliding back around her neck, keeping her right there.
“No,” Wanda said softly.
Y/N’s hands came up instinctively, settling at her thighs to steady them both. “No?”
Wanda shook her head, pressing closer, her voice quieter now—but certain. “Stay.”
There was something in the way she said it—not needy, not demanding. Just… wanting.
Y/N exhaled softly, her grip loosening just a little as she leaned in again, forehead brushing Wanda’s.
“You’re the one who said I’m dirty,” she murmured.
“I did,” Wanda replied, not letting go.
“And sweaty.”
“Mhm.”
Y/N’s lips curved faintly. “And you still want me right here?”
Wanda’s answer was immediate—her arms tightening just slightly around Y/N’s neck.
“Yes.”
That did something to Y/N’s chest—something warm and grounding all at once. She stayed there for a second longer, just holding her.
Then, softer—“…Do you want to come with me?” Y/N asked, voice low. “Shower, I mean.”
Wanda blinked, just slightly surprised.
Y/N’s thumbs brushed lightly along her sides, steady, familiar. “We can be quick,” she added gently. “Then come back and crash properly.”
Wanda studied her for a moment—then a slow smile spread across her lips.
“Together?” she asked.
Y/N’s expression softened.
“Together.”
---
Next Morning
Wanda’s POV
Morning came softly.
Wanda woke slowly, her mind surfacing through warmth before anything else.
The first thing she noticed wasn’t sight. It was scent. Y/N’s alpha pheromones were wrapped around her—thick, warm, and grounding. Not overwhelming, not sharp like during instinct or conflict… just steady. Protective. Familiar.
They clung to her skin, the sheets—settled into her like something that belonged there. And beneath that—Her own.
Sweet, softened omega pheromones, tangled with Y/N’s in the air between them. The room still carried the faint, lingering heat of the night before—skin, closeness, shared warmth.
It made her chest tighten in the softest way.
Then she became aware of the physical weight behind her.
Y/N.
Spooning her.
An arm draped securely around her waist, pulling her back into a firm, protective hold. Their legs were tangled together, bare skin pressed along every line of her back. Y/N’s breath brushed warm and steady against the back of her neck, making Wanda shiver.
A quiet, instinctive reaction.
Her body responded before she could think—her hips shifting just slightly, pressing back into Y/N. Not deliberate. Just… natural.
Behind her, Y/N stirred faintly, her hold tightening a fraction even in sleep.
Wanda smiled. Carefully, she turned in her arms—slow, gentle movements so she wouldn’t wake her. It took a second to fully face her, but when she did—she softened instantly.
Y/N was asleep.
Peaceful in a way Wanda rarely got to see. No tension in her brow, no guarded edges. Just calm. Still.
Her Alpha.
Wanda lifted her hand, fingertips brushing gently along Y/N’s cheek, tracing her jaw with quiet affection.
Then she leaned in. A soft kiss to her lips. Another to her nose. One more to her cheek.
Light. Careful. Loving.
Y/N shifted slightly, a quiet breath leaving her—but didn’t wake.
Wanda smiled to herself.
Slowly, she slipped out of Y/N’s hold, lifting her arm just enough to slide free. She paused at the edge of the bed, glancing back.
Y/N instinctively shifted toward the space she left behind.
Wanda’s chest warmed. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered softly.
---
The bathroom was cool in contrast to the warmth she’d left behind.
Wanda moved quietly, freshening up, still wrapped in that lingering sense of closeness. Her thoughts were calm—grounded in a way that felt new and familiar all at once.
When she finally looked up at the mirror—
She paused.
Her gaze softened immediately. Faint marks dotted her skin—along her neck, her collarbone, her shoulders. Not harsh. Not careless. Intentional. She lifted her hand, fingertips brushing lightly over one, then another. Then she turn around to check her nape, finding a hickey there.
Her lips curved into a small, private smile. “Y/N…” she murmured softly. There was no hesitation in her expression. Just warmth.
Her alpha is eager to mark her, but they needed to wait.
She traced the mark one last time before letting her hand fall, her reflection looking back at her with quiet certainty.
After getting dressed, Wanda slipped out of the room, careful not to make noise. The compound was still quiet—early enough that most people hadn’t stirred yet.
She moved through the kitchen with ease, already deciding what to make. Something warm. Something filling. Something that will nourish Y/N tired body from the mission. Wanda smiled softly to herself as she started preparing breakfast.
---
Later
Wanda balanced the tray fulled with food that didn’t look like it was for two at all. She nudged the door open with her hip, stepping quietly back into their room.
The scent hit her first again—faded now, softer than before, but still there. Familiar. Warm. The lingering mix of them wrapped into the space like a memory that hadn’t quite settled yet. She smiled faintly as she walked in.
Then she saw her.
Y/N was still asleep—sprawled slightly across the bed, hair a mess, blanket half tangled around her legs…
…and hugging Wanda’s pillow. Tightly.
Like it had personally wronged her by not being the real thing. Wanda had to bite back a laugh. “Really?” she whispered under her breath, amused.
Y/N shifted a little, pulling the pillow closer, her face pressing into it as she breathed in deeply—even in sleep, chasing that familiar scent.
Wanda’s expression softened immediately. She set the tray down carefully on the bedside table, making as little noise as possible. For a moment, she just stood there, watching.
There was something about seeing Y/N like this—unguarded, instinctive—that made her chest feel too full.
Her Alpha.
Still seeking her, even unconscious.
Wanda moved closer, climbing gently onto the bed. She didn’t take the pillow right away—instead, she leaned over, brushing her fingers lightly through Y/N’s hair.
“Hey…” she murmured softly.
Y/N stirred faintly but didn’t wake.
Wanda smiled and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.
“You know that’s not me, right?” she teased quietly.
At that, Y/N made a soft, sleepy sound—something between a hum and a protest—her arms tightening around the pillow.
“…warm,” she mumbled, barely coherent.
Wanda huffed a quiet laugh.
“I’m literally right here.”
Another small shift. Then, slowly, Y/N’s eyes cracked open—heavy, unfocused at first. It took her a second to register what she was seeing.
Wanda. Right there.
Her gaze softened instantly.
“There you are…” Y/N murmured, voice rough with sleep.
Before Wanda could say anything, Y/N’s arm slid around her waist and pulled her down, guiding her gently on top of her. The movement was unhurried, instinctive.
Y/N tilted her head up and kissed her.
Soft. Slow.
Like she was still waking up into it.
Wanda melted immediately, her hands bracing lightly against Y/N’s shoulders as she returned the kiss, smiling faintly against her lips.
When they parted, just barely, Y/N’s eyes flicked over her—taking in the clothes, the way she was already put together.
“…Why are you dressed?” Y/N murmured. Her hand had already started to drift under the hem of Wanda’s shirt, fingertips brushing warm skin. Wanda’s breath hitched just slightly. “I—went to make breakfast,” she said softly.
Y/N hummed, clearly unconcerned.
Her lips found Wanda’s neck, pressing a slow kiss just beneath her jaw as her fingers continued upward, gently lifting the fabric.
“Mm… smells good,” Y/N murmured—but it wasn’t clear if she meant the food.
Wanda exhaled softly, her head tilting just a little to the side. “Y/N…” she said, a little breathless now. “What are you doing?”
Y/N didn’t answer. She just shifted them both, turning them over smoothly so Wanda was beneath her on the bed, the movement easy but deliberate.
The shirt was gone a second later, discarded somewhere beside them.
Y/N leaned down again, pressing another slow kiss to Wanda’s neck—lingering this time.
Wanda let out a quiet, involuntary sound, her hands coming up to grip Y/N’s shoulders.
“Y/N…” she tried again, softer now.
But Y/N only hummed in response, lifting her head just enough to meet her lips again.
The air in the room shifted, growing heavy and thick with a sudden, localized heat that had nothing to do with the morning sun.
Wanda’s breath came in shallow hitches as she felt the cool air of the room hit her skin, followed immediately by the searing warmth of Y/N’s hands. Y/N moved with a focused, primal grace—her movements weren't frantic, but they were absolute. While her mouth stayed locked on Wanda’s, tasting her with a hunger that had only grown since the mission, her hands worked with a deftness that left Wanda reeling.
Before Wanda could even process the loss of her shirt, she felt her shorts and underwear being tugged down her legs and tossed aside.
She gasped into the kiss, her fingers curling tightly into the sheets as she felt Y/N’s weight settle. There was a brief, jarring moment of vulnerability—the cool air meeting her most sensitive skin—but it was gone in an instant.
Y/N shifted, her knees nudging Wanda’s thighs apart, claiming the space between them. The realization hit Wanda all at once. The playful morning energy had evaporated, replaced by a deep, pulsing intensity. She could feel the hard, blunt heat of Y/N pressing right against her, a silent promise of what was coming next. Y/N pulled back just an inch, her eyes dark, hooded, and swirling with an Alpha’s possessive fire. Her breathing was ragged, blowing hot against Wanda's damp lips.
"You're so beautiful," Y/N rasped, her voice vibrating through Wanda’s entire body.
Wanda looked up at her, her own eyes blown wide as her omega instincts surged to the surface, demanding this connection. She didn't want to wait. She didn't care about the breakfast getting cold on the table. She wanted the weight, the heat, and the soul-deep bond that only her Alpha could provide.
"The... the food," Wanda whispered, her voice trembling with a feigned innocence that didn't stand a chance against the way she was looking at Y/N. "You should eat, Y/N. You were gone for so long... aren't you hungry for breakfast?"
Even as the words left her lips, her body told a completely different story. Her legs, already hooked around Y/N's waist, slid further apart, her knees flaring wide to give Y/N total, unhindered access. She arched her back slightly, her hips tilting up in an unconscious invitation, seeking the very friction she was pretending to delay.
Y/N let out a low, vibrating hum that Wanda felt in her own marrow. She didn’t submerge herself just yet. Instead, she braced her weight on her forearms and began to drag her length up and down—a slow, agonizingly deliberate stroke right against Wanda’s slick, swollen folds.
"Breakfast, hm?" Y/N murmured, her voice dropping into a gravelly, teasing register. She pressed down a little harder on the upward stroke, catching the sensitive peak of Wanda’s bud with the crown of her heat. Wanda’s breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that ended in a shaky exhale.
"I don't know," Y/N continued, her eyes locked onto Wanda’s shimmering scarlet ones. "You worked so hard on that tray. It would be a shame to let it sit there. Should I get up? Go sit at the desk? Eat every bite?"
As she spoke, she kept the rhythm steady—slide up, press, slide down. Each pass was spreading Wanda’s own moisture, mixing their scents together until the air in the room felt thick enough to taste. Wanda let out a broken whimper, her fingers digging into the muscles of Y/N’s shoulders. The teasing was torturous.
"No..." Wanda choked out, her head tossing back against the pillow. Her omega pheromones suddenly spiked—a heavy, sweet, and intoxicating wave of floral musk that filled the space between them. It was the scent of total surrender, of a female in need of her mate. The air turned syrupy with it, a physical manifestation of her arousal that acted like a tether, pulling Y/N’s Alpha instincts to the fore.
"No breakfast?" Y/N whispered, her own pupils dilating until the Y/E/C in her eyes was nearly swallowed by black. She nudged her tip right against the opening, the wet heat of their contact making a soft, rhythmic sound. "You're sure, Wanda? You're being very convincing with your mouth... but your scent is telling me you want something else entirely."
"You," Wanda gasped, her hips giving a desperate, upward twitch, trying to force the entry. "I want you. Now. Please, Alpha... now."
The low, desperate plea broke the last of Y/N’s restraint. The teasing, the playfulness, the lingering exhaustion from the mission—it all vanished, incinerated by the thick, sweet scent of Wanda’s surrender. Y/N didn't pull away this time. She gripped Wanda’s thighs, her knuckles white against the pale skin, and guided her knees even higher, pinning them toward Wanda’s chest to open her completely.
"Okay," Y/N rasped, her voice thick with a dominant edge. "No more waiting." She surged forward. The entry was slow but relentless, a steady, heavy pressure that filled Wanda inch by inch. Wanda’s eyes went wide, a long, high-pitched keen escaped her throat—a pure omega sound—as her internal muscles stretched and molded themselves around Y/N’s impressive length.
It felt like coming home. Not the quiet, domestic home of the kitchen or the common room, but something ancient. Primal. Y/N let out a guttural groan, burying her face in the crook of Wanda’s neck as she finally seated herself fully. She stayed there for a heartbeat, perfectly still, just feeling the way Wanda’s body pulsed and clamped around her, trying to draw her even deeper.
"You feel... incredible," Y/N managed to choke out, her breath scorching Wanda’s skin.
Wanda’s hands found the back of Y/N’s head, her fingers tangling in her hair to pull her closer. "Don't stop," Wanda breathed, her voice a ragged mess of need. "Move, Y/N. Please, move."
Y/N obeyed. She began to pull back—nearly all the way out until only the tip remained to tease—before plunging back in with a sharp, heavy thrust. The sound of their bodies meeting was wet and rhythmic that echoed in the quiet room. Wanda’s head thrashed against the pillow, her voice falling into a litany of broken Sokovian and soft whimpers. With every downward drive, Y/N hit deeper, finding the sensitive curve of Wanda’s womb, marking her from the inside out with every heavy stroke.
The room was a haze of friction and pheromones. Y/N’s Alpha scent, dark and woody like a forest after rain, crashed against Wanda’s sweet, floral musk. They were drowning in each other, the mission and the compound and the rest of the world falling away until there was nothing left but this heat, this rhythm, and the soul-deep bond snapping into place with every breath they shared.
Y/N pushed herself up, bracing her weight on her palms so she could look down at the masterpiece unfolding beneath her. The view was staggering. Every heavy, deliberate thrust sent a ripple through Wanda’s body, her breasts bouncing with the impact, her nipples peaked and blushing a deep, sensitive pink against her pale skin. Wanda was a vision of total undoing. Her head was thrown back, her mouth hanging open as broken, melodic moans tumbled out in time with Y/N’s rhythm. Her pupils were so blown that the green of her iris was just a thin, glowing ring around a sea of black.
Y/N’s gaze drifted lower, fixating on the point of contact. Because she was braced high, she could see everything—the way her own length, slid effortlessly into Wanda’s heat. Wanda was still slightly puffy from the night before, her center a soft, bruised rose color, glistening and completely soaked with a mixture of her own honeyed slick and the friction of their bodies. With every withdrawal, the wetness followed Y/N out, coating her length before she disappeared back inside with a heavy, wet sound that filled the room.
"Look at you," Y/N growled, the Alpha in her chest roaring at the sight of her Omega so thoroughly claimed. "Look how well you take me, Wanda."
Wanda’s eyes flickered down, catching sight of them joined together. The visual was too much; her hips gave a violent, involuntary jerk, her internal walls spasming and tightening around Y/N like a vice. "Y/N... ah! Y/N!" Wanda cried out, her fingers clawing at the sheets.
The tightening of Wanda’s cunt sent a jolt of pure electricity up Y/N’s spine. Y/N’s jaw set, her muscles corded in her arms as she accelerated. The slow, teasing pace was gone, replaced by a frantic, driving need to reach the end. She hammered into Wanda, her hips crashing against Wanda’s with a bruising force, each strike sending a fresh wave of scent into the air.
Wanda was sobbing now, the pleasure crossing the line into something overwhelming, something transcendent. She wrapped her arms around herself, then reached up, her hands searching for Y/N’s, needing to be anchored as the world began to dissolve into white-hot sparks of scarlet and gold.
Y/N collapsed forward, the sudden shift in weight bringing them chest-to-chest as Wanda’s arms locked around her like a lifeline. The intimacy was stifling in the best way possible—a cocoon of heat, sweat, and the intoxicating perfume of their mingled scents.
Y/N buried her face in the crook of Wanda’s neck, her nose dragging against the sensitive skin she’d marked just an hour before. She inhaled sharply, drinking in the concentrated essence of Wanda’s omega pheromones, which were now pulsing at a fever pitch. Every time Wanda let out a jagged moan, the vibration traveled directly from her throat into Y/N’s jaw, sending sparks of fire straight to her core.
"That's it, sweetheart," Y/N grunted against her skin, her voice barely a whisper. "Just like that."
Y/N’s arms slid underneath Wanda, her large hands splayed against the small of Wanda’s back, pulling her up and into the rhythm. The contact was total; there was no space left between them, just the friction of skin on skin and the wet, heavy sound of Y/N’s hips working at a frantic pace. Wanda was a storm of sensation beneath her. One of her hands stayed anchored to Y/N’s neck, pulling her closer, while the other was buried deep in Y/N’s hair, her fingers tugging at the strands in a rhythm that matched the desperate thrusting of Y/N’s lower body.
"Y/N... please... I'm—" Wanda’s voice broke, a soft, high-pitched whimper vibrating right into Y/N’s ear.
Wanda’s body suddenly went rigid, her back arching off the bed as the first wave of her orgasm crashed over her. She cried out, a long, shattered sound that was muffled by Y/N’s shoulder, her internal muscles pulsing in frantic, rhythmic contractions that gripped Y/N with a bruising intensity.
But Y/N wasn't done. The Alpha’s hunger was far from sated. Even as Wanda’s body trembled in the aftershock, Y/N didn't slow down. She didn't pull back. Instead, she kept the pace relentless, her hips driving forward with a steady, grounding force that forced Wanda to stay right there in the heat with her.
"I've got you," Y/N grunted, her voice low and possessive. "Stay with me, Wanda." In one fluid, powerful motion, Y/N shifted. She didn't break the connection, her hands sliding down to Wanda’s hips to keep them locked together as she rolled them both over.
Wanda gasped, her head spinning from the sudden change in perspective. One moment she was pinned to the mattress; the next, she was being pulled up, her knees landing on either side of Y/N’s waist as Y/N sat up, leaning back slightly against the headboard.
The new depth was staggering. With gravity now on Y/N's side, she was buried even deeper, her length pressing firmly against Wanda’s sensitive, over-stimulated walls. Wanda slumped forward, her chest heaving as she rested her forehead against Y/N’s. She was still coming, the tremors refusing to die down as Y/N’s hands settled firmly on her waist, guiding her. Y/N began to thrust upward—sharp, vertical jolts that hit Wanda’s most sensitive spots with unerring accuracy.
"Y/N... wait... " Wanda whimpered, her hands sliding weakly down Y/N’s arms, but her body was already betraying her words, her hips rolling instinctively to meet every upward strike.
“I’ve got you,” Y/N countered, her eyes burning as she watched Wanda’s face. She gripped Wanda’s hips tighter, her thumbs digging into the soft skin, and increased the speed.
The shift in position had sent a fresh jolt of electricity through Wanda’s over-sensitized nerves. Sitting atop Y/N, she felt every inch of the Alpha’s thickness stretching her wide, the weight of gravity making the connection feel permanent, inescapable. Wanda’s fingers dug into Y/N’s shoulders, her nails leaving shallow red crescents as she tried to find her balance in the storm. Her hair fell in a messy, dark curtain around their faces, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"Y-Y/N, I'm still—" she choked out, her voice breaking as another ripple of aftershocks forced her internal walls to clench tight.
"I know," Y/N growled, the sound vibrating from her chest directly into Wanda’s. Y/N didn’t give her a second to recover. She gripped Wanda’s waist with bruising strength, her large hands nearly meeting around the Omega’s narrow middle, and began to lift and drop her. It was a brutal, punishing pace with a heavy wet thud every time Wanda’s hips hit Y/N’s thighs.
Wanda’s head fell back, her spine arching like a bow. The view from above was dizzying; she could see the way her own pale skin flushed deep red, the way Y/N’s eyes never left her, tracking every expression of pleasure and overwhelm. Each time Y/N drove upward, she hit the very back of Wanda’s throat with a silent scream, the friction against her swollen, sensitive core sending her right back into the peak.
"Look at me, my love," Y/N commanded, her voice a low rumble of Alpha authority. Wanda’s heavy lids fluttered open, her green eyes swimming with tears of pure sensation. She looked down, seeing the way they were fused together.
"You're... you're going to make me crazy,” Wanda sobbed, but she was already moving with her, her hips rolling in a desperate, circular motion to catch more of that searing heat.
"I'm going to mark you," Y/N corrected, her teeth baring in a feral grin as her own climax finally began to roar through her veins.
Y/N’s hands slid from Wanda’s waist to her thighs, pulling them wide and pinning them back so she could drive even deeper. The pace became frantic, a blur of skin and sweat and the sweet, heavy scent of an Omega being thoroughly claimed. Y/N’s breath hitched, her muscles cording until they looked like stone, and with one final, devastatingly deep thrust, she locked her arms around Wanda and held her tight, her own roar of release muffled against Wanda’s pulsing neck.
The air was thick with the scent of spent adrenaline and the heavy, sweet musk of a satisfied Omega. Y/N didn't let the distance last for more than a second; she rolled them back over, pinning Wanda into the soft mattress while remaining buried deep within her. Wanda’s body was a mess of beautiful tremors, her breath coming in broken, shallow sobs as the aftershocks of her second climax continued to ripple through her.
Slowly—agonizingly slowly—Y/N began to withdraw.
The sound was wet and heavy, a soft suction as the friction finally broke. Y/N stayed braced on her elbows, her gaze dropping to the space between Wanda’s legs as she pulled her knees further apart, exposing her completely.
"Look what you did," Y/N murmured, her voice a low, dark growl of pride. Y/N wasn't satisfied yet.
She hovered over Wanda, her shadow draped over the Omega’s trembling form like a protective shroud. Y/N leaned down, her lips brushing against Wanda’s ear, sending a fresh jolt of electricity through her already over-sensitized nerves. She pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to the pulse point in Wanda’s neck, tasting the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her surrender.
“One more time, babe,” Y/N rasped against her skin, her voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that left no room for argument.
Wanda’s eyes, still hazy and unfocused from the previous peaks, fluttered open. She looked up at her Alpha, seeing the raw, unyielding hunger that still burned in Y/N’s gaze. Her body was a map of exhaustion and pleasure, her muscles feeling like lead, yet at the suggestion, a fresh wave of heat bloomed deep in her belly.
"Y/N... I'm so..." Wanda started, her voice a fragile thread, but she didn't finish the sentence. Instead, her legs, which had been resting weakly on the mattress, slowly slid back up Y/N’s sides. Her ankles crossed at the small of Y/N’s back, pulling her back into the cradle of her thighs.
"You're what?" Y/N murmured, pulling back just enough to capture Wanda’s gaze. She took her thumb, still coated in the evidence of their first rounds, and dragged it slowly across Wanda’s bottom lip, painting it with the slick heat.
"Do you want me to stop?" Y/N asked, her voice a low, vibrating hum that seemed to settle right in the marrow of Wanda's bones.
Wanda shook her head, the movement frantic against the pillow. "No," she breathed, the word carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken vows. "Never. Please."
Y/N’s expression softened, the fierce, possessive fire in her eyes banking into a warm, glowing ember of pure devotion. She didn't surge forward with the same primal urgency as before; instead, she leaned down and captured Wanda’s lips in a kiss that was achingly tender. It wasn't a demand, but a sanctuary. It tasted of salt, of sweetness, and of a bond that had been forged in battle and tempered in the quiet intimacy of their shared morning.
Wanda’s hands slid from Y/N’s chest to her neck, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her head, pulling her closer as if trying to merge their very souls. As Y/N began to move again—a slow, deep, and deliberate rhythm that prioritized every sensation—Wanda let out a soft, broken sigh into the kiss.
---
An Hour Later
By the time Wanda finished her coffee, Y/N was already halfway through the plate.
Actually—no.
Not halfway. Nearly done.
Wanda leaned back against the headboard, blanket wrapped loosely around her bare body, one leg tucked beneath the other as she watched. Amused. Very amused.
Y/N sat beside the bed, only the sheet loosely draped around her waist—completely forgotten as she focused on the food. Her hair was still a mess, her skin still faintly flushed, and her chest completely bare as she leaned forward over the tray.
Focused. Determined. Absolutely devouring everything in front of her.
Wanda smirked into her mug. “Y/N…”
No response.
Y/N didn’t even look up.
“Y/N.”
A distracted hum this time.
Wanda shook her head, amused. “Slow down.”
That got her a glance. Just a quick one.
“I am,” Y/N said, completely serious—before immediately taking another bite.
Wanda raised an eyebrow. “You’re inhaling it.”
“I’m refueling,” Y/N corrected, already reaching for the next piece.
Wanda laughed softly, shaking her head as she took another sip of her coffee. “You’re unbelievable.”
Y/N just shrugged, unconcerned, finishing the last of what was on the plate before reaching for something else.
For a moment, Wanda just… watched her.
The way she relaxed now—fully, without that constant edge she used to carry. The way she ate without pretending she wasn’t hungry. The way she stayed close, even without realizing it—her knee brushing against the side of the bed, like she needed that contact.
Wanda’s expression softened.
“You really were hungry,” she murmured.
Y/N huffed lightly, finishing her bite before finally looking up at her properly. “I always am,” she said—but then her tone shifted, quieter, more genuine. “But… yours is different.”
Wanda tilted her head slightly. “Different how?”
Y/N leaned back just a little, resting her hand against the edge of the bed near Wanda’s leg.
“Better,” she said simply. “I love your food.” The words were easy—but they landed heavier than they sounded.
Wanda blinked, just for a second, caught off guard by how sincere it was.
“…Yeah?” she asked softly.
Y/N nodded, a faint smile pulling at her lips. “Yeah. You actually think about it. What I’d like. What I need.” She glanced down at the tray, then back at Wanda. “It’s not just food.”
Wanda’s chest warmed, something quiet and steady settling there.
“You’re saying I take care of you?” she teased lightly.
Y/N didn’t even hesitate. “You do.”
That wiped the teasing right off Wanda’s face. Her gaze softened again—deeper this time.
“Good,” she said, almost a whisper.
Y/N nudged her knee gently with her shoulder, grounding the moment before it got too heavy.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she added.
Wanda smirked faintly. “Too late.”
Y/N rolled her eyes—but her hand slid up, resting briefly over Wanda’s through the blanket.
A quiet, steady touch. And she didn’t pull away.
---
After breakfast, Y/N took a quick shower and got dressed—nothing fancy, just something clean and comfortable. Wanda lingered in the room, stretched out on the bed with that same soft, content look she’d been wearing all morning, watching Y/N move around like she didn’t want to miss a second of it.
“I’ll be back after debrief,” Y/N said, stepping closer to press a quick kiss to Wanda’s lips.
Wanda smiled against it. “Don’t take too long.”
“I won’t,” Y/N promised, brushing her thumb along Wanda’s cheek before heading out.
---
Y/N pushed open the door to the debriefing room.
Clint, Sam, and Steve were already there.
Clint was halfway through a bottle of water, Sam leaned back in his chair like he owned the place, and Steve stood near the screen, flipping through mission data.
Y/N didn’t waste time.
“Let’s make this quick,” she said, moving to take a seat.
Sam immediately perked up, a grin spreading across his face. “Or else what?” he asked, glancing at Clint. “Maximoff’s gonna come looking for you?”
Y/N paused mid-step, turning her head just enough to fix Sam with a look.
“I know you’re jealous, Wilson,” she said calmly.
Clint let out a quiet “oh—” under his breath.
Y/N dropped into her chair, leaning back like she had all the time in the world now.
“But yeah,” she added, completely unbothered. “That would be accurate.”
Clint choked on his water.
“—What?” he coughed, wiping his mouth as he stared between them.
Sam blinked once, then leaned back further, shaking his head. “Oh, it’s like that now?”
Y/N just smirked faintly.
Steve, meanwhile, didn’t even look surprised. He cleared his throat, stepping forward slightly. “Alright,” he said, bringing the focus back. “Let’s get started.”
The screen lit up behind him as the debrief began.
Y/N leaned forward just slightly, attention shifting—but there was still that quiet ease in her posture now.
Like part of her was already somewhere else.
Somewhere down the hall. Waiting for her.
---
Wanda’s POV
Y/N was taking too long.
Wanda told herself it was just a debrief. That it always took time. That Steve liked to go over every detail at least twice.
Still—
Too long.
She sighed, pushing herself off the bed, fingers absently smoothing down her clothes before she headed out. Her steps were quiet at first… then a little faster the closer she got.
By the time she reached the debriefing room, she slowed. The door was slightly open. Wanda peeked in. Only two people inside.
Steve and Y/N. Which meant it was over.
So why was she still there?
Wanda’s lips pressed into a small pout before she could stop herself.
Before she even had the chance to knock—
Y/N noticed her.
Her head turned immediately, like she’d felt her there more than seen her. Their eyes met. And just like that, Y/N’s expression softened.
“Thanks, Steve,” Y/N said, already stepping away.
Steve gave a small nod, glancing briefly toward Wanda before turning back to whatever he’d been reviewing.
Y/N didn’t hesitate. She crossed the room in a few easy steps and stopped right in front of Wanda.
“Hey,” she said softly.
Wanda didn’t answer right away. She just looked at her.
Then—
Her pout deepened.
Y/N blinked once, then sighed quietly, a small, fond smile tugging at her lips. “Sorry,” she said, stepping closer. “Took longer than I thought.”
Wanda crossed her arms, leaning lightly against the doorframe. “Why were you still talking to Steve?” she asked.
Y/N tilted her head slightly. “Debrief—”
“No,” Wanda cut in softly, her pout still there. “After.”
Y/N paused.
Wanda’s eyes searched her face, something more vulnerable slipping through now.
“…Are you going on another mission?” she asked.
There it was. That part of her. The one that didn’t like distance. Didn’t like not knowing. Didn’t like the idea of Y/N walking away again.
Her pout deepened just a little more.
Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stepped forward, closing the space between them—and leaned in. Pressing a soft kiss right against Wanda’s pout.
Wanda froze for half a second. Then her lips softened under it.
When Y/N pulled back, she shook her head slightly. “No,” she said gently.
Wanda blinked, relief flickering—but she still looked at her, waiting.
Y/N’s thumb brushed lightly along her cheek.
“I was asking Steve for a leave,” she explained.
Wanda’s brows pulled together slightly—
And then her pout came back.
“…Leave?” she repeated.
Her voice softened.
“You’re leaving?”
There it was again. That quiet worry.
Y/N huffed a small laugh under her breath, shaking her head. “Of course not,” she said, amused.
Wanda frowned. “Then—”
“I got a leave for both of us.”
That made Wanda pause. Her expression shifted—confusion first, then curiosity.
“…Both of us?”
Y/N nodded, her hand sliding gently to Wanda’s waist.
“I don’t want you here for your heat,” she said, voice lower now, more thoughtful. “Not in the compound. Not with everyone around. Not with missions hanging over us.”
Wanda’s breath caught slightly.
Y/N’s gaze softened as she continued. “I want us somewhere else. Quiet. Just us.” A small pause. “When it happens… I want it to be ours.”
The meaning settled between them. Clear. Important.
Wanda’s cheeks flushed instantly.
Her eyes dropped for a second, a shy warmth replacing the earlier pout.
Her next heat.
When they would—
Her fingers curled lightly into Y/N’s shirt.
“…You thought about all that?” she asked softly.
Y/N smiled faintly. “Of course I did.”
Wanda looked back up at her.
And this time—
She smiled. Soft and a little flustered. But certain.
“I like that,” she admitted quietly.
Y/N’s expression softened even more, her thumb brushing along Wanda’s cheek again.
“Yeah?”
Wanda nodded.
“Yeah.”
And just like that—
The idea of what was coming didn’t feel overwhelming.
It felt right.
---
One month Later
Y/N’s POV
One month passed fast.
Y/N tightened her grip on the steering wheel just slightly as the cabin finally came into view through the trees.
Quiet. Secluded. Exactly what she wanted.
The lake stretched out just beyond it, water catching the light in soft ripples, and behind it—mountains. Tall, still, shielding the entire place from the rest of the world.
Y/N glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah.”
Wanda didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to.
A few minutes later, they stepped out of the car.
Y/N grabbed their bags easily, dropping them just inside the cabin without bothering to unpack yet. When she turned back—Wanda was already outside again. Standing near the edge of the clearing, looking out at the lake.
Taking it all in.
Y/N’s chest tightened just a little at the sight.
She walked up behind her quietly, arms sliding around Wanda’s waist, pulling her back into her.
Wanda leaned into it instantly.
Like she always did.
“Do you like it?” Y/N asked, her voice low, close to her ear.
Wanda smiled, resting back against her. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I really do.”
Y/N pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder, lingering there for a second.
“Good,” she murmured.
For a moment, they just stood there. No rush. No noise. Just the sound of the water and the wind moving through the trees.
Then Y/N pulled back slightly.
“…You want to go swim?” she asked.
Wanda blinked, surprised—then laughed softly.
“Now?”
Y/N shrugged. “Why not?”
Wanda turned in her arms, eyes bright now.
“We didn’t even unpack.”
“Later.”
Wanda studied her for half a second—
Then smiled.
“Okay.”
The water was colder than it looked. Wanda gasped the second she stepped in, grabbing onto Y/N’s arm instinctively.
“It’s freezing!” she laughed.
Y/N huffed, wading in beside her like it was nothing. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t believe you,” Wanda said, but she didn’t let go.
Y/N smirked faintly. “Give it a minute.”
Wanda narrowed her eyes at her—
Then splashed her.
Y/N blinked, water dripping down her face.
“…Really?”
Wanda grinned. And that was enough.
Y/N reached for her, pulling her closer as Wanda laughed, trying—and failing—to escape.
The cold didn’t matter after that.
Not really.
They stayed in the water longer than they meant to, drifting, laughing, settling into something easy and light.
No weight. No pressure.
Just time.
Just them.
And for once—
That was enough.
---
Later that Night
Y/N woke suddenly.
Not to a sound.
Not to movement.
To heat.
It wrapped around her first—thick, heavy, unmistakable. Her body tensed instinctively, awareness snapping into place as something deeper stirred low in her gut.
Then she felt it. Pressure.
A tight, aching pull in her core that hadn’t been there when she fell asleep. Her breath slowed.
“…Wanda.”
Y/N’s eyes opened. The room was dark, the faint glow of moonlight spilling in through the window—but she didn’t need light to know.
She could feel it. And smell it.
Wanda’s omega pheromones had shifted.
No longer soft. No longer calm.
They filled the air now—sweet, heavy, and pulsing with heat. It clung to Y/N’s skin, wrapped around her senses, sank straight into her instincts like a spark to dry kindling.
It had started.
Y/N turned immediately.
Wanda was there, beside her—but different. Her breathing was uneven, shallow, lips parted slightly as soft, strained exhales slipped past them. Her body shifted restlessly against the sheets, like she couldn’t get comfortable.
Y/N moved closer without hesitation, one arm sliding around Wanda’s waist, pulling her in against her. Wanda melted into it instantly like she’d been waiting. Her body pressed flush against Y/N’s, heat radiating from her skin, her breath hitching as she buried herself closer.
Y/N tightened her hold, grounding. “I’ve got you,” she murmured softly.
She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Wanda’s cheek—slow, reassuring.
“My love…”
Wanda made a soft, broken sound at that. Her eyes fluttered open—glassy, unfocused, already lost in that haze. Her brows pulled together slightly as she looked at Y/N, like she was trying to anchor herself there.
“Y/N…” she whimpered quietly.
Y/N’s chest tightened.
She brushed her thumb gently along Wanda’s cheek.
“Is it starting?” she asked softly—even though she already knew.
Wanda nodded.
Small. Unsteady.
Her fingers curled into Y/N’s shirt, pulling herself closer, like distance wasn’t something she could tolerate anymore.
“It hurts,” Wanda whispered, voice trembling.
Y/N shifted immediately, pulling her closer, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head, guiding her gently into the crook of her neck.
“I know,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Wanda buried herself there, breathing her in like she needed it to survive, her body pressing tighter, searching for relief, for grounding, for her.
Y/N’s instincts surged—but she held them steady. Controlled but present.
Her nose brushed lightly along Wanda’s temple as she exhaled slowly, keeping herself anchored.
“You’re okay,” she whispered. “You’re safe. We’re right here.”
Wanda let out another soft, needy sound, her body curling closer still, legs tangling with Y/N’s, trying to close any space left between them.
Y/N tightened her hold just enough to meet it—firm, protective, but careful.
The air in the bedroom had become an ocean of thick, intoxicating pheromones, making every breath Y/N took feel like she was inhaling Wanda’s very essence. Beneath the sheets, the heat was astronomical. Y/N could feel her own length, already stone-hard and pulsing with a heavy, demanding ache, pressing firmly against Wanda’s thigh. It was an instinctive response to the scent of an omega, her omega, in the first true throes of a natural heat—a biological lock and key snapping into place.
Y/N’s hand, splayed wide across the small of Wanda’s back, pulled her flush against her. The contact was electric. The second their bodies fully connected, Wanda let out a long, shuddering moan that vibrated against Y/N’s chest. Her head fell back, her neck arching as she looked up at Y/N through the dark. Her pupils blown wide with a need that went far beyond the physical.
"Y/N... please," Wanda whispered, her voice a ragged, broken thread of sound. "It’s... it’s so much."
"I know, sweetheart," Y/N rasped, her own voice dropping into that low, gravelly Alpha tone that vibrated with protective authority. "I’m right here. I’m not letting go."
Y/N leaned down, her shadow falling over Wanda’s face just before their lips met. The kiss wasn't like the ones before—it wasn't a greeting or a teasing promise. It was a claim. It was deep, hungry, and tasted of the heat rising between them. Y/N’s tongue swept into Wanda’s mouth, claiming her with a desperate intensity that Wanda met with equal fervor, her hands coming up to clutch at Y/N’s hair, pulling her down as if she wanted to merge their very souls.
As they kissed, Y/N’s hand began to wander, sliding down from Wanda’s waist to the curve of her hip. She could feel the way Wanda’s skin was slick with a light sheen of sweat, her body radiating a feverish warmth. Wanda’s legs tangled more tightly with Y/N’s, her hips giving a small, instinctive tilt upward—searching for the hard, blunt pressure of Y/N’s hardness, needing the grounding weight of her Alpha to anchor her in the rising storm of her heat.
Y/N broke the kiss just an inch, her breathing harsh and uneven against Wanda’s lips. "You're so hot, Wanda," she murmured, her nose brushing against Wanda's. "You smell... incredible."
Wanda whimpered, a soft, needy sound that broke in the back of her throat. "Make it stop," she pleaded, her hips twitching again. "The aching... Y/N, make it stop."
Y/N’s grip tightened, her Alpha instincts roaring at the plea. She moved her hand lower, her fingers brushing the top of Wanda’s thigh, moving toward the center of that radiating heat. "I've got you," Y/N promised, her eyes burning gold in the moonlight. "I'm going to take care of you."
Y/N leaned in, capturing Wanda’s mouth in another deep, possessive kiss that tasted of salt and desperate need. While their tongues tangled, Y/N’s hand moved with purpose, hooking into the waistband of Wanda’s soft shorts. She didn’t hesitate, peeling them down over Wanda’s hips and down her slender thighs, discarding them somewhere into the shadows of the cabin floor.
Wanda was already drenched. The thick, floral scent of her omega slick was intoxicating, a physical invitation that Y/N’s Alpha couldn't ignore. The moment her skin was bared to the cool cabin air, Wanda’s instincts took over; her legs fell open wide, her knees flaring outward in a silent, vulnerable plea for the contact she was dying for.
Y/N broke the kiss only to trail her lips down Wanda’s jaw to her ear, whispering low promises as she shifted. With a gentle but firm strength, she maneuvered Wanda onto her back, centering her on the soft mattress. The rest of Wanda’s clothes followed the shorts—her top pulled over her head and tossed aside until she was completely bare, her skin glowing like ivory in the moonlight. She looked like she was melting into the sheets, her back arching slightly, her chest heaving as her lungs struggled to keep up with the rising fever of her heat.
“You’re so ready for me,” Y/N growled, her voice thick with a dark, primal hunger.
Y/N didn’t waste a second. She sat back on her heels, her fingers working with a frantic efficiency to rid herself of her own clothes. Her shirt was yanked off and dropped, followed quickly by her sweatpants and boxers. The moment the fabric fell away, her cock sprang free, heavy and throbbing with a dark, insistent pulse. It was thick, engorged by the sheer volume of Wanda’s pheromones filling the room.
Wanda’s eyes tracked the movement, her gaze dropping to the sight of Y/N’s arousal. Her breath hitched, a soft, high-pitched whimper escaping her as she wiggled her hips against the mattress, her legs spreading even wider. She was restless, her heels digging into the bed as she tried to bridge the small gap between them, her entire body trembling with the sheer force of a heat that only Y/N could quench.
“Y/N… please,” Wanda sobbed, her hand reaching out to grab Y/N’s wrist, pulling her back down. “Now. I need you now.”
Y/N let out a low, guttural growl that vibrated deep in her chest, the sound echoing the raw, predatory hunger of her Alpha. She was teetering on the edge herself, her vision swimming with the scent of Wanda’s arousal and the sight of her Omega laid bare and pleading beneath her. She shook her head sharply, trying to maintain just a shred of clarity, but the primal pull was too strong.
Moving forward with a slow, deliberate grace, Y/N braced her weight on one hand while the other reached down. Her fingers wrapped around the base of her length, guiding the broad, throbbing head against Wanda’s soaking entrance. The contact was electric; the moment the hot, slick skin met, a jolt of pure fire shot through both of them.
Wanda’s head thrashed against the pillow, her hips wiggling and tilting upward in a desperate, instinctive attempt to usher Y/N inside. "Please... Alpha... please," she choked out, her scarlet eyes glowing with a feral intensity.
Y/N didn't make her wait a second longer. She surged forward, the distance between them vanishing. She didn't stop halfway; she drove all the way in, her hips slamming against Wanda.
The impact was cataclysmic. The sudden, total fullness was more than Wanda’s over-sensitized nerves could handle. Her body went rigid, her back arching so high her shoulder blades barely touched the bed. A long, shattered scream tore from her throat as her first climax hit her with the force of a tidal wave the very moment Y/N seated herself. Her internal walls, already soft and sensitive from the heat, clamped down on Y/N with a bruising, rhythmic violence, milking her length in frantic, desperate pulses.
Y/N let out a choked sound of her own, burying her face in the crook of Wanda’s neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin near the scent gland. She stayed buried to the hilt, her muscles cording as she felt the literal waves of Wanda’s pleasure crashing against her, marking the beginning of their long, secluded week of heat.
The air in the cabin seemed to ignite, the scent of Wanda’s climax—a sudden, sharp spike of honeyed ozone—filling Y/N’s lungs and driving her deeper into the Alpha haze. Wanda’s body was a live wire beneath her, shaking with the intensity of a release that felt like it was tearing through her very soul.
Y/N didn’t move for a long moment, allowing the initial, violent tremors of Wanda’s internal walls to settle into a deep, rhythmic throb around her. She was buried so deep she could feel the frantic racing of Wanda’s heart through their joined bodies.
"I've got you," Y/N rasped against Wanda’s skin, her voice a low, possessive rumble. "Breath, sweetheart. Just breathe for me."
Wanda’s hands were locked onto Y/N’s shoulders, her nails drawing shallow lines in her skin as she tried to find her bearings. As the peak of the orgasm slowly ebbed, leaving her in a dazed, hyper-sensitive state, her legs—still hooked high around Y/N’s waist—tightened their hold. The heat wasn't gone; it had simply shifted from a sharp ache to a heavy, pulsing demand.
"Don't... don't stop," Wanda managed to whisper, her eyes fluttering open to reveal the most beautiful green Y/N have ever seen. "Y/N, I need... I need more."
Y/N pulled back slowly, the sound of their slick bodies parting wet and heavy in the quiet room. She withdrew until only the crown of her heat remained within Wanda, feeling the way the Omega’s muscles chased after her, reaching out to pull her back.
Then, with a low growl, Y/N drove back in. This time, the rhythm was relentless. Y/N braced her weight on her palms, her arms cording as she established a pace that was both grounding and punishing. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, the sound of their hips meeting a steady, rhythmic slap that echoed off the wooden walls.
Wanda’s head thrashed from side to side, her moans turning into a litany of soft, broken sounds. With every downward strike, Y/N watched the way Wanda’s breasts moved, the way her flushed skin glistened with sweat, and the way her pupils remained blown wide with total surrender.
The natural heat had made Wanda’s core even softer, even more welcoming than before. She felt like molten silk, her body molding itself perfectly to Y/N’s shape. As the friction built, the sweet, heavy musk of the heat intensified, weaving around them until Y/N could no longer tell where her own scent ended and Wanda’s began.
"You're mine," Y/N growled, leaning down to capture Wanda’s lips again, her hips never stuttering in their heavy, driving work. "Everything about you... is mine."
Wanda’s only response was a high, needy keen, her hips rising to meet every strike, her soul opening up just as wide as her body for the Alpha she loved.
Y/N broke the kiss just enough to hover over Wanda’s lips, their breaths mingling in hot, jagged hitches. The Alpha’s eyes were no longer just Y/E/C; they were molten, fixed on Wanda with a terrifyingly beautiful focus.
"I’m going to mark you tonight," Y/N rasped, the words vibrating with the weight of a blood-promise. "Everyone will know whose you are. I’m going to leave my scent so deep in you that you won't be able to think of anything else."
The declaration hit Wanda like a physical blow. Her core gave a violent, involuntary clench, her internal walls gripping Y/N with a desperate, milking pressure that nearly brought the Alpha to her knees. A long, broken moan tore from Wanda's throat, her head falling back as her fingers tangled into the roots of Y/N’s hair, pulling her closer, demanding the weight. Her other hand acted on pure, frenzied instinct, her nails dragging down Y/N’s bicep, leaving stinging red trails that only fueled the fire in the room.
"Yes!" Wanda cried out, her voice cracking with the sheer force of her need. "Yes, Alpha... please. Mark me. Claim me. I want everyone to smell you on me. I want to be yours."
The surrender in her voice was the final spark. Y/N’s restraint shattered into a thousand pieces. She gripped Wanda’s hips, her fingers digging into the soft skin to anchor her, and increased the pace until it was a blurring, rhythmic assault.
The sound of their bodies meeting became a frantic, wet thudding, echoing the raw power of the heat. Y/N began to growl with every downward drive, her teeth baring as she looked down at the woman who was opening herself up so completely. Wanda’s legs were wrapped so tightly around Y/N’s waist that they were practically fused together, her hips rolling and bucking to meet every heavy, soul-deep thrust.
The scent of the room changed—shifting from the sweet floral of the initial heat to something sharper, darker, and more possessive. Y/N leaned down, her nose dragging along Wanda's neck, hovering over the sensitive scent gland there, her breathing coming in harsh, predatory stabs as she prepared to make her words a reality.
The growl wasn't just in Y/N’s throat anymore; it was a physical vibration echoing through her entire skull, a primal command from the Alpha deep within that drowned out every other thought. Mine. Protect. Mark. The internal voice was a roar now, demanding that she seal the bond they had been building for months.
Every heavy, thrust into Wanda’s soaked heat felt like it was carving Y/N’s signature into her soul. Wanda was a mess of scarlet energy and slick skin beneath her, her head thrashing against the pillow as she chanted that one word like a prayer. "Alpha... Alpha, please... my Alpha..."
The sound of her name—of her title—was the final tether snapping.
Y/N’s pace became frantic, a blurring, desperate rhythm that pushed Wanda higher and higher. Y/N leaned down, her breasts crushing Wanda’s heaving breasts, and began to drag her tongue along the side of Wanda’s neck. She licked the skin right over the pulsing scent gland, tasting the salt of Wanda’s sweat and the sweetness of her omega pheromones.
The moment the wet heat of Y/N’s tongue met that sensitive spot, Wanda began to tremble violently. It wasn't just the pleasure; it was the realization of what was coming. Her legs locked around Y/N’s waist with bruising strength, her heels digging into Y/N’s lower back to pull her even deeper, to make the connection absolute.
"Do it," Wanda sobbed into Y/N’s ear, her voice broken and raw. "Mark me, Y/N. I'm ready. I'm yours."
Y/N’s pupils dilated until her eyes were twin pits of black. She could feel the pressure building in her jaw, her Alpha instincts centering entirely on that soft, vulnerable patch of skin. She nipped at the area first, her teeth grazing the surface in a terrifyingly tender warning, causing Wanda to let out a sharp, needy keen.
Below, their bodies were moving in a perfect, frantic harmony, the friction reaching a searing point. Y/N’s hand slid up to cup the side of Wanda’s face, her thumb stroking over her lip, while her other arm hooked under Wanda’s lower back to lift her hips higher, meeting the heavy, final drives of her length.
The air in the cabin was so thick with their scents it was suffocating. Y/N’s growl deepened, a low, vibrating hum that seemed to rattle the very bedframes. She hovered her open mouth over the gland, her breath hot and smelling of the dark, woody musk of an Alpha about to claim her mate for eternity.
The atmosphere in the cabin reached a blistering breaking point as Y/N felt the base of her hardness begin to throb and expand.
Driven by the roar of her Alpha, Y/N didn't hesitate. As the knot surged, she leaned down and sank her teeth into the sensitive skin of Wanda’s neck, right over the pulsing scent gland.
Wanda’s world exploded. The sharp, stinging bite was immediately followed by a rush of something transcendent. The pain was there, but it was drowned in an ocean of pure, soul-deep pleasure. As Y/N’s teeth broke the skin, a psychic and biological bridge snapped into place. Wanda felt Y/N’s Alpha pheromones flood her system, mixing with her own sweet scent to create a new, singular fragrance that labeled her as claimed. The connection was so intense it was physical—she could feel Y/N’s heart, her possessiveness, and her love all at once.
The sheer intensity of being marked sent Wanda spiraling over the edge. Her body seized, her internal walls clamping down on the growing knot in a rhythmic, desperate frenzy. She screamed into the room, her voice a mix of agony and ecstasy as her climax tore through her.
Y/N didn't stop. Even with her teeth buried in Wanda’s neck, she continued to move, her hips hammering against Wanda’s with frantic, heavy jolts. She could feel her own release building, a tidal wave of heat that she couldn't contain. With one final, guttural growl that vibrated through Wanda’s entire frame, Y/N slammed her hips forward locking into Wanda’s heat. In that second, Y/N felt the world narrow down to this one woman. The bond was sealed; Wanda was her Omega, her mate, her everything.
The room fell into a heavy, ringing silence, broken only by their ragged, synchronized breathing.
Y/N slowly released her hold on Wanda’s neck. She pulled back just enough to see the jagged, red mark she had left—a permanent brand of her love. Instinctively, Y/N leaned down, her tongue darting out to lick the small beads of blood away. Her Alpha saliva, rich with healing enzymes and her unique scent, acted instantly, the bleeding stopping as the mark began to settle into a deep, bruised violet.
She pressed a tender kiss to the fresh mark, her hands shaking slightly from the comedown of the adrenaline. Below, they were still firmly locked together, a physical anchor that ensured neither could pull away.
Wanda was draped across the mattress like silk, her limbs heavy and trembling with the sheer weight of the bond that had just been forged. Even though the initial explosion of her climax had passed, her body wasn't finished. The fresh mark on her neck acted like a live wire, sending constant, buzzing signals of Y/N’s presence directly into her nervous system.
Every time Y/N’s chest rumbled with a low, grounding purr, Wanda’s internal muscles gave another frantic, helpless squeeze around the knot. She was trapped in a loop of micro-orgasms—short, sharp bursts of pleasure that made her toes curl and her breath hitch in small, broken gasps.
"Y/N... oh, god... stop," Wanda whimpered, her eyes rolled back into her head. "Everything... it’s too much... I can’t stop."
Y/N heard the distress beneath the pleasure and immediately went still. She braced her weight on her forearms, keeping her body as motionless as possible to avoid any unnecessary friction against Wanda’s over-sensitized walls. Her own heart was still thudding like a war drum, but she forced her muscles to relax, turning her focus entirely on her mate’s comfort.
A deep, resonant vibration started in the center of Y/N’s chest—a true Alpha’s rumble. It wasn't the predatory growl from moments ago; it was a low-frequency hum designed to soothe, to stabilize, and to communicate safety.
"Shh, I’ve got you," Y/N murmured, her voice vibrating against Wanda’s temple. "Just breathe with me, sweetheart. Focus on my scent. Nothing else."
As Y/N’s chest rumbled against Wanda’s, the Alpha’s pheromones began to shift. The sharp, aggressive scent of the hunt mellowed into a thick, protective cloud of sandalwood and rain. It acted like a sedative, wrapping around Wanda and telling her instincts that the "threat" was over—that she was claimed, protected, and home.
Wanda’s fingers, which had been spasmodically clutching the sheets, slowly found Y/N’s arms. She clung to her, her head tucking into the crook of Y/N’s shoulder as she fought to regulate her breathing. The micro-orgasms began to slow, turning from sharp stabs into long, low throbs of warmth that radiated out from their joined centers.
In the quiet of the cabin, with only the sound of the wind in the trees outside, they stayed perfectly still—fused together by biology and soul, waiting for the storm to fully pass so they could finally rest in the peace they had earned.
The silence that followed was heavy and sweet, filled only with the rhythmic sound of their synchronized breathing. Y/N remained perfectly still for a long time, her chin resting on Wanda’s shoulder, her chest continuing that low, protective rumble until she felt the tension finally bleed out of Wanda’s limbs. Slowly, the intense internal pressure began to ease. The knot, which had held them in a literal, biological lock, finally started to subside. As it shrunk, the physical anchor loosened, and Y/N began the painstaking process of withdrawing.
She moved with agonizing slowness, careful not to jostle the bed or trigger another flare of sensitivity in Wanda’s core. The sound of their parting was a soft, wet slip—a final, intimate echo of the night. As she fully exited, the pooled warmth of their mingled fluids spilled onto the sheets, a messy but beautiful testament to the claim she had just laid.
Y/N sat back on her heels for a moment, her breath hitching as the cool air hit her skin, but her eyes never left her Omega.
Wanda was out. The sheer intensity of the marking, combined with the heat and the multiple climaxes, had finally pulled her under into a deep, restorative sleep. Her head was tilted to the side, her lips slightly parted, and her hair was a dark, tangled halo against the white pillows.
Y/N’s gaze drifted to the mark on Wanda’s neck. It was already beginning to settle—a deep, flushed violet blossom that looked like a rose petal pressed against her skin. It was vibrant and clear, the mark of a bond that would now radiate Y/N’s scent to anyone who came near.
A surge of fierce, protective love swelled in Y/N’s chest. She reached for the discarded blanket at the foot of the bed and pulled it up, draping it gently over Wanda’s bare, shivering shoulders. Then, moving with the quiet grace of a predator turned guardian, Y/N climbed back into the bed. She didn't seek to wake her; she simply curled her body around Wanda’s back, pulling her close so that their heartbeats could find that same steady rhythm once more.
Wanda let out a tiny, unconscious hum of contentment in her sleep, her body curving instinctively back into Y/N’s heat. Y/N closed her eyes, burying her nose in the back of Wanda’s neck, right next to the new mark.
She was home. They were one. And for the first time in a long time, the world outside the cabin ceased to exist.
---
Few Hours Later
Wanda’s POV
The cabin was bathed in the soft, blue-gray light of the early pre-dawn hours. Wanda’s eyes snapped open, her breath hitching as a second wave of heat surged through her—this one sharper, more focused, and burning with an intensity she hadn't felt before.
The marking had changed everything. It wasn't just a general, biological need anymore; it was a targeted, soul-deep craving for the specific Alpha whose scent was now permanently woven into her own. Her body felt sensitized to the point of pain, her skin humming with a restless energy that demanded contact.
She shifted, her gaze falling on Y/N, who was still deeply asleep beside her. But even in sleep, Y/N’s body was responding to the bond. The air was thick with a new, heavier scent—darker than before, smelling of cedar and salt. Y/N’s rut was being triggered early, her biology racing to match Wanda’s heat now that they were marked.
Wanda didn’t hesitate. Driven by a primal hunger, she crawled over, straddling Y/N’s hips. She felt the heavy, throbbing heat of Y/N’s hardness already straining against her thigh, rock-hard even in unconsciousness.
Wanda let out a low, shaky moan, her head falling back as she lowered herself just enough to press her soaking-wet core directly against Y/N’s length. She began to grind downward, a slow, desperate slide that smeared her slick along Y/N’s skin.
The reaction was instantaneous. Y/N’s eyes flew open, the irises already glowing a fierce, predatory gold. A deep, guttural growl ripped from her throat—a sound of pure Alpha instinct answering the call of its mate. Her hands snapped up, her fingers digging into Wanda’s waist with a possessive grip that left no room for doubt.
"Wanda..." Y/N rasped, her voice a raw, vibrating rumble.
"Again," Wanda breathed, her eyes glowing scarlet as she leaned forward, her hair brushing against Y/N’s face. "I need you again. Right now."
Y/N’s grip tightened, her pupils dilating as the scent of Wanda’s renewed heat hit her like a physical blow. The rut was taking hold, flooding her system with a protective, driving need to claim her Omega all over again. Without a word, Y/N surged upward, meeting Wanda’s desperate rhythm with a powerful tilt of her hips, the friction of their bodies sparking a fire that promised to burn through the rest of the night.
The air in the cabin was thick enough to taste, saturated with the heavy, sweet scent of Wanda’s heat and the dark, musky ozone of Y/N’s emerging rut. Wanda let out a high, fractured moan as Y/N’s hands slid from her waist to her thighs, the Alpha’s grip bruisingly firm as she anchored her Omega.
Y/N surged upward, capturing Wanda’s lips in a kiss that was less of a greeting and more of a collision. It was desperate and hungry, their tongues tangling with a frantic energy that mirrored the pulse of their joined heartbeats. While their mouths were fused, Y/N’s large hands moved to Wanda’s hips, lifting her just enough to create space.
Wanda didn’t need to be told what to do. Her fingers, trembling with the force of her second wave, reached down between their bodies. She found the head of Y/N’s member—already weeping with pre-scent and throbbing with the force of the rut—and guided it to her soaking entrance. The moment the tip touched her, Wanda let out a sob of pure relief and sat down hard.
Y/N’s head snapped back against the pillow, a deep, primal growl ripping from her chest as she was buried to the hilt in one singular, devastating motion. The feeling was staggering; Wanda’s internal walls were even hotter than before, pulsing with a new, frantic rhythm that seemed to demand everything Y/N had to give.
Wanda didn't give either of them a second to adjust. She immediately began to bounce, her hips moving in a relentless, vertical rhythm that sent wet, slapping echoes throughout the quiet room. Her hands stayed locked on Y/N’s shoulders, her nails digging in as she used the Alpha as an anchor, her head thrashing from side to side.
"Yes... yes, Alpha," Wanda whimpered, her voice a broken, needy thread.
Y/N’s hands moved back to Wanda’s waist, her thumbs digging into the soft skin as she began to thrust upward to meet every downward strike. The pace was frantic, fueled by the raw, unyielding power of the rut. Every time they bottomed out, the mark on Wanda’s neck seemed to pulse in time with their movements, a violet brand that glowed in the dim light. Y/N was losing herself to the haze, her only focus the wet, sliding heat of her Omega and the desperate need to fill her until she couldn't take any more.
The air in the cabin was thick with the scent of an Alpha in the beginning of a rut—a heavy, intoxicating musk of cedar and darkened spice that made Wanda’s head swim. She was driven by an instinct that surpassed the physical; she didn't just want to be claimed anymore; she needed to stake her own claim, to weave her scent so deeply into Y/N that the bond would be a two-way street of absolute belonging.
While her hips continued their relentless, vertical assault, Wanda leaned forward, her chest crushing against Y/N’s heaving torso. She trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along Y/N’s jawline, her breath hitching every time she felt Y/N’s legnth hit the very back of her heat.
Finally, she found it—the pulsing scent gland at the base of Y/N’s neck.
Wanda let out a low, feral sound, her green eyes glowing with a terrifying beauty. She licked the spot first, her tongue dragging over the skin to prepare it, tasting the salt and the raw Alpha pheromones that were currently flooding the room. Beneath her, Y/N’s growl turned into a choked sound of surprise and desire, her hands tightening on Wanda’s hips until her knuckles were white.
"Wanda..." Y/N warned, her voice a gravelly, base-heavy rumble, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she arched her neck, offering herself up, her own rut-driven instincts demanding this surrender to her mate.
Wanda didn't hesitate. She nipped at the skin first, her teeth grazing the surface as her hips bucked harder, the friction below reaching a fever pitch. Then, with a sudden, sharp intake of breath, she sank her teeth in.
The bite was deep and possessive. Y/N let out a loud, pained roar that quickly dissolved into a groan of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. As Wanda’s teeth broke the skin, the bond between them solidified into something unbreakable. Wanda felt the rush of Y/N’s Alpha essence pouring into her, while her own Omega pheromones flooded Y/N’s system through the mark. It was a psychic explosion; for a moment, they weren't two people, but one singular pulse of energy.
Wanda didn't let go, her mouth staying clamped onto Y/N’s neck as she continued to bounce, her internal walls clamping down on Y/N in a frantic, celebratory rhythm. She was marking her Alpha, branding the woman she loved with her own scent, ensuring that for the rest of their lives, Y/N would carry the unmistakable trace of Wanda Maximoff in her very skin.
The pleasure was overwhelming, a feedback loop of sensation that pushed them both toward a crashing, synchronized peak. Below, the wet, rhythmic slapping of their bodies was the only sound in the room, a primal drumbeat to the finalization of their soul-bond.
---
Four Days Later
Y/N’s POV
Y/N woke slowly.
Not abruptly like before—no sharp instinct pulling her up, no fire racing through her veins.
Just… warmth. Heavy, deep, settling warmth.
And soreness.
God—she was sore.
Every muscle ached in that dull, lived-in way that came after days of… not resting at all.
But she smiled. Immediately.
Because she felt it.
The bond.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t overwhelming anymore. It was… constant. Steady. Like a second heartbeat woven into her own.
Her Omega.
Y/N opened her eyes. Wanda was sprawled across her—half on top of her chest, half tangled in her arms and legs like she had no intention of ever leaving. Y/N’s hand instinctively came up, resting at Wanda’s back, fingers spreading there gently.
Warm.
Real.
Yours.
Her gaze drifted to Wanda’s neck.
The mark.
Deep violet now, settled into her skin like it had always belonged there. It pulsed faintly—not physically, but in the way Y/N felt it. A quiet hum that connected them, anchored them.
Mine.
Y/N exhaled softly.
“…Yeah,” she murmured under her breath.
Her eyes lifted, finally taking in the room properly.
And—yeah.
It looked like a hurricane had passed through. Sheets twisted beyond recognition, half hanging off the bed. Clothes scattered in every direction. One of the pillows—completely destroyed—feathers everywhere, clinging to the floor, the bed, even stuck to Wanda’s hair.
Y/N huffed a quiet laugh. “We really—” she muttered, glancing around again. “Yeah… that tracks.”
Her hand moved absently, brushing a stray feather from Wanda’s shoulder.
Wanda stirred. Just slightly at first. A soft sound left her—half sigh, half hum—as she shifted against Y/N, pressing closer instead of pulling away.
Y/N’s attention snapped back to her instantly.
Everything else—Gone.
“Hey…” Y/N murmured, voice softer now.
Wanda’s eyes fluttered open slowly.
Still a little hazy. Still warm. But clear. Grounded.
Her gaze found Y/N’s almost immediately—and softened.
There it was. That look.
The one that always got her.
“…Hi,” Wanda whispered, voice rough from sleep.
Y/N smiled, brushing her thumb gently along Wanda’s side.
“Hi.”
For a second, neither of them moved. Just looking at each other. Breathing the same air. Feeling the same quiet connection settle between them.
Then Wanda shifted slightly, her head lifting just enough to rest her chin on Y/N’s chest. Her fingers slid up slowly, tracing along Y/N’s collarbone—then higher. Until they reached her neck.
Y/N stilled.
Wanda’s touch was gentle.
Reverent. Her fingers brushed over the mark she’d left there.
Wanda smiled. Soft. Warm. Completely at peace.
Her thumb traced over it again, slower this time—like she was memorizing it, like she still couldn’t quite believe it was real.
Y/N didn’t move. She just watched her.
Really watched her.
The way Wanda’s expression softened, the quiet happiness in her eyes, the calm that had replaced all the chaos from before—
It hit something deep in Y/N’s chest.
“…You regret it?” Y/N asked lightly, a teasing edge in her voice that didn’t quite hide how closely she was watching her reaction.
Wanda’s gaze snapped back to her immediately.
And she shook her head.
“No.”
Simple but certain.
Her hand slid up, cupping Y/N’s face gently, thumb brushing along her cheek.
“I never imagined…” Wanda admitted softly, her voice thoughtful, almost a little awed. “That I would be marked by an Alpha.”
Y/N’s expression shifted slightly—something quieter, more vulnerable flickering there.
Wanda smiled faintly. “But I’m glad I am.” Her thumb brushed once more over the mark on Y/N’s neck.
“I’m happy,” she continued, voice warm, steady, “that I’m marked… and that I got to mark my Alpha.”
Her eyes met Y/N’s again.
“My fated Alpha.”
That did something to Y/N.
Something deep.
Wanda leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering peck to her lips.
“I love you,” she murmured.
Y/N’s hand slid up Wanda’s back, pulling her just a little closer as she breathed her in.
“I love you too,” she whispered back.
When they pulled apart—
Wanda blinked.
Her gaze drifted past Y/N’s shoulder.
And then—
She froze.
“…Oh.”
Y/N huffed softly. “Yeah.”
Wanda pushed herself up slightly, the blanket slipping as she looked around properly this time.
The room was—
Destroyed.
Feathers everywhere. Sheets twisted beyond saving. Clothes scattered like they’d been thrown in a storm. One pillow completely torn open, its contents decorating half the cabin.
Wanda’s eyes widened.
“…We did this?” she asked, half incredulous, half amused.
Y/N smirked faintly, stretching slightly despite the soreness.
“We did that,” she corrected.
Wanda looked back at her, a slow smile spreading across her face.
Summary: The journey to the northern village begins. Amidst the travel and the quiet of the northern palace, Y/N and Wanda share a milestone moment that makes the reality of their growing family feel truly real.
Wanda walked through the halls at an unhurried pace, one hand resting lightly over her stomach as Lily followed just a step behind, carrying the last of her smaller belongings.
Ahead, the main doors stood open, sunlight pouring in. Outside, the courtyard was alive with movement—servants carefully loading trunks into the carriage, guards adjusting their gear, the quiet coordination of a departure already in motion.
Wanda stepped out, the fresh air cool enough to make her pause for just a second before continuing forward.
Y/N stood near the carriage, focused. Ser Rogers was beside them, listening closely as Y/N spoke in low, precise tones. “—double the rotation on the eastern watch. And keep Barnes informed of any council decisions that cannot wait until our return.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And the supply routes—”
“Already secured,” Rogers replied. “We’ll maintain the schedule you approved.”
Y/N nodded once. “Good.”
Wanda slowed as she approached, watching them for a moment. There was something steady in the way they carried themselves now, confident and grounded.
Y/N glanced up—and immediately spotted her. Everything softened. Just slightly, but enough. They stepped away from Rogers without hesitation and walked toward her. “You’re ready?” they asked.
Wanda smiled. “Yes.”
Y/N’s gaze dropped instinctively to her stomach, their hand coming to rest there gently. “Are you two okay?”
“We are.” Wanda smile softly before leaning up to kiss their cheek.
They smile softly and say, “Good.”
Behind them, Lina’s voice rang out somewhere in the courtyard, excited and bright as she ran past a servant who tried—and failed—to slow her down. “I’m ready!”
Wanda laughed softly. “She’s been ready since yesterday.”
Y/N huffed quietly. “I believe that.”
Their hand found Wanda’s again, fingers lacing naturally. “We’ll be gone a week,” Y/N said, glancing briefly back toward Rogers. “If anything urgent happens—”
“It won’t,” Wanda said gently.
Y/N looked back at her. “You don’t know that.”
“I know you prepared for it.”
A pause.
Then Y/N exhaled softly. “…I did.”
Wanda smiled. “Then trust that.”
Y/N held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. “…Alright.”
They leaned in slightly, brushing a quick, quiet kiss to her temple. “Let’s go,” they said.
Lina was already halfway there, hurrying toward the carriage in her floral dress, the fabric swaying as she moved, excitement written all over her face. “Wait for me!” she called, even though she was clearly the fastest one there.
Y/N stepped ahead, reaching the carriage just as Lina did. “Careful,” they said, though their tone was fond.
“I am careful,” Lina insisted.
Y/N smiled faintly and lifted her easily, guiding her up into the carriage. “There. Princess delivered safely.”
Lina beamed, settling into her seat.
Y/N turned back immediately.
Wanda was just behind them. Their expression softened again as they offered her their hand. “Come,” they said gently.
Wanda placed her hand in theirs, stepping up carefully as Y/N supported her—one hand steady at her waist, the other holding hers securely until she was safely inside.
“Comfortable?” they asked softly.
“Yes.”
Only then did Y/N follow, stepping into the carriage and taking the seat beside her. Lina sat across from them, already peeking out the window with bright curiosity.
Outside, the rest of the movement continued. Lily entered a second carriage with Lina’s maid, ensuring everything was in place.
A moment later, Ser Wilson rode up beside the main carriage on horseback, reins held loosely but confidently. He glanced toward the open door. “Your Majesty,” he called. “Ready to move?”
Y/N leaned slightly toward the opening. “Yes.”
Wilson nodded once, then turned. “Move out!”
The signal carried quickly. The guards shifted into formation, hooves striking the ground as the carriage began to roll forward. Beside it, Ser Romanoff rode close, her presence steady and watchful, matching the carriage’s pace with ease.
Inside, Lina leaned forward. “Are we really going?”
Y/N glanced at her. “We are.”
Wanda smiled softly beside them.
And just like that, the journey began.
---
No One’s POV
The journey to the north unfolded slowly. Deliberately.
Y/N had made the decision before they even left the capital—the direct path through the forest would have taken three days, but it was rough, uneven, and unpredictable. This time, that wasn’t acceptable. Not with Wanda with child, and not with Lina.
So they took the longer rout. Four days instead of three—safer, smoother, planned.
The first day passed easily. The carriage moved along wide roads that gradually narrowed as the capital disappeared behind them. Fields stretched outward, villages scattered along the way, and the air grew fresher the farther they traveled.
Inside the carriage, Lina was a constant source of energy. She asked questions about everything.
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“How about now?”
“No.”
“What about—”
“Still no.”
Wanda laughed softly every time. Y/N pretended to be patient.
Pretended.
Their hand rarely left Wanda—resting over her stomach, brushing against her back, always checking, always grounding. “Are you comfortable?” they asked more than once.
“I am,” Wanda reassured each time.
Still, Y/N checked again.
---
By evening, they reached the first village. It was small, but well-kept—far different from the one they had visited before. The people were surprised by the arrival but prepared enough to host them properly.
This time, Y/N allowed it.
A proper bed. Warm food. Safe walls.
Because this time, it wasn’t about seeing hardship. It was about protecting what mattered.
Lina was thrilled. Everything fascinated her. “The rooms are smaller,” she whispered to Wanda as if it were a great secret.
Wanda smiled. “They are.”
“I like it,” Lina commented.
Y/N watched her with quiet amusement, then glanced at Wanda. “Too much?” they asked softly.
Wanda shook her head. “No.”
Y/N nodded—but still checked the room again. The bed. The windows. The doors.
Only when everything felt right did they finally relax.
A little.
---
The second day brought them closer to the forest.
The trees began to rise taller, thicker, their shadows stretching across the road. The air cooled slightly, and the light filtered through leaves instead of open sky. They didn’t enter it fully—they circled it. The road curved along its edge, offering glimpses of the dense interior—dark, quiet, and untouched.
Lina pressed her face to the window. “It looks beautiful,” she said.
“It does,” Wanda replied softly.
Y/N’s gaze lingered on the forest for a moment longer, then shifted back inside.
Always back to them.
The second night, they stayed at a larger town—more structured, more prepared. Y/N spoke briefly with the local steward, ensuring everything was in order—not just for them, but for the people living there.
Even on the road, they didn’t stop being king.
But they did it faster now. More efficiently. So they could return sooner.
By the third day, the land began to change. Hills rose gently, the air grew sharper, and the signs of the northern region became clearer. Pines replaced softer trees, the wind carried a different chill, and the roads grew quieter.
Inside the carriage, Lina had finally begun to tire. She leaned against Wanda at one point, half-asleep, her earlier excitement softening into something quieter. Wanda stroked her hair gently.
Y/N watched both of them.
Their expression—soft. Full.
“…We’ll be there tomorrow,” they said quietly.
Wanda looked at them before landing her head on their shoulder.
The final night was spent in a small lodge just before the northern palace grounds—simple, warm, prepared in advance. Y/N barely slept. Not out of discomfort, but because they checked on Wanda more than once.
And Lina.
Just to be sure.
---
The carriage slowed as the northern palace came into view. The air was colder and cleaner here. Tall pines framed the path leading up to the estate, their shadows stretching across the stone road. The palace itself stood nestled against the hills—less grand than the capital, but warmer in a way that couldn’t be measured in size.
Familiar.
The carriage came to a stop. But before the door even fully opened—
Lina leaned forward. “We’re here!”
Y/N smiled faintly. “Yes, we are.”They stepped out first, boots meeting the stone with quiet certainty. Their gaze lifted immediately—
And softened.
The servants were already lined up. And at the front—Ser Hogan.
“Your Majesty,” he greeted, bowing properly.
Y/N didn’t let him stay like that.
“Happy.”
The name slipped out easily.
Ser Hogan looked up—and smiled. “It’s good to see you, Your Majesty.” he said.
Y/N stepped closer, closing the distance without hesitation. “It’s good to be back.”
Behind them, Lina appeared. The moment she saw him—
“Happy!”
She ran forward without a second thought.
Ser Hogan barely had time to react before she wrapped her arms around him.
He laughed softly, surprised but not resisting as he returned the hug.
“Princess Lina,” he said warmly. “You’ve grown.”
“I know,” she said proudly, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Did you miss me?”
“Very much.”
Satisfied, Lina nodded. Then glanced around, already taking everything in again like it was new.
Wanda stepped down next.
Y/N turned immediately, offering their hand to steady her.
“Careful.”
“I am,” she said softly, though she still leaned into their support.
Once she was down, her gaze moved to Ser Hogan.
“Ser Hogan,” she greeted politely.
“Your Majesty,” he replied with a respectful bow.
Wanda smiled faintly. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You as well.” Ser Hogan’s gaze shifted—subtle, but unmistakable.
To Wanda’s stomach.
The gentle curve beneath her dress.
His expression softened immediately. Warmer. He had heard Wanda and Y/N were having a baby, of course. Everyone had. But seeing it—was different.
“Congratulations,” he said quietly.
Not just formal.
Sincere.
His eyes moved between them—Wanda, then Y/N.
“To both of you.”
Wanda smiled, her hand instinctively resting over her bump.
“Thank you.”
Y/N inclined their head slightly.
“Thank you, Happy.”
Ser Hogan’s gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment longer.
And there—
there was pride.
Not loud.
Not spoken.
But clear.
The kind that came from watching someone grow.
From knowing who they were—and seeing who they had become.
Y/N noticed. Just slightly. Their expression softened in return. A quiet understanding passing between them.
Then Lina’s voice echoed again from somewhere ahead—
“Come on!”
Y/N huffed softly.
“Some things,” they muttered, “never change.”
Wanda smiled.
And together—they followed.
---
Wanda’s POV
The room felt familiar.
Not in the way the capital did—but in a quieter, softer sense. The kind of place that held memories in the walls without demanding anything in return.
Wanda sat on the edge of the bed with a small sigh, her hand resting instinctively over her stomach as she let herself settle for the first time since the journey ended.
Y/N noticed immediately.
“I’ll have the servants bring food here,” they said, already turning slightly toward the door. “We should rest today.”
Wanda looked up at them.
“I’m fine.”
Y/N paused before turning back fully. And without hesitation they walked straight to her and kneeling in front of her.
Wanda blinked softly at the movement.
Y/N’s hands came to rest gently at her thighs, their gaze lifting to meet hers.
“You are pregnant,” they said, voice calm but firm.
Wanda smiled faintly. “I’m aware.”
“The journey was long.”
“I know.”
“And we are here,” they continued, softer now but no less certain, “to celebrate your birthday.”
Wanda’s expression softened.
“And to rest.”
Their thumbs brushed lightly against her through the fabric.
“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” they added quietly.
Wanda held their gaze for a moment.
Then exhaled softly.
“…I’m not tired.”
Y/N tilted their head slightly. “Not even a little?”
Wanda hesitated, “…maybe a little.”
Y/N’s lips curved faintly. “That’s what I thought.” They leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her stomach first. Then lifted slightly to kiss her lips.
When they pulled back, Y/N didn’t move far.
“I’ll ask Lily to prepare the bath,” they said softly, their hand still resting over her bump. “We can take some time to relax.”
Wanda watched them, already knowing there was more.
Y/N’s thumb traced a slow, absent circle.
“I can give you a massage,” they added, voice gentler now. “Help with the tension from the journey.”
Wanda’s expression softened.
“And after that,” Y/N continued, “we’ll have lunch here. No rushing. No interruptions.”
They looked at her properly then. “What do you think?”
Wanda smiled.
“I think,” she said softly, “that sounds perfect.”
Y/N’s shoulders eased, just slightly. “Good.”
Wanda reached for their face, brushing her fingers along their cheek before leaning in to kiss them again—slow, warm, content.
“For someone who claims they’re not overprotective,” she murmured against their lips, “you’re doing a very convincing job.”
Y/N huffed quietly. “I’m being reasonable.”
Wanda smiled.
“Of course you are.”
And this time—she didn’t argue at all.
---
Y/N’s POV
By the time Y/N stepped out into the corridor, the quiet of the northern palace had already settled around them. Lily would handle the bath like she always did.
That left one more thing.
Y/N walked down the familiar hall, stopping in front of Lina’s chambers. The door was barely closed—
They knocked once, and the door flew open immediately.
“Y/N!”
Lina stood there, bright-eyed and already full of energy, practically bouncing in place.
“What are we doing first?” she asked excitedly.
Y/N laughed softly.
Some things truly didn’t change.
They crouched down in front of her, steadying her lightly by the arms.
“Hey,” they said gently. “Slow down.”
Lina tried but failed.
Y/N smiled and continued, “I came to tell you something first.”
Lina blinked, immediately attentive.
“Wanda is a little tired from the journey,” Y/N explained. “And for the sake of the baby, we’re going to stay in today.”
Lina’s excitement dimmed slightly—but only a little.
“Oh.”
Y/N brushed a hand through her hair.
“You, however,” they added, “can do whatever you want.”
That brightened her immediately.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Y/N nodded.
“You can explore the palace, go to the gardens, see the stables—”
Lina gasped softly.
“The horses?”
“Yes,” Y/N said, amused.
“But,” they added, just a little firmer, “if you go outside the palace grounds, you need to have Happy and Ser Wilson with you. No exceptions.”
Lina nodded quickly.
“I will!”
Y/N studied her for a second—
Then nodded.
“Good.”
Lina hesitated then, her expression shifting slightly. “…Is Wanda okay?”
Y/N’s gaze softened immediately. They pulled her into a gentle hug, one hand cradling the back of her head as they pressed a soft kiss to her temple.
“She’s okay,” they murmured. “And so is the baby.”
Lina relaxed in their arms.
“Just tired,” Y/N added.
Lina nodded against them. “Okay.”
Y/N pulled back slightly, brushing her hair back again. “Tomorrow,” they said, “we’ll go see the city together.”
Lina’s face lit up again. “Really?”
Y/N smiled. “Really.”
And just like that—everything was right again.
---
By the time Y/N returned to their chambers, the soft sound of water already echoed faintly from the bath chamber beyond. Lily stood near the bed, carefully folding Wanda’s gown.
Wanda sat nearby, now in her chemise, her posture relaxed but clearly grateful to be out of her travel clothes.
Y/N’s gaze softened immediately. “Thank you, Lily,” they said.
Lily bowed her head slightly. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Y/N gave a small nod. “I’ll take it from here.”
Lily understood the dismissal without needing anything more. She finished what she was doing and quietly took her leave.
Once the door closed—Y/N turned back to Wanda.
“Come here,” they said gently. They offered her their hand, helping her up with care before guiding her toward the bath chamber. Warmth greeted them instantly. Steam curled softly in the air, the large bath already filled, the scent of herbs faint but calming.
Y/N guided Wanda to the chair nearby. “Sit for a moment,” they murmured.
Wanda obeyed easily, watching them with a small, knowing smile.
Y/N stepped back just enough to remove their own clothes, movements unhurried, familiar. Once done, they returned to her, their hands gentle as they helped her out of her chemise.
Once she was ready, Y/N stepped into the bath first, testing the water out of habit before turning back to her.
“Alright,” Y/N said softly. They held out their hands.
Wanda placed hers in theirs, and Y/N guided her carefully into the bath, making sure her footing was steady before letting her settle.
The warmth wrapped around them both instantly. Wanda exhaled softly.
Y/N stayed close, one arm behind her, the other resting lightly over her stomach as they both let the quiet settle in.
For a moment—they simply breathed. Then Y/N reached for the cloth.
Slowly, carefully, they began to wash her—movements gentle, attentive, never rushed. Over her shoulders, her arms, mindful of every shift, every small reaction.
“You alright?” they asked quietly.
Wanda nodded, eyes half-lidded now. “Mm… yes.”
Y/N’s thumb brushed lightly against her skin as they continued, their touch steady, grounding.
“Good.”
And in the quiet warmth of the bath—everything else faded.
---
After lunch Wanda was warm in their arms, soft and relaxed from sleep, her face tucked into the curve of Y/N’s neck. Y/N had been reading—but not really. Their hand had been moving slowly along her back, grounding, familiar… drifting down every now and then to rest over her stomach. Just checking.
Wanda stirred and pressed closer. Buried herself deeper into them.
Y/N smiled faintly, setting the book aside without a thought as both arms wrapped around her properly now. One hand cradled the back of her head, the other settled over her bump again, thumb brushing slowly.
They kissed her hair. “Did you sleep well—” But they freeze before they finish the sentence.
Because—something moved.
Their hand went still against her stomach, their breath catching sharply as their eyes dropped to where their palm rested. It was small. A flutter. But it was there.
Y/N didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Then—again.
Stronger this time. Enough that there was no doubt.
Wanda lifted her head, eyes wide as she looked at them.
“…Was it—”
Another movement. Clear this time. Both of them felt it.
Y/N’s eyes widened, their lips parting slightly as something in their chest cracked open all at once. “…I felt it,” they whispered. Their voice broke.
Wanda’s breath hitched, her hand flying to cover theirs. “I felt it too,” she whispered, almost laughing, almost crying.
Y/N’s vision blurred. They blinked—and a tear slipped free before they could stop it.
Wanda saw it immediately. Her expression softened, eyes shining just the same. “Oh—hey…” she cooed softly, bringing her hand up to their face. “Don’t—don’t start, or I’m going to cry too.”
Y/N let out a weak, breathless laugh, shaking their head slightly as more tears threatened. “I can’t—” they exhaled, voice unsteady. “I can’t help it.”
Another flutter. Right under their hand. Y/N let out a soft, disbelieving sound, their forehead dropping gently against Wanda’s.
“…Our baby,” they whispered.
Wanda smiled through the tears gathering in her own eyes.
Wanda let out a quiet, emotional laugh, her hand tightening over theirs.
“Already the best gift,” she whispered.
As if answering—the baby moved again. A little stronger.
Y/N inhaled sharply, a quiet, broken laugh leaving them as they shifted slightly, their hand spreading more fully over her stomach.
“Hey…” they murmured softly, voice trembling but full. “Easy there.” They leaned down slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to Wanda’s bump, lingering there as if they could stay forever.
“Hi,” they whispered against her skin. “We felt that.”
Another small movement.
Y/N let out a soft laugh, tears still in their eyes. “Yeah,” they murmured. “We felt you.”
Their hand stroked slowly over her stomach, reverent, careful.
“Keep being gentle with Mama, alright?” they added softly. “She’s carrying you.”
Wanda laughed quietly above them, her fingers threading into Y/N’s hair.
Then she softened. Her hand slid down, resting over Y/N’s where it covered her stomach, holding it there.
“Mama and Papa love you so much,” she murmured gently.
The words settled into the space between them— warm and certain.
Y/N went still again. Not from surprise this time—but from the weight of it. From how real it sounded.
How right.
Their throat tightened as they lifted their head slightly, eyes flicking up to Wanda before dropping back to her stomach.
“…You hear that?” they whispered softly, voice still a little unsteady. Their thumb brushed slowly over the spot.
“That’s us.”
Another faint movement answered.
Y/N let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “Yeah… you hear us.” They leaned in again, pressing a lingering kiss to her bump, eyes closing for just a second as they stayed there.
“Hey, little one,” they murmured. “It’s us.”
Wanda watched them, her expression full—soft, emotional, completely in love with the moment.
Y/N pulled back just enough to look at her again. Their eyes were still a little wet. But they were smiling.
“I’m never leaving you two alone again,” they said quietly.
Wanda laughed softly. “You say that like you ever did.”
“…Fair.”
Another small flutter. And this time—they both leaned into it.
Together.
---
The room stayed quiet after that. Not empty—full.
Wanda’s hand rested over theirs, both of them still holding the place where their baby had moved, as if letting go might somehow make it stop.
Y/N didn’t want to move. Didn’t want this moment to end.
Another faint flutter came—softer this time.
Y/N let out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh, their forehead resting gently against Wanda’s again.
“…You’re really there,” they whispered. Not to Wanda. To the life beneath their hands.
Wanda watched them, her expression softening even more as she reached up, brushing away the dampness still clinging to Y/N’s lashes.
“Hey,” she murmured gently. “You’re okay.”
Y/N huffed softly, leaning into her touch. “I know.” Their voice was steadier now—but still thick with emotion.
“I just…” they swallowed. “I didn’t expect it to feel like this.”
“Like what?”
Y/N’s hand moved slowly over her stomach again, reverent.
“…Everything at once.”
Wanda smiled faintly. “Yeah.”
Another small movement making Y/N laugh again.
They leaned down, pressing another kiss to Wanda’s bump, lingering longer this time.
“Alright,” they murmured quietly. “We hear you.” Their thumb brushed slowly. “Getting impatient already, hm?”
Wanda giggled softly above them, her fingers threading gently through their hair again.
“They take after you.”
Y/N huffed. “That’s not reassuring.”
Another faint flutter. Y/N stilled—then shook their head slightly, smiling in disbelief. They looked down at Wanda’s stomach again, their hand still spread gently over it, as if they could feel every tiny movement lingering beneath their skin.
“…Hey,” they murmured softly. Their voice had changed, quieter and full of love.
“I can’t wait to meet you.” Their thumb brushed slowly, carefully. “We’re going to show you everything,” they continued. “The palace… the gardens… Lina’s going to spoil you completely.”
A faint huff of breath left them, almost a laugh.
“And your mama—” their voice softened even more, “—she’s the best person you’ll ever know.”
Y/N swallowed slightly.
Then, more firmly—“I promise you something.”
Their hand pressed just a little more securely. “I will always be there for you.”
A pause.
“I will protect you.”
Their voice dropped, steady and certain.
“And I will always protect your mama.”
The room went quiet again.
No movement.
No flutter.
Y/N waited.
A second.
Two.
Nothing.
Their expression softened, a small, fond smile forming.
“…I think they fell asleep,” they murmured.
They leaned down, pressing one last lingering kiss to Wanda’s bump.
“Alright,” they whispered. “Rest, little one.”
Slowly, they moved back up—their hand trailing gently from her stomach as their gaze lifted to Wanda’s face.
And froze.
Wanda was crying. Just quiet tears slipping down her cheeks, her eyes shining as she looked at them.
Y/N’s breath caught immediately. “Hey—hey—” they murmured softly, moving up quickly, one hand coming to cup her face. “What happened? Did I—”
Wanda shook her head quickly, a small, emotional laugh escaping through her tears.
“No,” she whispered. “No, you didn’t—”
Y/N’s thumb brushed gently under her eye, wiping the tear away.
“Then why are you crying?” they asked softly, voice full of concern.
Wanda looked at them. Really looked.
Her hand came up, covering theirs against her cheek.
“You,” she said quietly.
Y/N blinked.
“What about me?”
Wanda let out a soft, shaky breath.
“You’re going to be such a good parent.”
Y/N went still.
Another tear slipped from Wanda’s eye as she smiled at them.
“They’re so lucky,” she whispered.
Y/N’s throat tightened.
Their hand trembled slightly against her cheek.
“…We are lucky ones,” they said softly. Then they leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there as they pulled her closer into their arms.
Careful. Protective. Like she was something fragile—even though she wasn’t.
Wanda melted into them anyway. Her arms slipped around their waist, holding them just as tightly as they held her, her face pressing into their shoulder as she let out a soft, shaky breath.
Y/N kept one arm wrapped around her, the other moving instinctively—back to Wanda’s stomach.
Always back there.
Their palm rested over the place where the movement had been, thumb brushing slow, soothing circles like they were still trying to feel it again.
“It’s okay,” they murmured softly, pressing another kiss into her hair. “I’ve got you.”
Wanda let out a quiet, tearful laugh against them. “I know,” she whispered.
Y/N tightened their hold just slightly. They stayed like that for a moment.
No rush.
No need to speak.
Just breathing each other in.
Then Y/N shifted just enough to lean back and look at her again, their hand coming up to gently wipe the remaining tears from her cheeks.
“Hey,” they said softly. “None of that.”
Wanda sniffled lightly, smiling despite herself. “You started it.”
“I did not.”
“You made promises,” she countered quietly.
Y/N’s expression softened.
“…I meant every word.”
“I know,” she said.
Y/N huffed a quiet breath, then leaned in again, brushing a soft kiss to her lips this time—slow, grounding, reassuring.
When they pulled back, their forehead rested against hers again. “We’re going to be alright,” they murmured.
Wanda nodded. “We are.”
Y/N’s hand slid down once more, resting over her stomach again.
Gentler this time. Patient.
“…They’re quiet now,” Wanda whispered.
Y/N smiled faintly.
“Tired.”
“From making their entrance?”
“Exactly.”
Wanda laughed softly.
Y/N leaned down again, pressing another light kiss to her bump, their voice dropping into something softer, playful but full of warmth. “Rest now,” they murmured. “We’ll talk again later.”
Wanda watched them, her chest tightening again—but this time from something warm.
Y/N moved back up, settling beside her again, pulling her into their side. Their hand never left her.
---
Lina’s POV
The northern palace felt smaller this time.
Or maybe—she was just bigger.
Lina walked quickly beside Ser Wilson, her steps almost bouncing with excitement as they made their way toward the stables. Everything felt new again, even if she had been here before.
The last time, she had been small. Now she was almost seven. And that meant—she could do more. See more. And remember more.
“I can go closer this time, right?” she asked, looking up at Ser Wilson.
He glanced down at her, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“With me there? Yes.”
Lina grinned. “Yes!”
She liked it here. She always had. It was quieter. No shouting. No heavy footsteps echoing through halls.
No papa—
Her expression softened just slightly. She didn’t like thinking about him.
Not here.
Here, she remembered other things.
Like her mama.
Her picture still hung in the hallway—Y/N had shown her once. Lina had stood there for a long time, just looking at it. She thought her mama looked kind.
Like Y/N.
Maybe that’s why Y/N liked coming here so much.
Lina shook the thought away as the stables came into view. Immediately—she lit up again. The smell of hay, the soft sounds of horses shifting and huffing—it all wrapped around her in a way that made her feel warm.
A man stepped forward as they approached. He was older, with kind eyes and steady hands.
“Princess Lina,” he greeted with a respectful bow—but with a gentle smile that made it feel less formal. “It’s good to see you again.”
Lina smiled brightly.
“Hi!”
The man chuckled softly. “It’s been a while.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m bigger now.”
“That you are.” He stepped aside slightly, gesturing toward the stables.
“Would you like to see them?”
Lina nodded immediately. “Yes!”
He led her inside, walking slowly as he pointed things out. “These are the calmer ones,” he explained, motioning to a few horses that stood quietly, their ears flicking curiously toward her.
Lina approached carefully, just like she had been taught.
Her eyes were wide. “They’re pretty…”
“They are,” the man agreed.
“They like gentle hands,” he added.
Lina nodded seriously, reaching out slowly to pet one of them. The horse huffed softly, leaning into her touch making her giggle.
“I think it likes me.”
“I think it does too.”
She moved along, looking at each one with the same fascination, asking questions, listening carefully. She had always liked horses. Even when she was really small.
They felt…safe. Strong and kind. Like they wouldn’t hurt you if you didn’t hurt them.
Lina glanced back at Ser Wilson for a moment, then back at the horses.
“Can I come again tomorrow?” she asked.
The man smiled.
“You can come as often as you like.”
Lina beamed.
“Okay.”
Lina didn’t want to leave. She stood there, one hand still resting against the horse’s neck, her eyes bright as she looked back at Ser Wilson.
“Can I ride?” she asked.
Ser Wilson hesitated. Just a little.
“…Usually,” he started carefully, “you ride when Their Majesty is with you.”
Lina frowned slightly.
“But Y/N said I can do whatever I want,” she said, very sure of herself.
Wilson exhaled quietly through his nose. She wasn’t wrong. And he was there.
He looked at the stablemaster, then back at Lina.
“…A short ride,” he said finally.
Lina lit up immediately.
“Yes!”
Moments later, she was carefully lifted onto one of the calmer horses, her small hands gripping where she had been taught, posture a little straighter now that she was determined to do it properly.
Wilson mounted his own horse beside her.
“Please stay close, Your Highness.” he said.
“I will,” Lina promised.
They rode out slowly. The northern air was cooler, brushing against Lina’s face as the horse moved beneath her. At first, she focused hard—doing everything right, remembering what Y/N had taught her.
But soon—she relaxed. Little by little. And then she smiled. “I like this,” she said.
Wilson glanced at her. “I can tell.”
They rode along a quiet path, the palace slowly disappearing behind them, replaced by open land and soft hills.
That’s when Lina saw them.
Flowers. Small wild flowers scattered across a patch of grass like little bursts of color.
“Wait!” she said.
Wilson slowed immediately as Lina carefully brought her horse to a stop, just like she had been taught.
She looked at the flowers, then back at him.
“Can I get down?”
He nodded, already moving to help her.
Once her feet touched the ground, Lina ran carefully toward the flowers, crouching down as she looked at them. “They’re pretty…” She reached out, picking a few carefully—trying not to ruin them.
Wilson watched quietly.
Lina gathered a small bunch, holding them gently in her hands. Then she smiled. “I’ll give these to Wanda,” she said.
She paused. Then added softly—“And the baby.”
Wilson’s expression softened just slightly.
“That’s a good idea, Your Highness.”
Lina nodded proudly. “Yeah.”
She stood up, holding the flowers close. As if they were something important.
Because to her—they were.
---
The ride felt too short.
It always did.
But Lina didn’t complain—not really—as Ser Wilson helped her down from the horse once they returned to the stables. She held onto the flowers carefully, making sure none of them fell or bent too much.
“They’re still pretty,” she said, inspecting them.
“They are,” Wilson agreed.
Lina nodded, satisfied.
After thanking the stable keeper, properly, because Y/N said she should, she wandered off again—this time back toward the palace. There was still so much to see.
The halls felt quieter than the capital. Bigger too. Or maybe just… calmer.
Lina walked through them slowly, peeking into rooms she remembered—some she didn’t. She passed by the hallway where her mama’s portrait was, slowing just a little before continuing.
“I’ll come back later, Mama” she whispered to herself.
Then—her stomach growled.
Lina blinked.
“Oh.”
And she started heading to the kitchen.
The kitchen staff lit up when they saw her.
“Princess Lina,” one of them greeted warmly.
“Hi!” she said, walking right in like she belonged there—because she did.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
A small plate was prepared for her—bread, fruit, and something warm that smelled really good.
Lina sat at the edge of the table, swinging her legs slightly as she ate.
“This is good,” she said.
The staff smiled.
“I’m glad.”
She ate happily, carefully keeping the flowers beside her, checking on them every now and then like they were just as important as her snack.
After that, she explored a little more.
The garden.
The corridors.
Even the big windows that showed the hills outside.
Everything felt… nice.
Safe.
Like the palace was breathing slower here.
Eventually, a familiar voice found her.
“Princess Lina.”
She turned. Her maid stood there, smiling gently.
“It’s time to prepare for supper.”
Lina blinked. Already?
“…Okay.”
She looked down at her dress—dust a little at the bottom from the stables. And her hands. And the flowers.
“Oh—wait,” she said, holding them up. “I need to give these to Wanda first.”
Her maid smiled.
“We can take them to Her Majesty after your bath, Your Highness.”
Lina nodded quickly.
“Okay!”
And just like that—she was off again.
---
Y/N’s POV
Y/N walked through the corridor with an easy pace, one hand adjusting the cuff of their sleeve as they headed toward Lina’s chambers.
Behind them, the door to their own room had just closed—Lily inside with Wanda, helping her dress for supper.
Everything felt…quiet. Calm.
Until—a sound. A cry.
Y/N froze. “Lina!”
They reached Lina’s door in seconds and pushed it open without knocking.
“Lina—”
Inside, her maid was kneeling, trying to soothe her—but Lina was crying hard, her small shoulders shaking, her hands clenched tight in her dress.
The moment Lina saw them—
“Y/N—!”
She reached out immediately.
Y/N crossed the distance in two strides, dropping to their knees without hesitation as the maid stepped back.
“What happened?” Y/N asked, already pulling Lina into their arms.
The maid straightened.
“Your Majesty—”
“It’s alright,” Y/N said quickly, eyes still on Lina. “I’ve got her.”
Lina clung to them, burying her face into their shoulder, her cries muffled but no less intense.
Y/N’s hand came up to cradle the back of her head, the other rubbing slow, steady circles against her back.
“Hey… hey…” they murmured softly. “I’m here.”
Lina hiccuped, trying to speak through her tears. “I—I ruined it—”
Y/N frowned slightly, pulling back just enough to look at her face, thumbs gently brushing away her tears.
“Ruined what, hm?”
“The gift,” Lina cried, her voice breaking. “For Wanda—and the baby—”
Y/N followed her small, trembling hand as she pointed to the side.
The flowers. It was wilted. Crushed. Some petals already fallen apart.
Y/N stilled for a moment, before they looked back at Lina.
And softened completely. “Oh,” they murmured gently.
They pulled her closer again, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
“Hey… hey… it’s okay.”
Lina shook her head against them.
“No—it’s not—I wanted to give it to them and now it’s ugly and dead and—”
“It’s not ugly,” Y/N said immediately, their voice calm but firm.
Lina sniffled, pulling back just enough to look at them with watery eyes.
“It’s not?” she asked weakly.
Y/N shook their head, brushing her hair back gently.
“No.”
They glanced briefly at the flowers again. Then back at her. “You picked those yourself, didn’t you?”
Lina nodded.
“And you picked them because you were thinking about Wanda and the baby.”
Y/N tilted their head. “Do you think Wanda is going to care about that?”
Lina hesitated.
“…No.”
“Do you think she’s going to care that you picked them for her?”
A pause.
“…Yes.”
Y/N nodded. “Exactly.”
Lina looked down at her hands, her breathing slowly beginning to steady.
Y/N wiped the last of her tears gently.
“Hey,” they added softly. “Flowers don’t last long anyway.”
Lina sniffled.
“They don’t?”
“No,” Y/N said. “But the reason you picked them—that lasts.”
Lina looked back at them.
A little calmer now.
“Really?”
“Really.” Y/N gave her a small smile. Then gently wiped the rest of her tears away, thumbs brushing carefully under her eyes.
“Come on,” they said softly. “Why don’t we go give it to Wanda now?”
Lina hesitated. Her fingers tightened slightly behind her back.
“…But it’s ruined.”
Y/N shook their head. “It’s not,” they said quietly. “And I promise you—she’s going to love it.”
Lina looked at them, searching.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
A small pause—then Lina nodded.
“Okay…”
Y/N stood, offering their hand.
“Let’s go.”
They walked together down the corridor, Lina staying close this time, one hand holding Y/N’s while the other kept the flowers hidden behind her back.
When they reached the chamber doors, Y/N knocked once before opening them.
Inside, Wanda was already ready. Dressed, calm, glowing softly in the warm light of the room.
She looked up immediately and smiled.
“Lina,” she called gently, opening her arms.
Lina stepped in slowly this time. Not running. Just… quiet.
She walked over, her hands still tucked behind her back as she leaned into Wanda’s embrace.
Wanda hugged her warmly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head.
“Hey,” she murmured. “Did you have a good day?”
Lina nodded slightly against her.
“Mm-hm…”
Wanda pulled back just enough to look at her—and noticed. The way Lina was holding herself, how her hands stayed hidden, and the way her eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers.
“…What’s that?” Wanda asked softly.
Lina hesitated. Her lip trembled slightly. Then slowly—she brought her hands forward.
The flowers. Wilted. Some petals barely hanging on.
“I got them for you,” Lina said, her voice already breaking. “For you and the baby…”
Her eyes filled again.
“But they died,” she added, and the words seemed to break something in her as tears spilled over. “I didn’t mean to—I tried to keep them nice but they—”
Her voice cracked completely.
“I’m sorry…” She started crying again.
Y/N stood just behind, watching quietly—giving Wanda the space.
Wanda didn’t hesitate. She reached forward immediately, gathering Lina back into her arms, holding her close despite the crushed flowers between them.
“Hey, hey… it’s okay,” she murmured softly, one hand cradling the back of Lina’s head, the other carefully steadying her.
Lina cried into her, small hands clutching at Wanda’s dress.
“I ruined it,” she sobbed. “I wanted it to be pretty…”
Wanda pulled back just enough to look at her, her expression gentle—so gentle it made Lina hiccup mid-cry.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Wanda said softly.
Lina shook her head. “But they’re dead—”
Wanda smiled faintly. “Then we’ll say they’re resting.”
Lina blinked through her tears.
“…Resting?”
Wanda nodded.
“Flowers don’t last forever,” she explained gently. “But the reason you picked them—that’s what matters.”
She reached for the flowers, taking them carefully from Lina’s hands like they were something precious.
“And these,” she added, “are very special.”
Lina watched her, still sniffling.
“They are?”
“They are,” Wanda said firmly.
She brought the flowers closer, smiling softly as she looked at them—truly looked, not pretending.
“Because you picked them for us.”
Lina’s breathing started to slow.
Wanda glanced down at her stomach, then gently guided Lina’s hand to rest there.
“For me,” she said softly.
Then placed Lina’s other hand over her bump.
“And for the baby.”
Lina’s eyes widened slightly.
Wanda smiled.
“And I think,” she added quietly, “they already love them.”
Lina sniffled. “…Really?”
Wanda nodded.
“Really.”
Lina’s breathing hitched softly as she kept both hands there, tiny palms warm against Wanda’s stomach.
And then—
A small movement pressed gently beneath her hand.
Lina gasped. Her eyes flew wide as she jerked her head up to Wanda. “It moved!”
Wanda laughed quietly, soft and breathless at the same time, one hand covering Lina’s over the spot.
“There,” she whispered warmly. “See?”
The baby moved again—smaller this time, but enough.
Lina made the tiniest startled sound, halfway between a laugh and another gasp.
“Wow…”
Wanda smiled so tenderly it almost hurt to look at.
“I think,” she said softly, “that was their way of saying thank you for the flowers.”
Lina stared at her stomach in complete awe now, tears still clinging to her lashes but no longer sad ones.
“They can really feel me?”
“Mhm,” Wanda murmured. “Babies know more than people think.”
Carefully, Wanda guided Lina even closer until the little girl was leaning fully against her side. Lina kept one hand on the bump like she was afraid the baby would disappear if she let go.
Another tiny kick.
Lina let out a watery laugh this time. “It did it again!”
“I know,” Wanda said, grinning now.
Behind them, Y/N finally smiled too, leaning quietly against the doorway as she watched the two of them together.
Lina looked completely mesmerized.
“All this time…” she whispered, eyes fixed downward. “There was really a baby in there…”
Wanda brushed a few curls back from her face gently.
“Really.”
Lina swallowed hard, then looked down at the wilted flowers still clutched carefully in Wanda’s hand.
“The baby don’t hate the flowers?”
Wanda immediately shook her head.
“No, sweetheart.” Her voice was impossibly soft. “We love them.”
Lina’s face crumpled again a little—but this time from relief.
Wanda opened one arm toward her again instantly, and Lina climbed into her lap carefully, pressing herself against Wanda while still trying not to squish the baby.
“I’m sorry I cried so much,” Lina mumbled into her shoulder.
“You never have to apologize for crying,” Wanda whispered, kissing the top of her head.
The room fell quiet after that.
Warm.
Safe.
Lina stayed there for a long moment, small hands still resting protectively over Wanda’s stomach like she’d already decided the baby was hers to protect too.
Wanda didn’t rush her. She kept one arm around Lina, the other gently covering her hands, grounding her.
Behind them, Y/N finally stepped closer. Careful not to break the moment.
Their hand came to rest lightly at Lina’s back.
“Better?” they asked gently.
Lina nodded.
“Mm-hm.”
Y/N’s lips curved faintly. “Good.”
They glanced at Wanda briefly—something quiet passing between them—before their attention returned to Lina.
“Now,” Y/N added, tone a little lighter, “we have one more important thing to do.”
Lina looked up.
“What?”
“Supper.”
Lina blinked.
Then her stomach betrayed her with a small growl.
Wanda laughed softly. “Well,” she said, amused, “that answers that.”
Lina’s cheeks turned slightly pink.
“I forgot…”
Y/N huffed quietly. “That tends to happen when you spend the whole day exploring.”
Lina smiled just a little.
Wanda carefully guided her hands away from her stomach, but not before giving them a gentle squeeze.
“We’ll keep these,” she said, lifting the flowers again. “I’ll have them placed somewhere nice.”
Lina looked at them one more time. “They won’t throw them away?”
Wanda shook her head. “Not a chance.”
Satisfied, Lina nodded.
Y/N reached for her hand.
“Come on.”
Lina took it immediately.
And together, they turned toward the door. Wanda followed just behind them, one hand resting over her stomach again.
---
Supper was already prepared when they arrived.
Not in the grand hall—but in a smaller dining room Y/N had chosen. A long table sat in the center, lit by soft candlelight, the windows slightly open to let in the cool northern air. The food was simple but carefully made—soup, fresh bread, vegetables, a light dish of meat. Balanced.
“Here,” Y/N murmured as they pulled a chair out for Wanda.
Wanda smiled, letting them help her sit before Y/N took the seat beside her instead of at the head.
Lina climbed onto her chair across from them, still holding onto Y/N’s sleeve until she settled properly.
Servants moved quietly, placing dishes and pouring tea before stepping back.
They ate slowly.
Talking between bites. Lina told them everything. About the horses. About how she didn’t fall.
About the flowers. About the kitchen.
“And I saw a big window and you can see all the hills and I think tomorrow we should go there and—”
“Tomorrow,” Y/N cut in gently, “we will go together.”
Lina nodded quickly.
“Okay.”
Wanda watched them both, quiet for a moment. Then her hand slipped under the table, finding Y/N’s.
Y/N glanced at her.
She didn’t say anything but her smile said enough.
Y/N squeezed her hand gently.
---
Wanda’s POV
The morning felt different. Lighter.
Wanda woke to warmth at her back—Y/N’s arm wrapped securely around her, their hand already resting over her stomach like it had never moved through the night.
She smiled faintly.
Some things didn’t change.
“Are you awake?” Y/N murmured softly against her hair.
Wanda hummed.
“Mm… now I am.”
Y/N pressed a slow kiss to her shoulder.
“Good.”
She turned slightly in their arms, meeting their eyes.
“You’re eager.”
“I said I’d take you to the town,” they replied simply.
Wanda smiled.
“And Lina?”
Right on cue—a knock.
“Are you awake?!”
Y/N sighed softly.
“Yes.”
“Good! I’m ready!”
Wanda laughed. “Give us a moment,” she said gently.
“Okay!”
Silence—then Y/N looked back at Wanda.
“…We should hurry.”
Wanda smiled.
---
Not long after, they were on their way.
The carriage rolled down from the northern palace, the scenery shifting from quiet hills to a lively, smaller town nestled below.
It wasn’t like the capital. There were no towering buildings, no overwhelming crowds. Just narrow streets, small shops, people moving at a slower pace. Warmer. Closer.
Lina was already pressed to the window. “Look! There’s so many people!”
Y/N sat beside Wanda, one arm behind her, steady as always.
“Stay seated,” they reminded gently.
“I am!”
Wanda shook her head, amused.
“You forget she’s excited.”
“I don’t forget,” Y/N said. “I’m preparing.”
Wanda smiled.
When they stepped out of the carriage, the town seemed to pause for just a moment. Not out of fear just recognition.
But Y/N didn’t linger in it. They stayed close to Wanda, one hand at her back, guiding her carefully as Lina stayed just ahead—but not too far.
“Stay where I can see you,” Y/N called.
“I am!”
“Lina—”
“I am!”
Wanda laughed softly.
“She is.”
Y/N exhaled.
“…Alright.”
They walked through the market first.
Stalls lined the streets—fresh bread, woven fabrics, handmade trinkets, fruits laid out in neat rows.
Lina stopped at everything. “Can we look at this?”
“Yes.”
“And this?”
“Yes.”
“And—”
“Lina.”
“…Okay, this one last.”
Wanda smiled, her hand slipping into Y/N’s.
“It’s nice,” she murmured.
Y/N glanced at her. Then around to the people, the life there. “…It is.”
A vendor offered Lina a small sweet. But she looked at Y/N first.
Y/N nodded once. “Say thank you.”
“Thank you!” She took it carefully, smiling brightly.
Wanda watched, her chest warming. Then her hand drifted down again—to her stomach.
Y/N noticed immediately.
Their hand followed, resting over hers. “You alright?” they asked softly.
Wanda nodded. “Mm. Just… thinking.”
“About?”
Wanda looked up at them.
Then smiled.
“…This.”
Y/N’s gaze softened.
Their thumb brushed gently over her hand.
“…Yeah.”
And as they walked through the town together—Lina running just ahead, laughing, pointing at everything—Wanda realized something.
This wasn’t just a visit. It was a memory being made. One they’d carry—all of them—for a long time.
They didn’t rush. That was the difference.
In the capital, even calm felt heavy. Here, the town moved gently—like it had nothing to prove.
As they walked through the market, people began to notice.
One by one.
A baker paused mid-task. A woman at a fabric stall straightened. A group of villagers stepped aside respectfully.
“Your Majesties,” they greeted, bowing their heads.
“And Princess Lina.”
Lina blinked every time.
Then remembered—“Oh—hi!” she said, waving.
Y/N gave a small nod in return, calm and composed, but not distant.
Wanda smiled warmly at each of them.
“You don’t need to bow so much,” she said gently to one of the older women.
The woman smiled anyway. “It is our honor.”
Wanda didn’t argue. But her smile softened.
At the first stall, the vendor greeted them immediately.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing slightly. “It’s good to have you here.”
Y/N inclined their head. “How has trade been?”
The man blinked—clearly not expecting that question.
“…Better,” he admitted. “Since the last shipment arrived.”
Y/N nodded. “Good.”
Wanda watched quietly.
Even here—they were still listening.
Lina had already wandered to the fabrics again.
“This one is soft,” she said, touching it.
The vendor smiled at her. “For the princess, everything should be soft.”
Lina grinned.
Wanda leaned closer. “What do you think?”
“…This one,” Lina decided.
“Why?”
“…Because I like it.”
Wanda laughed softly.
Y/N chuckled but paid for the fabrics.
They moved on.
A fruit stall this time. Bright colors laid out neatly.
The woman running it bowed quickly. “Your Majesties—please, take some.”
“That’s not necessary,” Wanda said gently.
“It would make me happy,” the woman insisted.
Y/N exchanged a glance with Wanda—then nodded.
“One piece,” they said.
The woman handed Lina a small fruit.
Lina looked at Y/N first.
Y/N nodded.
“Say thank you.”
“Thank you!”
The woman smiled brightly.
“Of course, Princess.”
---
At the bakery, the reaction was the same. A quiet pause.
Then—“Your Majesties.”
But here, it was warmer. Less formal.
“Please, sit,” the baker insisted. “It would be an honor.”
Y/N hesitated—Wanda gently nudged them.
“…Alright.”
They sat outside on a small bench, the baker personally bringing them something fresh.
“No charge,” he added quickly.
Y/N looked at him.
“You’ll be compensated,” they said.
The baker shook his head.
“It’s enough that you’re here.”
Wanda smiled softly.
“Then we’ll come again,” she said.
That seemed to satisfy him.
Lina ate happily, swinging her legs. Powdered sugar dusted her fingers.
Wanda leaned back slightly, enjoying the warmth.
Y/N sat close. Closer than necessary. Their hand found hers again.
“…Tired?” they asked quietly.
“No,” Wanda said softly.
Then, after a moment—“I like this.”
Y/N looked around. The people. The quiet conversations resuming. The way no one looked afraid.
“…So do I,” they admitted.
---
As they walked further, more villagers greeted them. Some bowed, some simply nodded, and some smiled.
“Your Majesties.”
“Princess Lina.”
Lina waved every time.
They reached the edge of the town eventually. Where the buildings gave way to open land. The hills stretched out ahead, quiet and endless.
“There!” Lina pointed. “That’s what I saw!”
Y/N smiled faintly. “Good eye.”
Villagers nearby paused again.
“Your Majesties,” one greeted softly.
Y/N nodded.
Wanda smiled.
Then her hand drifted down to her stomach again.
Y/N’s followed immediately. “You’re cold?” they asked.
“No.”
Wanda looked out at the hills.
Then at Lina.
“…We’ll bring them here,” she said softly.
Y/N understood immediately.
“…We will.”
Lina turned.
“Bring who?”
Wanda smiled.
“You’ll see.”
Lina frowned.
“…Okay.”
Behind them, a few villagers exchanged quiet smiles. And as they turned back toward the town—walking together, unhurried—it felt like something had changed.
I think you definitely should start an a03, it would be easier to read your multi-chapter stories as tumblr doesn’t like to save my place when reading on my phone😭 I enjoy read your stories very much and I would be very grateful if you considered it
I’m so sorry about that. I will try to check on Ao3. I am still new to this, so I don’t know how posting in Ao3 works yet.
But I will consider it since the Heir’s Secret reached Chapter 30 😅.
Summary: It’s been 8 months since the twins were born.
Word Count: 6,137
Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, (18+).
A/N: Someone asked me they wanted to see more of Nat and Maria. So, here you go!
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
---
---
Wanda’s POV
Life had been… good.
No—better than good.
It felt dangerous to even think it sometimes, like saying it out loud might tempt something to take it away, but it was true. For the first time in a long time, everything felt steady. Whole. Like the world had finally stopped trying to pull her apart.
The boys were healthy. 8 months. Growing faster than she could keep up with. Every day it felt like something new—some new sound, some new expression, some tiny change that made her pause and just… look at them a little longer.
And Y/N—
Wanda smiled softly to herself, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor as she watched Tommy attempt, very determinedly, to eat a wooden block.
Her life partner, her soulmate, her home in every sense of the word.
They were good. More than good. There was no tension anymore, no fear lingering in the corners of their love. Just something warm and lived-in. Something real. They moved around each other like second nature now—soft touches in passing, quiet kisses, shared looks that said everything without a word.
It was easy.
Not because it had always been—but because they had fought for it to be.
“…Tommy,” Wanda murmured, reaching forward just in time to gently pull the block from his mouth.
He let out an immediate, offended sound, his tiny brows furrowing as he looked up at her like she had personally betrayed him.
“I know,” she said, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Very unfair. Terrible mother.”
Tommy babbled something in response, clearly passionate about his argument.
Across from them, Billy sat quietly, a plush toy in his hands, studying it with a level of seriousness that made Wanda’s lips twitch. He looked up at her, calm and curious—and then, without breaking eye contact, slowly brought the toy to his mouth.
Wanda stared at him.
“…really?”
Billy blinked.
Tommy squealed like he had just won something.
Wanda sighed, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. She shifted slightly, settling more comfortably on the floor as she reached out—one hand resting lightly on Tommy’s back, the other brushing through Billy’s soft hair.
They leaned into her without thinking.
They always did.
That quiet trust still made something deep in her chest ache in the best way.
“Your mama is going to come home with too many things again,” she murmured absentmindedly.
Tommy kicked his legs in excitement.
Billy cooed softly.
“She said groceries,” Wanda continued, her tone warm with amusement, “but last time she came back with three stuffed animals and something she insisted were ‘essential baby shoes.’”
She huffed lightly.
“You don’t even walk.”
Tommy smacked his hands against the floor.
Billy considered her like he might start.
Wanda shook her head, smiling to herself. God… she loved them. So much it still felt overwhelming sometimes, like her heart hadn’t quite learned how to hold all of it without spilling over.
The house felt full in a way she had never known before. Not just noise—but presence. Life in every corner. Soft chaos, scattered toys, the faint echo of laughter that never really seemed to leave.
It was perfect.
And that word still felt fragile in her hands.
A soft knock at the door broke through the moment.
Wanda’s head lifted slightly, her brows drawing together just a bit. The boys barely reacted—too busy with their ongoing investigation of objects they absolutely should not be putting in their mouths—but Wanda felt it.
Not danger.
Just… something.
“Stay here,” she murmured softly, already pushing herself up.
She crossed the room, her steps unhurried but instinctively alert, and opened the door—
Natasha stood there.
Not unusual. Not unexpected.
If anything, it felt… normal.
“Hey,” Nat said, like she’d been there yesterday.
Wanda’s lips softened into a small smile. “Hey.”
There was no hesitation as she stepped aside, letting her in.
Nat walked in like she always did—like this was another place she belonged. Because, in a way, it was. Between missions, the compound, and everything that never really stopped moving… this house had become something quieter for all of them.
A place to land.
“You just missed Y/N,” Wanda said as she closed the door. “She went out for groceries.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I just came to visit.”
Wanda point to the living room. “The boys are inside. Come on in!”
“Thanks.”
From the living room, a burst of delighted sound rang out.
Tommy clapped his hands together, bright and excited, his whole face lighting up the moment he saw her. Billy followed right after—not as loud, but just as happy, his eyes soft and shining as he leaned forward.
Both of them reached for her. No hesitation. Just pure, easy joy.
Nat stopped for a fraction of a second.
Caught off guard.
“…Well,” she murmured under her breath, something softer threading through her voice as she stepped closer, “guess I’m expected.”
She crouched down in front of them, slower now, more careful—but this time there was no uncertainty in it.
“Hey, you two.”
Tommy was already leaning forward as far as he could, arms outstretched, small hands opening and closing impatiently until Nat offered her hand.
He grabbed onto her instantly.
Billy followed, his smaller hand settling gently over her wrist, his touch lighter—but just as certain. Nat let out a quiet breath, something in her shoulders easing without her even realizing it.
“Look at you,” she said softly.
Tommy babbled happily, kicking his legs.
Billy made a small, content sound, watching her like he was memorizing her face.
Wanda stepped closer, warmth settling in her chest at the sight. “They’ve been in a good mood all day,” she said lightly.
“Yeah?” Nat murmured, her thumb brushing faintly against Billy’s hand.
“They’re always like this with people they like.”
Tommy squealed like that was confirmation.
Nat’s lips twitched.
Wanda moved toward the kitchen. “You want something? Water? Coffee?”
Nat hesitated for half a second before answering, “Water’s fine.”
Wanda nodded, grabbing a glass and filling it, her movements easy and familiar. From where she stood, she could still see them—Nat on the floor with the twins, both boys completely engaged with her, reaching, grabbing, smiling like she had just become the most interesting person in the room.
It was simple.
Uncomplicated.
Coming back, Wanda handed her the glass. Nat took it with a quiet “Thanks,” but didn’t move far, still crouched beside them.
“They missed you,” Wanda added, settling back down onto the floor.
Nat glanced at her, brow lifting slightly. “They don’t know what missing is.”
“They know what they like,” Wanda corrected softly.
Tommy clapped again. Billy leaned into Nat’s hand.
Nat huffed quietly, taking a sip of her water.
For a moment, everything felt normal. Comfortable. Like any other visit.
“So,” Wanda said after a beat, leaning back slightly on her hands, “how’s the compound?”
Nat shrugged. “Same. Stark’s still loud. Rogers is still… Rogers. Sam’s trying to teach everyone something new every week.”
Wanda smiled faintly. “And you?”
“Working.”
“Always.”
Nat glanced at her, one corner of her mouth lifting. “You miss it?”
Wanda tilted her head slightly, thinking. “…Sometimes,” she admitted. “But not enough to leave this.” Her hand brushed gently over Tommy’s back as he leaned into her, still half-focused on Nat.
Nat’s eyes followed the movement.
Something flickered there.
Gone just as quickly.
“…You still come by,” Nat said.
“I like to remind all of you I still exist.”
“You never let us forget.”
That made Wanda laugh softly.
The room settled again, filled with the boys’ soft sounds—Tommy’s happy little noises, Billy’s quieter coos, the faint clink of glass as Nat set it down beside her.
And then Wanda felt it again. That small shift, the thing that didn’t quite belong. Her gaze moved back to Nat, studying her more carefully now. “…Okay,” she said gently.
Nat didn’t look up. “What?”
Wanda tilted her head slightly, voice soft but certain. “You didn’t just come to see the twins.”
That made Nat pause, just for a second. Tommy tugged on her sleeve, still smiling, still completely at ease. Billy’s fingers curled lightly against her wrist.
Silence stretched—not uncomfortable, but heavier now. Nat’s hand stilled where it rested near Tommy, her jaw tightening just slightly.
And when she finally spoke, it was quieter.
“…I need advice.”
Wanda didn’t react right away, just watched her. “…About what?”
Nat lifted her gaze, and this time she didn’t deflect.
“…Maria.”
Wanda nodded slowly, her expression softening—not surprised, just attentive. “I thought things were going well between you two.”
Nat let out a quiet breath, her gaze dropping back to where Tommy was still holding onto her fingers like he had no intention of letting go. “They are,” she said after a moment. “That’s the problem.”
Wanda’s brows pulled together slightly. “…Explain.”
Nat huffed under her breath, like she already regretted starting this conversation, but didn’t pull back. “We go out,” she said, her tone casual—but only on the surface. “Dinner. Walks. Coffee. Sometimes we don’t even do anything. Just sit there.”
Tommy babbled softly. Billy leaned a little closer, his hand still resting lightly against Nat’s wrist. Nat’s thumb brushed absentmindedly over his knuckles as she continued.
“She doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask for more than I give.” A pause. “She just… stays.”
Wanda didn’t interrupt. Didn’t need to.
Nat shook her head slightly, her jaw tightening just a bit. “And I keep it there,” she admitted quietly. “Right on that line.”
“What line?” Wanda asked gently.
Nat hesitated, then—“The one where it’s still easy,” she said. “Where it doesn’t… matter too much.”
Wanda’s gaze softened immediately. “…But it does.”
Nat didn’t answer right away. That was answer enough.
Tommy shifted, letting go of her fingers only to grab at her sleeve instead, smiling up at her like nothing in the world was complicated. Nat stared at him for a second, something in her expression flickering.
“…We’ve been physical before,” she said finally, quieter now. “A long time ago. Before you and Y/N joined the team.”
Wanda tilted her head slightly. “I know.”
“It wasn’t like this.” Nat’s voice dropped. “It didn’t mean anything.” A beat. “This does.”
Silence settled between them, heavier now—but not uncomfortable. Real.
Wanda shifted slightly, pulling Tommy into her lap as Billy leaned into her side, both boys settling without protest. “And that scares you,” she said softly.
Nat let out a humorless breath. “That’s one way to put it.”
Another pause, then more honest—“…I think I want more,” Nat admitted, her voice low. “Not just the dates. Not just… whatever this is.”
Wanda watched her carefully. “And I don’t know how to do that without…” Nat trailed off, her jaw tightening again.
“Without what?” Wanda prompted gently.
Nat finally looked at her—and there it was, that crack. “Without ruining it,” she said quietly. “Without her waking up one day and realizing I’m not—”
She stopped herself, but Wanda had already heard it. “…Not what?” she asked softly.
Nat’s gaze dropped again, her voice barely above a murmur. “Not worth it.”
The room went still. Not silent—the boys were still making soft, happy noises—but the weight of the words settled between them. Wanda leaned forward slightly, her expression unwavering. “Nat.”
Nat didn’t look up.
“She knows who you are.”
“That’s the problem,” Nat muttered.
“No,” Wanda said gently, but firmly. “That’s the point.”
Nat’s fingers curled slightly against her own palm.
“You think she doesn’t know your past?” Wanda continued. “That she hasn’t already chosen you with all of it?”
Nat’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Knowing and living with it are different things.”
Wanda nodded slowly. “They are.”
That made Nat glance up.
Wanda’s voice softened, but didn’t lose its certainty. “But you don’t get to decide for her how she’ll feel about you.”
Nat stilled.
“You’re making that choice for her before she even has the chance,” Wanda added quietly.
Tommy shifted in her lap, reaching again toward Nat, his fingers brushing against her hand like he was trying to pull her back into the moment. Nat looked down at him, at Billy, at the ease in this room.
“…You make it sound simple,” she said.
Wanda shook her head. “It’s not.” A small, knowing smile touched her lips—soft, a little self-aware. “I messed up with Y/N when we first met,” she added quietly. “You know that.”
Nat’s eyes flicked up to hers, just briefly. Of course she knew. Everyone did.
Wanda let out a small breath, her gaze dropping for a moment before lifting again. “I pushed her away. I denied everything. I told myself it was easier that way… safer.” Her fingers brushed absently over Tommy’s back, grounding herself in the present. “I thought if she really saw me—everything I was, everything I’d done—she would leave.” A pause. Her voice softened. “I thought it was just a matter of time.”
Nat didn’t interrupt. Didn’t look away either.
“She didn’t,” Wanda said, meeting her eyes again. “She stayed. Not because she had to—” Her expression warmed, something steady and certain settling in her chest. “Because she chose to.”
The room felt quieter after that. Not empty—just still. Like the words had settled somewhere deeper than either of them expected. Wanda let the silence sit for a moment—soft, thoughtful—before her gaze shifted back to Nat. “…Can I ask you something?” she said gently.
Nat huffed faintly. “You’re going to anyway.”
Wanda’s lips twitched. “Why do you think it was easier before?”
That made Nat pause. Not defensive—just… caught. Her jaw tightened just a fraction. “Because it didn’t mean anything.”
Wanda didn’t argue right away. Didn’t dismiss it. She just studied her for a second—quiet, knowing. “…Are you sure?” she asked softly.
Nat didn’t answer.
Tommy shifted in Wanda’s lap, reaching again toward Nat, his small hand brushing against her sleeve like he was trying to pull her back into the moment. Billy stayed close against Wanda’s side, his fingers curling lightly into her shirt. Wanda continued, her voice calm, but certain. “I think it mattered,” she said. “Maybe not in the way it does now. Maybe not in a way you let yourself understand.”
Nat’s gaze flickered.
“But I don’t think it was nothing,” Wanda added. “Not for you. Not for her.”
A quiet beat passed.
“…You don’t just forget something like that. Not when it’s real. Not when it’s your soulmate.”
Nat exhaled slowly through her nose, her eyes dropping again. “It was simpler,” she muttered. “No expectations. No—” she gestured vaguely “—this.”
“This?” Wanda echoed gently.
Nat didn’t respond.
Wanda shifted slightly, adjusting Tommy more comfortably against her before continuing. “…It feels easier because you didn’t let it become something,” she said. “You kept it contained. Controlled.”
That word lingered—controlled. Nat’s fingers curled slightly at her side.
“And now you can’t,” Wanda finished softly.
Nat let out a quiet, humorless breath. “No.”
Wanda’s gaze softened even more. “…Nat.”
Nat looked at her, and this time she didn’t look away.
“I’m pretty sure,” Wanda said carefully, “that even then… it meant something to both of you.”
Nat’s expression flickered—just enough to give her away.
Wanda didn’t push harder. She didn’t need to.
“Maybe you were just better at pretending it didn’t,” she added.
Silence followed—heavier now, honest.
Then Wanda spoke again, quieter but steadier. “Trust me,” she said, her thumb brushing gently over Tommy’s back and fingers brushing Billy’s hair, “I know how difficult it is to deny your soulmate bond.”
That landed. Nat’s shoulders stilled. Because Wanda wasn’t guessing—she knew.
“I told myself it wasn’t real,” Wanda continued. “That I could ignore it. That I could choose something else and be fine.”
Her voice softened. “And you saw where that got me.”
A small pause.
“I almost lost Y/N…”
Nat swallowed. Didn’t argue. Didn’t deflect. Because this time, there wasn’t really anything to hide behind.
Wanda leaned back slightly, her expression warm but unwavering. “You don’t have to rush,” she said gently. “You don’t have to become someone you’re not overnight.”
A beat.
“But you also don’t have to keep pretending this doesn’t matter.”
Tommy let out a soft, happy sound, still completely at ease. Billy shifted closer.
And Nat—
For the first time—didn’t look like she was trying to run from it anymore.
---
Nat stayed quiet for a long moment after that. Not tense, not closed off—just thinking. Tommy was still half-leaning toward her, small fingers grabbing at the fabric of her sleeve like he had claimed it as his, while Billy watched before slowly reaching out again, this time resting his hand more firmly against Nat’s wrist. Neither of them hesitated, neither of them questioned—they just accepted her.
Nat looked down at them, something unreadable flickering across her face before settling into something softer. “…They don’t think about it,” she murmured.
Wanda tilted her head slightly. “About what?”
Nat glanced up, then back at the boys. “What I’ve done. What I was.”
Tommy responded by trying to chew on her sleeve. Billy blinked at her like she’d said something completely irrelevant. Wanda’s lips curved faintly. “No,” she said gently. “They don’t.”
Nat let out a quiet breath. “…Maria does.”
Wanda didn’t argue that, didn’t dismiss it.
“She knows,” Nat continued, her voice lower now. “She knows everything. Or enough.”
“And she’s still there,” Wanda pointed out softly.
Nat’s jaw tightened slightly. “For now.”
Wanda’s expression didn’t change, but there was something firmer in her voice when she spoke again. “You keep saying that like she’s waiting for a reason to leave.”
Nat didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
Wanda shifted slightly, carefully moving Tommy so she could free one hand. She reached out then—not fast, not forceful—just enough to gently tap Nat’s wrist where Billy’s hand still rested. “Look at me,” she said softly.
Nat hesitated, then did.
“You’re not giving her a choice,” Wanda continued. “You’re deciding how this ends before it even gets the chance to begin.”
Nat frowned slightly. “That’s not—”
“It is,” Wanda said, not harsh but steady. “You’re holding yourself back so you don’t risk losing her.” A pause. “…But you’re also not letting her fully have you.”
That landed harder than the rest. Nat looked away first this time, her voice dropping. “…I don’t know how to do that.”
Wanda’s expression softened immediately. “I didn’t either,” she said quietly.
Nat huffed faintly. “You figured it out.”
Wanda shook her head. “No. I stopped trying to control it.”
That made Nat glance back at her. Wanda’s gaze was calm, certain. “I stopped deciding for her,” she explained. “Stopped assuming I knew what she would do if she saw all of me.” Her hand drifted back to Tommy, grounding herself again. “I let her choose.”
Silence followed—soft, heavy, real.
Nat’s fingers flexed slightly at her side before she let out a slow breath. “…And if she chooses wrong?” she asked quietly.
Wanda’s lips curved just a little. “She won’t.”
Nat gave her a look. “That’s not helpful.”
Wanda huffed a quiet laugh, then leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering—not softer, but more certain. “Then you survive it,” she said.
That made Nat still.
Wanda held her gaze. “Because you’ve survived worse than someone walking away,” she added gently. “But you haven’t really lived through something like this yet.” A beat. “…Letting someone stay.”
That one lingered. You could see it settle.
Nat didn’t respond right away. Her eyes drifted down again—to the boys. Tommy was still smiling, still trying to engage her like she was part of his world without question. Billy’s hand hadn’t moved from her wrist—still there, still steady. Nat swallowed. “…She makes it easy,” she admitted, almost under her breath.
Wanda smiled softly. “That’s not a bad thing.”
Nat shook her head slightly. “It is when I don’t know how to meet her there.”
Wanda watched her for a moment, then—“You already are.”
Nat frowned faintly. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
“That’s because you’re measuring it against something you think you should be,” Wanda said. “Not what you actually are.”
Nat didn’t argue, didn’t agree either. She just listened.
Wanda shifted slightly, easing back into a more relaxed position, her voice softening again. “You don’t have to become someone new for her,” she said. “You just have to stop holding yourself back from her.” A pause. “…There’s a difference.”
Nat let that sit, let it settle. And for the first time since she walked in, she didn’t look like she was bracing for impact—she looked like she was considering stepping forward instead.
“…I don’t know what to say to her,” she admitted finally.
Wanda smiled—warm, knowing. “You don’t need the perfect words.”
Nat gave her a skeptical look. “That sounds like something Y/N would say.”
Wanda huffed softly. “It’s something she told me.”
That got the smallest reaction out of Nat—a flicker of amusement.
Wanda leaned forward just a little, her voice gentle but sure. “Just tell her the truth,” she said. A beat. “Tell her you’re scared.”
Nat immediately shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
Wanda laughed quietly. “Okay,” she conceded. “Then don’t say it like that.”
Nat crossed her arms slightly, guarded again—but not closed. “…Then how?”
Wanda’s smile softened. “Tell her you don’t want to keep your distance anymore.”
That made Nat pause—actually pause.
Wanda continued, watching her carefully. “Tell her you want to try,” she added. “That you don’t know how to do it perfectly—but you want to do it with her.”
Silence followed, longer this time—but not heavy, not suffocating. Just full.
Nat looked down again—at the boys, at the way they leaned into her without question, at the way nothing about this felt forced. And something in her expression shifted. Subtle, but real.
“…She’ll say yes,” Wanda added quietly.
Nat glanced up. “…You sound pretty sure.”
Wanda’s smile didn’t waver. “I am.”
A beat.
“…Because she already has.”
Nat didn’t respond right away. Her gaze lingered on Wanda for a second longer—like she was about to say something else, or maybe admit something she wasn’t used to putting into words.
But then the low rumble of a car pulled into the driveway.
All of them reacted. Wanda’s head turned toward the window instantly, her expression softening in recognition. “…About time,” she murmured, already shifting.
In her arms, Tommy perked up immediately, his whole body lighting up with excitement, little hands flapping as if he could already see who it was. Billy followed—quieter, but just as eager—his head turning toward the sound, a soft, anticipatory noise leaving him.
“They know,” Wanda said with a small smile, pushing herself to her feet. Both boys were already squirming in her arms, energized now, their excitement building by the second.
Nat watched the shift happen—the way they reacted, the way Wanda’s entire presence warmed just from the sound of that car. It was instinctive. Effortless. Home.
The front door opened a moment later.
“Wands?” Y/N’s voice called out, casual, familiar.
“In here!” Wanda called back, already making her way toward the entryway, the twins bouncing slightly in her hold as they grew more restless.
The second Y/N stepped inside, arms full of grocery bags, everything else stopped. Her eyes landed on them—and just like that, her entire face lit up.
“There are my boys—”
The bags barely made it to the floor before she was moving, quick and sure, closing the distance in seconds. “Hey, hey—missed you,” she murmured, her voice softening completely as she reached for them.
Wanda didn’t even protest as Y/N carefully took both twins from her arms like she had done it a thousand times. Tommy immediately grabbed onto her shirt, squealing, while Billy leaned into her, small hands clutching gently.
Y/N laughed under her breath, pressing kisses over and over against their cheeks, their foreheads—wherever she could reach. “Yeah, yeah, I missed you too,” she whispered, like they had actually said it. Tommy responded with an excited babble, Billy with a soft, content sound as he nuzzled closer.
Wanda watched them, something warm and steady settling in her chest, the corners of her lips lifting without her even realizing. After a moment, Y/N leaned down, still holding both boys securely, and pressed a soft kiss to Wanda’s lips.
“Missed you,” she murmured against her.
Wanda smiled into it. “You were gone an hour.”
“Too long.”
Wanda huffed quietly, but didn’t argue.
Then Y/N’s gaze shifted—past Wanda, to the living room, where Nat was still standing.
A beat.
“…Romanoff,” Y/N said, one brow lifting slightly, a hint of amusement slipping into her tone. “You break in again?”
Nat leaned back against the couch like she had always been there. “Door was unlocked.”
“Suspicious.”
“You should really work on that.”
Wanda rolled her eyes softly, stepping aside to give Y/N space as she adjusted the twins more comfortably in her arms. “They let her in,” Wanda said.
Y/N glanced down at the boys, who were still very occupied with her, then back at Nat. “Of course they did,” she said lightly. “No survival instincts.”
Tommy squealed like he disagreed. Billy blinked.
Nat’s lips twitched faintly.
Y/N shifted her weight slightly, bouncing them both once, effortlessly. “So,” she added, glancing back at Nat as she carefully passed the twins back into Wanda’s arms, “you staying for lunch?”
Tommy made a small protesting sound at being transferred, his hands still reaching for Y/N. Billy followed more quietly, but his eyes stayed locked on her. “I’ll be right there,” Y/N murmured, brushing a quick kiss to both their heads before stepping away.
Nat leaned back slightly against the couch, watching the easy exchange, the way it all flowed without effort. “…Depends,” she said. “What are you making?”
Y/N scoffed lightly as she bent to pick up the grocery bags. “Wow. No hello, no thanks for the invitation—straight to judging the menu.”
Nat shrugged. “I like to manage expectations.”
Wanda huffed a quiet laugh, adjusting the twins more comfortably against her as Tommy continued to twist slightly in her hold, still energized, while Billy settled against her chest, content. “It’s whatever she decided was ‘essential’ at the store,” Wanda said lightly.
“Hey,” Y/N called over her shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen, bags in both hands. “Everything I bought is necessary.”
“You said that about the baby shoes,” Wanda reminded her.
“They were necessary.”
“Detka, the boys cannot walk yet.”
“They will.”
Nat’s lips twitched faintly as she pushed off the couch, following them more slowly toward the kitchen. “Sounds like a solid plan,” she muttered.
Y/N disappeared into the kitchen, the soft sounds of bags being set down and cabinets opening filling the space almost immediately.
“Stay,” Wanda added, glancing at Nat as she shifted Tommy slightly higher on her hip. “You already came all this way.”
Nat hesitated—just for a second—then gave a small nod. “…Yeah. I’ll stay.”
From the kitchen, Y/N’s voice carried easily. “Good. Because I bought too much food.”
“That’s not new,” Wanda called back.
“You know I burn more calories than you, babe,” Y/N shot back easily.
They moved into the kitchen together, the space instantly feeling smaller, warmer, fuller. Y/N set the bags down on the counter—and then, in a blur, everything was gone. Cabinets opened and shut in rapid succession, containers shifted, produce washed and put away, shelves organized in seconds. By the time the motion stopped, the kitchen looked like nothing had ever been out of place.
Y/N leaned back against the counter, satisfied. “See? Efficient.”
Wanda shook her head, smiling despite herself as she stepped closer. “Show off.”
“Always.”
Tommy let out an excited sound at the familiar energy, his body wiggling in Wanda’s arms. Billy blinked up at Y/N, already calmer—but watching her closely. Wanda shifted, then gently passed both boys back to her. “Here,” she said softly. “They’ve been waiting.”
Y/N didn’t even try to hide the way her face softened as she took them. “Yeah?” she murmured, settling one on each hip with practiced ease. “Miss me that much?” Tommy answered with immediate enthusiasm, grabbing onto her shirt. Billy leaned into her, small hand curling lightly against her collar. Y/N laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to each of their heads. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Wanda lingered for just a second, watching them—then turned toward the counter, already pulling things out for lunch. “I’ll start something simple,” she said, moving with that same quiet ease she had grown into.
Behind her, Y/N stayed where she was for a moment, just holding them—letting herself have it. The warmth, the weight, the way they fit against her like they belonged there.
Then her gaze shifted—to Nat, still nearby, still watching.
Y/N tilted her head slightly, one brow lifting. “So,” she started casually, bouncing Tommy once as he squirmed, “how are things with—”
She paused, just for a fraction of a second. Her eyes flicked toward Wanda. And Wanda didn’t look up—but the connection was there, a quiet, familiar brush in the back of her mind.
Not yet.
Y/N’s expression didn’t change—not outwardly—but when she looked back at Nat, the question shifted smoothly. “—the compound?” she finished instead. “Anything explode while I was gone?”
Nat noticed. Of course she did. Her eyes flicked briefly between them, catching the adjustment, the silent understanding—but she didn’t call it out. “…No explosions,” she said, tone even. “Disappointing, I know.”
Y/N huffed. “You’re slacking.”
“Trying something new.”
“Don’t. It doesn’t suit you.”
Nat’s lips twitched faintly.
Y/N shifted her weight slightly, adjusting Billy higher as he settled more comfortably against her shoulder. “So what’s the damage?” she continued. “Stark still pretending he’s in charge?”
“Always.”
“Rogers still pretending he isn’t?”
Nat let out a quiet breath—almost a laugh. “Also always.”
Y/N nodded like that made perfect sense.
Behind them, Wanda moved around the kitchen, listening without looking like she was, the rhythm of her movements steady and familiar as she prepped.
“…You coming by this week?” Nat asked after a moment.
Y/N shrugged lightly. “Maybe. Depends if they’ll let me leave these two without filing a formal complaint.”
Tommy squealed. Billy blinked, then made a soft sound.
Nat glanced at them, then back at Y/N. “They’d survive.”
Y/N looked down at them like she was considering that very seriously. “…I don’t know,” she said. “I’m the one who won’t survive.”
Tommy grabbed onto her collar again like he was proving a point.
Nat’s expression softened—just a fraction, before rolling her eyes. And for a moment, she drifted. Not here, not in the kitchen, not with the quiet hum of Wanda moving around them or the soft weight of the twins in Y/N’s arms.
Somewhere else.
Quieter. Warmer.
Maria.
Standing in a space like this—not the compound, not sterile, not temporary. A home. Something lived-in. Something theirs. And a baby—small, laughing, reaching. Maria’s hand steady at its back, her voice softer than anyone ever got to hear, looking at Nat like she belonged there.
Nat blinked. The image snapped, gone as quickly as it came.
Her shoulders stiffened slightly, her breath catching just enough for her to notice it—and then a faint flush crept up her neck. “…yeah,” she muttered under her breath, like she was dismissing something no one else had seen.
But Wanda had. Of course she had. The thought hadn’t been loud—but it had been clear. Clear enough. Her lips curved into the smallest, quietest smile as she kept her focus on the counter, giving Nat the space to recover without calling it out.
Y/N noticed too—not the thought, but the shift. The pause. The color rising in Nat’s face. Her brow lifted slightly, curiosity flickering—but she didn’t push, didn’t tease. Just noted it.
Wanda glanced over her shoulder then, voice light, natural. “Detka, can you grab that from the top cabinet?”
Y/N looked over. “You can literally move things with your mind.”
“Mm,” Wanda hummed, not even pretending to argue. “But I want you to.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly, then smirked. “Of course you do.”
She stepped closer, shifting the twins carefully—then, without warning, placed both of them into Nat’s arms. “Hold them,” Y/N said casually.
Nat froze. “…You just—”
Too late.
Tommy was already settling against her, grabbing onto her shirt like he’d done it a hundred times. Billy followed, quieter but just as steady, leaning into her chest like he belonged there.
Nat instinctively adjusted her hold—secure, careful. Automatic. Like muscle memory.
Y/N was already reaching up into the cabinet. “Thanks,” she added over her shoulder.
Nat looked down at the boys, at the way they fit, at how easily they settled. No hesitation. No doubt. Just trust. Her grip tightened—just slightly. Not out of tension—out of something else. Something quieter. Deeper.
Wanda watched her for a second longer, that soft smile still there—knowing, but gentle. Then she turned back to what she was doing.
And just like that, the moment passed.
But not really.
Because something had already taken root.
And this time—Nat didn’t push it away.
---
Maria’s POV
Maria Hill was not easily distracted. That was something people learned quickly about her—usually the hard way. She didn’t miss details, didn’t lose focus, didn’t sit at her desk staring at the same report for ten minutes without actually reading a single word.
Except today.
She exhaled quietly, eyes still on the tablet in her hand, though the lines of text had long since stopped registering. Tactical summaries, mission logs, debriefs—normally, she would’ve been through all of it by now, already three steps ahead of whatever came next. Instead, her thumb hovered over the screen, still, unmoving.
“…Right,” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than anything, before forcing her eyes back to the top of the report. She made it three lines.
Then—Nat. Again.
Maria leaned back slightly in her chair, pressing the tablet flat against the desk like that might ground her back into focus. It didn’t. Because it wasn’t just a passing thought. It hadn’t been for a while now. Things with Natasha were… good. Better than Maria had ever expected them to be, if she was being honest. They went out—quiet places, usually. Nothing flashy, nothing that drew attention. Coffee, dinners, walks where they talked about everything and nothing at the same time. Sometimes they just sat together—no pressure, no expectations.
And Maria had let it stay there. Careful. Measured. Because she knew Natasha—knew what pushing would do. So she didn’t. She gave her space, let her come forward on her own terms.
And she had. Slowly. Subtly.
But Maria noticed everything—the way Nat stayed a little longer now, the way her shoulders didn’t stay as tense, the way her gaze lingered sometimes like she was thinking something she wasn’t ready to say out loud.
Maria’s jaw tightened slightly as she leaned forward again, picking the tablet back up like she was going to try again. She didn’t.
Her eyes drifted instead—to the edge of her desk, to her wrist, to the name etched there.
Natasha
It had burned the first time. Sharp. Unmistakable. Unavoidable. And Maria had never doubted it—not once.
Nat had. Still did, sometimes. Not the bond, not really—but what came with it.
Maria exhaled slowly, setting the tablet down again. “…You’re killing me, Romanoff,” she murmured under her breath. Not frustrated. Not exactly.
Just… waiting.
Because she wanted more. There was no point pretending otherwise. She wanted to close that space between them—the one Nat kept just enough distance to maintain. Wanted to reach for her without second-guessing if it would be too much. Wanted to stop wondering if every step forward was one Nat might pull back from later.
She wanted all of it—not halfway, not careful, not contained.
But she wasn’t sure where they stood.
That was the part that got her.
Because Nat didn’t say it, didn’t define it, didn’t give her something clear to hold onto. She just stayed—close enough to feel, not close enough to fully have.
Maria rubbed a hand lightly over the back of her neck, exhaling again as she leaned back in her chair. “At least she’s not running,” she muttered quietly. That was something.
“Who’s not running?”
Maria jolted. The tablet in her hand slipped—she caught it just before it hit the desk, fingers tightening around it a little too fast, a little too obvious. “—No one,” she said immediately.
Too immediately. The word came out clipped, automatic. Controlled.
Across from her, Fury didn’t even blink. He just stood there, one eye fixed on her, expression flat—borderline bored, like he had walked into exactly what he expected to find.
Silence stretched.
Maria straightened slightly in her chair, setting the tablet down with more care this time, her posture snapping back into something sharper, more familiar.
Fury didn’t move. Didn’t look impressed.
“…Is it Romanoff?” he asked. Not curious. Not probing. Just certain.
Maria didn’t answer right away. Didn’t need to. Because the second of hesitation said enough.
Fury huffed quietly through his nose, shifting his weight just slightly. “I don’t remember assigning you to overthink your personal life during work hours,” he said dryly.
Maria’s jaw tightened just a fraction. “I’m not.”
“Mm.”
He didn’t believe her. Didn’t even try to pretend he did.
“She’s not exactly known for standing still,” Fury continued, almost conversationally. “So if she’s not running, I assume that’s what has you distracted.”
Maria leaned back again, slower this time, folding her arms loosely. “I’m not distracted.”
Fury raised a brow.
Maria held his gaze.
A beat.
Then—“…She’s different,” Maria said, before she could stop herself.
Fury’s expression didn’t change. But he was listening.
“She’s… trying,” Maria added, quieter now. “And I don’t know what that means yet.”
Fury tilted his head slightly, considering her for a moment. Then—“If you’re waiting for Romanoff to hand you a clear answer,” he said, voice even, “you’re going to be waiting a long time.”
Maria huffed faintly. “I figured.”
Another pause.
Fury’s gaze didn’t waver. “So don’t,” he said simply.
Maria frowned slightly. “…Don’t what?”
“Don’t wait,” Fury replied. “You’re both trained to read situations. You already know what this is.”
Maria’s eyes flickered, just slightly. “That’s not the problem.”
“No,” Fury said. “It rarely is.”
Silence settled again, heavier this time.
Then Maria exhaled quietly, looking away for a second before glancing back at him. “…If I push too far, she’ll pull back.”
Fury shrugged. “Then don’t push,” he said.
Maria blinked, caught off guard. “…That’s your advice?”
“That’s not advice,” Fury replied flatly. “That’s common sense.”
A beat.
Then, a little more pointed—“Make a move. Don’t corner her.”
Maria went still.
Fury turned slightly, already done with the conversation. “She’s not running,” he added over his shoulder. “That’s your opening.”
And just like that, he walked away—leaving Maria alone again with her thoughts, and now a decision she couldn’t ignore anymore.
Maria stayed where she was for a moment after Fury walked away. The room felt quieter now. Not actually silent—agents still moved in the background, footsteps, distant voices, the low hum of work continuing—but for her, everything had narrowed down to one thing.
A decision.
She exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders back before reaching for her phone. Her thumb hovered over the screen for a second, then she opened the message thread.
It didn’t take long. Maria wasn’t someone who overcomplicated things once she *decided*.
Maria: Dinner tonight? Same place. No pressure.
She stared at it for half a second, then hit send. Just like that. No overthinking. No second-guessing. Her hand dropped slightly, phone still loosely held—but her other hand lifted, almost without thinking. Her thumb brushed over the name on her wrist.
Natasha
The motion was slow, intentional—not testing, not questioning. Just reaching.
For a moment—nothing.
Then a soft warmth bloomed beneath her skin, subtle at first, then clearer. A gentle, unmistakable tingle spreading from the name across her wrist. Maria stilled, her breath catching—just slightly.
Nat.
Not words, not a message—but an answer. A response through the bond itself.
Maria’s lips curved before she could stop them—small, soft, real. “She’s not running,” she murmured again, quieter this time.
But now there was something else in it. Something steadier.
“Stop smiling like a stupid person and let’s go.”
Maria blinked, the moment snapping just slightly as she glanced up. Fury stood a few steps away, already looking like he regretted having eyes.
“…You were watching that?” she asked, one brow lifting.
“I wish I wasn’t.”
Maria huffed faintly, but the smile didn’t quite leave. She pushed herself up from her chair, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Where are we going?” she asked, falling into step.
Fury didn’t slow. “Somewhere you can focus.”
Maria glanced down once—just briefly—at her wrist. The warmth had faded, but not completely.
“…I am focused,” she said.
Fury didn’t even look at her. “Sure you are.”
And this time, Maria didn’t argue.
Because for once, she knew exactly where she wanted to be.
---
Nat’s POV
It had been a few days since she talked to Wanda. Not long—but long enough for the words to settle in ways Nat hadn’t expected. They didn’t feel like advice anymore. They felt like something she kept running into, no matter how she tried to move around it.
She still didn’t have a clear answer. Of course she didn’t. But—she was trying. Which was already more than she would’ve done before.
Right now, though, trying looked a lot like standing in front of her closet, pulling a shirt on—then immediately pulling it off again.
“…No.”
She tossed it aside and reached for another. This was ridiculous. She didn’t do this. Didn’t stand around thinking about what to wear for dinner, didn’t care enough to second-guess it. And yet—she paused, glancing at herself in the mirror again. Adjusted the shirt. Then her jacket.
“…Get a grip,” she muttered.
Her eyes flicked down, almost automatically, to her wrist.
Maria
The name sat there—steady, quiet, constant. Nat’s thumb brushed over it once—just once—before she dropped her hand.
Her gaze shifted toward the clock. “…Shit.”
Ten minutes.
She moved instantly after that, grabbing her boots, pulling them on, checking herself one last time before heading for the door. No more overthinking. No more standing still.
Just move.
The knock came just as she reached it—sharp, perfectly timed.
Nat froze for half a second. Then opened the door.
Maria stood there—composed, as always.
But—
Holding flowers.
Nat blinked. Actually blinked. Her brain stalled just enough for it to show.
“…What is that?” she asked, staring at the bouquet like it had personally offended her.
Maria’s lips curved, just slightly. “Flowers,” she said calmly.
“I know what they are,” Nat muttered, then gestured vaguely at them. “Why do you have them?”
Maria’s expression didn’t change—but there was something in her eyes now. Something amused, something that had already noticed.
“…For you.”
That did it. A faint flush crept up Nat’s neck before she could stop it. She looked away almost immediately, clearing her throat.
“…This is not my style.”
Maria hummed softly, clearly not convinced. “No?”
“No.”
A beat.
Then Maria shifted slightly, lifting the bouquet just a little. “Alright,” she said easily. “I can bring them back.”
She turned—just enough to make it believable.
Nat moved before she could think about it. “Give me that.”
She took them from Maria’s hands in one quick motion. Too quick. Too automatic.
Maria stilled.
Then smiled—wider this time.
Nat glanced down at the flowers in her hands like she was reconsidering every decision that led to this moment.
“…Don’t read into it,” she muttered.
Maria didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Because the blush was still there.
And Nat—for once—didn’t try very hard to hide it.
---
Maria drove. Of course she did.
Nat didn’t question it when she slid into the passenger seat, flowers now resting awkwardly in her lap like she still hadn’t decided what to do with them. The engine started, smooth and quiet, and they pulled away without much conversation at first. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It never was. Just quiet in that way that meant neither of them felt the need to fill it.
Nat glanced out the window, then back at the road, then—“…This isn’t the way to the usual place.”
Maria didn’t look at her right away. She kept her eyes forward, hands steady on the wheel. “I know.”
Nat frowned slightly. “…We always go there.”
“I thought we could change it a little,” Maria said simply.
A beat.
Nat leaned back in her seat, folding her arms loosely. “…You’re full of surprises today.”
Maria’s lips curved faintly. “You noticed.”
Nat didn’t answer that, but she didn’t complain either.
When the car finally slowed and pulled into a parking spot, Nat glanced around, taking in the unfamiliar restaurant—nicer than their usual, quieter, dim lighting spilling out through the windows.
“…You planned this,” she said.
Maria turned the engine off. “I did.”
Nat didn’t say anything else, but something in her expression softened just slightly. Before she could move, Maria was already stepping out of the car.
Nat reached for the door—and it opened.
She froze.
Maria stood there, one hand on the door, waiting. For her.
Nat blinked up at her. “…You don’t have to do that.”
“I know…But I want to.”
That did it again—that faint warmth creeping up her neck, impossible to ignore. Nat stepped out, brushing past her just slightly, clearing her throat. “…Thanks.”
Maria smiled. Soft. Not teasing this time.
They started walking toward the entrance, side by side.
Maria reached for her hand. Simple. Natural. No hesitation. Her fingers slipped between Nat’s, intertwining like it had always been that way.
Nat’s breath caught, just slightly. Her instinct was to pull back, to keep that line.
But—she didn’t.
Instead, her grip tightened—just a fraction. And her heart started beating faster. Warmth bloomed against her wrist, soft, familiar—the bond reacting.
Nat swallowed, keeping her gaze forward, forcing her expression into something neutral, controlled, like nothing was happening—like her pulse hadn’t just picked up, like her skin wasn’t still tingling where Maria’s hand held hers.
Maria didn’t call it out. Didn’t comment. She just smiled softly.
They walked in together like that, hand in hand.
The restaurant was quiet, warm, dimly lit in a way that made everything feel a little more private. They were seated quickly, tucked into a corner that gave them space from the rest of the room.
Nat let go of Maria’s hand when they sat—but only because she had to. They ordered without much trouble—something light, something easy. And for a while—it was normal. Familiar.
Nat leaned back slightly in her chair, falling into what she knew. Maria watched her for a moment, taking in the shift—the way Nat settled into something safer, something practiced—before she spoke again, casual but not careless.
“Have you heard from Wanda and Y/N?” she asked.
Nat’s gaze flicked up, just slightly surprised by the turn. “…Yeah.”
Maria reached for her glass, her fingers brushing the rim as she waited, giving Nat space to continue if she wanted.
Nat exhaled lightly, her shoulders easing just a fraction. “They’re good,” she said. “Same as always.” A small pause. “The boys are—” she huffed faintly, almost amused, “—so adorable.”
Maria’s expression softened immediately at that, something warmer slipping through her usual composure. “Yeah?” she asked.
Nat didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached for her phone. A second later, she unlocked it and turned the screen toward Maria, leaning forward just slightly across the table. “There,” she said, almost casual—but there was something else under it. Pride.
The screen lit up with pictures. Tommy mid-laugh, mouth open, eyes bright, hands reaching for something just out of frame. Billy calmer, wide-eyed, nestled against Wanda’s shoulder, one tiny hand gripping her shirt. Another—both of them in Y/N’s arms, pressed close, safe, happy.
Maria leaned in a little closer, her gaze softening further as she took them in. “They’re… really cute,” she admitted quietly.
Nat’s lips twitched. “Yeah.”
A beat.
“I went a few days ago,” she added, almost like it just came out.
Maria glanced up at her. “You did?”
Nat nodded once. “Yeah.”
There was more there—Maria could tell—but she didn’t push.
Instead—“…Next time you go,” Maria said, her tone easy but careful, “can I come with you?”
That made Nat pause. Not long—but long enough to feel it.
Then—she smiled. Soft. Real. “…Yeah,” she said. Simple, but certain.
Maria’s lips curved in return—subtle, but unmistakably pleased. She shifted slightly in her seat, then reached forward across the table. Slow. Intentional. Giving Nat every chance to pull away.
Nat didn’t.
Maria’s hand found hers, fingers slipping between hers again, just like before—natural, like it belonged there. And instantly, the bond reacted. Warmth flared against Nat’s wrist—stronger this time. Not subtle, not quiet. A pulse of heat that spread up her arm, settling deep in her chest.
Her breath caught. Her heart kicked harder, faster. She didn’t pull away. Didn’t break the contact, even when every instinct told her how easy it would be to. Instead, her fingers tightened slightly around Maria’s. Maria felt it—of course she did.
Her thumb brushed once, gently, over the back of Nat’s hand. Not asking, not pushing. Just there.
Nat forced her expression to stay steady, neutral, controlled—even as her pulse refused to follow.
Maria watched her for a second, then smiled—soft, knowing.
And this time—Nat didn’t look away.
---
Dinner went like it always did—easy, familiar. They talked about the compound: Stark breaking something he definitely shouldn’t have touched, Rogers pretending he wasn’t keeping track of everyone, Sam trying to get people to train on his schedule instead of theirs. Maria made a dry comment, Nat answered with something sharper, and it flowed without effort like it always had.
But underneath it, something had shifted. Not loud, not obvious—just there. In the way Maria’s eyes lingered a second longer than usual, in the way Nat didn’t pull her hand away when their fingers brushed again, in the pauses that felt a little heavier—not uncomfortable, just full.
When they finished, Maria paid. Nat didn’t argue, didn’t even make a comment—just watched her for a second, then stood when she did.
Outside, the air was cooler, the night quieter, and when Maria reached for her hand again, Nat let her. No hesitation this time. Their fingers intertwined as they walked back to the car, and Nat felt it again—that faint warmth at her wrist, the bond reacting like it always did when they got too close, too honest. She didn’t pull away, didn’t even think about it.
The drive back was quiet. Not empty—just full of things neither of them had said yet. Nat kept her eyes forward most of the time, but she was aware of everything: Maria’s hand on the wheel, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the way the space between them didn’t feel like distance anymore.
When they reached the compound, Nat expected it to end there—a goodnight, maybe something more.
Instead, Maria got out and walked with her. All the way to her room. Side by side, close enough that Nat could feel her presence without touching.
They stopped at the door.
Nat hesitated, just for a second, her hand on the handle. Wanda’s voice flickered in the back of her mind.
You don’t need the perfect words.
Nat exhaled. “…Do you want to come in?”
Maria blinked, surprised—just a little. “…Yeah,” she said.
Nat opened the door, let her in, closed it behind them. And suddenly, it was quiet. Different from before. Not the easy quiet of dinner—this one felt aware, like the room itself was waiting. Nat shrugged off her jacket, setting it aside without really thinking. Maria stepped in slower, taking in the space like she hadn’t been there in a while. They ended up sitting—not too close, not too far.
Nat didn’t know what to do with her hands. That was new. She rested them against her thighs, fingers flexing slightly as she stared ahead, then down, then anywhere but Maria.
Wanda’s words echoed again.
Just tell her the truth.
Nat swallowed. Her throat felt tight.
“Nat.”
Her head lifted.
Maria was already looking at her—not guarded, not distant. Just open.
Maria shifted closer, just enough, and reached for her hand. Nat let her take it, didn’t even think about pulling away.
“I’ve been thinking,” Maria said. Her voice was steady, but softer than Nat was used to—not weak, just honest.
Nat stayed still, listening.
“I know you,” Maria continued. “Not everything, not all of it—but enough.” Her thumb brushed slowly over the back of Nat’s hand. “Enough to know when you’re holding something back.”
Nat’s chest tightened.
“I haven’t pushed,” Maria said. “Because I know what that does. I know you need space to get there on your own.” A small pause. “And I meant that. I still do.”
Nat glanced down at their hands, at the way Maria held hers—like it wasn’t fragile, like it wasn’t temporary.
“But I need to be honest with you,” Maria added.
Nat looked up.
“I don’t just want this,” Maria said quietly. “Not just dinners, not just… these in-between moments where we pretend it’s not more than it is.” Her voice didn’t shake, but it carried something deeper now—something that settled straight into Nat’s chest. “I want more with you,” Maria said.
And this time, Nat felt it—fully.
“I want the real version of this,” Maria continued. “The one where I don’t have to wonder if you’re going to pull back tomorrow. The one where I can reach for you and know you’re not going to disappear.”
Nat’s breath caught.
“I want to wake up next to you,” Maria said, softer now. “I want to know what it’s like when this isn’t just something we fit in between everything else.”
Her thumb pressed a little more firmly against Nat’s hand.
“I want you. All of you. Not halfway.”
Nat’s heart was beating too fast now. Her wrist—warm again, the bond reacting like it always did when things got too real.
Maria exhaled slowly. “And I’m not saying this to pressure you,” she added, clear but not rushed. “I’m not asking you to be ready for everything right now.” Her eyes softened. “I won’t push you into something you’re not ready for. I won’t take that choice away from you.”
Nat felt something twist in her chest, because she believed her.
“But I am done pretending I don’t feel this,” Maria said.
That landed—hard.
“I’m done waiting for permission to want you,” she added, quieter now. “Because I already do.” A pause. “If you let me… I want to step closer.”
Nat couldn’t look away.
“You can tell me to slow down,” Maria said. “You can tell me to stop. Anytime.” Her thumb brushed gently again. “I’ll listen.”
A beat.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Silence filled the room, but it wasn’t empty—it was full of everything Maria had just given her, everything she was offering.
Nat’s chest felt tight. Too tight. Her thoughts were messy, loud—fear, guilt, want. That image from earlier flashed again—Maria, a home, something real. She looked at Maria, really looked—and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide anything. Her face gave her away. All of it. Too much. Too real.
Her hand tightened slightly in Maria’s. She inhaled slowly—not steady, not controlled, just real.
And then—she moved.
Leaning forward, closing the distance, and kissed her.
Not perfect. Not practiced. Not controlled. But honest.
Maria didn’t hesitate. The second Nat closed the distance, she met her halfway—like she had been waiting for it, like she had known this was coming and was ready when it finally did.
The kiss wasn’t slow. It wasn’t careful. It was real.
Nat felt it immediately—not just Maria’s lips against hers, but the way everything else seemed to follow. Her chest tightened, her breath caught, and her wrist—it flared. Heat blooming under her skin, sharper this time, stronger than before. Not just warmth, not just a pulse. It burned. The bond reacting. Answering.
Nat’s fingers tightened where they still held Maria’s hand, the other instinctively lifting, gripping at Maria’s jacket, pulling her closer without even realizing she was doing it. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t feel like enough.
The urge hit her all at once—sudden, overwhelming. Not just to kiss her, but to have her there, fully, close, real. No distance. No space.
Her breath broke against Maria’s lips, the kiss deepening for a second before Nat pulled back—not far, just enough. Their foreheads almost touching, their breaths still mixing, her wrist still burning, her chest still tight.
“I—” Nat started, but her voice caught.
She swallowed, her grip tightening again, like she needed something to anchor herself. Her eyes flicked down, then back up to Maria’s.
And there it was again.
Everything.
No control. No mask.
“I want you,” she said.
It came out rough. Unsteady.
Her lips brushed Maria’s again as she spoke, her voice dropping, barely more than a breath. “I want you,” she repeated, softer this time—but it hit harder. Her fingers curled into Maria’s shirt, holding on.
“I need you,” she added, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Her voice trembled, just slightly, but enough.
“With everything,” she whispered against her lips.
Nat closed her eyes for a second, her forehead pressing more firmly against Maria’s, her breath uneven as she tried to steady it—tried to hold herself together.
She wasn’t used to this. To saying it. To feeling it this openly.
Her hand tightened again. Not letting go.
The shift in the room was instantaneous. Whatever thin thread of restraint Nat had been clinging to snapped the moment she admitted it out loud. She didn't wait for Maria to respond with words; she didn't need them. She reached out, her hands sliding from Maria’s shirt up to her neck, fingers tangling into her hair with a desperate, sudden hunger.
Nat pulled her back in, her mouth crashing against Maria’s with a ferocity that stole the air right out of the room. It wasn't the tentative, exploratory kiss from moments ago. This was a claim. It was years of buried tension, months of "measured" dates, and a lifetime of running finally colliding into a single point of impact.
Maria let out a low, wrecked sound against Nat’s lips, her own hands moving with equal urgency. One hand came up to cup Nat’s jaw, her thumb digging into the line of her cheek, while the other wrapped firmly around Nat’s waist, hauling her flush against her. The contact was electric.
Nat gasped into the kiss, her body arching toward the heat of Maria’s. Every place they touched felt like it was catching fire. The "burn" at her wrist had turned into a steady, thrumming roar of energy, the soulmate bond finally allowed to overflow, saturated with the sheer intensity of what they were both feeling. Stronger than the first time they did.
Nat’s hands moved restlessly, clutching at Maria’s shoulders, pulling her closer, then closer still, until there was no space left between them. She tasted like the wine from dinner and the cold night air, but mostly she just tasted like home. Maria’s kiss turned deeper, more demanding, her tongue sliding against Nat’s in a way that made Nat’s knees go weak. Nat broke the kiss for a frantic second, her breath hitching as she buried her face in the crook of Maria’s neck. She inhaled sharply, the scent of Maria’s perfume and skin making her head spin.
"Maria," she breathed, the name a jagged prayer against her skin.
She didn't stop there. Nat began to trail hot, biting kisses along Maria’s pulse point, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. Maria’s head tilted back, a sharp intake of breath escaping her as her fingers tightened their grip on Nat’s waist, pulling her onto her lap. Nat didn't hesitate. She straddled her, her legs wrapping around Maria’s hips as she brought her mouth back to hers. The kiss was deeper now, wetter, more primal. Nat’s hands found the hem of Maria’s shirt, her cool palms sliding underneath to meet the scorching heat of Maria’s skin.
Maria groaned, a deep, vibrating sound that Nat felt in her own chest. Maria’s hands followed suit, roaming over the curve of Nat’s back, pressing her closer until the friction was almost unbearable.
There was no more "distance." No more "safely on the line." Nat leaned back just an inch, her eyes dark and blown wide with a raw, unfiltered want that would have terrified her an hour ago. Now, it just felt necessary.
Maria’s hands remained anchored to Nat’s hips, her grip firm and possessive. With a subtle shift of her strength, Maria lifted Nat slightly, the movement effortless and controlled, before pivoting them. In one fluid motion, she laid Nat back against the pillows, following her down until she was braced over her.
Maria captured her lips again, a kiss that was deep, slow, and tasted of absolute surrender. But then, with a visible effort of will, Maria pulled back just a few inches. Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving against Nat’s, but her eyes—sharp and searching—locked onto Nat’s.
"Nat," Maria rasped, her voice low and tight with the effort of holding back. "Are you sure? I need to know you’re with me on this. All the way."
Instead of answering with words, Nat met her gaze with an intensity that made Maria’s heart hammer against her ribs. Slowly, deliberately, Nat reached for the top button of her own shirt. Her eyes never wavered from Maria’s as her fingers worked the small closure, popping it free.
Maria went absolutely still. She watched, her jaw tight, a raw hunger flickering in her gaze that she no longer tried to mask. Nat’s fingers moved to the second button. She wasn't rushing. She was taking her time, her movements fluid and agonizingly seductive. As the fabric began to part, revealing the pale curve of her collarbone and the rapid pulse at the base of her throat, Nat’s lips curved into a ghost of a smile—one that was purely for Maria.
The third button gave way. Nat arched her back slightly, the movement intentional, causing the shirt to flare open just a fraction more. The heat from the bond was a roar now, a physical presence between them that made the very air hum. Maria’s eyes darkened, tracking every millimeter of skin being unveiled. Her hands, still braced on the bed, flexed against the sheets, the knuckles white. She looked like a woman dying of thirst watching a storm break over the horizon.
Button by button, Nat continued her slow, rhythmic descent. There was a power in the silence, a deliberate choosing of this moment that spoke louder than any verbal "yes" ever could. By the time her fingers reached the middle of her chest, the message was unmistakable: she wasn't just sure; she was exactly where she was meant to be.
Nat’s fingers stilled on the final button, the fabric of her shirt hanging open, barely clinging to her shoulders. She tilted her head, a stray lock of red hair falling over her eye, her gaze heavy and challenging. "What's the matter, Maria?" Nat whispered, her voice a low, sultry vibration that seemed to travel straight down Maria’s spine. "Are you just going to keep watching?"
That was the breaking point. The last thread of Maria’s legendary composure snapped. The hunger in her eyes flared into something wild and uncontrollable. In what felt like a single, blurred heartbeat, the air was filled with the sound of rustling fabric and the frantic thud of their hearts.
Nat barely had time to register the sensation of the cool air hitting her skin before the heat of Maria’s body was back, more intense than ever. One moment she was half-dressed, and in a blink, the obstacles were gone. Clothes were discarded to the floor in a desperate scramble of limbs and reaching hands, leaving nothing but skin against skin.
Maria didn't hesitate. She moved with a decisive, tactical precision that was fueled by months of repressed longing. She captured Nat’s mouth in a kiss that was almost bruising, her hands roaming over Nat’s curves as if she were trying to memorize every inch of her all over again.
Nat let out a sharp, shattered gasp when she felt Maria’s weight settle between her thighs. Before she could even wrap her mind around the sensation, Maria’s fingers found her—slick, sure, and demanding. As Maria slid deep inside her, Nat’s head hit the pillow, her back arching off the bed in a perfect, taut curve. The world dissolved into white noise and raw sensation. The "burn" at her wrist didn't just thrum anymore—it exploded, a white-hot connection that made every nerve ending in her body scream for more.
"Maria—" Nat choked out, her fingers digging into Maria’s shoulders, her nails marking the skin. Maria didn't slow down. She watched Nat’s face, watching the way her eyes rolled back and the way her lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure. There was no more distance, no more secrets, and absolutely no more looking back.
The friction was relentless, a rhythmic, driving force that made the world outside the four walls of the bedroom cease to exist. Maria’s hand was steady, her fingers curving deep inside Nat again and again, finding that internal sweet spot with a lethal, agonizing precision. Each stroke was punctuated by the wet, rhythmic sound of their bodies meeting and the hitched, broken gasps escaping Nat’s throat.
Nat was lost to it, her hips rolling instinctively against Maria’s hand, her fingers buried so deep in the sheets they were likely to tear the fabric. Just as the tension reached a screaming peak, Maria suddenly withdrew.
The sudden loss of contact made Nat let out a sharp, frustrated whine of protest, her eyes fluttering open, clouded with a daze of unfulfilled pleasure. She opened her mouth to complain, to demand Maria come back, but the words died in her throat.
Maria was looking at her, her dark eyes hooded and intense. Slowly, deliberately, she brought her fingers to her lips. She let out a low, guttural moan as she tasted Nat, her tongue swiping across her knuckles, savoring the salt and the heat of her. The sight was so raw, so unabashedly possessive, that it sent a fresh jolt of electricity straight to Nat’s core, silencing any protest she might have had.
But Maria wasn't finished. Before Nat could find her breath, Maria moved. She slid down the length of Nat’s body, her hands firm as they gripped Nat’s thighs, pushing them wide—exposing her completely. Maria didn’t hesitate; she leaned down, burying her face against the soft, swollen center of Nat’s heat.
Nat’s head snapped back against the mattress as she felt the first contact of Maria’s tongue. It was a broad, wet stroke that moved from bottom to top, followed by the sharp, flickering pressure against her clit. Maria was eating her out with a desperate, starving focus, her breath hot against Nat’s sensitive skin. As her tongue worked with a frantic, expert rhythm, Maria slid two fingers back inside her, mimicking the pace. The dual sensation was overwhelming—the internal stretch and the external, lapping friction creating a sensory overload that made Nat’s vision go dark at the edges.
“Baby—please—" Nat sobbed out, her hands flying down to tangle in Maria’s hair, her knuckles white.
Maria only groaned into her, the sound muffled against Nat’s skin, as she sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves into her mouth. She used her fingers to stretch her, opening her up further as she drank her in, relentless and greedy. Every lick was a promise, every thrust of her fingers a vow. Nat’s entire body began to tremble, the build-up so intense it felt like her blood was boiling, the bond at her wrist vibrating in a frantic, white-hot harmony with the woman who was finally, utterly, taking all of her.
The tension in the room snapped like a live wire. Under the relentless assault of Maria’s tongue and the deep, rhythmic stretch of her fingers, Nat finally broke. Her back arched violently, her heels digging into the mattress as a ragged, high-pitched cry tore from her throat. She came hard, her internal muscles pulsing in frantic, rhythmic waves against Maria’s hand. The soulmate bond didn't just thrum—it sang, a soaring, golden note of absolute completion that echoed through both of them.
Maria didn't pull away. She stayed right there, her hands steady on Nat’s trembling thighs, drinking her in. She moved with a slow, deliberate thoroughness, her tongue swiping across Nat’s sensitive skin, cleaning and savoring every drop of her release until Nat was left boneless and gasping against the pillows. Only then did Maria move up the length of her body. She looked like a predator—dark-eyed, flushed, and entirely satisfied—as she braced herself over Nat. She didn't give her a chance to recover. Maria crashed their lips together in a kiss that was bruising and possessive, tasting like the salt and heat of Nat’s own climax.
Nat’s hands were weak, her fingers fluttering against Maria’s shoulders as she tried to find her bearings. "Maria..." she whispered against her mouth, her voice a shattered wreck. Maria pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. A slow, dangerous smirk touched her lips—a look that promised a very long night.
"Don't get too comfortable, Romanoff," Maria murmured, her voice a low, gravelly vibration.
Without breaking eye contact, Maria sat back on her heels and reached for the hem of her own remaining clothes. She moved with a liquid grace, discarding the last of her barriers until she was as bare as Nat. The sight of her—strong, elegant, and looking at Nat with a hunger that hadn't even begun to be satisfied—made Nat’s breath hitch all over again.
Maria leaned down, her lips brushing against the sensitive shell of Nat’s ear, her breath hot.
"We just started."
---
Morning
Nat woke slowly.
Not with the usual sharp awareness she was used to, not with tension already coiled in her body, ready for whatever came next. This was different. Soft. Warm. Safe.
Her first real awareness wasn’t sight—it was feeling. The steady rise and fall beneath her cheek, an arm wrapped securely around her waist, fingers resting loosely against her skin like they had no intention of letting go.
Nat stilled, just for a second. Then her eyes opened. She was tangled. Close. Completely.
Maria.
The realization settled in fully—and with it, a faint heat crept up Nat’s neck. She was naked, curled against Maria like she had belonged there the entire night. And worse—she hadn’t moved. Not once. Nat swallowed slightly, her gaze flicking up carefully. Maria was still asleep. Or she looked like she was.
Nat shifted just a little, testing the space, the closeness, the reality of it. The bond at her wrist was different now. Not burning, not pulsing wildly—just humming. Soft. Steady. Content.
Nat exhaled quietly. Her hand lifted slightly, almost without thinking, resting against Maria’s arm where it was wrapped around her.
Still there. Still real.
“…You’re staring.”
Nat froze.
Maria’s voice was low, sleep-warm, amused.
Nat didn’t move. “…You were asleep.”
“Mm,” Maria hummed softly. “Was.”
A pause.
“You are so cute when you blush like that.”
Nat blinked, then immediately looked away. “…I’m not—”
“You are.”
Nat huffed under her breath, but it lacked any real bite.
Maria shifted slightly behind her, pulling her just a fraction closer—not enough to trap, just enough to keep her there. Nat didn’t resist.
“…You stayed,” Maria murmured, quieter now. Not teasing. Not joking.
Nat’s chest tightened, just a little. “…Yeah, this is my room,” she said.
Maria let out a soft, breathy laugh against the back of her shoulder.
Nat’s eyes narrowed faintly, the sound going straight through her defenses. She shifted, pushing herself up and before Maria could say anything else, Nat leaned in and bit her cheek.
Not hard. Just enough.
“Hey—” Maria huffed, half-laughing, half-protesting.
“Stop laughing,” Nat muttered, though there was no real heat behind it.
Maria’s smile didn’t fade. If anything, it softened. Her hand came up, brushing lightly along Nat’s jaw, thumb catching just under her chin.
“Make me,” she murmured.
Nat barely had time to react before Maria leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t teasing this time. Not playful. Just warm. Slow. Certain.
Nat stilled for a heartbeat—then melted into it, her hand finding Maria’s arm again, fingers curling slightly like she needed something to hold onto.
When Maria pulled back, it wasn’t far. Their foreheads brushed, breath mingling in the quiet space between them.
“…Better?” Maria asked softly.
Nat exhaled, her lips still barely parted, her voice quieter now. “…Maybe.”
Maria smiled, small and knowing, her thumb still tracing absent patterns against Nat’s skin.
The room stayed quiet.
Not empty. Not tense. Just… full.
And for once, Nat didn’t feel the need to move.
---
One Month Later
Y/N’s POV
The compound hadn’t changed—still loud, still chaotic, still full of people pretending they weren’t one bad idea away from disaster.
Y/N grinned as she walked in, Billy balanced easily against her hip, his small hand gripping her shirt like he owned it. “Alright,” she muttered, glancing around, “what’s broken this time?”
“Nothing yet,” Wanda said beside her, carrying Tommy, who was already looking around like he was ready to cause it himself.
“That’s suspicious.”
The place was decorated—not over the top, but enough. Balloons, streamers, a banner that read Happy Birthday Morgan! slightly crooked because, knowing Tony, he had insisted on doing it himself.
And in the middle of it all—Morgan.
“Y/N!” she shouted, immediately running toward them.
Y/N barely had time to brace before Morgan wrapped herself around her leg. “Hey, birthday girl,” she laughed, shifting Billy slightly so she could ruffle Morgan’s hair. “You’re four now, huh? That means you’re basically in charge.”
“I know!” Morgan said proudly.
Tommy let out an excited noise from Wanda’s arms like he agreed.
“Look at them,” Pepper’s voice came softly as she stepped closer, her attention already fully on the twins. She crouched slightly, her expression melting as she reached out gently, brushing her fingers over Billy’s tiny hand. “They’re getting so big,” she murmured.
Billy blinked up at her, calm as always. Tommy, on the other hand, immediately tried to grab her fingers.
Pepper laughed quietly. “Hi, sweetheart.”
Morgan tilted her head, looking between them. “Can I play catch with them?” she asked, completely serious.
Y/N choked on a laugh. Wanda smiled softly. “Not yet, sweetheart. They can’t walk.”
Morgan frowned slightly, thinking about that. “…Okay,” she decided. “Then I’ll teach them later.”
“That’s a solid plan,” Y/N said.
The party settled into something easy after that—people talking, laughing, music low in the background. The kind of noise that felt normal.
Y/N stayed close to Wanda, occasionally shifting Billy between arms while Wanda adjusted Tommy, both of them moving around each other like second nature.
Half an hour later Nat showed up.
Y/N noticed her the second she walked in. Of course she did. Nat carried herself the same as always—calm, controlled—but there was something different now. Subtle, but there.
“Romanoff,” Y/N greeted, nodding once.
“Y/N.”
Nat’s gaze softened slightly as it shifted to the twins. “They’re still loud?”
“Louder,” Y/N said.
Tommy squealed like he was proving her point. Billy blinked.
Nat leaned slightly, her expression easing as she reached out, letting Tommy grab her fingers. “Hey,” she murmured—quiet, soft.
Y/N caught that.
Nat glance toward Wanda briefly, then back to the room. “Where’s the birthday kid?”
“Running around somewhere” Y/N said.
They fell into conversation easily after that, the group naturally shifting around them—Steve saying something to Sam, Clint already stealing snacks, Tony loudly pretending he wasn’t watching everything.
And then—someone else walked in.
Maria.
Y/N didn’t even need to look at Nat to know she had noticed. She just knew.
Maria moved through the room with her usual calm confidence, greeting a few people as she passed—then her eyes landed on Nat. And softened.
She walked straight to her. No hesitation.
“Sorry I’m late,” Maria said as she reached her, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Nat’s cheek.
Nat stilled for half a second. And blushed.
“…You’re late,” she muttered, lifting her hand just enough to lightly smack Maria’s arm.
“Traffic.”
“Excuses.”
But Nat didn’t step away. Didn’t pull back.
Instead, she took Maria’s hand and wrapped around her waist, and leaned into her.
No one said anything. But everyone noticed.
Y/N leaned closer to Wanda, voice low. “…About time.”
Wanda smiled softly. “…Yeah.”
---
The party carried on like nothing had changed.
And somehow—everything had.
Morgan ran past them again, laughing as Tony chased after her with exaggerated effort, Pepper calling after both of them with a smile she wasn’t even trying to hide. Clint was already stealing food, Sam and Bucky arguing over something meaningless, Steve standing nearby pretending he wasn’t listening to any of it.
It was loud. Messy. Warm.
Y/N shifted Billy higher against her chest, feeling his steady breathing, the weight of him grounding and familiar. Across from her, Wanda adjusted Tommy, who was trying—unsuccessfully—to reach for something he absolutely wasn’t supposed to have.
“Already starting,” Y/N muttered.
Wanda huffed a quiet laugh. “They get that from you.”
“Unfair.”
“Accurate.”
Wanda shifted closer, carefully lifting Tommy from her shoulder. “Here—your turn.”
Y/N barely had time to adjust before Tommy was passed over, settling into her other arm. Now she held both of them, one on each side, their weight uneven but familiar.
“Double trouble,” Y/N muttered under her breath.
Billy barely stirred, still calm, still tucked in close—but Tommy immediately turned his attention to her. His tiny hands reached up, grabbing at her face with surprising determination.
“Hey—” Y/N huffed softly, trying not to laugh.
And then—Tommy leaned in and bit her jaw. Toothless. Completely ineffective. But very intentional.
Y/N blinked. “Did he just—”
Wanda pressed her lips together, already losing the battle against her smile. “He did.” She leaned in without hesitation, pressing a soft kiss to Tommy’s cheek, her nose brushing against his skin as he let out a pleased little sound.
“Oh, did you try to kiss mama?” Wanda cooed gently, her voice warm and playful. “Is that what that was?”
Tommy blinked up at her, completely unbothered, his tiny hand still clutching at Y/N’s face like he’d done something very important.
Y/N snorted quietly. “That was not a kiss.”
Wanda gasped softly in mock offense, pulling back just enough to look between them. “It absolutely was. A very enthusiastic one.”
“Felt more like an attack.”
“Rude,” Wanda murmured, though she was smiling, her fingers coming up to gently smooth Tommy’s hair. “You’re just misunderstood, aren’t you?”
Tommy made another soft noise, entirely pleased with himself.
Y/N shook her head, but there was no hiding the softness in her expression as she adjusted both boys again, careful, steady, practiced.
“Great,” she muttered. “Now he’s encouraged.”
“Good,” Wanda replied easily, leaning a little closer, her shoulder brushing Y/N’s. “He should be.”
Y/N glanced at her, just for a second—and didn’t move away.
Tommy reached up again, determined, and Y/N moved her face before he could go for another “kiss.”
“Absolutely not,” she said, but her voice was quieter now, lighter.
Wanda laughed under her breath, the sound soft and full. And the moment settled right back into place—easy, warm, theirs.
Y/N’s gaze drifted again—back to them.
Nat and Maria stood close, still not making it a big thing, not drawing attention—but there was no mistaking it now. Maria’s hand brushed lightly against Nat’s back, and this time Nat didn’t tense, didn’t hesitate.
There was a moment—small, easy—where Maria said something under her breath, something only meant for her.
Nat’s lips twitched and laughed. Soft. Real. Unfiltered.
Y/N felt something settle in her chest, because she remembered the way Nat used to stand just outside of things like she didn’t belong in them.
Not anymore.
Wanda followed her gaze. She didn’t need to ask.
Y/N let out a quiet breath, her eyes still on them. “…I’m happy for her,” she said softly.
Wanda’s expression warmed immediately. “Me too.”
For a moment, they just stood there, watching—not intruding, just witnessing.
Then Wanda shifted closer, close enough that Y/N could feel the warmth of her, the familiar pull that had never really gone away—just settled into something deeper. She leaned in, gentle and sure, and pressed a soft kiss to Y/N’s lips. It was brief. But full.
Y/N smiled into it, adjusting slightly as both twins were now in her arms—Billy tucked calmly against her chest.
Tommy, however, had other plans. He leaned forward again, determined, tiny hands reaching out—and before anyone could stop him, he pressed his face against Wanda’s cheek in what was very clearly his version of a kiss.
Wanda blinked in surprise. Then she huffed a soft laugh. “…Okay—now I get what you meant.”
Y/N couldn’t help it—she laughed, warm and quiet, shaking her head. “Told you.”
Wanda just smiled, softer this time, something fond and unmistakable settling in her expression as she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Tommy’s head.
“Very enthusiastic,” she murmured.
“Very aggressive,” Y/N corrected under her breath.
Tommy only made a happy little sound, entirely pleased with himself.
“Hey,” Y/N murmured softly, brushing a kiss over Billy’s head, then Tommy’s. “Sharing Mommy’s attention now, huh?”
Tommy squealed.
Billy blinked at the sound, watching for a second—processing, slow and thoughtful. Then, like something clicked, he shifted slightly in Y/N’s arms, leaning forward just a little in what looked like an attempt to do the same.
Wanda’s expression melted instantly. “Oh—” she breathed softly, leaning in to meet him halfway, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head too. “Hi, baby.”
Billy settled back down, content, as if that had been exactly what he wanted.
Wanda’s hand came to rest lightly against Y/N’s arm, her thumb brushing absent circles there.
“Family,” she said quietly.
Y/N glanced at her, then down at the twins in her arms, then back out at the room—the laughter, the noise, the life surrounding them.
“…Yeah,” she murmured.
And this time, it felt complete.
Y/N glanced at her, then around the room—Morgan laughing, Tony pretending not to tear up, Pepper smiling like she already knew how this would all turn out. Their friends. Their people.
And across the room—Nat and Maria, still close, still choosing.
Y/N’s gaze softened. “…Yeah.”
She shifted the twins slightly higher in her arms as Wanda’s arms wrap around her waist in a hug—familiar, easy, home. The soulmate marks at their wrists pulsed faintly, soft and steady, in sync with something deeper than words. Not burning, not overwhelming.
Just there.
Y/N glanced one last time toward Nat and Maria, then back to Wanda. “…They’ll be okay,” she said quietly.
Wanda smiled, certain. “I know.”
And as the night carried on—filled with laughter, warmth, and the quiet, undeniable presence of love chosen and returned—
everything felt exactly where it was meant to be.
---
It became very long, but I hope you all enjoyed it!
Summary: Wanda and Y/N start to search for Nat and the others.
Words: 8,484
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, mention of smut, Soulmate AU
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
---
---
A Week Later
Y/N’s POV
Budapest was busy—too busy.
Crowded streets, overlapping scents, too many voices blending into one another. It made tracking harder—not impossible, just less precise. Everything needed more time, more focus. And for once, they weren’t rushing.
Y/N sat at a small café table near the edge of the street, back to the wall out of habit, but her posture wasn’t as rigid as before. One arm rested loosely along the back of her chair, the other around a glass she hadn’t really touched. Across from her, Wanda stirred her drink slowly, the spoon clinking softly against the cup. They’d been there a while—long enough for the noise of the city to fade into something almost normal.
“It’s strange,” Wanda murmured, watching people pass by. “How everything just keeps going.”
Y/N followed her gaze—couples walking, someone laughing too loud, a kid chasing pigeons across the square. “…Yeah,” she said quietly.
A pause settled between them, but not heavy this time—just quiet. Wanda took a small sip of her drink, then glanced up at Y/N. “Anything?” she asked.
Y/N shook her head, but there was no tension in it. “Not really. Too many people. Too much overlap.” She leaned back slightly. “If Nat’s been here, it wasn’t recent.”
Wanda nodded, accepting it easier than before. They’d had a week to adjust to that answer. Her fingers tapped lightly against the side of her cup. “We’ve been here longer than we planned,” she said.
“Yeah.”
Neither of them sounded urgent about it. Y/N glanced toward the street again, more out of habit than necessity, then looked back at Wanda. “We should probably move soon,” she added. “Just to be safe.”
Wanda hummed softly but didn’t argue. “Tonight?” she asked.
“Tonight’s good.”
Another pause, then Wanda’s lips curved faintly. “…At least the coffee’s better here.”
Y/N huffed softly, a small smile pulling at her mouth. “Yeah. That’s true.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something. For a moment, they just sat there—no immediate danger, no running, no gunfire. Just two people in a café, blending into the world like they were supposed to. Y/N watched Wanda for a second longer than necessary—relaxed, a little tired, but here, with her.
“…We’ll find them,” Y/N said quietly.
Wanda looked up, meeting her eyes. This time, she didn’t hesitate. “I know.”
Her shoulders eased slightly as she said it. And for now, that was enough.
---
Wanda’s POV
They left the café without rushing. The sky had already begun to dim, the last of the daylight slipping behind the buildings as the city shifted into evening, streetlights flickering on one by one and casting warm pools of light along the sidewalks. Budapest felt different at night—quieter in some places, louder in others. They walked side by side, blending into the steady flow of people heading home, out to dinner, or nowhere in particular.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. Y/N’s attention moved between the street, the people, the sounds—but not as sharp as before, not on edge, just aware. Then a small movement beside her—Wanda’s shoulders pulling in slightly, a faint shiver—and Y/N noticed immediately. She glanced at her. “You cold?”
Wanda shook her head automatically. “I’m fine.”
Y/N didn’t argue, just reached up and started shrugging off her jacket. Wanda caught the movement and frowned. “No.”
Y/N paused. “You’re shivering.”
“And you’re not wearing anything under that except a shirt,” Wanda pointed out. “If you start walking around without your jacket, people are going to notice.”
Y/N blinked once, considered it… fair. She nodded slowly. “Okay.” But she didn’t look convinced.
They walked a few more steps before Y/N slowed slightly and held out her hand. Wanda glanced down at it, confused for a second. “…What?”
Y/N tilted her head just a little. “Here.”
Wanda looked at her hand, then at her, then back again. A small smile tugged at her lips before she reached out and took it. Y/N’s fingers closed around hers immediately—warm, firm, grounding—and then she shifted their hands together, slipping them both into the pocket of her jacket.
Wanda stilled.
Because now their fingers weren’t just touching—they were intertwined, fully pressed together inside the warmth of the pocket, hidden from view, insulated from the cold. Y/N didn’t react, didn’t seem to realize what she’d just done. She just kept walking like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“…Better?” she asked, glancing down briefly.
Wanda’s face had gone warm—very warm. “…Yeah,” she said softly.
Y/N nodded once, satisfied, and that was it. No hesitation, no second thought, just continued forward. Wanda, meanwhile, was very aware of everything—the way their fingers fit together, the warmth, the steady, absent-minded way Y/N’s thumb shifted slightly against her hand. Her heart picked up just a little, and she turned her gaze forward quickly, hoping the dim streetlights hid the color rising in her cheeks.
They kept walking, hands still tucked safely inside Y/N’s jacket pocket, moving in quiet sync through the evening crowd. The air had grown cooler, but the city felt warmer somehow—lights strung between buildings, voices rising and falling, the distant sound of music drifting through the streets.
At some point, the street opened up—and with it, a night market. Rows of stalls lined both sides, glowing under hanging bulbs. The smell hit first—grilled meat, spices, something sweet frying in oil. Voices overlapped in different languages, vendors calling out, laughter spilling into the open air. Y/N slowed slightly, and then—her stomach growled. Loud.
Wanda blinked, then laughed—not a quiet laugh, but a bright one that slipped out before she could stop it, cutting clean through the lingering tension from earlier. Y/N stiffened beside her. “…Don’t,” she muttered, a faint flush already creeping up her neck.
Wanda turned to her, still smiling. “Didn’t you just eat three slices of cake?”
Y/N looked away immediately. “That was… earlier.”
“That was twenty minutes ago,” Wanda said, amused.
Y/N’s blush deepened. “I burn energy faster,” she defended, a little quieter now.
Wanda’s smile softened instantly—adorable. Without really thinking about it, she lifted her free hand and reached up, fingers brushing gently through Y/N’s hair, soft and lingering for just a second longer than necessary. Y/N froze completely. Wanda noticed—and didn’t pull away right away.
“…Come on,” she said softly instead, giving her hair one last light stroke before lowering her hand. Then she tugged her forward, still holding her other hand in the pocket. “Let’s get food.”
Y/N blinked, still slightly stunned, but followed without resistance as Wanda led her toward the stalls. “Anything specific?” Wanda asked, glancing back at her.
Y/N shook her head. “Anything.”
A small huff of amusement. “Figures.”
They stepped into the market together, lights brighter here, warmth wrapping around them from every direction. The first stall they stopped at was already crowded—skewers sizzling over open flame, fat dripping and hissing as it hit the coals. The smell alone was enough to make Y/N’s stomach growl again. Wanda raised an eyebrow. Y/N pretended not to notice.
“Two,” Wanda said to the vendor, pointing.
Y/N leaned slightly closer, eyes tracking the movement of the grill. “Four.”
Wanda glanced at her. Y/N didn’t look away. “…Four.”
Wanda smiled faintly. “Four.”
They stepped aside to wait, the heat from the grill fading quickly once they moved out of the stall’s glow, the cold creeping back in almost immediately. Wanda’s shoulders tensed—just slightly. Y/N noticed. Of course she did. Without saying anything, she shifted closer, then closer still, until there was no space left between them. One arm came around Wanda’s shoulders, pulling her in against her chest—natural, easy, like it wasn’t even a question.
Wanda blinked, caught off guard for half a second as warmth wrapped around her again, stronger this time. “Y/N—”
“You’re cold,” Y/N said simply.
Wanda hesitated, then relaxed into it. “…A little.”
Y/N hummed softly, her grip adjusting just enough to be more comfortable, her chin almost brushing the top of Wanda’s head. They stayed like that while they waited—close, warm, the noise of the market fading just a little around them.
When the food was ready, Wanda stepped forward to grab it, but Y/N didn’t let go completely. Her arm lingered loosely around Wanda’s shoulders as they moved aside again. The first bite barely lasted a second. Y/N ate fast—not messy, but efficient, like she was fueling more than just hunger.
Wanda laughed under her breath as she took a slower bite of her own. “You’re not even tasting it.”
“I am.”
“You inhaled that.”
“I tasted it fast.”
Wanda shook her head, smiling.
They didn’t stop there. Next stall—something fried, crisp and golden, dusted with sugar. Y/N took a bite and paused for half a second. “…This is good.”
Wanda grinned. “High praise.”
Then something savory wrapped in thin bread, then dumplings, then something sweet again that Wanda insisted on trying—only for Y/N to end up finishing most of it anyway.
“Hey—that was mine,” Wanda protested lightly as Y/N took the last piece.
“You weren’t eating it.”
“I was going to.”
“You hesitated.”
Wanda stared at her. “…You’re unbelievable.”
Y/N shrugged, completely unbothered. “You can get another one.”
Wanda huffed—but she was smiling again.
At some point, their hands slipped back together naturally, no hesitation this time, fingers finding each other like it had already become habit. They walked slower now, weaving through the stalls, sharing bites here and there—well, Wanda sharing, Y/N mostly eating. But it didn’t feel one-sided. It felt easy, comfortable, normal.
Y/N slowed near another stall, watching as something was prepared, her attention fully caught again. Wanda glanced up at her—at the way her eyes tracked everything, at the faint flush still lingering from earlier, at how relaxed she looked now.
“…You’re happy,” Wanda said quietly.
Y/N blinked, like she hadn’t realized it. “…Yeah,” she admitted after a second.
Wanda smiled.
They stood there together, waiting for yet another order, Y/N’s arm slipping back—this time around her waist without thought. It was different, closer, and Wanda felt it immediately. Her breath hitched just slightly as Y/N’s hand settled at her side, thumb resting against the fabric of her jacket, steady and warm. There was no hesitation in the touch, no question—just instinct.
Wanda didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned into it, subtle but enough that the space between them disappeared completely.
The vendor called out something in Hungarian, and Y/N’s attention shifted forward again, focused on the food. Wanda watched her instead—the way her jaw moved slightly as she waited, the way her eyes tracked every motion behind the stall, the way her hand stayed right where it was on Wanda’s waist.
Like it belonged there.
Wanda swallowed softly. She didn’t say anything, didn’t point it out. Instead, she watched her.
Y/N’s attention had already drifted back to the stalls, eyes moving from one display to another, tracking everything with quiet focus. Every now and then, her gaze would linger just a second longer on something specific. And then—a small, unconscious movement. She licked her lips.
Wanda’s breath caught.
It was subtle, barely noticeable, but once she saw it, she couldn’t *unsee* it. Y/N did it again a moment later, eyes fixed on another stall further down, clearly already planning what she wanted next.
Wanda felt warmth creep up her neck. God.
She forced her gaze away—then back again without meaning to.
The vendor called out, pulling Y/N’s attention forward. Her hand slipped away from Wanda’s waist as she stepped up to grab the food. And just like that, the warmth disappeared.
Wanda felt it immediately—the absence, her body registering it before her mind could catch up. For a split second, she missed it. Actually missed it. The realization made her blink, a flicker of something like disappointment settling in her chest.
But before it could linger, Y/N turned back, already splitting the food in half. “Here,” she said, handing a portion to Wanda without hesitation, like it was automatic—like sharing with her was just part of the process.
Wanda smiled instantly—soft, real. The feeling from before easing just a little as she took it, their fingers brushing briefly. “Thank you,” she said.
Y/N nodded once, already taking a bite of her own, attention shifting back to the taste, to the moment, to everything around them.
Wanda watched her for a second longer, then took a bite herself—and stayed close.
She smiled even more when, the second Y/N finished her portion, she stepped right back in—closing the space again without hesitation. Her arm slipped around Wanda’s waist like it had never left, warm and steady, pulling her gently back against her front as if it was the most natural place to be while she waited.
And then she just… watched.
Not subtly, not even a little. Her eyes tracked every movement of Wanda’s hand as she ate, attention locked onto the food like she was already calculating her next bite. Wanda tried to keep a straight face—she really did—but the longer it went on, the harder it became.
“You’re staring,” she said, amused.
Y/N didn’t even deny it. “You’re eating slow.”
Wanda huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe because someone already ate everything else.”
Wanda took another bite, but her attention drifted for a moment—because they were close, very close. Y/N’s body pressed lightly against her back, her arm firm around her waist, holding her in place without force. Anyone passing by would’ve seen it instantly—a couple. The thought slipped in without warning.
Wanda didn’t pull away, didn’t even realize how much she’d leaned into her until her shoulder brushed Y/N’s chest again. She laughed softly under her breath and lifted the food slightly. “Do you want some?”
Y/N shook her head. “It’s yours.”
“It’s fine,” Wanda said easily. “I’m not that hungry. And you’re going to keep eating anyway.”
A small pause, then Y/N nodded. “Okay.”
Wanda held the piece up—and Y/N didn’t take it. Didn’t reach for it. Instead, she leaned down, close—too close—and took a bite directly from Wanda’s hand.
Wanda froze.
Her breath caught as she felt it—the warmth, the proximity, the way Y/N’s focus didn’t waver even for a second as she pulled back, chewing like nothing had happened, like that was normal. Wanda’s heart kicked hard against her ribs, heat rushing up her neck and across her cheeks.
“…Y/N,” she murmured, a little breathless.
Y/N glanced at her. “What?”
Wanda blinked. She had no idea what she was going to say. “…Nothing.”
Y/N nodded, accepting it immediately, already leaning in again slightly as if considering another bite. Wanda swallowed, her hand still raised, still holding the food, and suddenly she was very aware of it—of everything. The closeness, the way Y/N’s arm was still around her waist, the way her body hadn’t moved away.
Her heart didn’t slow down.
But she didn’t stop her either.
Instead, she lifted the food again just a little—and let Y/N take another bite.
Wanda held the food there for a second longer than necessary, watching Y/N take another bite like it was the most normal thing in the world—and maybe for her, it was. Y/N chewed, swallowed, then leaned back just enough to give Wanda space again, but her arm never left Wanda’s waist. Still there. Still warm. Still grounding.
Wanda lowered her hand slowly, her fingers feeling a little unsteady.
What is wrong with me?
Her heart was still racing—too fast, too loud for something this simple. She forced herself to take another bite, but she barely tasted it this time, her thoughts already turning inward, spiraling in a way she didn’t like. Why was she reacting like this? It was just Y/N—the same Y/N who had been beside her for weeks, who had carried her through forests, kept her warm, made sure she ate, stayed close without ever asking for anything in return.
So why did her chest feel tight? Why did her stomach flip every time Y/N got closer? Why did something as simple as being held—being looked at like that—make her feel like she couldn’t breathe properly?
Wanda swallowed, her grip on the food tightening slightly.
Then the thought came, quiet but impossible to ignore.
Am I catching feelings?
Her breath hitched.
No. That didn’t make sense. It couldn’t. She had just gotten out of a relationship. Everything was messy. They were on the run. Of course things would feel intense. Of course she’d cling to the one person she had right now.
That had to be it.
Right?
Her eyes flicked sideways. Y/N was still there—close, steady, watching her again with that same quiet attentiveness. Not intrusive, not demanding—just present.
Wanda’s heart skipped again.
She looked away quickly, heat rising to her face.
Why did she like this so much?
That was the worst part—not the confusion, not the racing thoughts. It was the fact that she didn’t want Y/N to move, didn’t want her arm to leave, didn’t want that warmth to disappear again.
Wanda exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, but her body betrayed her—leaning just a fraction more into Y/N without thinking, seeking it.
God.
Her lips pressed together as she stared down at what was left of the food in her hand.
This wasn’t good. This was complicated.
And yet—
She didn’t pull away, didn’t step out of Y/N’s hold, didn’t stop herself from offering another bite a moment later.
Because whatever this was—confusing, unwanted, too much—
It also felt right.
---
Y/N’s POV
The rest of the night blurred into movement and light. They drifted from one stall to another, the rhythm easy now—stop, look, eat, move again. Some places had sizzling grills, others rows of sweets stacked in neat displays, and further down, small tents selling handmade things—bracelets, scarves, little trinkets that caught Wanda’s attention more than the food sometimes.
Y/N followed wherever Wanda went. She didn’t even question it. If Wanda slowed, she slowed. If Wanda stopped, she stopped. If Wanda lingered at something, Y/N stayed beside her, one arm still loosely around her waist more often than not. It felt right. Simple.
Wanda laughed more tonight—that was the first thing Y/N noticed. Not the food, though it was good. Not the lights, not the noise, not even the fact that they were standing in the open without immediately scanning every shadow. It was Wanda. The way her shoulders weren’t as tense, the way her eyes lit up when she saw something new, the way her voice softened when she pointed things out—small details most people would’ve ignored.
Y/N liked that. A lot.
She didn’t say it, but she stayed close.
At one of the stalls, Wanda paused in front of a display of small handmade charms, picking one up to examine it. Y/N watched her instead of the items, her gaze softer than usual. “You like it?” she asked.
Wanda glanced back at her, then down at the charm again. “It’s cute.”
“Get it.”
Wanda shook her head lightly. “We don’t need extra things.”
Y/N didn’t argue, but a few seconds later she stepped forward anyway, quietly paying for it while Wanda was distracted by something else on the table.
They kept walking after that, stopping for more food because Y/N kept finding things she “hadn’t tried yet.” Wanda teased her about it but didn’t stop her. If anything, she encouraged it, occasionally stealing small bites just to prove she could.
At some point, Wanda leaned into her again without thinking. Y/N noticed—of course she did—and her arm tightened slightly around Wanda’s waist in response.
They didn’t talk about it.
Didn’t need to. The night stretched on like that—easy, warm, almost normal.
On the way back to the Airbnb, the noise of the market slowly faded behind them, replaced by quieter streets and softer light. The air had grown colder again, but neither of them seemed to mind. Their hands found each other somewhere along the way—no hesitation, no second guessing, just fingers slipping together naturally like it had already become something familiar.
They talked lightly this time, nothing about Hydra or plans—just small things. The food. Wanda teasing Y/N for how much she ate. Y/N defending herself with quiet seriousness.
“I still think you could’ve eaten more,” Y/N said.
Wanda laughed softly. “I had plenty.”
“You had half of what I had.”
“That’s because you ate like five people.”
“Four,” Y/N corrected.
Wanda shook her head, smiling, their hands tightening slightly around each other as they walked. Neither of them acknowledged it—but neither let go either.
By the time they reached the Airbnb, the city had quieted. The hallway was dim, and the silence settled around them as soon as the door closed. Inside, it was warm and still.
Wanda slipped off her shoes, stretching slightly as she stepped further in. Y/N lingered by the door for a moment, watching her, then reached into her pocket.
“Wanda.”
She turned. “Yeah?”
Y/N walked toward her, something small in her hand. “I got you something.”
Wanda blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to—”
Y/N opened her hand.
A necklace. Simple. Dark chain. And at the center—a small black wolf pendant.
Wanda stilled. She recognized it instantly—the stall, the moment she had paused, the way she had picked it up just for a second because it reminded her of Y/N.
Her eyes lifted slowly. “…You saw that?”
Y/N shrugged lightly. “You looked at it.”
Wanda’s chest tightened. She stepped closer, fingers brushing over the pendant, tracing its shape. It did look like her—strong, quiet, a little dangerous, and somehow comforting.
“It’s… really beautiful,” Wanda said softly.
Y/N’s gaze softened just a fraction. “Yeah. I thought so too.”
A small silence settled between them before Wanda looked back up, something gentler in her expression. “…Will you help me put it on?”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah.”
Wanda turned, lifting her hair slightly. Y/N stepped closer, her fingers careful as she fastened the clasp behind Wanda’s neck, lingering there for just a second longer than necessary.
Wanda felt it. Her breath slowed.
Y/N’s hands dropped. “…Done.”
Wanda turned back, fingers immediately finding the pendant again. She smiled—soft, real. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
Y/N nodded, but didn’t step back. Didn’t create distance.
They just stood there, close.
And the necklace rested right over Wanda’s heart.
Wanda turned slightly, her fingers still resting on the pendant.
Y/N’s hand lifted without thinking, brushing gently against it where it lay against Wanda’s chest. Her fingertips traced the small black wolf, adjusting it so it sat properly, centered. Wanda’s breath caught. She looked up.
Too close.
Y/N was right there—closer than before, her hand still lightly holding the pendant, her gaze dropping for just a second before lifting to meet Wanda’s.
And then they froze.
No movement. No sound. Just the quiet hum of the room and the space between them suddenly feeling too small. Wanda could feel it again—that pull, that tight warmth in her chest, the way her heart started racing for no reason she could explain.
Y/N didn’t move either. Their eyes locked.
And for a second, neither of them looked away.
Wanda’s breath slowed, then faltered.
This is—too much. Too close. Too—
She snapped out of it, abruptly turning away so fast it almost felt like she broke something fragile between them.
“I—I’m going to shower,” she said quickly, her voice just slightly off. “And… get ready for bed.”
She didn’t wait for a response, didn’t look back—just moved, fast, grabbing her things and heading straight for the bathroom. The door shut with a soft click.
Silence filled the room again.
Y/N stood there for a second longer, her hand still half-raised where the pendant had been. Her fingers curled slowly—confused. Then she lowered her hand, her gaze lingering on the closed bathroom door.
“…Okay,” she murmured quietly.
Y/N stayed where she was for a moment, eyes still on the closed bathroom door. Then slowly, a small smile formed.
Wanda was wearing it.
The way the pendant had looked against her skin, the way Wanda had touched it like it meant something. Like she meant something.
Y/N exhaled softly, then turned and walked over to the bed before dropping onto it—not properly, just flopping across it sideways, one arm hanging off the edge, legs still half bent. Relaxed, for once. She stared up at the ceiling, the faint hum of the room settling around her.
And she smiled. A real one, unfiltered.
Because Wanda had liked it. Because Wanda had stayed close. Because Wanda hadn’t pulled away. Her chest felt warm, full, and her thoughts drifted—inevitably—back to the same place they always did when it came to Wanda.
My Imprint.
The word settled in her mind, certain, unchangeable.
Wanda was hers.
Not in a possessive way, not something forced or taken—just meant. Like gravity. Like instinct. Like breathing.
Y/N lifted her hand slightly, staring at it like she could still feel the warmth of Wanda’s skin from earlier, the way her fingers had fit between hers so easily, the way she had leaned into her, the way she hadn’t moved away.
Her smile softened.
Maybe… maybe she could tell her.
The thought came carefully this time—not rushed, not overwhelming. Just there.
Wanda deserved to know. She deserved to understand why Y/N stayed close, why she noticed everything, why it felt impossible to let her out of her sight for too long—why being near her felt like home.
Y/N exhaled slowly, one arm coming up to rest behind her head. “…Maybe,” she murmured to herself.
Not yet. Not like this.
But soon.
She turned her head slightly, eyes flicking toward the bathroom door again—waiting, patient, and still smiling.
---
Wanda’s POV
The shower didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse.
Wanda stood under the water longer than she needed to, letting it run over her shoulders, her face, trying to quiet the storm in her chest—but her thoughts kept circling back. To the pendant. To Y/N’s hand. To how close they had been. To how, for a split second, she had almost leaned in—almost closed the distance.
Almost—
Wanda exhaled sharply, pressing her palm briefly against the cool tile. “…God.”
She couldn’t pretend anymore. This wasn’t just stress, not just proximity, not just survival instincts clinging to the only person she had. This was feelings—real ones. And that realization sat heavy in her chest as she turned off the water, dried off quickly, and got dressed.
By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, her hair still slightly damp, her expression softened—but the tension hadn’t completely left. She was going to say something. She had to. At least… something.
“Y/N, it’s your—”
She stopped.
Y/N was already on the bed, half on it, half off, like she had just dropped there and never bothered to move properly. One arm hung loosely off the side, her breathing slow and even.
Asleep. Completely.
Wanda blinked, then let out a quiet, breathy chuckle. “…Of course.”
The tension in her shoulders eased almost instantly. She stepped closer, slower this time, and sat down gently beside Y/N’s head. For a moment, she just watched her—the way her face softened in sleep, the way all that constant alertness finally disappeared, the faint rise and fall of her chest, steady, calm.
Peaceful.
Wanda’s expression softened.
Her hand lifted without thinking, fingers threading gently into Y/N’s hair, brushing through it slowly—familiar, comforting. The same way she used to when Y/N was in her wolf form, when she’d sit beside the bed and Wanda would reach down to run her fingers through soft fur.
Y/N leaned into the touch, even in her sleep.
Wanda’s breath caught. “…What are you doing to me, little wolf?” she whispered.
Y/N shifted slightly, leaning more into her hand, chasing the contact instinctively. Wanda’s heart stuttered, then picked up faster. Her hand stilled for a second, then moved again, slower this time. Her fingers drifted lower, brushing along Y/N’s temple, then her cheek.
Soft. Warm.
Her thumb hovered, then traced lightly over Y/N’s lips.
Wanda froze, her breath hitching.
She should stop. She knew she should stop.
But she didn’t.
Her eyes dropped to Y/N’s mouth, her thumb still resting there, and something in her chest tightened, pulling her forward before she could think it through. Before she could stop herself, she leaned down and pressed a soft, quick kiss to the corner of Y/N’s mouth.
The moment it happened, Wanda jolted back like she’d been burned. Her hand snapped away, her heart slamming violently against her ribs.
“Oh my—”
Her eyes widened, panic flooding in instantly as she stared at Y/N, still asleep, still unmoving.
“I—”
She pressed her hand to her mouth, her breath coming faster.
“What did I just do?”
Wanda’s heart wouldn’t slow down.
It felt like it was trying to break out of her chest, loud and frantic, every beat echoing in her ears. She stared at Y/N—still asleep, still completely unaware—and somehow that made it worse. How was she just… sleeping? After that? After Wanda had just—
Wanda dragged a hand down her face, pacing once in place before stopping again, eyes snapping back to Y/N. “…Are you serious right now?”
Nothing. Y/N didn’t even stir.
The calm of it, the peace of it—it irritated her. Not really at Y/N, but it had nowhere else to go.
“Unbelievable,” Wanda muttered under her breath, heat still burning across her face.
Before she could think better of it, she grabbed a pillow and threw it. It hit Y/N square in the head.
Y/N jolted up instantly—fully alert, eyes sharp, body tensing like she was ready for a fight, gaze snapping around the room in less than a second. “What—?”
Her eyes landed on Wanda.
Confused.
“…What happened?”
Wanda froze for half a second, caught between embarrassment and panic, her face still bright red. “I—nothing,” she said quickly. Too quickly.
Y/N frowned slightly, still trying to assess the situation. “You threw a pillow at me.”
“I didn’t throw it,” Wanda snapped, then immediately regretted how sharp it came out. “I just—”
She cut herself off, turning away abruptly. “Just go shower.”
Y/N blinked. “…Okay?”
There was a pause. Y/N glanced down at herself—still in the same clothes from outside, a little wrinkled, maybe slightly dusty from the bed. Realization clicked in her head.
“…Oh.”
She stood up without arguing. “Sorry,” she said simply. “I didn’t mean to get the bed dirty.”
Wanda pressed her lips together, guilt flickering briefly, but she didn’t turn back.
Y/N didn’t question it further. She just grabbed her things and headed toward the bathroom. The door closed behind her.
And the second it did, Wanda let out a long, frustrated groan, dropping onto the bed and covering her face with both hands.
“…What is wrong with me?”
---
The sound of the shower cutting off was the only warning Wanda had.
She had been staring at the same paragraph for ten minutes, the words blurring into meaningless shapes as her mind replayed that reckless, impulsive kiss over and over. She needed to be normal. She needed to be the cool, composed Wanda Maximoff who hadn't just had a minor heart attack because her “friend” was sleeping.
The bathroom door creaked open.
Wanda looked up, ready to offer a casual, distant nod. Instead, the book nearly slipped from her numb fingers.
Y/N stepped into the room, a cloud of steam following her. She wasn't wearing a shirt—just a tight black sports bra that left very little to the imagination and a pair of loose athletic shorts. She was focused on her hair, vigorously rubbing a towel over her head, her muscles shifting and rippling with every movement.
Wanda froze. Her breath didn't just hitch; it died in her throat.
"Why..." Wanda’s voice came out as a strained squeak. She cleared her throat, trying again. "Why are you shirtless?"
Y/N pulled the towel away, her hair a messy, damp halo around her face. She looked at Wanda with those steady, honest eyes, completely oblivious to the internal meltdown she was causing. "I'm hot," Y/N said simply. "The shower was steaming, and my internal temp is higher anyway. Is it a problem?"
"No," Wanda managed, though her brain was screaming yes.
Despite her best efforts to look literally anywhere else, Wanda’s eyes betrayed her. They traveled. She saw the damp skin of Y/N’s shoulders, the way the sports bra hugged her chest, the defined, powerful lines of her abs that flexed as she moved to toss the towel aside. And then, her gaze dipped lower—following the trail of water droplets past the waistband of the shorts toward Y/N's crotch.
The heat that flooded Wanda’s face was instantaneous and agonizing. It felt like her skin was actually on fire.
The heat that flooded Wanda’s face was instantaneous and agonizing. It felt like her skin was actually on fire, the blood rushing to her cheeks with such force it made her ears ring.
"Wanda?" Y/N’s voice was low, vibrating with that steady, grounding tone that usually calmed her, but right now it only made the fire spread. "Your face is really red. Are you having a reaction to something?"
Wanda didn't answer with words. Instead, she moved with a frantic, jerky speed, snapping her head away and nearly fumbling her book onto the floor. She shoved it onto the nightstand without looking and scrambled further down under the covers, pulling the duvet up until only the very top of her head was visible.
"I'm fine!" she muffled into the fabric, her voice sounding strangled even to her own ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her heart to stop hammering against her ribs. She was a Master of Chaos Magic, a woman who had faced down titans, yet she was currently hiding from a pair of shoulders.
Then, she felt it. The mattress dipped. The heavy, solid weight of Y/N shifted the bed behind her. Wanda stiffened, her breath hitching as she felt the heat radiating from Y/N’s body—a heat that had nothing to do with the shower and everything to do with the proximity.
"Wanda, look at me," Y/N murmured.
Suddenly, a face peeked over the edge of the duvet, looking down at her. Y/N had propped herself up on one elbow, her damp hair hanging over her forehead, those intense eyes searching Wanda's for any sign of injury or illness. From this angle, the sports bra left even less to the imagination, the curve of her collarbone just inches from Wanda’s nose.
"Go to sleep, Y/N," Wanda hissed, clutching the blanket tighter.
"Not if you're sick," Y/N countered stubbornly. She didn't move. In fact, she lay down fully behind Wanda, her front pressing dangerously close to Wanda’s back. "You're warm. Let me check." Y/N reached out, her hand sliding over the silk of Wanda’s sleeve to find the bare skin of her arm. It wasn't a grab; it was a caress—slow, firm, and devastatingly gentle.
Wanda snapped. The friction of Y/N’s palm against her skin was the final spark. Driven by a mix of frantic embarrassment, overwhelming desire, and the sheer exhaustion of hiding, Wanda whipped around to face her.
"I told you I'm—" The words died.
She froze. Turning around had been a mistake. Y/N was right there—breath-to-breath, skin-to-skin. The sight of her shirtless, the scent of rain and cedarwood clinging to her damp skin, and the raw, honest concern in her eyes stripped away the last of Wanda’s defenses.
Y/N opened her mouth to ask one more time if she was okay, her lips parting just a fraction. But Wanda didn't give her the chance.
She lunged forward, her hands tangling into Y/N’s damp hair, and pulled her down. She kissed her hard—desperate and bruising—silencing the questions and the logic and the world outside the room all at once.
The kiss was a sudden, violent collision of everything they had been holding back for weeks. But as quickly as the spark had ignited, Wanda’s mind caught up to her body. She pulled away with a sharp gasp, her chest heaving as she scrambled backward against the headboard. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide and shimmering with a sudden, sharp panic.
“I—I’m sorry,” Wanda stammered, her voice trembling. “Y/N, I shouldn't have—I didn't mean to just—”
She didn't get to finish the apology. Y/N moved like a shadow, closing the distance before Wanda could even blink. She didn't ask; she didn't hesitate. She surged forward and captured Wanda’s lips in a kiss that was deeper, hungrier, and far more demanding than the first. It wasn't a question—it was an answer.
Wanda let out a soft, broken moan against Y/N’s mouth, her panic dissolving into pure, unadulterated heat. The kiss was intense, flavored with the lingering sweetness of the market treats and the sharp, clean scent of the shower. It was a desperate exchange, their tongues tangling as they tried to make up for every moment they had spent pretending they didn't want this.
Wanda’s hands, which had been trembling with fear a second ago, now gripped Y/N’s bare shoulders with a bruising force. She felt the damp, smooth skin, the hard muscle beneath, and it wasn't enough. She wanted more. She wanted the weight.
Driven by a sudden, fierce need, Wanda hooked her fingers into the waistband of Y/N’s shorts and pulled. She guided Y/N up and over her, and Y/N followed the movement without a second of resistance, sliding between Wanda’s legs until she was hovering directly over her.
The contact was electric. Wanda wrapped her legs around Y/N’s waist, pulling her flush against her. The feeling of Y/N’s sports bra-clad chest pressing into her own, their heartbeats slamming together in a frantic, syncopated rhythm, made the world outside the room vanish.
Y/N’s hands were everywhere—clutching Wanda’s waist, sliding up to cup her face, then tangling deep into her hair to tilt her head back and deepen the kiss even further. They were both gasping for air, their breaths hitching and catching, but neither would break the contact. It was a scramble of limbs and desperate, wandering hands. Every touch felt like a brand. Wanda’s fingers traced the line of Y/N’s spine, marveling at the strength there, while Y/N’s thumb grazed the line of Wanda’s jaw, her touch firm and possessive.
The air in the room felt thick, heavy with a heat that was quickly spiraling out of control. Every time their lips met, it was like a fresh jolt of electricity, leaving Wanda’s head spinning and her body humming with a desperate, localized ache.
They continued to kiss frantically, their movements uncoordinated and driven by pure, raw instinct. When Y/N shifted, grinding her crotch firmly between Wanda’s legs, the friction sent a jolt of pleasure so sharp through Wanda’s system that she couldn't stop the long, broken moan that escaped her throat. The sound was swallowed by Y/N’s mouth, fueling the fire even more.
Through the thin fabric of the athletic shorts, Wanda could feel the unmistakable, rigid heat of Y/N—she was hard already, responding to Wanda with a ferocity that made Wanda’s heart skip a beat. Desperate to close the final bit of distance, Wanda’s hand wandered down, her fingers trembling as they slipped beneath the elastic waistband of Y/N’s shorts. The contact with skin—real, hot, bare skin—was almost too much to bear.
“Wanda…”
Y/N’s voice was soft, a mere breath against her ear. Wanda didn't stop; she leaned into the sound, letting out a soft, affirmative hum as she tilted her head to give Y/N better access to her neck. She wanted this. She wanted all of it.
“Wanda?”
The name was louder this time, tinged with a note of confusion that didn't fit the rhythm of the moment.
“Wanda!”
The world shattered.
Wanda’s eyes snapped open, and the weight of Y/N’s body, the heat of the kiss, and the friction of the sheets vanished in a heartbeat. The suffocatingly hot air of the Budapest night was suddenly replaced by the cool, quiet stillness of the bedroom.
Wanda blinked, her breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. She wasn't pinned under a beautiful, shirtless wolf; she was sitting upright against the headboard, her knuckles white as she gripped the edges of her book. The pages were crinkled where her fingers had dug in, and she realized with a jolt of horror that she hadn't moved a single inch.
Beside the bed, Y/N was standing perfectly still, the towel still draped over her damp hair. She was wearing her sports bra and shorts, just as she had been when she walked out of the bathroom, but there was no hunger in her eyes—only deep, furrowed concern.
“Wanda?” Y/N asked again, her voice low and cautious. “Are you okay? You were… you were staring at that page for like three minutes without blinking. Your heart rate just went through the roof.”
Wanda felt the phantom sensation of Y/N’s skin still lingering on her fingertips. Did she really imagine all of that? Her face, which she thought had reached its limit of redness, somehow managed to burn even hotter.
“I—I…” Wanda stammered, her eyes darting to the book, then to the floor, then anywhere that wasn't Y/N’s bare midriff. “I just… the book. It got very… interesting.”
She snapped the book shut with a loud thwack, her hands shaking so much she had to tuck them under the covers. “I’m fine,” she managed, though her voice was a octave higher than usual. “Just… got lost in thought. I’m fine!”
Y/N didn’t look convinced. Her brows were still slightly furrowed as she stepped closer, slow and careful, like Wanda might bolt if she moved too fast. Without asking, she lifted her hand and pressed it gently against Wanda’s forehead.
Warm.
But not that kind of warm.
“…You’re really hot,” Y/N murmured, more to herself than anything.
Wanda’s entire body went rigid.
“I said I’m fine,” she insisted quickly, maybe a little too quickly, her voice still higher than usual.
Y/N’s hand lingered for a second longer, then slid slightly to the side of her face, thumb brushing her temple in a way that was meant to be grounding—
But only made Wanda’s heart spike again.
“I’m not sick,” Wanda added, softer this time but firm, pulling the blanket up slightly like a barrier. “Just tired.”
Y/N studied her for another moment. Searching. Listening.
Then, slowly, she nodded. “…Okay.” She didn’t fully believe it. But she let it go.
Wanda didn’t wait for anything else. She turned onto her side quickly, facing away from Y/N, pulling the blanket up just a little higher as if that could hide the heat still burning across her face. “Goodnight,” she murmured, quieter now.
Behind her, there was a brief pause, then the subtle shift of the mattress as Y/N moved, settling into the space beside her. Not too close. Not touching. Respecting the distance Wanda had just created.
“…Goodnight,” Y/N replied.
Silence followed, but it wasn’t empty.
Wanda’s eyes stayed open longer than she wanted, staring into the dimness of the room, her thoughts still racing—replaying everything: what she had imagined, what she had almost done earlier, what she was feeling now. Her heart hadn’t fully calmed, and the worst part—she could still feel it.
Phantom touches. Lingering warmth. The memory of something that hadn’t even happened.
The next morning felt quieter—not awkward, not tense, just softer. Wanda didn’t bring up the night before, and Y/N didn’t push. Whatever had happened with Wanda, stayed unspoken.
They spent the morning walking through Budapest one last time, retracing familiar areas but taking different routes. Y/N slowed often, letting her senses stretch, filtering through the overwhelming mix of scents and sounds. Still nothing—no trace of Nat, no sign of Steve or Bucky, nothing recent enough to follow. By early afternoon, the city had grown louder, crowds thickening, the hum of life swallowing any chance of picking out something specific. Y/N exhaled as they paused near a quieter street corner. “…Nothing,” she said.
Wanda nodded, not surprised. “It was worth checking.”
Y/N glanced at her. Wanda didn’t look disappointed—just resolved. That made it easier.
“We should go,” Y/N said.
“Yeah,” Wanda agreed.
No hesitation this time. They went back, grabbed their things, and within an hour were at the station. The bus wasn’t full—just enough people to blend in. Y/N took the aisle seat automatically; Wanda chose the window. The engine rumbled to life, and slowly, Budapest slipped away behind them.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The scenery shifted from crowded streets to quieter outskirts, buildings thinning into open land. Wanda leaned her head lightly against the window, watching it pass. Y/N sat beside her, posture relaxed but attentive, eyes scanning out of habit—just not as sharp as before.
After a while, Wanda shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing against Y/N’s. She didn’t move away, and neither did Y/N. A few minutes later, Wanda’s hand slipped between them—not fully reaching, just there. Close.
Y/N noticed.
After a second, her fingers moved gently, carefully finding Wanda’s and intertwining them like it was something they didn’t question anymore. Wanda didn’t look at her. She just let it happen, her hand settling in Y/N’s as she kept her gaze on the road ahead.
The bus carried them forward—away from Budapest, toward the next city, toward whatever came next.
Together.
---
The next city blurred into motion. They didn’t stay long—just enough to step off the bus, move through the station, and buy another ticket heading further out. Keep moving, no patterns, no time to settle. It had become routine—efficient, safe.
By the time they stepped back out into the streets, the sky had already begun to darken, lights flickering on across storefronts as people moved in steady evening rhythms—heading home, meeting friends, living normal lives that still felt slightly out of reach. “We still have time,” Wanda said, glancing around. “We should eat.”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah.”
They moved through the streets side by side, not rushing, blending into the flow. The air was cooler here, sharper than Budapest, carrying different scents—cleaner in some places, heavier in others. Y/N’s hand brushed Wanda’s briefly, then stayed. Wanda didn’t pull away.
They walked like that, quiet but comfortable, scanning casually for somewhere to eat—and then Y/N stopped. Abruptly.
Wanda took another step before realizing, her hand pulling slightly as Y/N didn’t move. “Y/N?”
No response.
Y/N’s head tilted slightly, her grip on Wanda’s hand tightening—not painful, but firm. Focused. She inhaled slowly, deep, again. The world around her shifted instantly—background noise fading, scents separating, layering, organizing—
And then—
There.
Faint, but unmistakable.
Y/N’s eyes sharpened. “…Nat.”
Wanda stilled. “What?”
Y/N turned slightly, scanning the street—not with her eyes, but with something deeper. “Scent,” she said quietly. “Faint. But it’s hers.”
Wanda’s breath caught. “Here?”
Y/N nodded once, then her head shifted again, following, tracking. “…Moving,” she added.
That changed everything.
Wanda’s posture straightened instantly, tension snapping back into place. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. No doubt.
Y/N’s grip on her hand tightened again. “Come on.”
And then she moved—not running, but fast enough to weave through the crowd with purpose, pulling Wanda along with her. Her focus locked forward, every step guided by something only she could sense.
The scent shifted—subtle at first, then faster.
Y/N’s pace adjusted instantly, weaving tighter through people, cutting corners sharper. Wanda followed without question, her grip firm in Y/N’s hand as the city blurred around them.
“They’re moving,” Y/N said under her breath.
Wanda nodded, already scanning ahead, behind, above—anywhere someone could disappear.
The trail pulled them off the main street, into a narrower one—then narrower still. Until—a back street. Dimly lit, quiet, empty.
Y/N stopped abruptly. The scent stopped right there. Her eyes narrowed. “…No.”
Wanda turned in a slow circle, scanning every shadow, every doorway, every rooftop edge. “I don’t see anyone.”
She stepped forward slightly, head tilting, breathing in again—deeper this time, searching for any trace of movement.
Nothing. Too still. Too—
Her head snapped sharply to the side.
Movement.
Before Wanda could react, Y/N moved—fast. She yanked Wanda behind her with one arm while the other shot forward, catching a wrist mid-motion.
A gun.
Y/N’s grip locked around it instantly, stopping it cold before it could aim properly. Her body shifted between Wanda and the threat, shoulders squared, stance grounded. A low growl tore from her chest.
“Don’t.”
The person froze.
Small. Blonde. Her arm trapped in Y/N’s hold, the gun still in her hand but completely useless now.
Wanda’s heart pounded as she peered from behind Y/N’s shoulder, red energy flickering faintly at her fingertips.
Y/N’s growl deepened for a second—then she inhaled mid-growl and stilled.
Her grip didn’t loosen, but her expression changed—confusion cutting through the aggression. Her nose flared slightly, taking in the scent again, closer this time, stronger—
But wrong.
“…Why,” Y/N said slowly, her voice dropping into something more controlled, more dangerous in its quiet, “do you smell like her?”
The blonde woman didn’t move, didn’t fight.
Y/N’s eyes sharpened, golden flickering faintly at the edges. “Why do you smell like Nat?”
The blonde woman didn’t flinch—not at the growl, not at the grip tightening painfully around her wrist. Her eyes flicked from Y/N to Wanda, calm, too calm, taking everything in with sharp precision. Then they dropped briefly to Wanda’s hand, where faint scarlet energy still pulsed.
Recognition clicked.
“You are the Avengers,” she said, her accent unmistakably Russian, voice steady despite the situation.
Y/N’s grip tightened further. “Who are you?” she demanded, low and dangerous.
The woman’s wrist was still trapped, the gun caught between them, but she didn’t hiss, didn’t struggle. If anything, she looked mildly unimpressed.
“Relax,” she said flatly. “I’m not a threat.”
Before Y/N could respond, the woman twisted her wrist just enough—not breaking free by force, but slipping out with controlled precision. Y/N let her go, but didn’t step back, her body still firmly between Wanda and the stranger. The gun stayed in the woman’s hand, lowered but not gone.
She adjusted her stance slightly, then looked directly at Y/N again. “If I smell like Natasha,” she said, “it is because she is my sister.”
Wanda’s breath caught.
She stepped out from behind Y/N, moving to her side, eyes narrowing as she studied the woman more closely now—the blonde hair, the stance, the confidence.
Recognition hit.
“…You’re Yelena?” Wanda said.
The woman’s gaze shifted to her, a small tilt of her head. “Yes.”
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