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JBB: An Artblog!

titsay
ojovivo

shark vs the universe
Claire Keane

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we're not kids anymore.
Xuebing Du
NASA
noise dept.
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cherry valley forever
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
đȘŒ
Monterey Bay Aquarium
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#extradirty
Jules of Nature

ç„æ„ / Permanent Vacation
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from Belgium
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Japan
seen from Italy
seen from Switzerland
seen from India

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany
@raven-ss
A once-in-a-lifetime shot â the moon perfectly framed by a rainbow. Caught at just the right time. đ đ
HOW MANY THINGS | wanda maximoff
i feel myself falling further down your priorities, and i still make excuses for you constantly. i wonder how many things you think about before you get to me. i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime!! note: i wrote this two months ago (it just turned two months today) and itâs been collecting dust on the side, so this is me finally letting it out of jail. main m.list || whispers of heartache m.list
Y/N didnât remember when waiting became second nature.
It wasnât one moment â it was dozens of small ones stitched together. Moments where she sat with her phone in her hands, thumb hovering, heart already bracing itself for disappointment before it arrived.
She waited in cafés until the drinks went cold.
She waited in her room with the lights on, dressed up for nothing.
She waited through the night, refreshing messages that never came.
And every time, she told herself the same thing:
Wanda didnât mean it. Wanda is busy. Wanda loves me â she just doesnât show it in the way I need.
Y/N became very good at convincing herself that this is love.
She learned it in fragments â in unread messages, in calls that rang too long before cutting off, in âIâll call you laterâ that never turned into calls.
She learned it in the way Wanda would smile at her with half her attention already somewhere else, already reaching for something that wasnât her.
At first, it didnât feel like neglect.
It felt like patience.
Wanda was busy. Wanda was important. Wanda had responsibilities, people who needed her, worlds that seemed to demand her all at once. Y/N told herself that loving someone like Wanda meant understanding that you would never be first â and that being understanding was proof of how deeply she loved.
So she made excuses.
Sheâs tired. She didnât mean to forget. Sheâll text when things calm down. Sheâs just overwhelmed.
Every time Wanda didnât answer, Y/N folded herself smaller. She muted the ache. She swallowed the disappointment before it could reach her throat. She told herself that wanting more would be selfish.
ââ .âŠ
The worst part wasnât the absence.
It was how Wanda returned.
Always casual. Always calm. Always untouched by the damage she left behind.
Like Y/N was something she could put down and pick up whenever it was convenient.
âHey. Sorry, things got crazy.â
And Y/N would smile through the phone she held too tightly.
âItâs okay. I get it.â
She always got it.
She got how Wanda prioritized missions, meetings, crises that werenât hers.
She got how Wandaâs grief mattered more than her loneliness.
She got how Wandaâs silence was something she had to endure if she wanted to stay.
What Y/N didnât get â not at first â was how invisible she had become in her own relationship.
ââ .âŠ
It started small.
Missed dates. Forgotten plans. Conversations cut short because someone else needed Wanda more. Y/N would dress up anyway, sit on the edge of her bed anyway, check her phone anyway.
Every time, she waited.
And every time Wanda didnât show, Y/N told herself it didnât hurt that much.
But it did.
It hurt in quiet ways â the kind that donât scream, the kind that settle deep into your bones. The kind that make you question whether youâre asking for too much simply by wanting to be chosen.
There was the night Wanda promised to call.
âI just need an hour,â Wanda had said. âOkay?â
Y/N had nodded, smiling even though Wanda couldnât see it. âYeah. Iâll wait.â
An hour turned into two.
By the third, Y/N had curled into herself on the couch, phone pressed to her chest like it might hear her heart begging.
She didnât call.
She didnât text.
The next morning, there was a message.
âSorry. Fell asleep.â
Y/N stared at the screen for a long time before typing:
âItâs okay. I figured you were tired.â
She deleted the second message she wanted to send.
It hurt.
There was also the time Wanda canceled their anniversary dinner.
Something âurgentâ came up. Something that couldnât wait.
Y/N stood in front of the mirror that night, makeup already smudging, dress clinging to her body like it still believed it had somewhere to go.
She undressed slowly, like she was taking off hope piece by piece.
When Wanda finally came home, hours later, she kissed Y/Nâs cheek distractedly.
âIâll make it up to you,â she said.
Y/N smiled.
She didnât say that Wanda never did.
ââ .âŠ
Sometimes, Wanda wouldnât disappear completely. She would reply with one-word answers. She would read messages and leave them hanging. She would promise to talk âlater,â then vanish into silence.
Ghosting, Y/N learned, didnât always mean leaving forever.
Sometimes it meant leaving just long enough to remind you that you could be abandoned at any moment.
And fighting Wanda?
That was terrifying.
Because every argument ended the same way.
Wanda would shut down. Wanda would leave. Wanda would disappear for a day⊠two⊠sometimes more.
And then sheâd come back like nothing happened.
âCan we not do this right now? I was busy and I'm really exhausted.â
âI needed space.â
âI didnât want to say something Iâd regret.â
And Y/N would apologize â even when she didnât know what she was apologizing for.
Because she knew the pattern.
If she pushed too hard, Wanda would vanish again.
So Y/N learned to stay quiet.
Until the night she couldnât.
They were supposed to meet. Nothing fancy. Just dinner. Just them.
Y/N sat at the table alone, phone facedown because she was tired of watching it betray her. She counted the minutes anyway. Ten. Twenty. Forty.
An hour passed.
Then her phone buzzed.
âSomething came up. I canât make it.â
No explanation. No apology. Just another thing before her.
That was when something inside Y/N finally broke.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Just⊠completely.
When Wanda finally came to see her days later â calm, collected, acting like the distance hadnât nearly swallowed Y/N whole â Y/N didnât sit down. She didnât smile. She didnât soften herself.
The confrontation didnât happen in a dramatic explosion.
It happened quietly â which somehow made it worse.
They were standing in Y/Nâs apartment. Wanda had just finished explaining why she hadnât answered her messages for two days.
The apartment felt too small for the amount of silence inside it.
Wanda stood near the door, arms crossed â defensive, guarded, already halfway gone even though she was physically there.
âI needed space,â Wanda repeated. âYou know how things get.â
Y/N stared at her.
For a long moment, she didnât speak. And that silence was more dangerous than any scream.
She stood there, shaking.
âDo you even hear yourself?â Y/N asked quietly.
Wanda frowned. âWhat?â
That one word â careless, almost annoyed â cracked something open.
âWhat?â Y/N repeated, letting out a hollow laugh. âThatâs your response? That's all you have? Do you even know what this does to me?â Y/N asked quietly.
Wanda frowned, confused. âWhat are you talking about?â
And that hurt more than anything else.
âI didnât want to fight,â Wanda said. âI needed time to cool off.â
Y/N felt something snap â not loudly, but completely.
âAnd what about me?â Y/Nâs voice trembled, but she didnât stop. âDid you think about me while you were cooling off? Did you think about what two days of silence does to someone who already feels like theyâre too much?â
Wanda exhaled sharply. âYouâre overreacting.â
That did it.
Y/Nâs composure shattered.
âNo,â she said, her voice rising for the first time. âNo, I am so tired of you saying that.â
Tears spilled freely now, but she didnât wipe them away.
âItâs always about you,â she continued, her chest heaving. âYour feelings. Your pain. Your space. Your triggers. Your exhaustion. Everything revolves around you.â
Wanda stiffened.
âItâs always just about you,â Y/N repeated, shaking her head. âNot me. Not us. Just you.â
âThatâs not trueââ
âWhy is it always about you?â Y/N cut her off, stepping closer. âDo you ever stop? Do you ever pause and think, âhow is she feeling?ââ
Wanda opened her mouth but nothing came out.
âDo you even try to think about what I feel,â Y/N pressed, voice cracking, âevery time you prioritize everyone else over me?â
Her hands were trembling violently now.
âEvery time something happens, Iâm the one that gets pushed aside. I'm the one who get tossed in the trash. I'm the first thing you abandoned. Iâm the one that gets the silence. Iâm the one you run from.â
âI donât runââ
âYou ghost me like I never mattered!â Y/N cried. âLike I was just⊠optional.â
The word hung there.
Optional.
âI know I hurt you sometimes,â she said quickly, words spilling now, desperate and unfiltered. âI know I mess up. And Iâm sorry for that. I really am.â
Her voice cracked.
âBut what about the times you hurt me? what about all the ways you hurt me?â
Wanda opened her mouth.
Y/N didnât let her speak.
âHow about all those nights I stayed awake wondering if you were ever coming back?â Y/N continued, tears streaming freely now. âHow about all the times I swallowed my feelings because I knew if I brought them up, youâd leave again?â
âThatâs not fairââ Wanda tried.
âNo,â Y/N said sharply. âWhatâs not fair is making me feel like I have to beg for basic decency.â
Her hands were shaking violently.
âI made myself small for you,â she whispered. âI pushed aside my problems, my pain, my needs â everything â just so I wouldnât be another thing you had to deal with.â
Her voice dropped, shattered.
âI kept it all inside because fighting with you is scary. It was never safe.â
Wanda froze.
âDo you know what it feels like,â Y/N went on, sobbing now, âto be terrified of speaking up in your own relationship? To know that if I say the wrong thing, youâll disappear?â
Silence pressed in around them.
âYou always ghost me,â Y/N said hoarsely. âYou leave for days. And then you come back like nothing happened, like I didnât spend that time breaking apart.â
She pressed a hand over her heart.
âI donât deserve that,â she said. âI donât deserve to be punished with silence.â
Wanda looked shaken now. âI never meant toââ
âI donât care what you meant,â Y/N interrupted. âIntentions donât erase damage.â
Her voice was barely audible.
âI donât deserve that,â Y/N said. âAnd you know it too.â
Her voice dropped to a whisper, raw and aching.
âI donât deserve to be ghosted in my own relationship.â
Her chest felt like it was collapsing inward.
âI made one mistake,â she whispered, her voice suddenly small but sharp. âOne mistake. I said one wrong thing. I've done something once. And in return?â
She looked at Wanda like she didnât recognize her anymore.
âAll you did was hurt me in every way imaginable.â
Wandaâs face fell. âI never meant to hurt you.â
âBut you did,â Y/N shot back. âOver and over again.â
Her breathing was uneven now.
âYou punish me with silence. You withdraw affection. You make me feel like I have to earn my place back every time youâre upset.â
âThatâs not fair.â
âWhatâs not fair,â Y/N said, her voice breaking into something raw and jagged, âis loving someone who makes you feel disposable.â
The word disposable seemed to echo.
âI started shrinking myself for you,â Y/N admitted, sobbing openly now. âI stopped bringing up my feelings because I was scared youâd disappear again.â
Wanda looked shaken. âYou donât have to be scared of me.â
âI am,â Y/N whispered.
That hit harder than any scream.
âIâm scared to upset you. Iâm scared to need you. Iâm scared to say the wrong thing because you always leave.â
She pressed her hand to her chest as if trying to hold herself together.
âDo you know what it feels like to beg silently for your own girlfriend to choose you?â she asked, voice trembling violently. âTo check your phone every five minutes? To stare at the ceiling wondering if this is the moment she decides youâre too much?â
Wandaâs eyes glossed over.
âI waited for you,â Y/N continued. âI defended you. I made excuses for you. I told everyone you just needed time, that you were dealing with things.â
Her lips quivered.
âBut who was there when I was dealing with things?â
Silence.
âI donât remember the last time you chose me first,â she said softly. âI donât remember the last time I felt secure.â
Wanda stepped forward. âY/N, I love you.â
Y/N let out a broken sound â something between a laugh and a sob.
âLove isnât supposed to feel like this.â
Her voice dropped to almost nothing.
âLove isnât supposed to make me question my worth every other day.â
Wandaâs voice cracked. âI didnât know you felt this way.â
âThatâs the problem,â Y/N replied. âYou didnât know. Because you didnât ask.â
The words werenât shouted.
They were devastated.
Silence swallowed the room.
For the first time, Wanda didnât have an excuse ready.
And Y/N realized something terrifying and freeing all at once â she had spent so long counting how many things came before her⊠that she forgot to ask why she wasnât enough to be chosen first even once.
âI needed you,â Y/N said. âNot perfection. Not grand gestures. Just consistency. Just reassurance. Just⊠not silence.â
Her shoulders slumped.
âI donât deserve to feel like Iâm fighting for scraps of your attention.â
Wanda reached for her.
Y/N stepped back.
And that distance â that small step â felt bigger than anything else that night.
âIâm so tired,â Y/N whispered. âIâm tired of loving you louder than you love me.â
That was the moment something shifted.
Not anger.
Not screaming.
Just exhaustion.
And somehow, that hurt the most.
That was when Wanda finally looked like she understood.
And that was when Y/N realized it might already be too late.
After that night, Y/N stopped waiting.
She didnât text first. She didnât check her phone every five minutes. She didnât make excuses.
And Wanda felt the absence immediately.
Because when someone who has always waited finally stops⊠the silence becomes deafening.
Let's look spooky like mama
Enid: Wow, they really hate me.
Agnes: Yea, maybe theyâre homophobic.
Enid: But I'm not gay, Agnes.
Agnes:
Enid:
Agnes:
Agnes: You're not?? Since when??
My most honest reaction to all of these crumbs we are getting:
Thatâs it. Thatâs the post. Thank you.
I would wait 67 years in the afterlife train station just to spend an eternity with this woman. WHO WOULDNâT?
*She will drink it pink if I say so* Part 1
Agnes, on a scooter: Can I ride this outside?
Wednesday: Whatever, okay? Iâm not your mother.
Agnes: *Runs outside*
Wednesday: NOT IN THE STREET!
Wenclair incorrect quotes #2
Enid, sniffling looking down: am I a princess?
Wednesday, holding her hand like it's her paw: yes, Enid, you're a princess.
Enid, still looking down: really?
Wednesday: yes, Enid.
Enid, looking up, blushing and hesitating: then... Am I a fairy princess?
Wednesday, nodding: a fairy princess.
Enid, shy: okay... *snuggles against Wednesday*
Enid: but then why did Bruno refuse to call me that?
Wednesday, hiding a bloody knife: We will never know.
Visual representation of Enid here
Eternity - Part 2
Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Summary: Wanda had died and woke up in a place called junction. There she needs to choose where and who she will spend her eternity with. The decision was supposed to be simple. But what happens when the past she thought she forgot had waited for her for seventy-two years?
Word Count: 13k+
Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mention of smut
A/N: I didnât know how to end. Hope everyone likes it đ (Btw, I love Lizzie in this photo so much! đ)
Main Masterlist
Part 1
---
Another month passed. The streets of the recreated town carried on in their strange, stagnant stillness, but Wandaâs world had shrunk to the glowing gate. She no longer counted the days. Only the aching rhythm of her heart remained, pulsing out Y/Nâs name like a mantra.
Her knees did not bruise, her voice did not grow hoarse, and her hands bore no marks despite clawing at the unyielding surface day after day. This place denied pain, denied the marks of time, denied her even the physical proof of her suffering. But the ache insideâher grief, her longingâwas eternal.
Vision had stopped visiting. At first, he came often, his voice calm, insistent, offering her companionship, trying to pull her away from the gate. But Wanda refused him every time, her words sharper, her heart harder, her grief untouchable.
The last time he came, his tone had shifted. Bitter. Cold.
âI should have known,â he said, standing over her, his arms folded tight. âAll those years I waited for you⊠wasted. I should have chosen differently. There was a girl in the Junction, kind, gentle⊠she would have loved me. She would have chosen me. But I waited for you. Believed in you. And thisââ his hand swept toward her crumpled figure, unwavering and desperate before the gate, ââthis is what I get.â
Wanda hadnât looked at him then. Couldnât. Her body remained flawless, untouched by time, but her spirit trembled with fresh sobs, her voice barely a whisper. âGo. Just go.â
And he had.
Since then, the recreated world had grown quieter still. Vision never returned. The guards remained, silent and unyielding. And Wandaâshe stayed, clinging to the gate with every shred of strength she had left, the weight of eternity pressing heavier with each passing moment.
Her whispers of Y/Nâs name became prayers, broken confessions to a love now out of reach. The gate never answered.
But Wanda never moved. She refused to let go.
---
Wanda had lost track of everything. Time had slipped from her like sand through trembling fingers. Days, hours, momentsâshe couldnât tell anymore. She sat before the glowing gate, her back against the cold stone, her knees pulled up tightly as though holding herself together. Her thoughts blurred in and out, the only steady thread the image of Y/Nâs smile, Y/Nâs hands, Y/Nâs voice calling her home.
The guards had watched her silently for what could have been an eternity. She hadnât moved, hadnât begged, hadnât raged. She just stayed.
At last, one of them stepped forward. His voice was calm, firm, carrying the weight of something older than the walls themselves.
âYouâve lingered long,â he said, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. âDo you truly wish to go back to the Junction?â
Wanda blinked, her throat dry. âYes,â she whispered. Her voice cracked, but she didnât falter. âI made a mistake. I chose a shadow over my truth. I need to go back. To Y/N.â
The guardâs expression did not soften. âIf you leave this place, you cannot return. The choice is final. There will be no Vision waiting for you should regret take root again.â
Her heart twisted, but she nodded. âI understand.â
âAnd if you return to the Junction,â the guard continued, his tone edged with gravity, âthere is no guarantee. No certainty that the one you love will accept you for eternity. Do you understand this as well?â
For a moment, pain flickered across her face. The thought of Y/N turning away, of her children fading into memoryâit threatened to shatter her. But she drew in a long breath, steadying herself.
âI understand,â she said softly. âBut even if she never chooses me again, I still choose her. Always her.â
The guard studied her for a long, heavy silence. Then, at last, he inclined his head. âWe cannot open the gate for you. That decision is not ours to make. But if the gate finds your heart true, if your reasons are worthy, it may open of its own accord.â
He gestured toward the glowing barrier. âPlace your hand upon it. Speak not to us, but to it. Let it see what lies within your soul.â
Wandaâs breath trembled as she rose to her feet. For the first time in what felt like endless days, her body felt steady. She stepped toward the radiant gate, her heart hammering against her ribs, and raised her hand.
Her palm touched the light. It was warm, alive, humming beneath her skin like a heartbeat that wasnât her own. For an instant, she thought she felt it recoil, as if weighing her soul, testing the truth of her presence.
And then, like a whisper from the depths of eternity itself, a voice slid into the air around her. Soft. Unyielding. Eternal.
âWho do you belong to?â
The words struck her like lightning. Wandaâs breath caught in her throat, tears stinging her eyes. Her lips trembled, but the answer was already thereâburning in her chest, unshakable, undeniable.
âY/N,â she said. Her voice was raw, shaking. âI belong to Y/N.â
The gate pulsed, glowing brighter, but the voice pressed again, deeper this time.
âOnce more. Who do you belong to?â
Wandaâs hands clenched against the light, her whole body trembling. Memories surged through herâY/Nâs laughter as they danced in the kitchen, the soft weight of their children in her arms, the warmth of nights spent tangled together in quiet love. Her heart cracked open, spilling everything she had buried, everything she had almost abandoned.
âTo Y/N!â she cried, her voice breaking. âI always have! My life, my love, my soulâitâs hers! My home is with her, my eternity is with her! Not with this⊠not with shadows, not with illusions! I was wrong, I was so wrongâbut my heart never left her! I belong to Y/N!â
The light of the gate surged, spilling across her skin, flooding the air like dawn breaking through an endless night. The hum grew louder, vibrating through her bones, until it felt like her very soul was being lifted from the ground.
She pressed her forehead to the gate, tears streaming down her face, whispering through the sobs, âPlease⊠let me go back to her. To our children. To our life. I donât care if she doesnât want me anymoreâI still choose her. Iâll always choose her.â
For a heartbeat, the light stilled. The air hung heavy, silent. And then, slowly, the radiant barrier began to shift, its glow folding inward like a curtain being drawn aside.
The guards stepped back, their unreadable eyes catching the shimmer of the opening. One of them spoke softly, almost reverently.
âThe gate has heard you. Your truth is enough.â
Before her, the opening widened into a blinding brilliance, the path back to the Junction unfurling before her eyes.
Her heart thundered. Her hands shook. And yet, for the first time since stepping into this false eternity, Wanda felt the weight of her soul lift.
She took one trembling step forwardâback toward Y/N.
The brilliance of the gate dissolved behind her, and suddenly Wanda found herself swallowed by shadow. The air was heavy, damp, pressing close around her as though the path itself wanted to hold her back.
Ahead stretched a corridor of endless doors. Some small as cupboard panels, others towering like cathedral arches. Some gilded in gold, others rotted and splintered, some warped into strange, impossible shapes. Each one loomed before her, blocking her way, demanding effort.
She pressed her hand to the firstâcold and iron-boundâand shoved. It resisted, groaning like a thing alive, but after what felt like minutes of strain, it gave way, spilling her forward into more darkness.
Again and again, she pushed. A door carved with stars, one covered in vines that clung to her arms like claws, another so tiny she had to drop to her knees and crawl through. Each one drained her, her breath ragged, her limbs heavy.
Still, she did not stop.
For Y/N. For my children. For home.
By the time she forced the last door openâa simple wooden one, worn and familiar like the kind that had once guarded their little home âWandaâs hands shook, her body trembling.
And then, at last, light.
She stumbled onto the main platform of the Junction. The sprawling, eternal city unfurled around her in radiant hues, the place where souls lived, loved, and waited. Her knees nearly buckled in relief, tears spilling hot and fast down her cheeks.
She was back.
Her chest burned with urgency, with fear, with desperate hope. She had no time to waste. Y/Nâher Y/Nâwas somewhere here.
Wandaâs feet carried her before her mind could catch up. She ran, faster than she had ever run, her breath tearing through her throat as she wove through the glowing streets of the Junction. Past gardens that shimmered with otherworldly light, past rivers that ran like liquid starlight, past faces of souls she barely recognized.
Only one place mattered.
The apartments where souls stayed while deciding their eternity loomed ahead. Her chest tightened as she neared the one she had shared with Y/N before she had ever stepped toward Vision. Her heart thudded in her ears, a wild, desperate rhythm.
And then she saw her. Y/Nâstepping out of the room, just as radiant, just as alive as she had remembered.
âY/N!â Wanda screamed, her voice breaking, and ran faster.
Y/N turned at the sound, confusion crossing her features. But before she could say anything, Wanda collided with her, throwing her arms around Y/Nâs neck, clinging like she would never let go.
âWandaâŠ?â Y/N breathed, startled, her hands hesitating on Wandaâs back, then holding her tightly as realization dawned.
Wanda pressed herself closer, her lips finding Y/Nâs in a desperate, hungry kiss. A kiss that spoke of decades of longing, of absence, of survival without the other. She kissed her like she was starvedâlike she needed Y/N just to exist, like the world itself might unravel if she let go.
Y/Nâs arms tightened around her, grounding her, holding her, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Wandaâs heart began to settle, beating in sync with the love she had never stopped carrying.
Pulling back just slightly, her forehead resting against Y/Nâs, Wandaâs tears spilled freely. âI⊠Iâm so sorry,â she sobbed, voice trembling with raw emotion. âI was wrong⊠I should have stayed⊠I should haveââ
A voice cut through the fragile bubble of reunion, calling from inside the apartment.
âY/N?â
Both women froze. Wandaâs gaze snapped toward the doorway to find someone behind Y/N coming out of the apartment. A woman in her mid-twenties, fiery red hair catching the soft glow of the Junctionâs lights. Her eyes were sharp, but curious, scanning the scene with cautious interest.
âNatasha,â Y/N murmured remembering the woman was there.
Wanda blinked, her sobs momentarily forgotten, confusion and caution threading through her frantic relief. Her arms tightened around Y/N instinctively, as if to shield what was hers, while her mind scrambled.
Natashaâs expression softened slightly, though her posture remained alert. âYou must be WandaâŠâ She glanced between Wanda and Y/N, realization dawning.
Wandaâs pulse quickened. Whoever this Natasha was, she could feel the tension radiating from Y/N. Yet in the same instant, her body froze, rooted to the spot. Hurt blossomed in her chest, sharp and unrelenting. Who was this woman? Did Y/N⊠had she moved on? Was Wanda too late?
Her arms still clung to Y/N, but a tremor of doubt ran through her, twisting her stomach. Every heartbeat screamed that she had fought through an eternity just to find her, only to be confronted with the fear that maybe, in her absence, Y/N had already chosen someone else.
Wanda swallowed hard, her tears still flowing, but now laced with anxiety. Her stomach twisted painfully, every heartbeat screaming that she had fought through an eternity just to find Y/N, only to be confronted with the fear that maybe, in her absence, Y/N had already chosen someone else.
Her hands trembled as tears continued to stream down her face, laced now with a raw, anxious fear. Y/Nâs eyes darted between Wandaâstill clinging to herâand the figure of Natasha, who was stepping out of the room, caught in the sudden tension.
âI⊠Iâm sorry, Nat,â Y/N said softly, her voice steady but gentle, âcan we⊠reschedule?â
Natashaâs gaze shifted to Wanda, then back to Y/N. She gave a small, understanding nod, a quiet acknowledgment of the situation, before stepping away without a word, leaving the two of them alone.
Once Natasha was gone, Wandaâs tears fell harder, her voice trembling as she clung to Y/N. âPlease⊠tell me Iâm not too late,â she pleaded, her words cracking under the weight of fear and longing.
Y/N brushed Wandaâs tears away gently, her hands firm but tender against her face. âCome on,â she whispered, her voice steady.
She guided Wanda inside the apartment, letting her step through the threshold as she closed the door behind them. The room was familiarâevery corner, every soft shadow, every lingering scent of Y/Nâbut it carried a strange weight now.
âItâs been a long time, WandsâŠâ Y/N murmured, her tone quiet, almost unreadable.
Wandaâs throat tightened as she tried to steady her breathing. âI know⊠I know itâs been fifty years. I took too long.â Her voice wavered as tears filled her eyes again. âBut it wasnât like that for me. In eternity, time⊠itâs different. I swear, Y/N, for me it was only months. Six, maybe. I lost track butââ She reached for Y/Nâs hand desperately, needing her to believe.
Y/Nâs eyes softened, though her jaw clenched as if holding back the storm of everything she had endured. She let out a slow, heavy breath. âWanda⊠it hasnât been fifty years.â Her thumb brushed over Wandaâs trembling fingers. âItâs been ninety-eight.â
The words hit Wanda like a blow, stealing the air from her lungs. Ninety-eight years. Nearly a century lost. Her lips parted, but no sound came outâonly a broken sob as she crumpled against Y/N, clutching her as though she could pull back the years with sheer will.
Wandaâs knees nearly gave out, but Y/N caught her, steadying her against the door. Wanda buried her face into Y/Nâs chest, sobs wracking through her as the weight of those years crashed over her.
âNinety-eightâŠâ she choked, the number tasting like ash in her mouth. âIâI never meant to⊠I thought Iâd come back sooner. I thoughtâŠâ Her hands clutched at Y/Nâs shirt as though afraid she might vanish too. âI didnât know it would cost us this much.â
Y/N held her, but her embrace was steadier than desperate, her warmth laced with caution. For Wanda, only months had passedâbut for Y/N, it had been almost a century.
Finally, Y/N pulled back just enough to meet Wandaâs tear-filled gaze. Her voice was low, trembling with something between anger and heartbreak. âWanda⊠once you choose eternity, you canât come back. Thatâs the rule. I know it. You knew it.â Her eyes glistened as she swallowed hard. âSo when you walked away with him⊠I thought I lost you forever.â
Wandaâs breath caught, her chest tightening as fresh guilt flooded her. âI didnât knowâI thought⊠I thought I still had a chance to see. To understand. But I was wrong, Y/N. I was so wrong.â Her voice cracked as she cupped Y/Nâs face, desperate for her to believe. âI donât want eternity without you. I donât want anything without you.â
Y/N searched her eyes, the storm in her expression betraying just how deeply Wandaâs choice had scarred her. For Wanda, the wound was still raw, but for Y/N, it had been carved into her soul for nearly a century.
âThen how are you here now?â Y/N whispered, almost broken. âHow did you even make it back, Wands?â
Wandaâs hands trembled as she held Y/Nâs face, her tears spilling faster. âThe gate,â she whispered, her voice shaking. âIt wouldnât let me through at first. I begged, I screamed, I waited until I lost track of days, until I thought Iâd wither away there. And then⊠the guards came. They asked me one question.â
Her lips quivered as she forced the words out. âThey asked me who I belonged to.â
Y/Nâs breath hitched, but she didnât speak, her gaze locked on Wandaâs.
âI said your name,â Wanda continued, her voice breaking, raw with truth. âNot once. Not twice. Over and over until my throat tore. I told them everythingâevery laugh, every night, every kiss, every dream we built together. I told them about our children, about our life, about you. And the gate⊠it opened. It only opened because my soul knew, because my heart has always been yours.â
She pressed her forehead desperately against Y/Nâs, her sobs wracking through her body. âI donât want eternity, not if itâs without you. I want you. I want the life we had, the love we shared. Thatâs all Iâll ever want. Please, Y/N⊠please tell me Iâm not too late.â
Y/Nâs hands hovered at Wandaâs waist, torn between pulling her closer and pushing her away. Her jaw clenched as her heart warred with the century of hurt Wanda had left behind.
âItâs been ninety-eight years, Wands,â Y/N whispered, her voice breaking. âNinety-eight years I lived with the choice you made. Do you have any idea how long that feels?â
Wandaâs sobs quieted, but her arms stayed firm around Y/N. âThen hate me. Be angry at me. I deserve it. But donât let me go. Not now. Not when I finally found my way back to you.â
They were interrupted by the sound of the knock on the door. Y/Nâs body tensed, but before either could move, the door creaked open and a familiar voice carried in.
âHey, Ma! Still home? I thought you were going out with Natasââ
The voice cut off abruptly.
Wandaâs heart stopped.
Standing in the doorway was a young man with sandy-brown hair and Y/Nâs eyes, his expression frozen in shock. His gaze darted between themâhis mother holding Wanda in her arms, Wandaâs tear-stained face buried against her.
âMom?!â Tommyâs voice cracked, half disbelieving, half horrified.
Wandaâs knees nearly buckled. Her hand flew to her mouth as she stared, breathless. Her son. Her son.
Y/N instinctively stepped in front of Wanda, as if to shield her from the intensity of the moment, but Tommy had already taken a step into the apartment, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
âY-Youââ Tommyâs voice trembled as his eyes filled. âYouâre supposed to be gone. You choseââ
âTommyâŠâ Wanda whispered, reaching toward him, her hand trembling. âOh my sweet boyâŠâ
Wanda didnât hesitateâher feet carried her forward before her mind could catch up. She threw her arms around Tommy, clutching him as if letting go would mean losing him again. Her sobs wracked her chest, muffled against his shoulder.
âTommy⊠my baby, my boy⊠Iâm so sorry,â she choked out, her fingers gripping the back of his shirt. âI never stopped loving you. Not for a second.â
Tommy stiffened in her embrace. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, torn between pushing her away and holding her back. His breath hitched, his jaw tight as he stared over her shoulder at Y/N, his voice strained and sharp.
âHow are you even here?â he demanded, his tone low but laced with anger. âYou left. I heard you chose to leave. You chose someone elseâŠâ
Wandaâs sobs only grew, but she clung tighter, shaking her head fiercely. âI made a mistake, Tommy. Iâm so sorry⊠I thought I needed to see what was on the other side. I thought I owed it to myself⊠but I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. All Iâve ever wanted was you, your brother and sister, and your mother. My family. I never should have left. Please⊠forgive me.â
Tommyâs jaw clenched as he stood rigid in her arms, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His eyes shimmered with something rawâanger, confusion, hurtâall tangled together. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his hands lifted and rested on her arms, not quite an embrace but not a rejection either.
âYou donât get it, Mom,â he said finally, his voice trembling with restrained emotion. âYou werenât gone for a little while. You were gone for almost a century. We had to watch Ma suffer without you.â His throat tightened, and his voice cracked. âAnd now you just show up here and say youâre sorry?â
Tommyâs words cut through Wanda like a blade, each one sharp and merciless. Her tears streamed faster, her hands clutching at him desperately as if she could anchor herself to him, as if touch alone could undo the years of absence.
But before Tommy could unleash the storm fully building in his chest, Y/Nâs voice rang out, firm and steady.
âTommy.â
The single word stopped him cold. His motherâs sobs filled the silence, but Y/Nâs tone carried a weight that commanded attention. Tommyâs fists curled at his sides, his chest heaving as he turned his gaze toward Y/N.
She stood with her arms folded, eyes unwavering, her expression torn between authority and quiet sadness. âThatâs enough.â
Tommyâs jaw worked, his anger still simmering, but he knew better than to push when Y/Nâs voice dropped into that tone. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, and looked away, blinking rapidly against the burning in his eyes.
Wanda loosened her hold just slightly, glancing up at Y/N with tear-streaked cheeks, her lips trembling. âY/NâŠâ she whispered, her voice fragile, pleading for Y/N to understand, to stand by her even now.
Y/Nâs eyes softened as she looked between them, but her voice carried no room for argument. âTommy⊠go. Give us some time.â
Tommy snapped his gaze back to her, disbelief flashing in his expression. âMaââ
âNot now,â Y/N cut in firmly, though her tone was calm, steady. âLater, weâll all sit down. You, me, your sister, your brother⊠and your mom. But right now, she and I need to talk.â
Tommyâs lips pressed into a tight line, his jaw tense. His anger hadnât fadedâit burned hot and restlessâbut he knew that tone, knew when Y/Nâs word was final. He glanced at Wanda, at the tears streaking her face, and for just a heartbeat, his expression cracked, hurt showing through the fury.
Then he turned away sharply. âFine,â he muttered, his voice low and rough. He headed for the door, his footsteps heavy, and paused only once with his hand on the knob. Without looking back, he said, âDonât expect it to be easy.â
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Wanda trembling in Y/Nâs arms, her breath shuddering, the silence heavy but not empty.
Wandaâs sobs shook through her whole frame, her fingers clutching at Y/Nâs shirt like she was afraid to let go. Her voice broke as she whispered again, desperate, raw, âPlease⊠just tell me⊠did you move on? Did I lose you?â
Y/N exhaled slowly, the weight of her question heavy in the quiet room. She didnât answer right away, instead bending down and sliding an arm beneath Wandaâs knees, the other cradling her back. With effortless strength, she lifted her, holding her close as if Wanda were fragile glass about to shatter.
Wandaâs tear-streaked face pressed into her shoulder, her sobs muffled against Y/Nâs skin as Y/N carried her through the room. She walked with slow, steady steps until they reached the bed.
Carefully, Y/N lowered her onto the mattress, sitting her there with gentle hands. She brushed a damp strand of hair from Wandaâs cheek, her thumb lingering on her skin as she finally spoke, her tone low and steady.
âWandaâŠâ She sighed, searching her face, her eyes, every broken edge she could see spilling out of her. âYou need to try to calm down first. Breathe. Maybe lie back, close your eyes, just rest for a little while. Weâll talk after, okay? Just⊠let yourself relax.â
But Wanda shook her head fiercely, tears clinging to her lashes. âNo. No, I canât. I canât sleep, I canât rest, not until I knowââ Her voice cracked, her sob rising into the space between them. âTell me if you moved on. Please⊠I need to know.â
Y/Nâs chest tightened, her own breath catching. Slowly, she cupped Wandaâs face in both hands, firm but infinitely gentle, grounding her in the warmth of her palms. âListen to me,â she said softly, but with conviction. âI love you. More than anything, more than anyone. That hasnât changed. It wonât. After you calm down and give yourself a little rest, weâll talk. I promise. But right nowâŠâ her thumbs brushed Wandaâs damp cheeks, âright now I just need you to breathe. For me.â
Wandaâs resistance finally broke, her trembling hands fisting into Y/Nâs shirt as she collapsed against her chest. A choked whimper left her lips, muffled by the curve of Y/Nâs shoulder.
âI love you too,â she whispered, over and over, as if afraid the words would slip away if she didnât hold onto them. Her voice was raw, fragile, threaded with desperation.
Y/N wrapped her arms around her tightly, rocking her just slightly, her hand moving in slow circles across Wandaâs back. âShh⊠Iâve got you,â she murmured, kissing the crown of her head. âYouâre safe. Iâm here.â
Bit by bit, Wandaâs trembling began to ease. Her sobs softened into ragged breaths, her weight growing heavier in Y/Nâs embrace as exhaustion finally claimed her. Still clinging to Y/N, she murmured one last, broken, âI love youâŠâ before her body slackened and her breathing settled into the rhythm of sleep.
Y/N held her a moment longer, studying the tear-streaked face nestled against her, her chest aching with both love and sorrow. Then, carefully, she eased Wanda down onto the pillows, brushing one last kiss to her forehead and pulling the blanket over her.
---
Y/Nâs POV
I sat there, unable to move, my eyes locked on the rise and fall of her chest. Wandaâs face, finally at peace after the storm, looked almost like it used toâsoft, vulnerable, mine. My hand hovered, then gave in, brushing gently across her cheek. She didnât stir, only leaned into the touch as if even in sleep she still sought me.
God, I missed her.
Every day without her had carved something out of me, a hollow ache that nothing and no one could fill. Iâd told myself I was strong enough, that for the kids I had to be. But now, with her here, asleep in our bed, that façade cracked. The truth was, I had been starving for herâher laugh, her warmth, the way she looked at me as though I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
My thumb traced the line of her jaw, memorizing her all over again. âMy WandaâŠâ I whispered, barely audible, afraid even the air might steal her away again.
Leaning back slightly, I kept my vigil, my fingers drifting over her cheek whenever the urge became too much.
---
Wandaâs POV
Wandaâs eyes blinked open, her lashes heavy as though she had been asleep for days rather than hours. For a moment, the stillness around her felt too perfect, too silent. She reached out instinctively, seeking Y/Nâs warmth beside herâonly to find the sheets cold and untouched.
Her breath hitched. Panic rushed through her chest like a flood. Had she dreamed it? Had her desperate, grief-soaked heart imagined her return?
But then her gaze swept the room, and she froze. This was Y/Nâs place in the junction. The room seemed familiar yet infused with a timeless stillness, as if it belonged both to her past and to something beyond.
Her eyes caught on the walls and shelves. Dozens of pictures. Too many to count. And every single one was of her. Wanda smiling, Wanda laughing, Wanda holding their children when they were young. Her breath broke, a sob caught in her throat. Y/N had kept her alive hereâthrough memory, through loveâsurrounding herself with the fragments of what was lost.
On the nightstand, a book lay open, its edges worn from countless touches. Wanda reached for it with trembling hands. The moment her fingers brushed the cover, a soft hum filled the room, and thenâlight.
Her hands trembled as the book pulsed with light again. The air shimmered, bending, and then the apartment around her melted away.
Wanda gasped.
She was standing in the middle of a memory â one of their memories.
It was their apartment, warm and golden with lamplight, and she saw herself curled up on the couch with Y/N. Her head rested against Y/Nâs chest, while Y/Nâs arms wrapped around her protectively, their hands absently tracing shapes along her arm.
âYouâre my whole world, Wanda,â Y/Nâs voice echoed, tender and certain. âEven if death tried to pull us apart, Iâd still find you. Always.â
In the memory, Wanda lifted her head, laughing softly, brushing her lips against Y/Nâs jaw. âYou say that like youâd chase me through forever.â
âI would,â Y/N whispered against her hair. âI will.â
Wandaâs throat constricted. She staggered closer, wanting to throw herself into the memory, into Y/Nâs arms, but her hands passed through the air like smoke. Her other self â smiling, alive, happy â leaned in to kiss Y/N, slow and tender, and Wanda could only watch as her heart splintered.
Tears streaked down her cheeks. She pressed a trembling hand to her lips, whispering brokenly into the fading glow:
âI should never have left⊠I should never have doubted.â
The light dimmed, the memory dissolving until the apartment returned, quiet and heavy once more. The book lay in her lap, its cover glowing faintly, as if waiting for her to open it again.
But Wanda could barely breathe, her chest tight with longing and regret.
Because Y/Nâs words from the memory still rang in her ears.
Iâd chase you through forever.
As the memory dissolved into nothingness, Wandaâs tears still clung stubbornly to her lashes. She pressed the book to her chest, breathing in raggedly, when suddenlyâ
The apartment door swung open with a loud thud.
âMom?â
Her heart stuttered at the sound of that voice. She turned, eyes wide, and there he was.
Billy.
He stood in the doorway, his appearance unmistakably in his early twenties, his black hoodie hanging loose over skinny jeans, eyeliner smudged around his piercing eyes. His hair was longer, styled in a way only his âemo eraâ would allow.
Wanda blinked at him, a watery laugh breaking through her tears. âOh⊠Billy,â she breathed, covering her mouth with her hand. âYouââ She laughed again, shaking her head in disbelief. âOf all the times of your life, why would you choose that time?â
He smirked, though his voice cracked with emotion as he stepped inside. âWhat? It was a look, Mom.â
She laughed harder, the sound trembling with joy and sorrow all at once. âI remember this so vividly⊠You wouldnât smile for family pictures, and you used to sit in your room blasting music, swearing no one understood you.â
Billyâs lips twitched into a grin, but it faltered as tears shimmered in his eyes. âGuess some things donât change, huh?â
Wandaâs body moved before her mind could catch upâshe rushed forward and threw her arms around him, clutching him like she would never let go again. âMy BillyâŠâ she whispered, kissing his temple through his messy hair. âOh, my sweet boy. Look at you.â
For a moment, Billy stiffened, overwhelmed, but then his arms wrapped around her tightly. He buried his face against her shoulder, his voice muffled and raw.
âI missed you, Mom.â
Wanda held him tighter, her heart swelling with every heartbeat that pressed against hers. He was warm, solid, real. Her Billy.
She pulled back just enough to cup his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the tears on his cheeks. âYouâre so beautiful,â she whispered, her smile trembling. âEven in your emo phase.â
Billy laughed through his tears, shaking his head. âDonât say that. Youâll embarrass me forever.â
âForever is exactly what we have now,â Wanda teased softly, her voice breaking on the last word as she leaned her forehead against his. âAnd Iâm never letting go again.â
He grinned, crooked and genuine, the kind of smile she hadnât seen in what felt like lifetimes. âGood. âCause I was starting to think youâd never show up. But⊠you did. You found your way back.â
Wandaâs chest tightened, but this time it wasnât with griefâit was with gratitude, with love so vast she thought she might burst. She pulled him back into her arms, rocking him gently like she used to when he was little.
âIâll always find my way back to you,â she murmured into his hair, closing her eyes. âAlways.â
And in that small apartment in the Junction, for the first time since stepping through the gate, Wanda felt whole again.
---
Billy didnât let go of her hand even once, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles as if grounding himself in the reality of her presence. Wanda drank him in.
They sat together on the couch, the silence between them stretching, warm and tender. Finally, Billy drew in a slow breath. âYou probably want to know what happened⊠after.â
Wanda nodded, her heart aching at the careful way he said it. She squeezed his hand, silently urging him to go on.
âWhen I died,â Billy began softly, his gaze dropping to their joined hands, âit wasnât scary. Not really. Teddy was thereâright beside me. I could feel him holding me, whispering that it was okay, that heâd see me again soon. And he was right. Two years later, he joined me here in the Junction.â His lips curved into a sad smile. âWe found each other again, and it felt like no time had passed at all.â
Tears welled in Wandaâs eyes, though she smiled faintly, picturing her sonâs happiness. âIâm glad,â she whispered, her voice catching. âIâm glad he was with you.â
Billy nodded, though the smile faded as his eyes grew heavier. âBut I⊠I couldnât move on to eternity. Not yet. Not without mama. Not without Tommy and Lyla.â His throat worked, and he let out a shaky breath.
Wandaâs chest constricted, her grip on his hand tightening. âBillyâŠâ
His voice grew quieter, tinged with hurt. âAnd when I got here, Tommy and mama were already waiting. But you were not⊠I looked everywhere for you. I asked mama and Tommy, but mama wouldnât tell, and Tommy said he already tried with her but he couldnât find out. I thoughtâno, I knewâyouâd be waiting. That youâd be here to welcome me. But you werenât. And it⊠it crushed me.â His eyes shimmered as he finally looked up, tears breaking through. âMama kept going. Strong, like she always is. But I could see it, every dayâthe way she was breaking inside. The way she looked at your pictures, like you would come out of it.â
Wanda broke then, her tears spilling freely, her hand flying to her mouth as if to hold back the sob threatening to tear from her chest. âOh my godâŠâ
Billy shook his head, his own tears falling now. âTommy and I couldnât stand it. We went to an afterlife coordinator to ask. We had to know why. Why werenât you with us? Why werenât you with her?â
He drew in a trembling breath. âAnd they told us. That youâd chosen someone else. That you had chosen eternity⊠with Vision⊠your first husband.â
The name hit her like a slap, shame and regret flooding her all over again. She opened her mouth, but no words came, only broken gasps between her tears.
Billyâs voice wavered, a mix of sorrow and something close to anger. âDo you have any idea what that did to her? To all of us? She never said it out loud, but I saw it. I saw the way her eyes dulled, how her smile faded. How she tried to keep going for us, for Lyla and Tommyâbut inside, she was wrecked. You left her, Mom. You left us.â
Wanda couldnât hold back the sob now. She leaned forward, clutching both of Billyâs hands as if she could anchor herself to him. âI know,â she cried, her voice raw. âI know, Billy. I thoughtâI thought I had to see it through. That maybe it was what I was meant to do. But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. Every second without you, without your mama, it tore me apart. And then⊠when I realized what I had done, I would have given anything to undo it. Anything to come back.â
Her sonâs tears slowed, though his chest still rose and fell with emotion. He studied her, his eyes searching for truth. âThen why? Why did you choose him?â
Wanda bowed her head, her sobs quieter now, her voice shaking. âBecause I was afraid. Afraid that I hadnât given Vision enough. Afraid that part of me belonged somewhere else. But the moment I stepped into that eternity, I knewâI knew I didnât belong there. My home, my life, my love⊠itâs with Y/N. With all of you.â
Billyâs jaw tightened, but the pain in his eyes softened, just slightly. He let out a heavy exhale, his thumb brushing over her hand again. âYou hurt her, Mom. You hurt all of usâŠâ
The door swung open quietly, and Y/N stepped inside, flanked by Tommy and Lyla. Wandaâs breath caught in her throat. She hadnât expected to see all three of them at once, and the sight of her family, whole and present, sent her emotions into overdrive.
Lyla was the first to reach her, moving swiftly across the room. Her arms wrapped around Wanda in a tight embrace, burying her face against Wandaâs shoulder. âWeâve missed you so much,â she whispered, her voice muffled but fierce with emotion. Wanda could feel the tremor of Lylaâs own restrained sobs through the hug, and it made her chest ache in a way only a mother could understand.
Wanda clung to Lyla, holding her as tightly as she had held Billy moments ago, letting the tears fall freely now without shame. âIâve missed you,â Wanda sobbed, her voice cracking. âAll of you. Every day⊠every moment I wasnât here, I thought of you. I thought of all of you.â
Y/Nâs hand stayed gently on Wandaâs back, guiding her back from the intensity of the hug. âCome on,â Y/N said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. âLetâs go eat something. We donât need to, but⊠itâll feel nice. Like old times.â
Wanda sniffled, nodding, still holding onto Lylaâs hand as they followed Y/N out of the apartment. Billy and Tommy flanked them, Tommyâs arms crossed, his expression still a little tight, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes.
The Junction shimmered around them in its gentle afterlife glow, streets and buildings familiar yet softened, quieter than memory, like a comforting dream. They walked side by side, taking turns laughing softly and speaking in quiet murmurs, as if afraid to break the fragile sense of reunion.
When they arrived at a small, warmly lit restaurant, the kind of place they used to go when alive, Wanda felt a strange, deep relief settle over her. It smelled like bread, coffee, and a faint trace of lavenderâsmall touches that made it feel alive in a way the afterlife rarely did.
They sat at a corner table, the four of them fitting together as they had always done. Plates appeared before them as if by magicâheaping with food that didnât satiate hunger but seemed to nourish the soulâand Wanda laughed softly at the absurdity of it, pressing a hand to her chest.
âSo,â Y/N began, leaning slightly toward Wanda, her tone gentle, âno rules. No oneâs in a rush. Just⊠us. Eat, talk, laugh⊠like we used to.â
Wandaâs eyes welled again, but this time with warmth. âI⊠I never thought Iâd get to do this again,â she whispered, taking a bite and savoring it in a way that felt almost sacred.
Billy and Lyla exchanged a glance, both smiling faintly, before starting to eat themselves. Tommy sat a little stiffly, but gradually relaxed as he watched Wanda laughing at something Y/N whispered to her, the tension in his shoulders easing.
The conversation flowed slowly at first, filled with awkward pauses and gentle teasing, memories of old jokes and shared moments spilling between them. They spoke of little thingsâplaces theyâd gone when alive, silly fights over what movie to watch, the taste of Wandaâs favorite desserts, Y/Nâs peculiar obsession with arranging flowers just so, Lylaâs tendency to hide snacks, and Billyâs emo phase antics, which made Wanda laugh so hard she nearly cried.
Tommy still held a bit of quiet sourness, the sting of years she hadnât been there still evident, but even he began to let his guard down as the warmth of being together suffused the table. He grumbled occasionally, but it was punctuated with a small, reluctant smile whenever Wanda laughed or Y/N nudged him playfully.
For Wanda, the simple act of eating together, of sharing space and conversation, felt like reclaiming pieces of a life she had thought lost forever. She realized that while the afterlife didnât require food, or sleep, or any of the mortal necessities, these ritualsâthese tiny, human joysâwere what truly made a family.
By the time they left the restaurant, their laughter lingering like a soft melody, the tension in Wandaâs chest had eased just slightly. She knew there would be more apologies, more explanations, and more moments to mend. But for now, with Y/N at her side, with her children close, and the Junction stretching ahead like a canvas of second chances, she feltâfinallyâlike she was home.
â
Wandaâs steps faltered as they entered the apartment, the quiet settling around them like a warm blanket. The kids waved goodbye, promising to see her again soon, and with that, Y/N gently guided Wanda inside. The door clicked softly behind them, leaving just the two of them in the familiar space that felt impossibly alive with memory.
They paused in the center of the room, eyes locking without a word. The weight of decades, the distance of time, and the relief of reunion pressed silently between them. Y/N finally spoke, her voice low and steady. âYou can take the bed. Iâll stay on the couch for a while.â
Wanda blinked, a pang stabbing her heart. âNo⊠I mean, you can stay in the bed too. We were married for over sixty years, Y/N. It⊠it doesnât feel rightââ
Y/N shook her head gently, offering her a small, reassuring smile. âIâll take the couch. I promise Iâll be fine.â
Wandaâs chest tightened, but she nodded, letting it goâfor now. She stepped closer, her trembling hands reaching for Y/N. âCan I⊠can I hug you?â
Y/N didnât hesitate, opening her arms. Wanda melted into her, burying her face against Y/Nâs shoulder, tears still prickling at her eyes. Y/Nâs arms wrapped around her back, strong and steady, holding her close. The quiet intimacy of the embrace, the rhythm of two hearts that had survived centuries apart, filled the room with warmth.
After a long moment, Wanda drew in a shaky breath, summoning the courage to voice the question that had been gnawing at her since she first saw Natasha. âY/N⊠what about Natasha?â
Y/Nâs hands lingered on her waist, grounding her. âSheâs⊠just a friend,â she said softly, though Wanda could hear the subtle tension in her voice.
But Wanda lifted her eyes to meet Y/Nâs. Her gaze didnât waverâsearching, questioning, insistent. She knewâknew âthat Y/N was hiding something. The quiet, the way her shoulders tensed, the brief hesitation before she spokeânone of it escaped Wandaâs notice.
Y/N sighed deeply, leaning her forehead against Wandaâs. She chuckled softly, a sound full of warmth and familiarity. âI almost forgot how persistent you can be.â
Their breath mingled, and for a long moment, the weight of unspoken truths hung between them. Finally, Y/N spoke, her voice a soft confession. âI met Natasha here⊠in the Junction, about thirty years ago. We became friends first, and then, ten years ago, she⊠she asked me if I wanted to spend eternity with her.â
Wandaâs breath caught, her heart thudding painfully. âAnd what did you say?â
Y/Nâs lips curved into a small, knowing smile, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. âWhat do you think I told her, Wands?â
Wanda blinked, her throat tight, her hands tightening slightly around Y/Nâs waist. âI⊠I donât know⊠that youâd think about it?â
Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. âNo. I told her⊠my eternity has always been with you. Always. No one else. I couldnâtâwouldnâtâchoose anyone else over you.â
Wandaâs chest tightened, tears spilling faster as she heard the tremor beneath Y/Nâs voice. âEven when I wasnât there⊠even when I left⊠you neverââ
âI never stopped,â Y/N whispered, cutting her off softly, pressing her forehead to Wandaâs. Her voice was low, tender, like a promise spoken in the quiet. âYouâre my home, Wanda. My life. My everythingâŠâ
For a moment, the words hung between them like a lifeline, warm and steady. Then Y/Nâs expression shifted. She pulled back just enough to look into Wandaâs eyes, her lips curving into a mock frown. âBut I am mad at youâŠâ she said, her tone light but edged with something deeper. âMad at you for leaving me⊠for choosing himâŠâ
Wandaâs breath caught. The teasing mask faltered just enough for her to see itâa flicker of real hurt passing through Y/Nâs eyes before she tried to smother it.
Wanda cupped Y/Nâs face with trembling hands, her thumbs brushing the corners of her jaw. âI knowâŠâ she whispered, her voice breaking. âI know I hurt you. Iâm so sorry, Y/N. I was wrong. Iâve been wrong every second since I left.â
Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into Wandaâs touch even as that flash of pain lingered behind her lashes. She exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, her hands still firm at Wandaâs waist. âI wanted to hate you for it,â she admitted quietly. âBut I couldnât. Even when I tried.â
Wandaâs heart cracked at the honesty, at the shadow in Y/Nâs gaze. âIâll spend the rest of my eternity making it up to you,â she said softly, almost a plea.
Y/N opened her eyes, meeting hers again, something softer and sadder flickering there. âWeâll see, WandsâŠâ she murmured. âWeâll see.â
---
Y/Nâs POV
I stirred my coffee slowly, letting the warmth seep into my hands. Nat and I had been talking about trivial thingsâwho had been assigned to which corner of the Junction, a few memories weâd laughed overâbut there was a pause, a silence that felt heavier than usual.
Finally, Nat spoke, her tone light but tinged with a trace of resignation. âSheâs back⊠so now itâs confirmed. I really donât have a chance.â
I let out a small sigh, calling her name gently, but before I could continue, Nat waved me off. âNo, really. Iâve known from the start,â she said softly, almost tenderly. âI understood from the beginning⊠how big Wanda is for you. And you made it perfectly clearâweâre just friends.â
Her words were steady, but I could see the faint shadow of disappointment in her eyes. I swallowed, feeling a pang of guilt. âNat⊠Iââ
She held up a hand, cutting me off. âDonât apologize. I just⊠I needed to say it out loud, I guess. But I want to askâcan we still be friends? Can we still go out sometimes while weâre here in the Junction?â
I smiled, a genuine warmth lifting through me. âOf course. Always.â
Natâs lips curved into a small, relieved smile. âThen⊠can we finally go to that bar we were supposed to?â she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.
I chuckled softly, shaking my head. âYou mean the one we kept postponing because of⊠everything else?â
She shrugged, grinning. âExactly that one. No grand emergencies, no afterlife drama, just us sitting there, maybe laughing too loud and ordering too many drinks.â
The thought made me laugh aloud. It felt surreal to even imagine itâme, Nat, carefree in a world that was technically afterlife, yet somehow still full of little joys. âAlright,â I said, leaning back in my chair. âI promise weâll go this time.â
Natâs grin widened, her eyes softening with something lighter than Iâd seen in a long while. âGood. Iâll hold you to that. Donât think being dead gets you out of it.â
I smirked into my coffee cup. âGuess I canât argue with that logic.â
For a moment, silence settled between us, not heavy, just comfortable. The kind that came with understandingâtwo people who didnât need to fill every gap with words. I found myself grateful for that, for her.
---
Wandaâs POV
Wanda stayed where she was, curled up on the couch, her fingers absently tracing patterns against the fabric of the cushion. The stillness of the apartment wrapped around her like a blanket, though it couldnât quite soothe the restless ache in her chest. She knew where Y/N had goneâNatasha.
The name alone tugged at something sharp inside her. Wanda pressed her lips together, trying to will the feeling away. She didnât have the right to feel this way, not after everything, not after the choices she had made that had cost them so much. Y/N had every right to spend time with Natasha, to laugh with her, to seek out the comfort of a friend.
And yet, as the minutes stretched into an hour, Wandaâs mind wandered. She pictured them sitting together, leaning close in conversation, Y/N smiling that rare, unguarded smile that had always made Wandaâs heart stop. She hated herself for itâfor the twist of jealousy curling low in her stomach, for how much she still wanted that smile to belong only to her.
The sound of the door unlocking pulled her from her thoughts. Her heart gave a traitorous flutter as Y/N stepped inside, brushing off the cool air from outside. Their eyes met briefly, and Wanda forced herself to smile, soft and casual, though it felt fragile around the edges.
âHey,â Y/N said, voice warm, as if nothing had shifted at all.
Wanda nodded, her throat tight. âHey.â
She told herself it was enoughâthat just having Y/N here, close, safe, should have been enough. But the ache of jealousy lingered, quiet and persistent, no matter how hard she tried to bury it.
Wanda sank a little deeper into the couch, hugging her knees, trying to make herself small. Every movement Y/N madeâthe way she kicked off her shoes, the soft hum as she moved around the apartment, the faint scent of her hairâtwisted Wandaâs heart in quiet, relentless knots. She told herself it was ridiculous. Y/N had just come back from seeing a friend. Nothing more. Nothing less.
And yet⊠the thought of Natasha, of Y/N laughing with her, leaning close, sharing some unspoken moment Wanda wasnât part of, burned. She tried to focus on her relief, on the fact that Y/N was back, that she was here, safe, whole. But the quiet twinge of jealousy nestled stubbornly at the base of her ribs. She knew Y/N could sense itâcould feel the tension radiating off herâbut didnât press, didnât question, didnât let it change the warmth of their reunion. That silent awareness, that gentle patience, made Wandaâs heart ache with both love and guilt.
She watched Y/N settle into the apartment, small, ordinary gestures that once would have seemed mundane, now unbearable in their intimacy. Wandaâs fingers twitched as she tried to control the pull in her chest, the desperate need to claim Y/N again, to be her first and only focus.
She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath, reminding herself that she had no right to anything but presenceâfor now. Y/N was here, and that was enough. And yet, even as she clung to that thought, the quiet ache of wanting more lingered, stubborn and unspoken, tucked deep beneath the relief, beneath the love, beneath everything.
---
The following days stretched endlessly, a blur of quiet moments and racing thoughts. Wanda moved through the apartment almost on autopilot, her mind looping over the same question: what should she do?
Every time Y/N was in the room, her chest tightened. She longed to close the distance, to throw herself into Y/Nâs arms, to feel the warmth she had craved for what felt like an eternity. She wanted to kiss her, to press the words I love you directly onto her lips, to show her everything she had carried in the lonely months of waiting.
And yet⊠fear rooted her to the spot. Fear that Y/N would pull back, that her love, her desperation, might be too much after all these years apart. Fear that she might misstep, that the fragile, renewed trust between them could shatter. She paced the apartment more than she moved toward Y/N, circling the couch, the kitchen, the small sunlit corner by the window, always stopping just short of the warmth she craved.
At night, she lay awake on the bed, staring at the ceiling, imagining Y/N beside her, imagining the softness of her hand in hers, imagining the quiet laughter they could share. Her mind begged her to act, to bridge the gap, but her body trembled with hesitation, tangled in memories of mistakes, of choices made, of the time lost.
Even the smallest interactionsâY/N reaching for a cup, brushing her hair back, humming softly while tidyingâsent Wandaâs heart leaping. Every mundane gesture felt magnified, a reminder of what she had almost lost and now had again.
She hated the indecision, hated the way it made her feel small and helpless in front of the one person who had always made her feel whole. And yet, a tiny voice whispered, a cautious, trembling hope: Soon. Soon weâll be ok.
Until then, Wanda lingered at the edge of Y/Nâs world, caught between yearning and fear, every heartbeat a quiet, desperate prayer that she could somehow find the right moment to let her soul speak.
---
But on top of everything, there was Natasha. Y/N would leave to see her, sometimes for an hour, sometimes longer, and Wanda would stay behind in the quiet apartment. She told herself she had no right to feel anything about itâthat Y/N had lived here for decades without her, that friendships had been built in the space Wanda had left behind.
But the ache wouldnât go away. Each time the door closed behind Y/N, a hollow pang spread through Wandaâs chest. She hated it. She hated the gnawing jealousy, the twisting thought of Y/Nâs laughter belonging to someone else, even in something as innocent as friendship.
And then it struck her, sharp and bitter. *Is this how she felt?* Was this what Y/N endured when Wanda chose to chase echoes of her past, clinging to memories of Vision instead of standing firmly at Y/Nâs side? The realization hit like a stone in her stomach. It wasnât fairâwhat she had done to Y/N back then, how blind she had been to the pain her choices might have caused.
Now the roles were reversed, and Wanda despised it. The waiting. The not knowing. The silence stretching between them like a chasm.
She hated it because she understood.
And the worst partâthe part that made her chest burnâwas knowing that she had no one to blame but herself.
The days bled together in the Junction, though Wanda could feel each one pressing down on her chest. She would linger in the apartment, drifting from room to room, her gaze catching on the framed photographs Y/N had placed everywhere. Pieces of their life together, frozen in time. Reminders of what she had left behind.
And yet, every time Y/N walked out that door, the warmth of those memories turned cold. Wanda would sit on the edge of the bed, twisting her fingers together, ears straining for the faintest sound that might tell her Y/N had come back. But the silence always stretched too long, feeding her thoughts until they soured.
She tried to convince herself it was nothingâjust Y/N visiting a friend. That was all. But the image of Natashaâs smile lingered, uninvited, and Wandaâs heart coiled tight with something ugly. She despised it. She despised herself for feeling it.
Because she knew this pain. She recognized the shape of it. It was the same hollow ache Y/N must have carried when Wanda had chosen her memories of Vision, when she had clung to something that was never meant to last. Back then, Wanda hadnât thought of what it cost Y/Nâhadnât wanted to. Now, she couldnât escape it.
Every jealous pang was mirrored by guilt, the kind that gnawed at her bones. She had no right to this feeling, not after what she had done. Y/N had never once turned her away, never stopped loving her, never given her reason to doubt. And still, Wanda sat here, waiting, resenting, aching.
It was a cycle she couldnât break: jealousy flaring hot, guilt cooling it to ash, only for it to reignite the moment Y/Nâs footsteps faded down the hall again.
And Wanda swallowed it all in silence. Because how could she voice it? How could she admit that after everythingâafter her choice, after her absenceâshe was jealous of someone who had been there when she wasnât?
She had no right. But that didnât stop her heart from breaking all the same.
---
Then one day, Wanda was standing by the doorway, her heart thudding softly against her ribs. Y/N sat by the window, a book open in her hands, the late light spilling over her hair in a soft gold that made her look almost ethereal. For a long moment, Wanda just watchedâthe gentle rise and fall of her chest, the quiet steadiness that had always grounded her.
Her hands trembled before she even realized she was moving. Slowly, as if approaching a fragile dream that might vanish if she made a sound, she crossed the room. Y/N glanced up briefly, offering a small, familiar smile before her eyes drifted back to the page. That smile alone nearly undid Wanda.
Without a word, she reached Y/N and lowered herself onto her lap, straddling her thighs. Y/N froze for only a heartbeat, the book slipping shut between her fingers, before Wandaâs arms came up around her neck, burying her face against the familiar curve of Y/Nâs shoulder.
It wasnât desireâit was something far more fragile. Wandaâs chest ached as she pressed closer, breathing in that faint, warm scent sheâd missed more than life itself. She remembered the last time sheâd done thisâin the wrong eternity, with the wrong person. Vision had thought it was sexual. But what sheâd wanted⊠what sheâd always wanted⊠was this. Her Y/N.
Y/N didnât ask. She didnât tense or pull away. She simply wrapped her arms around Wanda, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other resting low on her back, holding her steady. The motion was instinctiveâmuscle memory from a love that had spanned lifetimes.
A quiet breath trembled out of Wanda. The tears she had been holding in for days finally welled up, dampening Y/Nâs collar. âIâm sorry,â she whispered, the words barely audible against her skin.
Y/N said nothing. She only held her tighter, her thumb tracing small, soothing circles along Wandaâs spine. And in that silenceâwarm, familiar, infiniteâWanda felt something inside her begin to ease. The fear, the jealousy, the guilt⊠all of it softened under Y/Nâs touch.
It was home.
Just like it had always been.
Y/Nâs thumb kept tracing slow circles on Wandaâs back, grounding them both in the silence. The sound of the Junction outside the window was distant, softenedâalmost like the world itself was giving them space.
After a long while, Y/N tilted her head slightly, her voice breaking the quiet in that low, gentle tone Wanda had missed more than she could ever say.
âWhatâs on your mind?â
Wanda didnât answer right away. Her lips trembled against Y/Nâs skin, and her fingers clutched the fabric of Y/Nâs shirt as if she were afraid it would all dissolve if she let go. Finally, she breathed out, barely above a whisper, âEverything⊠and nothing.â
Y/N gave a small hum, a sound of quiet understanding, but she didnât push. She knew Wanda well enough to recognize when she was circling her feelingsâwhen she wanted to speak but didnât know how to start.
Wanda drew back just enough to look at her, eyes red and wet, lashes sticking together. âI keep thinking,â she began softly, âabout how you mustâve felt⊠when I was gone. When I chose wrong. I canât stop seeing itâyour face, waiting at that door, hoping Iâd walk through it.â Her voice cracked. âAnd I didnât.â
Her hands moved to cup Y/Nâs jaw, desperate and tender all at once. âI hate that I did that to you. I hate that I left you alone for so long.â
Y/N met her gaze, quiet, steady. There was no anger thereâonly a deep sadness that had learned how to live in her eyes. She reached up, covering Wandaâs hands with her own. âYou donât have to apologize, Wanda,â she murmured. âYou made a choice. And I made one tooâto keep loving you, even when you werenât here.â
Wandaâs breath hitched, tears spilling freely again. âHow can you still love me after everything?â
Y/N smiled faintly, brushing her thumb across Wandaâs cheek. âBecause I donât know how not to.â
Wandaâs heart broke open all over again. She leaned in, her forehead pressing against Y/Nâs, her voice a trembling whisper. âThen let me make it right this time. Please. Just⊠let me love you again.â
Y/N didnât speak at firstâshe just breathed, slow and steady, their foreheads still touching. The warmth between them pulsed softly, like the quiet rhythm of something ancient and unbroken.
Then, she nodded. Once. Small, deliberate, but full of meaning.
Wandaâs breath hitched, her lips parting in a silent gasp, as if that single motion had cracked open the dam sheâd been holding back for so long. Her hands trembled where they rested against Y/Nâs face, fingers brushing against familiar skin she had ached for over what felt like lifetimes.
Y/Nâs hands stayed at Wandaâs waist, grounding her, gentle yet sure. Her voice came low, steadyâbarely above a whisper. âOne step at a time, alright?â
Wanda nodded quickly, her tears spilling over again as she pressed closer, her forehead still resting against Y/Nâs. âI can do that,â she murmured, her voice trembling with both relief and longing. âAs long as itâs with you.â
Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, breathing her in. The scent, the closeness, the fragile trust rebuilding itself between themâit was everything she had dreamed of and feared sheâd never feel again.
She pulled Wanda just a little closer, enough that their hearts lined up, steady and synced. âThen weâll start here,â she whispered.
Wanda smiled through her tears, her lips brushing softly against Y/Nâs cheek in a trembling, reverent touch. âHere,â she echoed.
And for the first time since her return, everything felt right again.
---
The days after that first, fragile reunion were a gentle unraveling of time. Wanda and Y/N began to move through the Junction with a new purposeâone that felt like healing stitched together with laughter, memory, and love.
They visited the places they had cherished together, both in life and in the moments they had imagined but never reached. Small cafés they had once lingered in, tucked-away corners of the Junction where the sunlight hit just right, parks where they had tossed coins into fountains, silently wishing for more time together. Each place was alive with echoes of themselves, past and present, and every step they took felt like reclaiming pieces of a life almost lost.
Their memories became playgrounds. Dates they had once hadâor always wanted to haveâwere relived with careful precision: the quiet thrill of a first dinner together, the reckless delight of a shared ice cream cone on a hot day, long walks under the Junctionâs glowing street lamps, whispering promises theyâd once only dared to dream aloud.
They laughed more than they had in centuries, their hands intertwined, fingers tracing the familiar lines and scars of a love that had endured even absence. Wanda marveled at how Y/Nâs smile still caught her breath, while Y/N marveled at how soft Wandaâs presence could feel after decades of longing.
And then, the places they had never visited in life became new adventures. They wandered through markets they had imagined, dipped their feet into rivers they had dreamed of, and gazed at sunsets from hills that had always seemed just out of reach. With every shared experience, Wanda felt her guilt and jealousy melt away, replaced by the quiet confidence of belonging.
At night, they would return to their apartment, curling together on the couch or bed, recounting the dayâs small triumphs and discoveries. The Junction, in all its shimmering afterlife beauty, became a canvas for their loveâa place where past and future, memory and desire, could coexist.
Step by step, memory by memory, they were rebuilding not just a life, but eternity together.
---
The slow, steady rhythm of their reunited lives began to include their children as well. Billy and Lyla had already embraced Wanda, but Tommy had remained guarded, his anger and hurt tempered only by love for his mother. Still, over time, the warmth of Wandaâs presence and the steady joy he saw in Y/N began to chip away at the walls he had built.
Days were spent wandering through the Junction as a familyâlaughing, teasing, and sharing memories that belonged both to the past and the life they were now reclaiming. Wanda watched Tommy hesitate at first, holding back, yet gradually letting himself relax when she joined in a silly game or shared a joke. He saw the way Y/Nâs hand rested gently on Wandaâs back, the subtle exchanges of love and care that reminded him of the bond that had never truly broken.
One evening, as the three of them sat together watching the soft glow of the Junctionâs lights reflecting in the rivers of memory, Tommy finally leaned against Wandaâs shoulder without a word. It was small, almost imperceptible, but the gesture spoke volumes. He was letting her back in, letting her love be part of their family again.
And slowly, he laughed with them. He argued playfully, teased them mercilessly, and yet lingered close, watching the way Wanda and Y/N moved through the space with a tenderness he had almost forgotten. It was as if he was rediscovering a mother he had loved all his life, alongside the woman who had always been the anchor for their family.
Tommyâs walls crumbled not because he forgot the hurt, but because he could see how fiercely Wanda loved his Ma, how deeply she belonged to them all. And in that, he found it easier to forgive, easier to embrace the family whole again, and easier to let the past settle gently behind them.
At last, they were truly togetherânot just as parents and children, but as a family healed by time, by love, and by the courage to return.
---
But Y/N still went out with Nat. And that still bothered Wanda.
Wanda sat on the couch, fingers curling into the soft fabric of the cushion, her chest tight. The apartment felt too quiet without Y/Nâs presence, too still without the warmth of her shoulder to lean against. She knew Y/N had gone out with Nat, and part of her wanted to tell herself it didnât matterâthat it was harmless, just casual friends enjoying themselves.
But the truth was, it *did* matter. Her stomach knotted at the thought, a little pang of jealousy she had no right to feel. After all, Y/N had always made her own choices, and she had come back to *her*. Yet knowing Y/N was laughing somewhere, walking beside someone elseâeven if it was just a friendâstirred a quiet, gnawing ache.
Wanda hugged a pillow to her chest, burying her face against it. She hated that she felt this way. She hated that her insecurities, her guilt for ever leaving, were twisting into something possessive. And she hated that she couldnât say anything without feeling ridiculous.
What if Y/N liked being out with Nat? What if Nat really did hold a piece of Y/Nâs heart, even if Y/N had chosen her? Wandaâs mind ran in circles, spiraling between worst-case scenarios and self-reassurances that felt hollow.
She stayed there, silent and tense, until finally, her body ached from the weight of her own thoughts. And when Y/N returned later, cheerful and flushed from the night out, Wanda forced a smile, hiding the turmoil that still churned quietly inside her. She would let herself be happyâfor nowâbecause Y/N had come back. But the jealousy, the longing, the quiet worry⊠it was still there, like a shadow she couldnât quite shake.
Hours passed, and Wanda spiraled deeper, replaying every mistake, every selfish step that had led them here. Her chest felt heavy, each breath sharper than the last, when finally the door creaked open.
Y/N stumbled inside. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes warm and hazy, her grin loose with intoxication. Wanda blinked, startled. âYouâre⊠drunk?â
Y/N chuckled, swaying slightly as she toed off her shoes. âDidnât know it was possible either,â she slurred softly, her voice thick and endearing. âOnly lasts for an hour or two, apparently. But itâs real. And wow.â She laughed at herself, then turned toward Wanda.
And just like that, Wandaâs breath hitched. Because Y/N was looking at herânot at the floor, not at the couch, not at the past they both carriedâbut at *her*. With all the love in the world shining through her drunken haze. The same love that had once been hers entirely, the same love she had thought sheâd lost forever.
Wanda forgot how Y/N became when she was drunk. All unfiltered affection, no walls, no hesitationâjust raw, undeniable love. And standing there, trapped in that gaze, Wanda felt her heart race.
Y/N stumbled forward a little, laughing softly at herself before reaching out, one hand brushing Wandaâs cheek. âI⊠missed you,â she slurred, the words warm and unsteady. âMissed thisâmissed you. All of you.â
Wandaâs chest tightened, tears pricking her eyes. She couldnât stop herself; she stepped closer, closing the gap, letting Y/N lean into her as she cupped the otherâs face with trembling hands. âI missed you too,â Wanda whispered, her voice breaking, âmore than I can evenââ
Y/N laughed again, a shaky, affectionate sound, pressing her forehead to Wandaâs. âI know,â she murmured, voice soft. âI know you did. I feel it. I feel you.â
Wandaâs breath hitched at the sudden, tender pressure of Y/Nâs lips against hers. She couldnât help the soft whimper that escaped, a mixture of relief, longing, and the raw ache of years spent apart. Her hands tightened around Y/Nâs face, holding her close as if anchoring herself to the present, to the warmth that had always been hers.
Y/N deepened the kiss, unsteady but full of affection, letting it linger with all the words theyâd never said, all the years lost between them. Wanda trembled, heart hammering, a shiver running down her spine as she pressed herself closer, needing every bit of Y/N she could reach.
Pulling back just enough to breathe, Y/N rested her forehead against Wandaâs, her lips brushing softly over her temple. âI⊠I feel you,â she whispered again, voice thick with emotion. âAll of you⊠finally back where you belong.â
Wanda let out a shaky laugh, tears spilling freely, and murmured, âIâm never leaving again.â
Y/N smiled, a drunken, tender grin, pressing another quick kiss to Wandaâs lips. âGood,â she murmured. âBecause I didnât think I could stand another century without you.â
Wandaâs hands traced the familiar curves of Y/Nâs body, fingers trembling as if they might dissolve if she held back. Every touch, every whisper, was a reclamation of the years lost, a desperate affirmation that they were here, together, now.
Y/N guided her gently at first, letting Wanda lead, letting her set the pace of their reunion. The apartment was filled with quiet gasps and soft murmurs, the afterlifeâs stillness amplifying every heartbeat, every brush of skin, every stolen breath.
Wanda pressed close, forehead against Y/Nâs, lips brushing, tasting, memorizing again. There was no rush, no need for anything but the closeness of each other, the safety and love that had always defined them.
Y/Nâs hands tangled in Wandaâs hair, pulling her closer, grounding her, whispering her name like a prayer. âMine,â Y/N murmured between kisses. âAlways mine.â
And Wanda responded with a cry, a shiver, a surrenderâpouring centuries of longing, guilt, and love into every movement, every sigh. They moved together as they had in countless memories and countless dreams: slow, tender, urgent, and consuming.
In the afterlife, time felt irrelevant; only the warmth of each other, the shared heartbeat, and the reclaiming of everything theyâd lost mattered. When they finally collapsed into each other, slick and spent, their bodies still entwined, Wanda felt a peace she hadnât known she could reach.
Y/N stroked her hair, brushing a damp strand from her face. âIâm here,â she whispered, voice soft and steady. âIâm not going anywhere.â
Wanda buried her face against Y/Nâs chest, letting herself finally breathe. âNever again,â she whispered back, voice muffled, tears slipping freely. âNever again.â
And in the quiet aftermath, their hands laced, hearts still racing, they simply held each other, letting the afterlife witness what had always been true: their love, unbroken and eternal.
---
Wanda and Y/N fell back into the rhythm of their lives with a comforting ease, as though the decades apart had been nothing more than a long, cruel pause. Their afternoons and nights blurred together in quiet intimacy, laughter, and warmth. Making love became a part of their routine againânot out of necessity, but out of desire, affection, and the shared understanding of how fragile time could be. Each touch, each kiss, each whispered word was a reclamation of what had been lost, a reaffirmation that they belonged to each other.
It felt young and reckless at times, like teenagers discovering each other all over again, and yet layered with the depth and history of a love that had weathered centuries. They found joy in simple gestures: lying together in silence, sharing coffee by the window, holding hands while wandering through recreated memories or new adventures in the Junction.
Wanda even warmed up to Nat over time. What had once made her uneasyâY/Nâs friendship with someone elseâsoftened into acceptance. Nat was kind, loyal, and genuinely happy for them. Wanda realized that she could trust Y/N and that Nat posed no threat, only a companionship that had endured years in the afterlife. The three of them shared quiet meals, laughter, and casual conversations, the awkward tension of the past fading like a shadow at sunrise.
In these days, in these small, tender moments, Wanda felt a sense of peace she had never thought possible. Her love for Y/N burned brighter than ever, untainted by regret or fear, and the warmth of familyâY/N, Billy, Tommy, Lyla, and even Natâsurrounded her like a shield. Life in the Junction had its own rhythm, one that was both timeless and fleeting, but for Wanda and Y/N, it finally felt like home.
---
Then, one dayâfive years after Wandaâs return to the Junctionâan afterlife coordinator appeared at their apartment, calm but insistent. âY/N, Wanda⊠itâs time,â they said softly. âSince youâve chosen each other for eternity, you are meant to leave this place and step fully into your eternal existence.â
Y/N and Wanda exchanged a glance, the weight of the years they had spent together reflected in each otherâs eyes. But neither moved. Y/N shook her head firmly. âWe⊠we canât,â she said, her voice steady. Wandaâs hand found hers instinctively, gripping tightly.
âWe are each otherâs eternity,â Wanda added, her tone unwavering, âbut our childrenâthey are our eternity too. We cannot leave them behind. They are part of what makes this love whole.â
The coordinator hesitated, tilting their head, trying to convey understanding. âThe system⊠it wasnât designed for this. Eternity is meant to be for individuals. Families are⊠secondary.â
Y/Nâs jaw tightened, a quiet fire in her eyes. âThen your system is wrong,â she said firmly. âLove isnât just two people. Itâs everything they hold dear. Their lives, their children, their shared history. We are not leaving, because leaving would mean abandoning the most important part of our eternity.â
The coordinator sighed, a mixture of frustration and awe in their expression, realizing there was no protocol for a defiance like this. Wanda leaned into Y/N, resting her head on her shoulder. âWeâve found our eternity here, in each other, yesâbut also in our family. This is where we belong.â
And so they stayed. Defiant, unyielding, and fiercely human in the afterlife. Together, not just as lovers, but as mothers, as family, as the guardians of a love that refused to be constrained by rules or systems. The Junction, with all its memories and wonders, became theirsânot merely a waiting place, but a home for the eternity they had chosen for themselves and for the family they refused to leave behind.
---
Centuries passed, and slowly, the stubborn love of one family began to ripple outward. Other souls, seeing the way Wanda and Y/N had refused to abandon their children, began to question the rules that governed the afterlife. They saw that eternity could be more than solitary, that love couldâand shouldâinclude family.
The system, once rigid and unyielding, evolved. Policies changed, structures adapted, and finally, families were allowed to step into eternity together. The world itself reshaped to reflect the lives and loves that refused to be separated. And so, at long last, Wanda, Y/N, and their childrenâTommy, Billy alongside his husband, Lyla with her spouse and childrenâentered a shared eternity.
Their eternity took the form of the sun-drenched hills and vineyards of Tuscany, rolling fields and cypress-lined roads stretching to the horizon, warm light spilling into every corner of their new life. It was a paradise that mirrored their love: open, vibrant, and alive with possibility.
Natasha and her partner were welcome visitors, friends bound by decades of shared time and trust, able to come and go as they pleased, adding laughter and warmth without threatening the delicate balance of Wanda and Y/Nâs family.
Here, centuries after Wanda had first returned to the Junction, the family thrived. Children and grandchildren ran through sunlit vineyards, voices carrying over the hills. The scent of fresh bread and roasted coffee filled the air. Y/N and Wanda, hand in hand, could sit together on the terrace, watching their family flourish and knowing that every choice, every act of defiance, every tear shed in longing had led them here.
At last, eternity was not a rule to followâit was a life to live, together, and in it, they were truly home.
-The End-
---
I was so certain that a story where R would get with someone else would make an amazing, angsty ending to this story, but I am so happy to have been proven wrong. You wrote the ending(?) to this so incredibly beautifully. I was, and am really happy to have been able to read part 2 to this. Thank you for making it a reality.
Hi @canvascoloredin
Thank you for reading the part 2. And I am so sorry I didnât write your request for this one. I had other ideas already. But I would love to write something in the future if you have other ideas âșïž
Eternity - Part 2
Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Summary: Wanda had died and woke up in a place called junction. There she needs to choose where and who she will spend her eternity with. The decision was supposed to be simple. But what happens when the past she thought she forgot had waited for her for seventy-two years?
Word Count: 13k+
Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mention of smut
A/N: I didnât know how to end. Hope everyone likes it đ (Btw, I love Lizzie in this photo so much! đ)
Main Masterlist
Part 1
---
Another month passed. The streets of the recreated town carried on in their strange, stagnant stillness, but Wandaâs world had shrunk to the glowing gate. She no longer counted the days. Only the aching rhythm of her heart remained, pulsing out Y/Nâs name like a mantra.
Her knees did not bruise, her voice did not grow hoarse, and her hands bore no marks despite clawing at the unyielding surface day after day. This place denied pain, denied the marks of time, denied her even the physical proof of her suffering. But the ache insideâher grief, her longingâwas eternal.
Vision had stopped visiting. At first, he came often, his voice calm, insistent, offering her companionship, trying to pull her away from the gate. But Wanda refused him every time, her words sharper, her heart harder, her grief untouchable.
The last time he came, his tone had shifted. Bitter. Cold.
âI should have known,â he said, standing over her, his arms folded tight. âAll those years I waited for you⊠wasted. I should have chosen differently. There was a girl in the Junction, kind, gentle⊠she would have loved me. She would have chosen me. But I waited for you. Believed in you. And thisââ his hand swept toward her crumpled figure, unwavering and desperate before the gate, ââthis is what I get.â
Wanda hadnât looked at him then. Couldnât. Her body remained flawless, untouched by time, but her spirit trembled with fresh sobs, her voice barely a whisper. âGo. Just go.â
And he had.
Since then, the recreated world had grown quieter still. Vision never returned. The guards remained, silent and unyielding. And Wandaâshe stayed, clinging to the gate with every shred of strength she had left, the weight of eternity pressing heavier with each passing moment.
Her whispers of Y/Nâs name became prayers, broken confessions to a love now out of reach. The gate never answered.
But Wanda never moved. She refused to let go.
---
Wanda had lost track of everything. Time had slipped from her like sand through trembling fingers. Days, hours, momentsâshe couldnât tell anymore. She sat before the glowing gate, her back against the cold stone, her knees pulled up tightly as though holding herself together. Her thoughts blurred in and out, the only steady thread the image of Y/Nâs smile, Y/Nâs hands, Y/Nâs voice calling her home.
The guards had watched her silently for what could have been an eternity. She hadnât moved, hadnât begged, hadnât raged. She just stayed.
At last, one of them stepped forward. His voice was calm, firm, carrying the weight of something older than the walls themselves.
âYouâve lingered long,â he said, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. âDo you truly wish to go back to the Junction?â
Wanda blinked, her throat dry. âYes,â she whispered. Her voice cracked, but she didnât falter. âI made a mistake. I chose a shadow over my truth. I need to go back. To Y/N.â
The guardâs expression did not soften. âIf you leave this place, you cannot return. The choice is final. There will be no Vision waiting for you should regret take root again.â
Her heart twisted, but she nodded. âI understand.â
âAnd if you return to the Junction,â the guard continued, his tone edged with gravity, âthere is no guarantee. No certainty that the one you love will accept you for eternity. Do you understand this as well?â
For a moment, pain flickered across her face. The thought of Y/N turning away, of her children fading into memoryâit threatened to shatter her. But she drew in a long breath, steadying herself.
âI understand,â she said softly. âBut even if she never chooses me again, I still choose her. Always her.â
The guard studied her for a long, heavy silence. Then, at last, he inclined his head. âWe cannot open the gate for you. That decision is not ours to make. But if the gate finds your heart true, if your reasons are worthy, it may open of its own accord.â
He gestured toward the glowing barrier. âPlace your hand upon it. Speak not to us, but to it. Let it see what lies within your soul.â
Wandaâs breath trembled as she rose to her feet. For the first time in what felt like endless days, her body felt steady. She stepped toward the radiant gate, her heart hammering against her ribs, and raised her hand.
Her palm touched the light. It was warm, alive, humming beneath her skin like a heartbeat that wasnât her own. For an instant, she thought she felt it recoil, as if weighing her soul, testing the truth of her presence.
And then, like a whisper from the depths of eternity itself, a voice slid into the air around her. Soft. Unyielding. Eternal.
âWho do you belong to?â
The words struck her like lightning. Wandaâs breath caught in her throat, tears stinging her eyes. Her lips trembled, but the answer was already thereâburning in her chest, unshakable, undeniable.
âY/N,â she said. Her voice was raw, shaking. âI belong to Y/N.â
The gate pulsed, glowing brighter, but the voice pressed again, deeper this time.
âOnce more. Who do you belong to?â
Wandaâs hands clenched against the light, her whole body trembling. Memories surged through herâY/Nâs laughter as they danced in the kitchen, the soft weight of their children in her arms, the warmth of nights spent tangled together in quiet love. Her heart cracked open, spilling everything she had buried, everything she had almost abandoned.
âTo Y/N!â she cried, her voice breaking. âI always have! My life, my love, my soulâitâs hers! My home is with her, my eternity is with her! Not with this⊠not with shadows, not with illusions! I was wrong, I was so wrongâbut my heart never left her! I belong to Y/N!â
The light of the gate surged, spilling across her skin, flooding the air like dawn breaking through an endless night. The hum grew louder, vibrating through her bones, until it felt like her very soul was being lifted from the ground.
She pressed her forehead to the gate, tears streaming down her face, whispering through the sobs, âPlease⊠let me go back to her. To our children. To our life. I donât care if she doesnât want me anymoreâI still choose her. Iâll always choose her.â
For a heartbeat, the light stilled. The air hung heavy, silent. And then, slowly, the radiant barrier began to shift, its glow folding inward like a curtain being drawn aside.
The guards stepped back, their unreadable eyes catching the shimmer of the opening. One of them spoke softly, almost reverently.
âThe gate has heard you. Your truth is enough.â
Before her, the opening widened into a blinding brilliance, the path back to the Junction unfurling before her eyes.
Her heart thundered. Her hands shook. And yet, for the first time since stepping into this false eternity, Wanda felt the weight of her soul lift.
She took one trembling step forwardâback toward Y/N.
The brilliance of the gate dissolved behind her, and suddenly Wanda found herself swallowed by shadow. The air was heavy, damp, pressing close around her as though the path itself wanted to hold her back.
Ahead stretched a corridor of endless doors. Some small as cupboard panels, others towering like cathedral arches. Some gilded in gold, others rotted and splintered, some warped into strange, impossible shapes. Each one loomed before her, blocking her way, demanding effort.
She pressed her hand to the firstâcold and iron-boundâand shoved. It resisted, groaning like a thing alive, but after what felt like minutes of strain, it gave way, spilling her forward into more darkness.
Again and again, she pushed. A door carved with stars, one covered in vines that clung to her arms like claws, another so tiny she had to drop to her knees and crawl through. Each one drained her, her breath ragged, her limbs heavy.
Still, she did not stop.
For Y/N. For my children. For home.
By the time she forced the last door openâa simple wooden one, worn and familiar like the kind that had once guarded their little home âWandaâs hands shook, her body trembling.
And then, at last, light.
She stumbled onto the main platform of the Junction. The sprawling, eternal city unfurled around her in radiant hues, the place where souls lived, loved, and waited. Her knees nearly buckled in relief, tears spilling hot and fast down her cheeks.
She was back.
Her chest burned with urgency, with fear, with desperate hope. She had no time to waste. Y/Nâher Y/Nâwas somewhere here.
Wandaâs feet carried her before her mind could catch up. She ran, faster than she had ever run, her breath tearing through her throat as she wove through the glowing streets of the Junction. Past gardens that shimmered with otherworldly light, past rivers that ran like liquid starlight, past faces of souls she barely recognized.
Only one place mattered.
The apartments where souls stayed while deciding their eternity loomed ahead. Her chest tightened as she neared the one she had shared with Y/N before she had ever stepped toward Vision. Her heart thudded in her ears, a wild, desperate rhythm.
And then she saw her. Y/Nâstepping out of the room, just as radiant, just as alive as she had remembered.
âY/N!â Wanda screamed, her voice breaking, and ran faster.
Y/N turned at the sound, confusion crossing her features. But before she could say anything, Wanda collided with her, throwing her arms around Y/Nâs neck, clinging like she would never let go.
âWandaâŠ?â Y/N breathed, startled, her hands hesitating on Wandaâs back, then holding her tightly as realization dawned.
Wanda pressed herself closer, her lips finding Y/Nâs in a desperate, hungry kiss. A kiss that spoke of decades of longing, of absence, of survival without the other. She kissed her like she was starvedâlike she needed Y/N just to exist, like the world itself might unravel if she let go.
Y/Nâs arms tightened around her, grounding her, holding her, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Wandaâs heart began to settle, beating in sync with the love she had never stopped carrying.
Pulling back just slightly, her forehead resting against Y/Nâs, Wandaâs tears spilled freely. âI⊠Iâm so sorry,â she sobbed, voice trembling with raw emotion. âI was wrong⊠I should have stayed⊠I should haveââ
A voice cut through the fragile bubble of reunion, calling from inside the apartment.
âY/N?â
Both women froze. Wandaâs gaze snapped toward the doorway to find someone behind Y/N coming out of the apartment. A woman in her mid-twenties, fiery red hair catching the soft glow of the Junctionâs lights. Her eyes were sharp, but curious, scanning the scene with cautious interest.
âNatasha,â Y/N murmured remembering the woman was there.
Wanda blinked, her sobs momentarily forgotten, confusion and caution threading through her frantic relief. Her arms tightened around Y/N instinctively, as if to shield what was hers, while her mind scrambled.
Natashaâs expression softened slightly, though her posture remained alert. âYou must be WandaâŠâ She glanced between Wanda and Y/N, realization dawning.
Wandaâs pulse quickened. Whoever this Natasha was, she could feel the tension radiating from Y/N. Yet in the same instant, her body froze, rooted to the spot. Hurt blossomed in her chest, sharp and unrelenting. Who was this woman? Did Y/N⊠had she moved on? Was Wanda too late?
Her arms still clung to Y/N, but a tremor of doubt ran through her, twisting her stomach. Every heartbeat screamed that she had fought through an eternity just to find her, only to be confronted with the fear that maybe, in her absence, Y/N had already chosen someone else.
Wanda swallowed hard, her tears still flowing, but now laced with anxiety. Her stomach twisted painfully, every heartbeat screaming that she had fought through an eternity just to find Y/N, only to be confronted with the fear that maybe, in her absence, Y/N had already chosen someone else.
Her hands trembled as tears continued to stream down her face, laced now with a raw, anxious fear. Y/Nâs eyes darted between Wandaâstill clinging to herâand the figure of Natasha, who was stepping out of the room, caught in the sudden tension.
âI⊠Iâm sorry, Nat,â Y/N said softly, her voice steady but gentle, âcan we⊠reschedule?â
Natashaâs gaze shifted to Wanda, then back to Y/N. She gave a small, understanding nod, a quiet acknowledgment of the situation, before stepping away without a word, leaving the two of them alone.
Once Natasha was gone, Wandaâs tears fell harder, her voice trembling as she clung to Y/N. âPlease⊠tell me Iâm not too late,â she pleaded, her words cracking under the weight of fear and longing.
Y/N brushed Wandaâs tears away gently, her hands firm but tender against her face. âCome on,â she whispered, her voice steady.
She guided Wanda inside the apartment, letting her step through the threshold as she closed the door behind them. The room was familiarâevery corner, every soft shadow, every lingering scent of Y/Nâbut it carried a strange weight now.
âItâs been a long time, WandsâŠâ Y/N murmured, her tone quiet, almost unreadable.
Wandaâs throat tightened as she tried to steady her breathing. âI know⊠I know itâs been fifty years. I took too long.â Her voice wavered as tears filled her eyes again. âBut it wasnât like that for me. In eternity, time⊠itâs different. I swear, Y/N, for me it was only months. Six, maybe. I lost track butââ She reached for Y/Nâs hand desperately, needing her to believe.
Y/Nâs eyes softened, though her jaw clenched as if holding back the storm of everything she had endured. She let out a slow, heavy breath. âWanda⊠it hasnât been fifty years.â Her thumb brushed over Wandaâs trembling fingers. âItâs been ninety-eight.â
The words hit Wanda like a blow, stealing the air from her lungs. Ninety-eight years. Nearly a century lost. Her lips parted, but no sound came outâonly a broken sob as she crumpled against Y/N, clutching her as though she could pull back the years with sheer will.
Wandaâs knees nearly gave out, but Y/N caught her, steadying her against the door. Wanda buried her face into Y/Nâs chest, sobs wracking through her as the weight of those years crashed over her.
âNinety-eightâŠâ she choked, the number tasting like ash in her mouth. âIâI never meant to⊠I thought Iâd come back sooner. I thoughtâŠâ Her hands clutched at Y/Nâs shirt as though afraid she might vanish too. âI didnât know it would cost us this much.â
Y/N held her, but her embrace was steadier than desperate, her warmth laced with caution. For Wanda, only months had passedâbut for Y/N, it had been almost a century.
Finally, Y/N pulled back just enough to meet Wandaâs tear-filled gaze. Her voice was low, trembling with something between anger and heartbreak. âWanda⊠once you choose eternity, you canât come back. Thatâs the rule. I know it. You knew it.â Her eyes glistened as she swallowed hard. âSo when you walked away with him⊠I thought I lost you forever.â
Wandaâs breath caught, her chest tightening as fresh guilt flooded her. âI didnât knowâI thought⊠I thought I still had a chance to see. To understand. But I was wrong, Y/N. I was so wrong.â Her voice cracked as she cupped Y/Nâs face, desperate for her to believe. âI donât want eternity without you. I donât want anything without you.â
Y/N searched her eyes, the storm in her expression betraying just how deeply Wandaâs choice had scarred her. For Wanda, the wound was still raw, but for Y/N, it had been carved into her soul for nearly a century.
âThen how are you here now?â Y/N whispered, almost broken. âHow did you even make it back, Wands?â
Wandaâs hands trembled as she held Y/Nâs face, her tears spilling faster. âThe gate,â she whispered, her voice shaking. âIt wouldnât let me through at first. I begged, I screamed, I waited until I lost track of days, until I thought Iâd wither away there. And then⊠the guards came. They asked me one question.â
Her lips quivered as she forced the words out. âThey asked me who I belonged to.â
Y/Nâs breath hitched, but she didnât speak, her gaze locked on Wandaâs.
âI said your name,â Wanda continued, her voice breaking, raw with truth. âNot once. Not twice. Over and over until my throat tore. I told them everythingâevery laugh, every night, every kiss, every dream we built together. I told them about our children, about our life, about you. And the gate⊠it opened. It only opened because my soul knew, because my heart has always been yours.â
She pressed her forehead desperately against Y/Nâs, her sobs wracking through her body. âI donât want eternity, not if itâs without you. I want you. I want the life we had, the love we shared. Thatâs all Iâll ever want. Please, Y/N⊠please tell me Iâm not too late.â
Y/Nâs hands hovered at Wandaâs waist, torn between pulling her closer and pushing her away. Her jaw clenched as her heart warred with the century of hurt Wanda had left behind.
âItâs been ninety-eight years, Wands,â Y/N whispered, her voice breaking. âNinety-eight years I lived with the choice you made. Do you have any idea how long that feels?â
Wandaâs sobs quieted, but her arms stayed firm around Y/N. âThen hate me. Be angry at me. I deserve it. But donât let me go. Not now. Not when I finally found my way back to you.â
They were interrupted by the sound of the knock on the door. Y/Nâs body tensed, but before either could move, the door creaked open and a familiar voice carried in.
âHey, Ma! Still home? I thought you were going out with Natasââ
The voice cut off abruptly.
Wandaâs heart stopped.
Standing in the doorway was a young man with sandy-brown hair and Y/Nâs eyes, his expression frozen in shock. His gaze darted between themâhis mother holding Wanda in her arms, Wandaâs tear-stained face buried against her.
âMom?!â Tommyâs voice cracked, half disbelieving, half horrified.
Wandaâs knees nearly buckled. Her hand flew to her mouth as she stared, breathless. Her son. Her son.
Y/N instinctively stepped in front of Wanda, as if to shield her from the intensity of the moment, but Tommy had already taken a step into the apartment, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
âY-Youââ Tommyâs voice trembled as his eyes filled. âYouâre supposed to be gone. You choseââ
âTommyâŠâ Wanda whispered, reaching toward him, her hand trembling. âOh my sweet boyâŠâ
Wanda didnât hesitateâher feet carried her forward before her mind could catch up. She threw her arms around Tommy, clutching him as if letting go would mean losing him again. Her sobs wracked her chest, muffled against his shoulder.
âTommy⊠my baby, my boy⊠Iâm so sorry,â she choked out, her fingers gripping the back of his shirt. âI never stopped loving you. Not for a second.â
Tommy stiffened in her embrace. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, torn between pushing her away and holding her back. His breath hitched, his jaw tight as he stared over her shoulder at Y/N, his voice strained and sharp.
âHow are you even here?â he demanded, his tone low but laced with anger. âYou left. I heard you chose to leave. You chose someone elseâŠâ
Wandaâs sobs only grew, but she clung tighter, shaking her head fiercely. âI made a mistake, Tommy. Iâm so sorry⊠I thought I needed to see what was on the other side. I thought I owed it to myself⊠but I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. All Iâve ever wanted was you, your brother and sister, and your mother. My family. I never should have left. Please⊠forgive me.â
Tommyâs jaw clenched as he stood rigid in her arms, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His eyes shimmered with something rawâanger, confusion, hurtâall tangled together. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his hands lifted and rested on her arms, not quite an embrace but not a rejection either.
âYou donât get it, Mom,â he said finally, his voice trembling with restrained emotion. âYou werenât gone for a little while. You were gone for almost a century. We had to watch Ma suffer without you.â His throat tightened, and his voice cracked. âAnd now you just show up here and say youâre sorry?â
Tommyâs words cut through Wanda like a blade, each one sharp and merciless. Her tears streamed faster, her hands clutching at him desperately as if she could anchor herself to him, as if touch alone could undo the years of absence.
But before Tommy could unleash the storm fully building in his chest, Y/Nâs voice rang out, firm and steady.
âTommy.â
The single word stopped him cold. His motherâs sobs filled the silence, but Y/Nâs tone carried a weight that commanded attention. Tommyâs fists curled at his sides, his chest heaving as he turned his gaze toward Y/N.
She stood with her arms folded, eyes unwavering, her expression torn between authority and quiet sadness. âThatâs enough.â
Tommyâs jaw worked, his anger still simmering, but he knew better than to push when Y/Nâs voice dropped into that tone. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, and looked away, blinking rapidly against the burning in his eyes.
Wanda loosened her hold just slightly, glancing up at Y/N with tear-streaked cheeks, her lips trembling. âY/NâŠâ she whispered, her voice fragile, pleading for Y/N to understand, to stand by her even now.
Y/Nâs eyes softened as she looked between them, but her voice carried no room for argument. âTommy⊠go. Give us some time.â
Tommy snapped his gaze back to her, disbelief flashing in his expression. âMaââ
âNot now,â Y/N cut in firmly, though her tone was calm, steady. âLater, weâll all sit down. You, me, your sister, your brother⊠and your mom. But right now, she and I need to talk.â
Tommyâs lips pressed into a tight line, his jaw tense. His anger hadnât fadedâit burned hot and restlessâbut he knew that tone, knew when Y/Nâs word was final. He glanced at Wanda, at the tears streaking her face, and for just a heartbeat, his expression cracked, hurt showing through the fury.
Then he turned away sharply. âFine,â he muttered, his voice low and rough. He headed for the door, his footsteps heavy, and paused only once with his hand on the knob. Without looking back, he said, âDonât expect it to be easy.â
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Wanda trembling in Y/Nâs arms, her breath shuddering, the silence heavy but not empty.
Wandaâs sobs shook through her whole frame, her fingers clutching at Y/Nâs shirt like she was afraid to let go. Her voice broke as she whispered again, desperate, raw, âPlease⊠just tell me⊠did you move on? Did I lose you?â
Y/N exhaled slowly, the weight of her question heavy in the quiet room. She didnât answer right away, instead bending down and sliding an arm beneath Wandaâs knees, the other cradling her back. With effortless strength, she lifted her, holding her close as if Wanda were fragile glass about to shatter.
Wandaâs tear-streaked face pressed into her shoulder, her sobs muffled against Y/Nâs skin as Y/N carried her through the room. She walked with slow, steady steps until they reached the bed.
Carefully, Y/N lowered her onto the mattress, sitting her there with gentle hands. She brushed a damp strand of hair from Wandaâs cheek, her thumb lingering on her skin as she finally spoke, her tone low and steady.
âWandaâŠâ She sighed, searching her face, her eyes, every broken edge she could see spilling out of her. âYou need to try to calm down first. Breathe. Maybe lie back, close your eyes, just rest for a little while. Weâll talk after, okay? Just⊠let yourself relax.â
But Wanda shook her head fiercely, tears clinging to her lashes. âNo. No, I canât. I canât sleep, I canât rest, not until I knowââ Her voice cracked, her sob rising into the space between them. âTell me if you moved on. Please⊠I need to know.â
Y/Nâs chest tightened, her own breath catching. Slowly, she cupped Wandaâs face in both hands, firm but infinitely gentle, grounding her in the warmth of her palms. âListen to me,â she said softly, but with conviction. âI love you. More than anything, more than anyone. That hasnât changed. It wonât. After you calm down and give yourself a little rest, weâll talk. I promise. But right nowâŠâ her thumbs brushed Wandaâs damp cheeks, âright now I just need you to breathe. For me.â
Wandaâs resistance finally broke, her trembling hands fisting into Y/Nâs shirt as she collapsed against her chest. A choked whimper left her lips, muffled by the curve of Y/Nâs shoulder.
âI love you too,â she whispered, over and over, as if afraid the words would slip away if she didnât hold onto them. Her voice was raw, fragile, threaded with desperation.
Y/N wrapped her arms around her tightly, rocking her just slightly, her hand moving in slow circles across Wandaâs back. âShh⊠Iâve got you,â she murmured, kissing the crown of her head. âYouâre safe. Iâm here.â
Bit by bit, Wandaâs trembling began to ease. Her sobs softened into ragged breaths, her weight growing heavier in Y/Nâs embrace as exhaustion finally claimed her. Still clinging to Y/N, she murmured one last, broken, âI love youâŠâ before her body slackened and her breathing settled into the rhythm of sleep.
Y/N held her a moment longer, studying the tear-streaked face nestled against her, her chest aching with both love and sorrow. Then, carefully, she eased Wanda down onto the pillows, brushing one last kiss to her forehead and pulling the blanket over her.
---
Y/Nâs POV
I sat there, unable to move, my eyes locked on the rise and fall of her chest. Wandaâs face, finally at peace after the storm, looked almost like it used toâsoft, vulnerable, mine. My hand hovered, then gave in, brushing gently across her cheek. She didnât stir, only leaned into the touch as if even in sleep she still sought me.
God, I missed her.
Every day without her had carved something out of me, a hollow ache that nothing and no one could fill. Iâd told myself I was strong enough, that for the kids I had to be. But now, with her here, asleep in our bed, that façade cracked. The truth was, I had been starving for herâher laugh, her warmth, the way she looked at me as though I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
My thumb traced the line of her jaw, memorizing her all over again. âMy WandaâŠâ I whispered, barely audible, afraid even the air might steal her away again.
Leaning back slightly, I kept my vigil, my fingers drifting over her cheek whenever the urge became too much.
---
Wandaâs POV
Wandaâs eyes blinked open, her lashes heavy as though she had been asleep for days rather than hours. For a moment, the stillness around her felt too perfect, too silent. She reached out instinctively, seeking Y/Nâs warmth beside herâonly to find the sheets cold and untouched.
Her breath hitched. Panic rushed through her chest like a flood. Had she dreamed it? Had her desperate, grief-soaked heart imagined her return?
But then her gaze swept the room, and she froze. This was Y/Nâs place in the junction. The room seemed familiar yet infused with a timeless stillness, as if it belonged both to her past and to something beyond.
Her eyes caught on the walls and shelves. Dozens of pictures. Too many to count. And every single one was of her. Wanda smiling, Wanda laughing, Wanda holding their children when they were young. Her breath broke, a sob caught in her throat. Y/N had kept her alive hereâthrough memory, through loveâsurrounding herself with the fragments of what was lost.
On the nightstand, a book lay open, its edges worn from countless touches. Wanda reached for it with trembling hands. The moment her fingers brushed the cover, a soft hum filled the room, and thenâlight.
Her hands trembled as the book pulsed with light again. The air shimmered, bending, and then the apartment around her melted away.
Wanda gasped.
She was standing in the middle of a memory â one of their memories.
It was their apartment, warm and golden with lamplight, and she saw herself curled up on the couch with Y/N. Her head rested against Y/Nâs chest, while Y/Nâs arms wrapped around her protectively, their hands absently tracing shapes along her arm.
âYouâre my whole world, Wanda,â Y/Nâs voice echoed, tender and certain. âEven if death tried to pull us apart, Iâd still find you. Always.â
In the memory, Wanda lifted her head, laughing softly, brushing her lips against Y/Nâs jaw. âYou say that like youâd chase me through forever.â
âI would,â Y/N whispered against her hair. âI will.â
Wandaâs throat constricted. She staggered closer, wanting to throw herself into the memory, into Y/Nâs arms, but her hands passed through the air like smoke. Her other self â smiling, alive, happy â leaned in to kiss Y/N, slow and tender, and Wanda could only watch as her heart splintered.
Tears streaked down her cheeks. She pressed a trembling hand to her lips, whispering brokenly into the fading glow:
âI should never have left⊠I should never have doubted.â
The light dimmed, the memory dissolving until the apartment returned, quiet and heavy once more. The book lay in her lap, its cover glowing faintly, as if waiting for her to open it again.
But Wanda could barely breathe, her chest tight with longing and regret.
Because Y/Nâs words from the memory still rang in her ears.
Iâd chase you through forever.
As the memory dissolved into nothingness, Wandaâs tears still clung stubbornly to her lashes. She pressed the book to her chest, breathing in raggedly, when suddenlyâ
The apartment door swung open with a loud thud.
âMom?â
Her heart stuttered at the sound of that voice. She turned, eyes wide, and there he was.
Billy.
He stood in the doorway, his appearance unmistakably in his early twenties, his black hoodie hanging loose over skinny jeans, eyeliner smudged around his piercing eyes. His hair was longer, styled in a way only his âemo eraâ would allow.
Wanda blinked at him, a watery laugh breaking through her tears. âOh⊠Billy,â she breathed, covering her mouth with her hand. âYouââ She laughed again, shaking her head in disbelief. âOf all the times of your life, why would you choose that time?â
He smirked, though his voice cracked with emotion as he stepped inside. âWhat? It was a look, Mom.â
She laughed harder, the sound trembling with joy and sorrow all at once. âI remember this so vividly⊠You wouldnât smile for family pictures, and you used to sit in your room blasting music, swearing no one understood you.â
Billyâs lips twitched into a grin, but it faltered as tears shimmered in his eyes. âGuess some things donât change, huh?â
Wandaâs body moved before her mind could catch upâshe rushed forward and threw her arms around him, clutching him like she would never let go again. âMy BillyâŠâ she whispered, kissing his temple through his messy hair. âOh, my sweet boy. Look at you.â
For a moment, Billy stiffened, overwhelmed, but then his arms wrapped around her tightly. He buried his face against her shoulder, his voice muffled and raw.
âI missed you, Mom.â
Wanda held him tighter, her heart swelling with every heartbeat that pressed against hers. He was warm, solid, real. Her Billy.
She pulled back just enough to cup his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the tears on his cheeks. âYouâre so beautiful,â she whispered, her smile trembling. âEven in your emo phase.â
Billy laughed through his tears, shaking his head. âDonât say that. Youâll embarrass me forever.â
âForever is exactly what we have now,â Wanda teased softly, her voice breaking on the last word as she leaned her forehead against his. âAnd Iâm never letting go again.â
He grinned, crooked and genuine, the kind of smile she hadnât seen in what felt like lifetimes. âGood. âCause I was starting to think youâd never show up. But⊠you did. You found your way back.â
Wandaâs chest tightened, but this time it wasnât with griefâit was with gratitude, with love so vast she thought she might burst. She pulled him back into her arms, rocking him gently like she used to when he was little.
âIâll always find my way back to you,â she murmured into his hair, closing her eyes. âAlways.â
And in that small apartment in the Junction, for the first time since stepping through the gate, Wanda felt whole again.
---
Billy didnât let go of her hand even once, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles as if grounding himself in the reality of her presence. Wanda drank him in.
They sat together on the couch, the silence between them stretching, warm and tender. Finally, Billy drew in a slow breath. âYou probably want to know what happened⊠after.â
Wanda nodded, her heart aching at the careful way he said it. She squeezed his hand, silently urging him to go on.
âWhen I died,â Billy began softly, his gaze dropping to their joined hands, âit wasnât scary. Not really. Teddy was thereâright beside me. I could feel him holding me, whispering that it was okay, that heâd see me again soon. And he was right. Two years later, he joined me here in the Junction.â His lips curved into a sad smile. âWe found each other again, and it felt like no time had passed at all.â
Tears welled in Wandaâs eyes, though she smiled faintly, picturing her sonâs happiness. âIâm glad,â she whispered, her voice catching. âIâm glad he was with you.â
Billy nodded, though the smile faded as his eyes grew heavier. âBut I⊠I couldnât move on to eternity. Not yet. Not without mama. Not without Tommy and Lyla.â His throat worked, and he let out a shaky breath.
Wandaâs chest constricted, her grip on his hand tightening. âBillyâŠâ
His voice grew quieter, tinged with hurt. âAnd when I got here, Tommy and mama were already waiting. But you were not⊠I looked everywhere for you. I asked mama and Tommy, but mama wouldnât tell, and Tommy said he already tried with her but he couldnât find out. I thoughtâno, I knewâyouâd be waiting. That youâd be here to welcome me. But you werenât. And it⊠it crushed me.â His eyes shimmered as he finally looked up, tears breaking through. âMama kept going. Strong, like she always is. But I could see it, every dayâthe way she was breaking inside. The way she looked at your pictures, like you would come out of it.â
Wanda broke then, her tears spilling freely, her hand flying to her mouth as if to hold back the sob threatening to tear from her chest. âOh my godâŠâ
Billy shook his head, his own tears falling now. âTommy and I couldnât stand it. We went to an afterlife coordinator to ask. We had to know why. Why werenât you with us? Why werenât you with her?â
He drew in a trembling breath. âAnd they told us. That youâd chosen someone else. That you had chosen eternity⊠with Vision⊠your first husband.â
The name hit her like a slap, shame and regret flooding her all over again. She opened her mouth, but no words came, only broken gasps between her tears.
Billyâs voice wavered, a mix of sorrow and something close to anger. âDo you have any idea what that did to her? To all of us? She never said it out loud, but I saw it. I saw the way her eyes dulled, how her smile faded. How she tried to keep going for us, for Lyla and Tommyâbut inside, she was wrecked. You left her, Mom. You left us.â
Wanda couldnât hold back the sob now. She leaned forward, clutching both of Billyâs hands as if she could anchor herself to him. âI know,â she cried, her voice raw. âI know, Billy. I thoughtâI thought I had to see it through. That maybe it was what I was meant to do. But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. Every second without you, without your mama, it tore me apart. And then⊠when I realized what I had done, I would have given anything to undo it. Anything to come back.â
Her sonâs tears slowed, though his chest still rose and fell with emotion. He studied her, his eyes searching for truth. âThen why? Why did you choose him?â
Wanda bowed her head, her sobs quieter now, her voice shaking. âBecause I was afraid. Afraid that I hadnât given Vision enough. Afraid that part of me belonged somewhere else. But the moment I stepped into that eternity, I knewâI knew I didnât belong there. My home, my life, my love⊠itâs with Y/N. With all of you.â
Billyâs jaw tightened, but the pain in his eyes softened, just slightly. He let out a heavy exhale, his thumb brushing over her hand again. âYou hurt her, Mom. You hurt all of usâŠâ
The door swung open quietly, and Y/N stepped inside, flanked by Tommy and Lyla. Wandaâs breath caught in her throat. She hadnât expected to see all three of them at once, and the sight of her family, whole and present, sent her emotions into overdrive.
Lyla was the first to reach her, moving swiftly across the room. Her arms wrapped around Wanda in a tight embrace, burying her face against Wandaâs shoulder. âWeâve missed you so much,â she whispered, her voice muffled but fierce with emotion. Wanda could feel the tremor of Lylaâs own restrained sobs through the hug, and it made her chest ache in a way only a mother could understand.
Wanda clung to Lyla, holding her as tightly as she had held Billy moments ago, letting the tears fall freely now without shame. âIâve missed you,â Wanda sobbed, her voice cracking. âAll of you. Every day⊠every moment I wasnât here, I thought of you. I thought of all of you.â
Y/Nâs hand stayed gently on Wandaâs back, guiding her back from the intensity of the hug. âCome on,â Y/N said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. âLetâs go eat something. We donât need to, but⊠itâll feel nice. Like old times.â
Wanda sniffled, nodding, still holding onto Lylaâs hand as they followed Y/N out of the apartment. Billy and Tommy flanked them, Tommyâs arms crossed, his expression still a little tight, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes.
The Junction shimmered around them in its gentle afterlife glow, streets and buildings familiar yet softened, quieter than memory, like a comforting dream. They walked side by side, taking turns laughing softly and speaking in quiet murmurs, as if afraid to break the fragile sense of reunion.
When they arrived at a small, warmly lit restaurant, the kind of place they used to go when alive, Wanda felt a strange, deep relief settle over her. It smelled like bread, coffee, and a faint trace of lavenderâsmall touches that made it feel alive in a way the afterlife rarely did.
They sat at a corner table, the four of them fitting together as they had always done. Plates appeared before them as if by magicâheaping with food that didnât satiate hunger but seemed to nourish the soulâand Wanda laughed softly at the absurdity of it, pressing a hand to her chest.
âSo,â Y/N began, leaning slightly toward Wanda, her tone gentle, âno rules. No oneâs in a rush. Just⊠us. Eat, talk, laugh⊠like we used to.â
Wandaâs eyes welled again, but this time with warmth. âI⊠I never thought Iâd get to do this again,â she whispered, taking a bite and savoring it in a way that felt almost sacred.
Billy and Lyla exchanged a glance, both smiling faintly, before starting to eat themselves. Tommy sat a little stiffly, but gradually relaxed as he watched Wanda laughing at something Y/N whispered to her, the tension in his shoulders easing.
The conversation flowed slowly at first, filled with awkward pauses and gentle teasing, memories of old jokes and shared moments spilling between them. They spoke of little thingsâplaces theyâd gone when alive, silly fights over what movie to watch, the taste of Wandaâs favorite desserts, Y/Nâs peculiar obsession with arranging flowers just so, Lylaâs tendency to hide snacks, and Billyâs emo phase antics, which made Wanda laugh so hard she nearly cried.
Tommy still held a bit of quiet sourness, the sting of years she hadnât been there still evident, but even he began to let his guard down as the warmth of being together suffused the table. He grumbled occasionally, but it was punctuated with a small, reluctant smile whenever Wanda laughed or Y/N nudged him playfully.
For Wanda, the simple act of eating together, of sharing space and conversation, felt like reclaiming pieces of a life she had thought lost forever. She realized that while the afterlife didnât require food, or sleep, or any of the mortal necessities, these ritualsâthese tiny, human joysâwere what truly made a family.
By the time they left the restaurant, their laughter lingering like a soft melody, the tension in Wandaâs chest had eased just slightly. She knew there would be more apologies, more explanations, and more moments to mend. But for now, with Y/N at her side, with her children close, and the Junction stretching ahead like a canvas of second chances, she feltâfinallyâlike she was home.
â
Wandaâs steps faltered as they entered the apartment, the quiet settling around them like a warm blanket. The kids waved goodbye, promising to see her again soon, and with that, Y/N gently guided Wanda inside. The door clicked softly behind them, leaving just the two of them in the familiar space that felt impossibly alive with memory.
They paused in the center of the room, eyes locking without a word. The weight of decades, the distance of time, and the relief of reunion pressed silently between them. Y/N finally spoke, her voice low and steady. âYou can take the bed. Iâll stay on the couch for a while.â
Wanda blinked, a pang stabbing her heart. âNo⊠I mean, you can stay in the bed too. We were married for over sixty years, Y/N. It⊠it doesnât feel rightââ
Y/N shook her head gently, offering her a small, reassuring smile. âIâll take the couch. I promise Iâll be fine.â
Wandaâs chest tightened, but she nodded, letting it goâfor now. She stepped closer, her trembling hands reaching for Y/N. âCan I⊠can I hug you?â
Y/N didnât hesitate, opening her arms. Wanda melted into her, burying her face against Y/Nâs shoulder, tears still prickling at her eyes. Y/Nâs arms wrapped around her back, strong and steady, holding her close. The quiet intimacy of the embrace, the rhythm of two hearts that had survived centuries apart, filled the room with warmth.
After a long moment, Wanda drew in a shaky breath, summoning the courage to voice the question that had been gnawing at her since she first saw Natasha. âY/N⊠what about Natasha?â
Y/Nâs hands lingered on her waist, grounding her. âSheâs⊠just a friend,â she said softly, though Wanda could hear the subtle tension in her voice.
But Wanda lifted her eyes to meet Y/Nâs. Her gaze didnât waverâsearching, questioning, insistent. She knewâknew âthat Y/N was hiding something. The quiet, the way her shoulders tensed, the brief hesitation before she spokeânone of it escaped Wandaâs notice.
Y/N sighed deeply, leaning her forehead against Wandaâs. She chuckled softly, a sound full of warmth and familiarity. âI almost forgot how persistent you can be.â
Their breath mingled, and for a long moment, the weight of unspoken truths hung between them. Finally, Y/N spoke, her voice a soft confession. âI met Natasha here⊠in the Junction, about thirty years ago. We became friends first, and then, ten years ago, she⊠she asked me if I wanted to spend eternity with her.â
Wandaâs breath caught, her heart thudding painfully. âAnd what did you say?â
Y/Nâs lips curved into a small, knowing smile, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. âWhat do you think I told her, Wands?â
Wanda blinked, her throat tight, her hands tightening slightly around Y/Nâs waist. âI⊠I donât know⊠that youâd think about it?â
Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. âNo. I told her⊠my eternity has always been with you. Always. No one else. I couldnâtâwouldnâtâchoose anyone else over you.â
Wandaâs chest tightened, tears spilling faster as she heard the tremor beneath Y/Nâs voice. âEven when I wasnât there⊠even when I left⊠you neverââ
âI never stopped,â Y/N whispered, cutting her off softly, pressing her forehead to Wandaâs. Her voice was low, tender, like a promise spoken in the quiet. âYouâre my home, Wanda. My life. My everythingâŠâ
For a moment, the words hung between them like a lifeline, warm and steady. Then Y/Nâs expression shifted. She pulled back just enough to look into Wandaâs eyes, her lips curving into a mock frown. âBut I am mad at youâŠâ she said, her tone light but edged with something deeper. âMad at you for leaving me⊠for choosing himâŠâ
Wandaâs breath caught. The teasing mask faltered just enough for her to see itâa flicker of real hurt passing through Y/Nâs eyes before she tried to smother it.
Wanda cupped Y/Nâs face with trembling hands, her thumbs brushing the corners of her jaw. âI knowâŠâ she whispered, her voice breaking. âI know I hurt you. Iâm so sorry, Y/N. I was wrong. Iâve been wrong every second since I left.â
Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into Wandaâs touch even as that flash of pain lingered behind her lashes. She exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, her hands still firm at Wandaâs waist. âI wanted to hate you for it,â she admitted quietly. âBut I couldnât. Even when I tried.â
Wandaâs heart cracked at the honesty, at the shadow in Y/Nâs gaze. âIâll spend the rest of my eternity making it up to you,â she said softly, almost a plea.
Y/N opened her eyes, meeting hers again, something softer and sadder flickering there. âWeâll see, WandsâŠâ she murmured. âWeâll see.â
---
Y/Nâs POV
I stirred my coffee slowly, letting the warmth seep into my hands. Nat and I had been talking about trivial thingsâwho had been assigned to which corner of the Junction, a few memories weâd laughed overâbut there was a pause, a silence that felt heavier than usual.
Finally, Nat spoke, her tone light but tinged with a trace of resignation. âSheâs back⊠so now itâs confirmed. I really donât have a chance.â
I let out a small sigh, calling her name gently, but before I could continue, Nat waved me off. âNo, really. Iâve known from the start,â she said softly, almost tenderly. âI understood from the beginning⊠how big Wanda is for you. And you made it perfectly clearâweâre just friends.â
Her words were steady, but I could see the faint shadow of disappointment in her eyes. I swallowed, feeling a pang of guilt. âNat⊠Iââ
She held up a hand, cutting me off. âDonât apologize. I just⊠I needed to say it out loud, I guess. But I want to askâcan we still be friends? Can we still go out sometimes while weâre here in the Junction?â
I smiled, a genuine warmth lifting through me. âOf course. Always.â
Natâs lips curved into a small, relieved smile. âThen⊠can we finally go to that bar we were supposed to?â she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.
I chuckled softly, shaking my head. âYou mean the one we kept postponing because of⊠everything else?â
She shrugged, grinning. âExactly that one. No grand emergencies, no afterlife drama, just us sitting there, maybe laughing too loud and ordering too many drinks.â
The thought made me laugh aloud. It felt surreal to even imagine itâme, Nat, carefree in a world that was technically afterlife, yet somehow still full of little joys. âAlright,â I said, leaning back in my chair. âI promise weâll go this time.â
Natâs grin widened, her eyes softening with something lighter than Iâd seen in a long while. âGood. Iâll hold you to that. Donât think being dead gets you out of it.â
I smirked into my coffee cup. âGuess I canât argue with that logic.â
For a moment, silence settled between us, not heavy, just comfortable. The kind that came with understandingâtwo people who didnât need to fill every gap with words. I found myself grateful for that, for her.
---
Wandaâs POV
Wanda stayed where she was, curled up on the couch, her fingers absently tracing patterns against the fabric of the cushion. The stillness of the apartment wrapped around her like a blanket, though it couldnât quite soothe the restless ache in her chest. She knew where Y/N had goneâNatasha.
The name alone tugged at something sharp inside her. Wanda pressed her lips together, trying to will the feeling away. She didnât have the right to feel this way, not after everything, not after the choices she had made that had cost them so much. Y/N had every right to spend time with Natasha, to laugh with her, to seek out the comfort of a friend.
And yet, as the minutes stretched into an hour, Wandaâs mind wandered. She pictured them sitting together, leaning close in conversation, Y/N smiling that rare, unguarded smile that had always made Wandaâs heart stop. She hated herself for itâfor the twist of jealousy curling low in her stomach, for how much she still wanted that smile to belong only to her.
The sound of the door unlocking pulled her from her thoughts. Her heart gave a traitorous flutter as Y/N stepped inside, brushing off the cool air from outside. Their eyes met briefly, and Wanda forced herself to smile, soft and casual, though it felt fragile around the edges.
âHey,â Y/N said, voice warm, as if nothing had shifted at all.
Wanda nodded, her throat tight. âHey.â
She told herself it was enoughâthat just having Y/N here, close, safe, should have been enough. But the ache of jealousy lingered, quiet and persistent, no matter how hard she tried to bury it.
Wanda sank a little deeper into the couch, hugging her knees, trying to make herself small. Every movement Y/N madeâthe way she kicked off her shoes, the soft hum as she moved around the apartment, the faint scent of her hairâtwisted Wandaâs heart in quiet, relentless knots. She told herself it was ridiculous. Y/N had just come back from seeing a friend. Nothing more. Nothing less.
And yet⊠the thought of Natasha, of Y/N laughing with her, leaning close, sharing some unspoken moment Wanda wasnât part of, burned. She tried to focus on her relief, on the fact that Y/N was back, that she was here, safe, whole. But the quiet twinge of jealousy nestled stubbornly at the base of her ribs. She knew Y/N could sense itâcould feel the tension radiating off herâbut didnât press, didnât question, didnât let it change the warmth of their reunion. That silent awareness, that gentle patience, made Wandaâs heart ache with both love and guilt.
She watched Y/N settle into the apartment, small, ordinary gestures that once would have seemed mundane, now unbearable in their intimacy. Wandaâs fingers twitched as she tried to control the pull in her chest, the desperate need to claim Y/N again, to be her first and only focus.
She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath, reminding herself that she had no right to anything but presenceâfor now. Y/N was here, and that was enough. And yet, even as she clung to that thought, the quiet ache of wanting more lingered, stubborn and unspoken, tucked deep beneath the relief, beneath the love, beneath everything.
---
The following days stretched endlessly, a blur of quiet moments and racing thoughts. Wanda moved through the apartment almost on autopilot, her mind looping over the same question: what should she do?
Every time Y/N was in the room, her chest tightened. She longed to close the distance, to throw herself into Y/Nâs arms, to feel the warmth she had craved for what felt like an eternity. She wanted to kiss her, to press the words I love you directly onto her lips, to show her everything she had carried in the lonely months of waiting.
And yet⊠fear rooted her to the spot. Fear that Y/N would pull back, that her love, her desperation, might be too much after all these years apart. Fear that she might misstep, that the fragile, renewed trust between them could shatter. She paced the apartment more than she moved toward Y/N, circling the couch, the kitchen, the small sunlit corner by the window, always stopping just short of the warmth she craved.
At night, she lay awake on the bed, staring at the ceiling, imagining Y/N beside her, imagining the softness of her hand in hers, imagining the quiet laughter they could share. Her mind begged her to act, to bridge the gap, but her body trembled with hesitation, tangled in memories of mistakes, of choices made, of the time lost.
Even the smallest interactionsâY/N reaching for a cup, brushing her hair back, humming softly while tidyingâsent Wandaâs heart leaping. Every mundane gesture felt magnified, a reminder of what she had almost lost and now had again.
She hated the indecision, hated the way it made her feel small and helpless in front of the one person who had always made her feel whole. And yet, a tiny voice whispered, a cautious, trembling hope: Soon. Soon weâll be ok.
Until then, Wanda lingered at the edge of Y/Nâs world, caught between yearning and fear, every heartbeat a quiet, desperate prayer that she could somehow find the right moment to let her soul speak.
---
But on top of everything, there was Natasha. Y/N would leave to see her, sometimes for an hour, sometimes longer, and Wanda would stay behind in the quiet apartment. She told herself she had no right to feel anything about itâthat Y/N had lived here for decades without her, that friendships had been built in the space Wanda had left behind.
But the ache wouldnât go away. Each time the door closed behind Y/N, a hollow pang spread through Wandaâs chest. She hated it. She hated the gnawing jealousy, the twisting thought of Y/Nâs laughter belonging to someone else, even in something as innocent as friendship.
And then it struck her, sharp and bitter. *Is this how she felt?* Was this what Y/N endured when Wanda chose to chase echoes of her past, clinging to memories of Vision instead of standing firmly at Y/Nâs side? The realization hit like a stone in her stomach. It wasnât fairâwhat she had done to Y/N back then, how blind she had been to the pain her choices might have caused.
Now the roles were reversed, and Wanda despised it. The waiting. The not knowing. The silence stretching between them like a chasm.
She hated it because she understood.
And the worst partâthe part that made her chest burnâwas knowing that she had no one to blame but herself.
The days bled together in the Junction, though Wanda could feel each one pressing down on her chest. She would linger in the apartment, drifting from room to room, her gaze catching on the framed photographs Y/N had placed everywhere. Pieces of their life together, frozen in time. Reminders of what she had left behind.
And yet, every time Y/N walked out that door, the warmth of those memories turned cold. Wanda would sit on the edge of the bed, twisting her fingers together, ears straining for the faintest sound that might tell her Y/N had come back. But the silence always stretched too long, feeding her thoughts until they soured.
She tried to convince herself it was nothingâjust Y/N visiting a friend. That was all. But the image of Natashaâs smile lingered, uninvited, and Wandaâs heart coiled tight with something ugly. She despised it. She despised herself for feeling it.
Because she knew this pain. She recognized the shape of it. It was the same hollow ache Y/N must have carried when Wanda had chosen her memories of Vision, when she had clung to something that was never meant to last. Back then, Wanda hadnât thought of what it cost Y/Nâhadnât wanted to. Now, she couldnât escape it.
Every jealous pang was mirrored by guilt, the kind that gnawed at her bones. She had no right to this feeling, not after what she had done. Y/N had never once turned her away, never stopped loving her, never given her reason to doubt. And still, Wanda sat here, waiting, resenting, aching.
It was a cycle she couldnât break: jealousy flaring hot, guilt cooling it to ash, only for it to reignite the moment Y/Nâs footsteps faded down the hall again.
And Wanda swallowed it all in silence. Because how could she voice it? How could she admit that after everythingâafter her choice, after her absenceâshe was jealous of someone who had been there when she wasnât?
She had no right. But that didnât stop her heart from breaking all the same.
---
Then one day, Wanda was standing by the doorway, her heart thudding softly against her ribs. Y/N sat by the window, a book open in her hands, the late light spilling over her hair in a soft gold that made her look almost ethereal. For a long moment, Wanda just watchedâthe gentle rise and fall of her chest, the quiet steadiness that had always grounded her.
Her hands trembled before she even realized she was moving. Slowly, as if approaching a fragile dream that might vanish if she made a sound, she crossed the room. Y/N glanced up briefly, offering a small, familiar smile before her eyes drifted back to the page. That smile alone nearly undid Wanda.
Without a word, she reached Y/N and lowered herself onto her lap, straddling her thighs. Y/N froze for only a heartbeat, the book slipping shut between her fingers, before Wandaâs arms came up around her neck, burying her face against the familiar curve of Y/Nâs shoulder.
It wasnât desireâit was something far more fragile. Wandaâs chest ached as she pressed closer, breathing in that faint, warm scent sheâd missed more than life itself. She remembered the last time sheâd done thisâin the wrong eternity, with the wrong person. Vision had thought it was sexual. But what sheâd wanted⊠what sheâd always wanted⊠was this. Her Y/N.
Y/N didnât ask. She didnât tense or pull away. She simply wrapped her arms around Wanda, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other resting low on her back, holding her steady. The motion was instinctiveâmuscle memory from a love that had spanned lifetimes.
A quiet breath trembled out of Wanda. The tears she had been holding in for days finally welled up, dampening Y/Nâs collar. âIâm sorry,â she whispered, the words barely audible against her skin.
Y/N said nothing. She only held her tighter, her thumb tracing small, soothing circles along Wandaâs spine. And in that silenceâwarm, familiar, infiniteâWanda felt something inside her begin to ease. The fear, the jealousy, the guilt⊠all of it softened under Y/Nâs touch.
It was home.
Just like it had always been.
Y/Nâs thumb kept tracing slow circles on Wandaâs back, grounding them both in the silence. The sound of the Junction outside the window was distant, softenedâalmost like the world itself was giving them space.
After a long while, Y/N tilted her head slightly, her voice breaking the quiet in that low, gentle tone Wanda had missed more than she could ever say.
âWhatâs on your mind?â
Wanda didnât answer right away. Her lips trembled against Y/Nâs skin, and her fingers clutched the fabric of Y/Nâs shirt as if she were afraid it would all dissolve if she let go. Finally, she breathed out, barely above a whisper, âEverything⊠and nothing.â
Y/N gave a small hum, a sound of quiet understanding, but she didnât push. She knew Wanda well enough to recognize when she was circling her feelingsâwhen she wanted to speak but didnât know how to start.
Wanda drew back just enough to look at her, eyes red and wet, lashes sticking together. âI keep thinking,â she began softly, âabout how you mustâve felt⊠when I was gone. When I chose wrong. I canât stop seeing itâyour face, waiting at that door, hoping Iâd walk through it.â Her voice cracked. âAnd I didnât.â
Her hands moved to cup Y/Nâs jaw, desperate and tender all at once. âI hate that I did that to you. I hate that I left you alone for so long.â
Y/N met her gaze, quiet, steady. There was no anger thereâonly a deep sadness that had learned how to live in her eyes. She reached up, covering Wandaâs hands with her own. âYou donât have to apologize, Wanda,â she murmured. âYou made a choice. And I made one tooâto keep loving you, even when you werenât here.â
Wandaâs breath hitched, tears spilling freely again. âHow can you still love me after everything?â
Y/N smiled faintly, brushing her thumb across Wandaâs cheek. âBecause I donât know how not to.â
Wandaâs heart broke open all over again. She leaned in, her forehead pressing against Y/Nâs, her voice a trembling whisper. âThen let me make it right this time. Please. Just⊠let me love you again.â
Y/N didnât speak at firstâshe just breathed, slow and steady, their foreheads still touching. The warmth between them pulsed softly, like the quiet rhythm of something ancient and unbroken.
Then, she nodded. Once. Small, deliberate, but full of meaning.
Wandaâs breath hitched, her lips parting in a silent gasp, as if that single motion had cracked open the dam sheâd been holding back for so long. Her hands trembled where they rested against Y/Nâs face, fingers brushing against familiar skin she had ached for over what felt like lifetimes.
Y/Nâs hands stayed at Wandaâs waist, grounding her, gentle yet sure. Her voice came low, steadyâbarely above a whisper. âOne step at a time, alright?â
Wanda nodded quickly, her tears spilling over again as she pressed closer, her forehead still resting against Y/Nâs. âI can do that,â she murmured, her voice trembling with both relief and longing. âAs long as itâs with you.â
Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, breathing her in. The scent, the closeness, the fragile trust rebuilding itself between themâit was everything she had dreamed of and feared sheâd never feel again.
She pulled Wanda just a little closer, enough that their hearts lined up, steady and synced. âThen weâll start here,â she whispered.
Wanda smiled through her tears, her lips brushing softly against Y/Nâs cheek in a trembling, reverent touch. âHere,â she echoed.
And for the first time since her return, everything felt right again.
---
The days after that first, fragile reunion were a gentle unraveling of time. Wanda and Y/N began to move through the Junction with a new purposeâone that felt like healing stitched together with laughter, memory, and love.
They visited the places they had cherished together, both in life and in the moments they had imagined but never reached. Small cafés they had once lingered in, tucked-away corners of the Junction where the sunlight hit just right, parks where they had tossed coins into fountains, silently wishing for more time together. Each place was alive with echoes of themselves, past and present, and every step they took felt like reclaiming pieces of a life almost lost.
Their memories became playgrounds. Dates they had once hadâor always wanted to haveâwere relived with careful precision: the quiet thrill of a first dinner together, the reckless delight of a shared ice cream cone on a hot day, long walks under the Junctionâs glowing street lamps, whispering promises theyâd once only dared to dream aloud.
They laughed more than they had in centuries, their hands intertwined, fingers tracing the familiar lines and scars of a love that had endured even absence. Wanda marveled at how Y/Nâs smile still caught her breath, while Y/N marveled at how soft Wandaâs presence could feel after decades of longing.
And then, the places they had never visited in life became new adventures. They wandered through markets they had imagined, dipped their feet into rivers they had dreamed of, and gazed at sunsets from hills that had always seemed just out of reach. With every shared experience, Wanda felt her guilt and jealousy melt away, replaced by the quiet confidence of belonging.
At night, they would return to their apartment, curling together on the couch or bed, recounting the dayâs small triumphs and discoveries. The Junction, in all its shimmering afterlife beauty, became a canvas for their loveâa place where past and future, memory and desire, could coexist.
Step by step, memory by memory, they were rebuilding not just a life, but eternity together.
---
The slow, steady rhythm of their reunited lives began to include their children as well. Billy and Lyla had already embraced Wanda, but Tommy had remained guarded, his anger and hurt tempered only by love for his mother. Still, over time, the warmth of Wandaâs presence and the steady joy he saw in Y/N began to chip away at the walls he had built.
Days were spent wandering through the Junction as a familyâlaughing, teasing, and sharing memories that belonged both to the past and the life they were now reclaiming. Wanda watched Tommy hesitate at first, holding back, yet gradually letting himself relax when she joined in a silly game or shared a joke. He saw the way Y/Nâs hand rested gently on Wandaâs back, the subtle exchanges of love and care that reminded him of the bond that had never truly broken.
One evening, as the three of them sat together watching the soft glow of the Junctionâs lights reflecting in the rivers of memory, Tommy finally leaned against Wandaâs shoulder without a word. It was small, almost imperceptible, but the gesture spoke volumes. He was letting her back in, letting her love be part of their family again.
And slowly, he laughed with them. He argued playfully, teased them mercilessly, and yet lingered close, watching the way Wanda and Y/N moved through the space with a tenderness he had almost forgotten. It was as if he was rediscovering a mother he had loved all his life, alongside the woman who had always been the anchor for their family.
Tommyâs walls crumbled not because he forgot the hurt, but because he could see how fiercely Wanda loved his Ma, how deeply she belonged to them all. And in that, he found it easier to forgive, easier to embrace the family whole again, and easier to let the past settle gently behind them.
At last, they were truly togetherânot just as parents and children, but as a family healed by time, by love, and by the courage to return.
---
But Y/N still went out with Nat. And that still bothered Wanda.
Wanda sat on the couch, fingers curling into the soft fabric of the cushion, her chest tight. The apartment felt too quiet without Y/Nâs presence, too still without the warmth of her shoulder to lean against. She knew Y/N had gone out with Nat, and part of her wanted to tell herself it didnât matterâthat it was harmless, just casual friends enjoying themselves.
But the truth was, it *did* matter. Her stomach knotted at the thought, a little pang of jealousy she had no right to feel. After all, Y/N had always made her own choices, and she had come back to *her*. Yet knowing Y/N was laughing somewhere, walking beside someone elseâeven if it was just a friendâstirred a quiet, gnawing ache.
Wanda hugged a pillow to her chest, burying her face against it. She hated that she felt this way. She hated that her insecurities, her guilt for ever leaving, were twisting into something possessive. And she hated that she couldnât say anything without feeling ridiculous.
What if Y/N liked being out with Nat? What if Nat really did hold a piece of Y/Nâs heart, even if Y/N had chosen her? Wandaâs mind ran in circles, spiraling between worst-case scenarios and self-reassurances that felt hollow.
She stayed there, silent and tense, until finally, her body ached from the weight of her own thoughts. And when Y/N returned later, cheerful and flushed from the night out, Wanda forced a smile, hiding the turmoil that still churned quietly inside her. She would let herself be happyâfor nowâbecause Y/N had come back. But the jealousy, the longing, the quiet worry⊠it was still there, like a shadow she couldnât quite shake.
Hours passed, and Wanda spiraled deeper, replaying every mistake, every selfish step that had led them here. Her chest felt heavy, each breath sharper than the last, when finally the door creaked open.
Y/N stumbled inside. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes warm and hazy, her grin loose with intoxication. Wanda blinked, startled. âYouâre⊠drunk?â
Y/N chuckled, swaying slightly as she toed off her shoes. âDidnât know it was possible either,â she slurred softly, her voice thick and endearing. âOnly lasts for an hour or two, apparently. But itâs real. And wow.â She laughed at herself, then turned toward Wanda.
And just like that, Wandaâs breath hitched. Because Y/N was looking at herânot at the floor, not at the couch, not at the past they both carriedâbut at *her*. With all the love in the world shining through her drunken haze. The same love that had once been hers entirely, the same love she had thought sheâd lost forever.
Wanda forgot how Y/N became when she was drunk. All unfiltered affection, no walls, no hesitationâjust raw, undeniable love. And standing there, trapped in that gaze, Wanda felt her heart race.
Y/N stumbled forward a little, laughing softly at herself before reaching out, one hand brushing Wandaâs cheek. âI⊠missed you,â she slurred, the words warm and unsteady. âMissed thisâmissed you. All of you.â
Wandaâs chest tightened, tears pricking her eyes. She couldnât stop herself; she stepped closer, closing the gap, letting Y/N lean into her as she cupped the otherâs face with trembling hands. âI missed you too,â Wanda whispered, her voice breaking, âmore than I can evenââ
Y/N laughed again, a shaky, affectionate sound, pressing her forehead to Wandaâs. âI know,â she murmured, voice soft. âI know you did. I feel it. I feel you.â
Wandaâs breath hitched at the sudden, tender pressure of Y/Nâs lips against hers. She couldnât help the soft whimper that escaped, a mixture of relief, longing, and the raw ache of years spent apart. Her hands tightened around Y/Nâs face, holding her close as if anchoring herself to the present, to the warmth that had always been hers.
Y/N deepened the kiss, unsteady but full of affection, letting it linger with all the words theyâd never said, all the years lost between them. Wanda trembled, heart hammering, a shiver running down her spine as she pressed herself closer, needing every bit of Y/N she could reach.
Pulling back just enough to breathe, Y/N rested her forehead against Wandaâs, her lips brushing softly over her temple. âI⊠I feel you,â she whispered again, voice thick with emotion. âAll of you⊠finally back where you belong.â
Wanda let out a shaky laugh, tears spilling freely, and murmured, âIâm never leaving again.â
Y/N smiled, a drunken, tender grin, pressing another quick kiss to Wandaâs lips. âGood,â she murmured. âBecause I didnât think I could stand another century without you.â
Wandaâs hands traced the familiar curves of Y/Nâs body, fingers trembling as if they might dissolve if she held back. Every touch, every whisper, was a reclamation of the years lost, a desperate affirmation that they were here, together, now.
Y/N guided her gently at first, letting Wanda lead, letting her set the pace of their reunion. The apartment was filled with quiet gasps and soft murmurs, the afterlifeâs stillness amplifying every heartbeat, every brush of skin, every stolen breath.
Wanda pressed close, forehead against Y/Nâs, lips brushing, tasting, memorizing again. There was no rush, no need for anything but the closeness of each other, the safety and love that had always defined them.
Y/Nâs hands tangled in Wandaâs hair, pulling her closer, grounding her, whispering her name like a prayer. âMine,â Y/N murmured between kisses. âAlways mine.â
And Wanda responded with a cry, a shiver, a surrenderâpouring centuries of longing, guilt, and love into every movement, every sigh. They moved together as they had in countless memories and countless dreams: slow, tender, urgent, and consuming.
In the afterlife, time felt irrelevant; only the warmth of each other, the shared heartbeat, and the reclaiming of everything theyâd lost mattered. When they finally collapsed into each other, slick and spent, their bodies still entwined, Wanda felt a peace she hadnât known she could reach.
Y/N stroked her hair, brushing a damp strand from her face. âIâm here,â she whispered, voice soft and steady. âIâm not going anywhere.â
Wanda buried her face against Y/Nâs chest, letting herself finally breathe. âNever again,â she whispered back, voice muffled, tears slipping freely. âNever again.â
And in the quiet aftermath, their hands laced, hearts still racing, they simply held each other, letting the afterlife witness what had always been true: their love, unbroken and eternal.
---
Wanda and Y/N fell back into the rhythm of their lives with a comforting ease, as though the decades apart had been nothing more than a long, cruel pause. Their afternoons and nights blurred together in quiet intimacy, laughter, and warmth. Making love became a part of their routine againânot out of necessity, but out of desire, affection, and the shared understanding of how fragile time could be. Each touch, each kiss, each whispered word was a reclamation of what had been lost, a reaffirmation that they belonged to each other.
It felt young and reckless at times, like teenagers discovering each other all over again, and yet layered with the depth and history of a love that had weathered centuries. They found joy in simple gestures: lying together in silence, sharing coffee by the window, holding hands while wandering through recreated memories or new adventures in the Junction.
Wanda even warmed up to Nat over time. What had once made her uneasyâY/Nâs friendship with someone elseâsoftened into acceptance. Nat was kind, loyal, and genuinely happy for them. Wanda realized that she could trust Y/N and that Nat posed no threat, only a companionship that had endured years in the afterlife. The three of them shared quiet meals, laughter, and casual conversations, the awkward tension of the past fading like a shadow at sunrise.
In these days, in these small, tender moments, Wanda felt a sense of peace she had never thought possible. Her love for Y/N burned brighter than ever, untainted by regret or fear, and the warmth of familyâY/N, Billy, Tommy, Lyla, and even Natâsurrounded her like a shield. Life in the Junction had its own rhythm, one that was both timeless and fleeting, but for Wanda and Y/N, it finally felt like home.
---
Then, one dayâfive years after Wandaâs return to the Junctionâan afterlife coordinator appeared at their apartment, calm but insistent. âY/N, Wanda⊠itâs time,â they said softly. âSince youâve chosen each other for eternity, you are meant to leave this place and step fully into your eternal existence.â
Y/N and Wanda exchanged a glance, the weight of the years they had spent together reflected in each otherâs eyes. But neither moved. Y/N shook her head firmly. âWe⊠we canât,â she said, her voice steady. Wandaâs hand found hers instinctively, gripping tightly.
âWe are each otherâs eternity,â Wanda added, her tone unwavering, âbut our childrenâthey are our eternity too. We cannot leave them behind. They are part of what makes this love whole.â
The coordinator hesitated, tilting their head, trying to convey understanding. âThe system⊠it wasnât designed for this. Eternity is meant to be for individuals. Families are⊠secondary.â
Y/Nâs jaw tightened, a quiet fire in her eyes. âThen your system is wrong,â she said firmly. âLove isnât just two people. Itâs everything they hold dear. Their lives, their children, their shared history. We are not leaving, because leaving would mean abandoning the most important part of our eternity.â
The coordinator sighed, a mixture of frustration and awe in their expression, realizing there was no protocol for a defiance like this. Wanda leaned into Y/N, resting her head on her shoulder. âWeâve found our eternity here, in each other, yesâbut also in our family. This is where we belong.â
And so they stayed. Defiant, unyielding, and fiercely human in the afterlife. Together, not just as lovers, but as mothers, as family, as the guardians of a love that refused to be constrained by rules or systems. The Junction, with all its memories and wonders, became theirsânot merely a waiting place, but a home for the eternity they had chosen for themselves and for the family they refused to leave behind.
---
Centuries passed, and slowly, the stubborn love of one family began to ripple outward. Other souls, seeing the way Wanda and Y/N had refused to abandon their children, began to question the rules that governed the afterlife. They saw that eternity could be more than solitary, that love couldâand shouldâinclude family.
The system, once rigid and unyielding, evolved. Policies changed, structures adapted, and finally, families were allowed to step into eternity together. The world itself reshaped to reflect the lives and loves that refused to be separated. And so, at long last, Wanda, Y/N, and their childrenâTommy, Billy alongside his husband, Lyla with her spouse and childrenâentered a shared eternity.
Their eternity took the form of the sun-drenched hills and vineyards of Tuscany, rolling fields and cypress-lined roads stretching to the horizon, warm light spilling into every corner of their new life. It was a paradise that mirrored their love: open, vibrant, and alive with possibility.
Natasha and her partner were welcome visitors, friends bound by decades of shared time and trust, able to come and go as they pleased, adding laughter and warmth without threatening the delicate balance of Wanda and Y/Nâs family.
Here, centuries after Wanda had first returned to the Junction, the family thrived. Children and grandchildren ran through sunlit vineyards, voices carrying over the hills. The scent of fresh bread and roasted coffee filled the air. Y/N and Wanda, hand in hand, could sit together on the terrace, watching their family flourish and knowing that every choice, every act of defiance, every tear shed in longing had led them here.
At last, eternity was not a rule to followâit was a life to live, together, and in it, they were truly home.
-The End-
---
IMAGINE PART I: âThe Apron Incidentâ â ReneĂ© Rapp x Reader
â Turns out⊠I have bills to pay.
Warnings: Fluff, Awkward Flirting, Comedic Undertone & Slow-Burn Energy. Mood: Fluff / Comedy / Meet-Cute
[6:43 PM â Friday night rush hour.]
The bar was alive in the way Friday nights always are. Loud. Warm. Unapologetically chaotic. Bass thumping faintly through old wooden floors, laughter rolling like cheap champagne, conversations blending into one long, messy wave of noise.
Iâd spent the last fifteen minutes sitting at the far end of the counter with a near-empty glass of ginger ale, desperately pretending I wasnât dying inside. Spoiler: I was.
âYou shouldâve seen me,â I muttered, dragging both hands down my face dramatically.
Across from me, behind the counter, Lucas was shaking a cocktail with the ease of a man whoâd seen me make a fool of myself one too many times.
âI did see you,â he deadpanned. âHalf the bar saw you.â
âExactly,â I sighed, pointing a tragic finger at him. âIt was a performance. An art piece. A tragedy.â
[Rewind â 6:15 PM]
Iâd spotted her at one of the corner tables, a woman with sharp cheekbones, soft lips, and the kind of posture that screamed I donât need you, but you may try. I had spent the last three days psyching myself up to talk to someone new. And there she was: alone, swirling her drink like a Bond girl in a black turtleneck.
I didnât even have a plan. Just my dumb, overly caffeinated brain that whispered, say something cool.
âHi,â I said. Or maybe croaked. Probably croaked.
She lifted her gaze like a queen glancing at a peasant. Her eyebrow did that perfect little arch people with confidence are born with.
âI just wanted to say⊠you have a very serious face,â I blurted out.
She blinked. âThatâs⊠not a compliment.â
And that was how I started this cursed evening.
I tried to recover, really, I did. I explained something about how it wasnât bad serious but, like, mysterious serious. She sipped her drink with the elegance of a woman who already decided I was not her type and said, very gently:
âGood luck with your night.â
Then she turned back to her phone.
I walked away like a soldier returning from war. Defeated. Head high but dignity left somewhere under her chair.
[6:45 PM â Back to the counter.]
âShe said âgood luckâ,â I recited for the fourth time, waving my arms for dramatic flair. âGOOD. LUCK. Thatâs not even pity. Thatâs customer service.â
Lucas snorted. âYouâre the reason we canât have nice things.â
âIâm a disaster,â I continued, ignoring him completely. âBut a charming one.â
I was gesturing with too much enthusiasm, recounting every humiliating second of the encounter like a TED Talk on Bad Decisions 101. My hand swung wider than my brain intended andâ
CRASH.
Cold liquid splashed across the counter and onto someoneâs sleeve. The glass wobbled, toppled, and rolled right onto the floor with a dull clink. My breath stopped in my throat.
I turned slowly. Like a cartoon character about to see the anvil above their head.
And then I saw her.
Big sunglasses. A soft hoodie. Baseball cap pulled low. She had a kind of casual ease that somehow made her stand out even more. Her jawline was sharp, her lips slightly parted in surprise, and her freshly ruined drink dripped down the counter like a crime scene.
âIâ Oh my Godâ Iâm so sorry!â I blurted, already reaching for napkins. âThat was⊠that was not supposed to happen.â
She tilted her head slightly, and I caught a hint of amusement hiding behind those shades.
âClearly,â she said, voice smooth. It wasnât annoyed. Just⊠entertained.
I winced, cheeks burning.
âNext drinkâs on the house,â I declared too confidently.
Lucas paused mid-pour, raised one eyebrow. âYou donât work here anymore, remember?â
The strangerâs brows lifted behind her glasses. I felt the heat rise from my neck all the way to my ears.
âIââ I turned back to Lucas. âI do now.â
I marched around the counter like I owned the place, grabbed an apron from the hook, tied it around my waist, and straightened up like this was always part of the plan.
âSee?â I said with a sheepish grin. âTurns out I have bills to pay.â
[6:47 PM â Mopping up the crime scene.]
I crouched over the counter, rubbing the apron like it was a napkin, desperately trying to soak up the mess. Lucas sighed so hard I could hear it over the music. The stranger leaned back slightly on her stool, watching me with crossed arms.
âIs that⊠sanitary?â she asked.
âAbsolutely not,â I admitted. âBut itâs efficient.â
She let out a low laugh, short but genuine. A laugh that slid down my spine and made my heart skip a beat. There was something familiar in it, warm, rich, like something Iâd heard somewhere else before.
I looked up, catching the corner of her smirk. Her sunglasses were still on, but I could tell she was enjoying the show.
âYouâre not very good at this,â she remarked.
âWell, lucky for me, Iâm great at being embarrassing,â I shot back before my brain could censor me.
That earned me another soft laugh, this one a little longer.
[6:49 PM â Lucas gives up.]
Lucas leaned against the shelves behind the bar, arms crossed, wearing the face of a man whoâd already accepted the absurdity of the evening.
âYou know,â he said, âthis is exactly why you quit. Because you donât know how to serve drinks without turning it into a personal rom-com.â
âCorrection,â I replied, holding up a finger while still wiping the counter. âThis is called natural charm.â
âNatural disaster,â he muttered.
I shot him a glare before turning back to the stranger.
âSeriously though, let me make it up to you,â I said, straightening up and pretending like I belonged behind the bar. âWhat was your drink?â
She paused for a second. Like she wasnât sure if she should tell me. Then:
âMargarita.â
âExcellent choice,â I replied, even though I absolutely did not know how to make one properly.
I turned toward Lucas with pleading eyes. He rolled his in return, muttering something under his breath, then slid the shaker toward me. I started making the drink with the finesse of someone pretending to be on a cooking show. Shaky but determined.
[6:52 PM â Recognition hits slowly.]
As I poured the drink into the salted glass, I finally looked at her properly. Her hair framed her face perfectly even though it was tucked into the hoodie. Her lips curled like she was hiding something. Or maybe someone.
âSo⊠you just sit here looking cool and mysterious every Friday night?â I asked lightly.
âSomething like that,â she said. Her voice was lower now, teasing. âAnd you just⊠knock over drinks for fun?â
âItâs a talent.â
She took off the sunglasses just enough for them to rest on the collar of her hoodie. And then it clicked.
I froze mid-shake.
No. No way. My brain scrambled to connect the dots, the laugh, the voice, the little smirk. Iâd seen her face on screens, interviews, late-night clips that autoplayed when I shouldâve been sleeping.
âWait a minute,â I breathed out.
Her grin widened, slow and wicked.
âTook you long enough.â
[6:56 PM â The reveal.]
âYouâreââ I stammered. âYeah,â she interrupted smoothly. âBut donât make it weird.â
âToo late.â
She chuckled and accepted the fresh margarita I handed over with shaking hands. Her fingers brushed mine for half a second. It was enough to make my heart skip a whole beat.
âNot bad,â she said after the first sip. âFor someone who doesnât work here.â
âTechnically, I do now,â I replied. âItâs called reemployment by accident.â
[7:03 PM â The shift I didnât sign up for.]
I ended up behind the counter for the next twenty minutes, pouring drinks under Lucasâs supervision while she sat there sipping hers like a living, breathing plot twist.
Every time I glanced her way, she was already looking. Not in a creepy way. More like she was⊠entertained.
âYouâre very good at pretending youâre not flustered,â she said casually at one point.
âOh no,â I admitted. âIâm very flustered. I just happen to be dramatic about it.â
She laughed again. That sound. It was going to ruin me.
[7:25 PM â A number on a napkin.]
Eventually, I took off the apron, surrendered the bar back to Lucas, and leaned on the counter like I belonged there.
She pulled a napkin toward her, scribbled something quickly, folded it, and pushed it toward me.
âFor knocking over my drink,â she said with a small grin.
I unfolded it and nearly choked.
Her number.
âAre you sure you want to reward clumsiness?â I asked.
âYouâre fun,â she replied simply. âAnd apparently good at giving free drinks.â
âPerks of employment,â I whispered back.
[7:34 PM â She walks away.]
She slipped the sunglasses back on, finished the last of her margarita, and slid off the stool with casual ease.
âWhat if I spill your next drink?â I asked, trying to sound brave.
âThen youâll just have to make me another one,â she said over her shoulder.
And then she was gone, leaving the bar a little quieter, the air a little heavier, and my heart beating way too fast for someone whoâd started this night crying over a failed flirt attempt with someone else.
A Cup Of Coffee
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Summary: Wanda came to your cafe for just a coffee, but left with something more.
Word Count: ~1000
Genre: fluff
A/N: didn't have time for writing since i started university again. But here i am, with my first fic of Wanda
It's late afternoon in October, soft light filtering through the cafeâs front windows, the faint smell of coffee beans, cinnamon and old books blending together. The shelves creak softly when someone walks by. There's indie music playing quietly in the background. Â
You are working on the counter, hair tucked back, sleeves rolled up, a small pencil behind the ear from helping customers with book recommendations. It's one of those cozy hybrid shops, part cafe, part bookstore, with handwritten menus and mismatched mugs.Â
The bell above the door chimed softly when Wanda stepped inside. Warm air washed over her, carrying the comforting scent of roasted coffee beans, cinnamon, and old paper. The place looked like something out of a dream, soft light string across bookshelves, a few people reading the windows while the rain tapped lightly against the glass. Â
She told herself she was only stopping by for a drink. That was the plan. Just a coffee, something to warm her hands before heading home. But then she saw you behind the counter. Â
And the plan fell apart instantly. Â
You looked up when she approached, offering that easy, welcoming smile that made her brain short-circuit.Â
âHi there,â you said, voice soft but bright, âWhat can I get for you?âÂ
Wanda blinked. Words. He needed words. She had many of those, normally. Sheâd faced cosmic beings, this shouldnât be that hard. But you were smiling at her, and it was like her mind had been hexed. Â
âHi,â she started, then paused. Okay, thatâs a good start âI mean h-hello. Uh, Iâd like a c-coffee.â Â
You tilted your head slightly, amused, âSure. What kind?âÂ
âJust... coffee,â she said, trying not to panic, âYou know. The normal kind,â a small, awkward laugh escaped her, âWith milk. Please. Or maybe tea. No... coffeeâs fine. Definitely coffee. I love coffee.â Â
You grinned, âAlright. Any particular size?âÂ
Wanda froze. Size. There were options, âA nice size,â she said before she could stop herself, âI mean... a normal one. Average. Medium! Medium's fine.âÂ
Her cheeks burned as she looked down at the counter, wanting the earth to swallow her whole. Â
You bit back a laugh, scribbling down the order, âMedium coffee, got it,â you said gently, your tone kind rather than mocking. Â
As she fumbled for her wallet, Wanda could feel she was getting nervous, the more she stood there. The sleeve of her coat caught on the strap of her bag, and her phone nearly slipped from her hand. Â
âCareful,â you said softly, eyes flicking up to hers with a reassuring smile.Â
Wanda nodded quickly, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, âYes. Sorry. Iâm usually more⊠coordinated,â she muttered, trying to laugh it off.Â
âDonât worry,â you said, still smiling, âHappens to everyone.âÂ
She handed you a few bills, her fingers brushing yours for just a second. They were warm, featherlight, enough to make her heartbeat stutter. You turned to the register, the sound of coins clinking faintly beneath the soft hum of music and the whisper of turning pages from somewhere in the shop.Â
âMedium coffee with milk,â you repeated, just to be sure.Â
âRight,â Wanda said quickly, voice quieter now, as if she was afraid saying anything else might only make things worse.Â
You gave her one last smile before turning toward the espresso machine. Wanda exhaled slowly, trying to calm the flustered chaos spinning in her chest. She glanced around while she waited. The shelves of secondhand books, the cozy armchairs by the rain-streaked window, the golden light turning everything honey-colored. It was peaceful here. Safe. If her nerves werenât screaming, she might have stayed longer.Â
Behind the counter, you worked quickly but with care, steaming milk, pouring the espresso, topping it off with a light swirl of foam. You hesitated for a moment, looking toward her. She stood near the window now, tracing her fingers along the spines of old novels, completely unaware of how endearing she looked in that soft autumn light.Â
You smiled to yourself. Then you picked up a pen and wrote something on her cup, a neat row of digits, followed by a little doodle of a heart.Â
âHere you go,â you said when she came back to the counter.Â
Wanda blinked, startled that the moment had come so soon. âOh... thank you,â she murmured, carefully taking the cup from your hand.Â
âHave a nice day,â you added, your voice warm.Â
âYou too,â she replied, offering a small, shy smile before turning toward the door. She could feel her cheeks still flushed. She took a few steps, her boots quiet against the wooden floor, the soft hum of music filling the cozy air.Â
I wasnât until she glanced down at the cup. There were a name and numbers written under it. It took her a moment. It was your name and phone number. And a tiny heart beside them.Â
She froze.Â
For a moment, all she could do was stare. Her mind went perfectly blank. She blinked once, just to be sure she was seeing it right. Â
Then, slowly, she turned around.Â
Her eyes searched the counter and there you were. Wiping your hands on a towel, pretending to be busy yourself with the next order. But when Wandaâs gaze met yours, you didnât look away. Instead, that same soft, knowing smile curved your lips.Â
And then you winked. Â
It was quick, almost teasing, but it send a rush of warmth straight through her chest. Wanda's breath caught. She felt her grow hot again.Â
She looked down at the cup once more, a quiet laugh slipping out before she could stop it. Â
The bell chimed as she stepped out, the sound of rain and laughter following her into the cool October air. Â
Maybe she will come more often now. Maybe she could pick a book next time, too. Â
IMAGINE PART I: âWhat Do You Mean Weâre Married?â â ReneĂ© Rapp x Reader
â Wife Reveal Gone Wrong.
Itâs a normal morning.
Well... normal in the way anything can be when you and ReneĂ© are nursing matching hangovers from âjust two drinksâ that mysteriously multiplied into tequila-fueled karaoke and crying over that one Phoebe Bridgers lyric neither of you will admit hits too hard.
Youâre at a cafĂ©. Sunlightâs pouring in through oversized windows. ReneĂ©âs wearing a hoodie youâve never seen before but is definitely yours, and youâre stirring iced coffee with a fork because you forgot to ask for a straw.
The waiter drops off the receipt.
You glance down at it casually.
Then blink.
Then blink again.
âHuh.â
ReneĂ© looks up from her avocado toast. âWhat?â
You squint at the paper.
âThey made a mistake. They put your last name next to my first name.â
You angle it toward her.
It reads:
Rapp and your first name next to it.
You laugh. âI guess they just assumed I was your wife or something.â
Youâre still giggling into your cold brew when you realize ReneĂ© isnât laughing.
In factâ
Sheâs not reacting at all.
Just raising an eyebrow.
Setting her toast down.
Reaching for her drink with that annoyingly smug mouth twitch she gets when sheâs about to drop a bomb.
âI mean,â she says casually, âwe have been married since that trip in Vegas.â
You stop mid-sip.
â...What.â
She shrugs.
âThe little chapel? That night we couldnât find your phone and ended up crashing that bachelorette party on Fremont Street?â
You stare at her.
âThat wasnât real.â
âIt was legally binding. I signed the certificate.â
âYou joked about signing the certificate.â
âAnd then I did it.â
You blink.
âYou married me while I was looking for my phone charger?â
âRomantic, right?â
âYouâre joking.â
Reneé reaches into her bag. Pulls out a crumpled piece of paper with faint pink edges and a faded golden seal.
âI kept the receipt.â
Your eyes bug.
âThatâs a marriage license.â
âA Rapp-ly ever after, baby.â
You slap your forehead.
âWe were drunk!â
âWe were in love.â
âWe were singing Kesha at a taco stand.â
âExactly.â
There is a full sixty seconds of pure, high-pitched, silent chaos screaming in your brain.
Then:
â...Why didnât you tell me?â
âI forgot.â
âYou forgot we were married?â
âWell, I remembered the other day when I saw it in my passport wallet, but I figured youâd bring it up eventually.â
âI thought it was a bit!â
âSo did our officiant. Then he cried.â
âThis is unhinged behavior.â
âYouâre literally wearing my ring right now.â
You look down.
You are wearing a silver band you thought was hers.
âI thought you just left it in my bathroom!â
âNo, babe. Thatâs your wedding band.â
You freeze.
The waiter comes back with the check and says, âAww, are you two celebrating something?â
Reneé beams.
âOur anniversary.â
You kick her under the table.
Later that afternoon, youâre on her couch in total disbelief, holding the certificate in your hands.
âThis looks official.â
âIt is official.â
âThereâs a witness.â
âThe Elvis impersonator.â
You groan into a pillow.
Reneé climbs over you like a smug jungle cat and sits on your thighs.
âYou love me.â
âI hate you.â
âYou literally married me.â
âUnder false pretenses.â
âYou said âI do.ââ
âI thought I was saying yes to another round of shots!â
She wiggles her eyebrows.
âWell, now youâre stuck with me.â
âIs it too late to annul?â
âWe consummated it already.â
âRENEĂ.â
Eventually, when the laughter dies down and your heartâs finally stopped trying to leap out of your chest, she wraps her arms around your waist and presses a kiss behind your ear.
âIâm kidding. Sort of. Maybe.â
You freeze again.
âSort of?â
âI mean⊠we didnât actually file it with the county clerk.â
You exhale, half in relief, half in disappointment you didnât know you were holding.
âSo weâre not married?â
She shrugs, grinning.
âNot legally.â
âBut...?â
She kisses your jaw.
âWe could be.â
Silence.
Then:
âGive me a real ring next time,â you murmur, cheeks warm.
âYou want a diamond or another taco stand?â
âYes.â




