20+, I have a female body. I read fanfiction. I don't really read fluff or smut. I'll read smut if it's part of angst. I basically like angst, hurt/no comfort, and dark themes.
Summary: Three years changed everything. She moved on; you became a tool. Ten years of keeping an empty shell alive. Not a love story.
Note: Read the tags carefully. This non-linear, 2nd-person story depicts child abuse, survival sex work, catatonia, and unhealthy obsession. Please prioritize your well-being. Edited from AO3 for Tumblr.
Tags | Warnings: Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Exploitation, Past Underage Sex, Past Survival Sex Work, Severe Trauma, Toxic Dynamics, No Happy Ending, Reader Discretion Advised, Non-Linear Narrative, Wanda Maximoff Has Issues, YOU ARE NOT OKAY, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/No Comfort
Next Part / read on AO3 / masterlist
Prologue
You'd come back to report.
Finally.
The facility was cold—it was always cold in these concrete buildings, but today it felt colder. Or maybe that was just you. Three years in the field, and you'd forgotten what "comfortable" felt like.
You walked into his office with your shoulders tight, exhaustion settling into your bones. Three years. It had been three years since Nick had sent you in. What was supposed to be a quick job—a few weeks, maybe a month at most—had stretched on and on. Every time you thought you were done, there was something else. One more task. One more target. One more loose end to tie up.
But now it was over.
It had to be.
Nick barely looked up when you entered. Just gestured to the chair across from his desk with two fingers, eyes still on whatever paperwork held his attention. You sat. Started talking. Dates, locations, results. You kept it brief, factual. He liked it that way.
Halfway through, he interrupted.
"Ah," he said, still not looking at you. His tone was light, conversational. Like he was commenting on the weather. "About your partner."
You stopped mid-sentence.
"She's getting married," he continued, flipping a page. "To someone else, of course."
The words didn't land right away. They hovered in the air between you, not quite real. Then they sank in.
All at once.
"Congratulations to her," he added, still studying his papers.
You sat there. Frozen. Your mouth half-open from the sentence you'd been speaking. The rest of the report evaporated from your mind.
He finally looked up. Met your eyes.
Waited.
You don't remember standing. You don't remember when your hands started shaking, or when your voice rose, or when everything you'd been holding back for three years came spilling out.
"Isn't that enough?!" It cracked as you shouted at the man who'd never once treated his people like human beings. "A year would've been long enough, but it's been three. Haven't I paid back what I owed?!" You knew you were losing it, but the words kept pouring out. "I've sacrificed everything for you—worked myself to the bone—and lost everything I had!"
He sat across from you, silent. His expression didn't shift. He just stared, cold and unmoved, while you came apart at the seams. When you finally stopped, there was a pause—like he was turning it over in his head. Then he spoke.
"Fine," he said, his voice flat and hollow. "If that's how you feel, there's one more thing. Report to the team. Tell them, in your own words, what you've been doing these past three years. What you've accomplished."
The words landed like a fist to the gut. He'd just dropped a bomb on you—casual as ordering coffee—and now he wanted to twist the knife. Parade you in front of the team. Make you real to them. Make them acknowledge you were alive, breathing, taking up space. When you wanted nothing more than to not be.
Not anywhere.
It was like kicking a woman when she's down. No—worse. It was forcing a ghost to prove it had ever existed in the first place.
Your jaw clenched so tight it hurt. You wanted to tell him to go to hell. You wanted to walk out and never come back. But you were trapped, and he knew it. He'd always known it.
"One more time," you said, your voice low and hoarse. Each word scraped out of you like broken glass. "I do this, and then I'm done. You let me go. You let me disappear."
It wasn't a negotiation. You both knew you had no leverage. But you needed to hear him say it. You needed something—anything—to hold onto, even if it was a lie.
The man's eyelids flickered—just once. A nod, maybe.
Just do what needs doing.
Once it was over, you'd be done. Even though the promise came from a man you couldn't trust, you had no choice but to cling to it. All you wanted was to stop. To not be anywhere. Not in anyone's sight, not in anyone's memory, not in this world at all. She was gone—the only reason you'd ever had for being here. And now there was no reason left. No reason to keep breathing, keep moving, keep taking up space in a world that had never had a place for you anyway.
Swallowing the rage churning inside you, you turned your back on him and walked out.
The door slammed harder than you meant it to.
---
Part I: Before
First, you need to remember who you were.
You were an orphan from the slums. By the time you became aware of anything, you had no home. You didn't know where or how you'd been raised, but your earliest memories were of being alone—no one around who could be called family, and no one who ever showed up. You were stuck in an unsanitary, unhealthy, wretched place, surrounded only by worn-out old people who reeked of something sour and rotten.
The adults you knew back then all had grimy skin and dead eyes. They crouched by the roadside like they were rationing every ounce of energy they had left, their faces blank, as if all emotion had been scraped clean. These were people who survived on occasional pittances from compassionate passersby—charity that came like a lifeline they couldn't live without. They lacked even the will to do anything for themselves.
And they sure as hell weren't going to help you.
Actively, they didn't help.
As a kid, you were always hungry, always watching. You studied them with sharp focus, learning their patterns. How to find food. How to survive the cold. Sometimes, someone younger—someone still with a spark of energy—would join the old-timers around you. From them, you learned other methods. Other ways to get food, and sometimes money. In your world, dumpster diving, pickpocketing, and lifting groceries became routine.
You developed a habit of watching people. Carefully. More cautiously, more shrewdly, more cunningly—learning when to conserve your energy and when to strike fast.
That became your survival skill.
You learned early that crying and begging got you nowhere. The people around you stayed indifferent, did nothing. Throw a tantrum, and things got worse. You also learned there were adults who hated homeless kids like you—people who wanted you gone. The men in pressed, pristine uniforms who patrolled the area now and then—you learned it was critical to stay out of their sight. Never get caught. The weary, aging adults never reached out a hand to you, but you learned from watching them, learned from their mistakes.
They did help.
By the time you were taller than the big dumpster in the filthy back alley—though you had no way of knowing it then, that dumpster stood about forty-three inches high—you'd become something like a street boss. There shouldn't have been any structure there, any order. But at some point, people started gathering around you. Runaway teenagers. Social misfits in their twenties. Washed-up adults in their thirties and beyond. Without meaning to, you taught the teenagers the unwritten rules of survival. You showed the twentysomethings how to navigate the streets. You instructed the older ones on how to maneuver.
You never decided to do it—it just happened.
People older than you started looking to you, respecting you.
You felt nothing about it.
You were just surviving.
You were scrawny, probably looked younger than you really were—not that you knew how old you actually were—and sometimes, kind adults would offer you things. Clothes. Meals. A shower and a bed for the night. You were clever, and people like that preferred quiet, obedient kids.
At first, you didn't understand what was happening.
The way they looked at you. The way their hands lingered. It made you uncomfortable. Something in your gut told you to run, but you were so hungry, so cold, so tired. You told yourself it was fine. That you were imagining things. That kindness was just kindness.
Then it made you sick.
You learned, with sickening clarity, that kindness always came with a price—and what that price usually meant. Every smile had teeth behind it. Every soft word had hooks. Every gentle touch was the beginning of something that would leave you hollow.
Sometimes it was men.
Their hands rougher, their breath heavier, their eyes harder to meet. You learned to disappear inside yourself during those times, to let your mind drift somewhere far away while your body stayed behind. You'd stare at a crack in the ceiling, or count the seconds, or imagine you were someone else entirely—someone this wasn't happening to. Your body learned to go limp, to stop fighting. Fighting made it worse. Fighting made it last longer. So you learned to be still. To be quiet. To be whatever they needed you to be until it was over.
Afterward, you'd scrub your skin raw in whatever water you could find. But you could never scrub deep enough.
Sometimes it was women.
Lonely women who wanted comfort, softness, someone to hold through the night. It wasn't the same. Less violence in it, less of that suffocating weight pressing down on you. Their hands were gentler. Their voices softer. You didn't feel as sick afterward. Some part of you even found it easier to breathe. But the emptiness was still there. The sense that something was being taken from you—something you couldn't name, something you'd never get back.
But it was still a transaction.
Still a price.
Still something carved out of you, piece by piece, until you weren't sure what was left.
You learned that your body wasn't yours. It was currency. It was survival. It was the only thing you had to trade in a world that wanted to take everything and give nothing back. You learned to split yourself in two—the part that smiled and nodded and did what needed to be done, and the part that went somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere they couldn't reach.
You mastered the art of reading people—when to slip away before payment came due, how much you could take before the debt became too dangerous. You learned which smiles were dangerous and which were merely sad. You learned the difference between someone who would hurt you and someone who would just use you. You learned that the difference didn't matter much.
And sometimes, when you were desperate enough, you learned to approach someone yourself, offering something in exchange for what you needed. You learned to keep your face blank, your mind somewhere else. You learned to make the first move before they could corner you. At least that way, you chose. At least that way, it felt like you had some control.
You didn't.
You never did.
That's how you grew up. Learning that kindness was a lie. That your body was a tool. That survival meant swallowing your disgust and doing what needed to be done. You learned to expect nothing from anyone. You learned that people who smiled at you wanted something. You learned that the only person you could rely on was yourself—and even that wasn't always true.
You learned to live in the space between your body and your mind.
And years later, when the boss looked at you with those same empty eyes—when he offered you work, when he told you what to do, when he kept you trapped for three years doing things that hollowed you out all over again—you recognized it. The same transaction. The same price. Different words, different setting, but the same fundamental truth: you were a tool to be used. You were nothing.
You'd always been nothing.
Until she looked at you like you were someone worth seeing.
You had no birth certificate. No papers. Officially, you didn't exist. You were a ghost in a world that only acknowledged people who could prove they were real. And even now—years later, after everything—you still didn't exist. Not on any record that mattered. Not in any system that could protect you or hold you accountable or even acknowledge your humanity.
You'd never been real.
Not to the world, not to the systems, not to the structures that decided who mattered and who didn't.
---
Then you'd fucked up.
Seventeen, maybe eighteen—you'd never been sure of your exact age, but you were old enough to know better and young enough to think you were invincible. A job gone wrong. You'd been careful, like always. You'd watched, waited, chosen the right moment. But somehow—somehow—everything had gone sideways. The target wasn't where they were supposed to be. The security was heavier than your information said. The exit you'd scouted was blocked.
It didn't make sense.
But by then it was too late to think about it. You were cornered, bleeding, with nowhere left to run.
Not by the police.
By him.
Nick appeared out of nowhere, like he'd been waiting. Like he'd known exactly where you'd be. He'd looked at you with those empty eyes and made you an offer. Work for him, and he'd make the problem disappear. Refuse, and—well. He didn't need to spell it out.
You'd said yes.
Of course you'd said yes.
You'd thought it was salvation. You'd thought you'd finally found a way out of the streets, out of the cycle, out of the endless trade of your body for survival. You'd thought working for him meant you'd never have to split yourself in two again.
You'd been wrong.
The work was different. The transactions were different. But the fundamental truth remained the same: you were a tool. You existed to be used. And Nick held the leash.
At first, you'd told yourself it was better than the streets. At least here, you had a roof. At least here, you knew what was expected of you.
But Nick's promises were like smoke.
"Just this one job, then you can rest."
"Just this one more. Then we're even."
"Just a few more months. Then your debt is paid."
The debt never shrank. The jobs never ended. And slowly, you'd stopped believing him. Stopped expecting anything different. You learned to nod, to say yes, to do what needed to be done without expecting anything in return.
It was just the way things were.
You'd already learned this lesson, after all. On the streets, in the hands of kind adults, in the space between survival and surrender—you'd learned that promises meant nothing. That people lied. That hoping for anything better was a waste of energy.
So when Nick said the job would take a few weeks and it stretched into months, you weren't surprised.
When it stretched into a year, you were tired, but not surprised.
When it stretched into two, then three, you felt something break inside you—but it was a quiet break. The kind you barely noticed. Just another piece of yourself carved away.
You'd thought you had nothing left to lose.
But then—
Then there was her.
---
Wanda was the youngest on the team when you joined. Or she'd been, until you showed up. She looked at you—this scrawny kid who barely talked, who watched everything with those too-old eyes—and something in her face had softened.
"You're new," she'd said. Not a question. Just a fact.
You'd nodded.
"It's scary at first," she'd said. "But you get used to it."
You'd wanted to tell her you'd been scared your whole life. That this was just another kind of fear. But you'd just nodded again.
She'd smiled. A real smile, not the kind that wanted something from you.
"I'm Wanda," she'd said. "If you need anything—I mean, if you have questions or whatever—you can ask me."
You'd never asked for help in your life. But something about the way she said it made you think she meant it.
You'd been right.
She didn't look at you the way the others did—like you were a stray Nick had dragged in, like you were something to be pitied or dismissed. She looked at you like you were a person. Like your presence was something that made her day a little better instead of something to be used and discarded.
You'd watched her the way you'd learned to watch people. Looking for the angle, the price, the moment when she'd reveal what she wanted from you.
But she never did.
She just—saw you. Talked to you like you mattered. And slowly, terrifyingly, you'd started to believe that maybe she meant it.
You'd learned each other in fragments. Small pieces offered carefully, like gifts that might be rejected. She'd told you about her brother in pieces too—how he'd laughed, what he'd liked, the way he'd died. You'd watched her face when she talked about him, seen the way she'd look away, the way her hands would curl into fists.
He'd been shot in front of her. Some dispute between families, some stupid territorial thing that didn't matter in the end because he was dead and she'd watched it happen. Watched him fall. Watched the light go out of his eyes while she stood there, frozen, unable to do anything.
She'd been seventeen.
She blamed herself. You could see it in the way she carried herself, the way she'd flinch sometimes at loud noises, the way she'd go quiet when the team talked about a job that involved violence. She was in this world, surrounded by guns and blood and death, but she hated it. She stayed because she didn't know how to leave. Because leaving meant admitting her brother had died for nothing.
You'd understood that.
You'd wanted to tell her about yourself. About the streets, about the things you'd done to survive, about the way you'd learned to split yourself in two just to keep breathing. But every time you started, the words would stick in your throat.
What if she looked at you differently?
What if she realized what you really were?
So you'd stayed quiet. And she'd stayed quiet too. Both of you circling around the truth, never quite brave enough to reach for it.
But there was something there.
Something real.
You'd loved her.
You'd never told her.
How could you? You were nobody. You were nothing. You were a ghost with no past and no future, and she—she deserved someone real. Someone with a name on a birth certificate and a history that didn't involve selling yourself to survive. Someone who could give her a life.
But you'd loved her anyway.
And you'd thought—stupidly, desperately—that maybe she felt the same way. The way she looked at you sometimes. The way her hand would linger on your shoulder just a moment too long. The way she'd seek you out after a difficult job, like your presence was the thing that made her feel safe again.
You'd thought you had time.
---
Before you left—months before the assignment that would stretch into years—you were sitting on the roof of the safehouse. Past midnight again. There was always something the next day—a job, a meeting, surveillance—but sleep never came easy. It never had.
Wanda had found you up here. She had a way of knowing when you'd disappeared, when you'd climbed up to the one place that felt like you could breathe.
She didn't say anything at first. Just sat down near you—not close enough to touch, but close enough that you could feel her presence. Solid. Warm.
The city stretched out below. Distant lights, the hum of traffic, occasional sirens. It felt like the only peaceful place in the world.
"Can't sleep?" she asked eventually.
You shrugged.
She pulled her knees up to her chest. The wind caught her hair, and you watched the way it moved in the dark.
"My brother used to come up here," she said quietly. "When things got bad."
You'd heard fragments about her brother before. Enough to know he was dead. Enough to know it still hurt her.
"He'd stay up here for hours," she continued. "Just sitting. Thinking." A pause. "Always thinking. Always—"
Her voice trailed off.
"I used to tell him to stop overthinking everything. To just—" She exhaled sharply. "Doesn't matter now."
You didn't know what to say to that.
"It happened so fast," she said quietly. "One second he was there, and then—" She stopped. "There wasn't time to think. Wasn't time for anything."
She was quiet for a long moment.
"I think about him a lot," she said. Her voice had gone softer, more distant. "Wonder what he'd say. About all this. About—" She stopped.
You waited.
She didn't finish.
For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence felt heavy with things neither of you knew how to say.
"I'm glad you're part of the team," she said finally. Still looking out at the city. Like she couldn't quite bring herself to look at you when she said it. "It's—better. With you here."
Something tightened in your chest.
I love you.
You almost said it. Almost reached for her hand. Almost closed the distance.
But you just sat there, frozen, and the moment passed.
She stood up after a while. Brushed off her pants.
"Don't stay up here too long," she said. "You need rest too."
You nodded.
She hesitated. Like she wanted to say something else. Then she turned and left.
You'd stayed up there for another hour, replaying those words in your head.
It's better. With you here.
You'd held onto that for a long time.
---
Then Nick called you into his office and told you about the job.
It was three years ago. You remember the way he'd said it—casual, matter-of-fact, like he was asking you to run an errand. Special assignment. Important work. You'd be infiltrating a rival organization, feeding false information, gathering intelligence. Maybe handling some problems that needed to be handled.
"How long?" you'd asked.
"Not long. A few weeks. Maybe a month at most."
You'd felt something cold settle in your stomach. You'd heard his promises before.
"This is different," he'd said, reading your face. "Quick in, quick out. Clean work. You'll be back before anyone notices you're gone."
You'd wanted to say no. Wanted to tell him you were done, that you'd paid your debt ten times over, that you couldn't do this anymore.
But you'd looked into those empty eyes and known the truth.
You'd never had a choice.
"The team can't know," he'd added. "Not the details. Not the timeline. Not where you're going or what you're doing. Operational security. You understand."
You'd understood.
You couldn't tell her.
You couldn't tell her you were terrified. Couldn't tell her that "a few weeks" was a lie, that you could feel it in your bones. Couldn't tell her what you'd be doing—the infiltration, the deception, the things you'd have to do to maintain your cover. Couldn't tell her that you might not come back at all.
So you'd lied.
"Special assignment," you'd told her, trying to make it sound casual. Trying to smile like it was good news. "The boss says it's important. Good opportunity."
She'd looked at you for a long moment. Something flickered in her eyes—doubt, maybe. Worry. Like she could see through you, like she knew something was wrong.
"How long?" she'd asked.
"Not long. Few weeks. Maybe a month."
"A month." She'd repeated it carefully. Her voice was even, but you'd seen her hands tighten around the edge of the table.
"I'll be back before you know it," you'd said. The lie tasted bitter, but you'd forced yourself to keep smiling.
She'd smiled back.
It didn't reach her eyes.
"Be careful," she'd said.
"I will."
"I mean it." Her voice had gone quiet. Urgent. She'd reached out, her hand hovering near yours, not quite touching. "Whatever this is—be careful."
You'd wanted to tell her then. Wanted to say: I'm scared. I don't want to go. I don't know what he's sending me to do, but I know it's not good. I know it's not a few weeks. I know I might not come back. I know I love you. I've always loved you. Please don't let me go.
Instead, you'd said: "I will. I promise."
She'd nodded. Pulled her hand back. The moment had passed.
"Okay," she'd said. Then, so quietly you'd almost missed it: "I'll be here. When you get back."
You'd held onto those words for three years.
Not because you believed the boss anymore. You'd stopped believing his promises long ago. But you'd believed in her. You'd believed that maybe, just maybe, this one thing—this one person—would still be there when you got back.
The boss could lie about the timeline. He could extend the job, change the parameters, break every promise he'd ever made to you. You'd learned to live with that.
But you'd thought she would wait.
You'd needed to believe she would wait.
Because if she didn't—if she was gone too—then what was the point of any of it? What had you been surviving for?
---
Part II: Three Years
The first stretch, you told yourself it would end soon.
The organization you'd infiltrated wasn't large—mid-tier operation, drug distribution mostly, some weapons trafficking on the side. The kind of setup that thought it was bigger than it actually was. You'd gone in as a runner. Low-level. Forgettable. The boss had given you a cover story, a fake history, contacts who'd vouch for you if anyone asked.
"Get close to the second-in-command," he'd said. "Find out who their suppliers are. Who they're paying off. Then we'll extract you."
Simple enough.
Except it wasn't.
The second-in-command didn't trust anyone. Took you months just to get him to remember your name. Longer before he'd let you handle anything more sensitive than picking up lunch orders. You'd had to prove yourself—running packages, keeping your mouth shut, showing up when called no matter the hour.
You were good at it.
You'd been doing it your whole life.
Eventually, you'd worked your way into his inner circle. Started learning names, routes, schedules. You'd memorized everything, filed it away the way you'd learned to file away every survival skill you'd ever needed. You reported back to the boss through dead drops and brief, coded phone calls from burner cells.
"Good work," he'd said. "Keep going."
You'd thought you were almost done.
Then the second-in-command got arrested.
Not because of anything you'd done—just bad luck, wrong place at the wrong time. But suddenly the organization was in chaos, and you were still there, still embedded, and the boss said—
"Stay."
Just like that.
Stay.
"The new second-in-command will be chosen soon. We need someone on the inside when that happens. You're already in position."
"You said a few weeks."
"Plans change. This is important."
You'd wanted to scream. Wanted to tell him you were tired, that you'd done what he'd asked, that you needed to go home. But you'd just said—
"How long?"
"Not long. A bit longer. Then you're done."
You'd heard that before.
---
After the first long stretch, you'd stopped counting.
Seasons cycled through. Summer heat, autumn rain, winter cold, spring thaw. You watched them pass through different windows in different safehouses, and none of it registered. Time became something that happened to other people.
The new second-in-command was paranoid. Violent. He trusted no one, suspected everyone, and the only reason you were still alive was because you'd made yourself indispensable. You'd learned to anticipate his moods, to know when to speak and when to stay silent, to read the signs before he turned on someone.
It was like being back on the streets.
Watching. Calculating. Surviving.
You reported everything to the boss. Names, locations, shipment schedules. He was pleased. You were doing good work. Important work.
"Just a bit longer," he kept saying.
You'd stopped believing him.
But you couldn't leave. You were in too deep now. The organization would kill you if they thought you were a rat. The boss would kill you if you tried to run. You were trapped, and the only way out was through.
So you kept going.
You learned to split yourself in two again. The person you pretended to be—loyal, ruthless, empty—and the person you kept hidden somewhere deep inside. The person who still remembered her voice. Who still believed, against all logic, that you'd make it back.
That version of yourself got smaller with time.
Eventually, you'd stopped feeling much of anything.
---
The work had changed. You weren't just gathering intelligence anymore. The boss needed you to act on it. To prove your loyalty to the organization, to secure your position. To make yourself too valuable to lose.
"There's a problem," the second-in-command had said. He'd looked at you with those dead shark eyes. "Someone's been talking to the cops. I need you to handle it."
You'd known what that meant.
"Where?" you'd asked.
He'd given you an address.
You'd gone.
The target was a kid. Nineteen, maybe twenty. Scared out of his mind. He'd been skimming product, selling it on the side, and when he got caught he'd tried to cut a deal with the police. Standard stupid mistake. The kind that got people killed.
He begged.
You'd killed before—the team had done jobs that required it. But this was different. No backup. No shared responsibility. Just you, alone, making the call. And you knew there'd be more. Many more. This was what the work was now.
On his knees, hands up like that would protect him. Words spilling out, promises he couldn't keep, desperate and terrified.
You'd looked at him and seen yourself. Seventeen or eighteen, backed into a corner.
You kept your face empty. Looked past him, not at him. Let your mind go somewhere else.
You pulled the trigger.
The kid dropped.
You stood there for a moment, staring at nothing. Then you turned and walked away.
The work continued. More targets. More jobs. Each one a little easier than the last. Not because you'd gotten better at it. Because you'd gotten better at not feeling it.
---
Time blurred after that.
More jobs. More targets. More pieces of yourself carved away until you weren't sure what was left. The boss kept saying you were almost done. That extraction was coming soon. That you'd done excellent work and soon you'd be rewarded.
You'd stopped listening.
You just did what needed to be done. Pulled the trigger. Disposed of the bodies. Reported back. Watched yourself from a distance, like you were observing a stranger.
The person you'd been—the one who'd sat on a roof with her, who'd believed in something, who'd wanted to be someone—that person was gone.
You'd killed them.
Same way you'd killed everyone else.
By the time the boss finally called you back, you'd forgotten how to be anything other than a tool. You'd forgotten what it felt like to want something. To hope for something.
You'd almost forgotten her face.
But not quite.
Never quite.
That was the cruelest part.
---
Three years of doing things that hollowed you out all over again. Three years of becoming the tool the boss needed you to be, carving yourself into the shape of someone who could infiltrate, deceive, destroy. Three years of splitting yourself in two—the person you pretended to be and the person you were trying to keep alive somewhere deep inside. Three years of telling yourself it would be worth it because you'd go back and she'd be there and maybe—maybe—you could finally tell her the truth.
And now she was marrying someone else.
Someone real.
Someone with a life and a name and a future.
Someone who wasn't you.
The boss had taken everything from you, piece by piece, lie by lie. But this—
This was different.
This was the one thing you'd thought was safe. The one thing you'd kept for yourself, held close, protected in the space between your body and your mind where no one else could reach.
And he'd taken that too.
Maybe not intentionally. Maybe he didn't even know what he'd stolen from you.
But it didn't matter.
It was gone.
She'd been the only one who'd ever made you feel like you should be.
---
Part III: The Return
You stood in the hallway outside the boss's office, breathing hard. Your hands were still shaking—not from fear, but from rage. Three years. Three goddamn years, and all he had to say was congratulations to her like he was commenting on the weather.
You wanted to go back in there. Wanted to—
What?
Hit him? Kill him? What would that accomplish? He'd still own you. He'd always owned you. That was the joke, wasn't it? You'd thought you were working off a debt, but the debt was your existence. The fact that you were alive at all.
You pressed your palms against your eyes. Tried to breathe.
One more time.
That's what you'd said. One more performance, and then you could disappear. The boss had nodded—maybe. That flicker of his eyelids could've meant anything. Could've meant nothing.
But you had no choice.
You never did.
The team would be in the briefing room. They usually were, this time of day. Going over jobs, assignments, intel. Living their lives like the past three years had been normal. Like you'd just been gone on an extended vacation.
Like she hadn't moved on.
Your jaw clenched.
Stop.
You couldn't think about that now. Couldn't think about her sitting in that room, probably next to someone. Someone who'd been there when you weren't. Someone who could give her things you never could.
Stop.
You pushed off the wall. Started walking.
The briefing room was on the second floor. You'd walked this route a thousand times before. Back when you'd belonged here. Back when you'd been part of something.
Now you were just a ghost, being forced to prove you'd ever existed.
Your footsteps echoed in the empty hallway.
---
The conference room was too bright. Fluorescent lights humming overhead, reflecting off the polished table. You'd forgotten how much you hated this room.
They were all there when you opened the door.
Seven people sitting around the long table. The team. Or what was left of it—some faces were new, people you didn't recognize. Replacements for those who'd died or disappeared or simply left. But some faces were familiar.
Too familiar.
Tony and Steve on one side, Carol on the other. Sam near the end—you didn't recognize him. His posture had the easy confidence of someone who'd been around for a while but wasn't quite a veteran yet. Probably joined a year or two after you left.
And Wanda.
She was sitting near the middle. Her back was to the door, but you'd have recognized her anywhere. The set of her shoulders. The way she held her pen, tapping it against the table in that absent rhythm she'd always had when she was thinking.
Next to her was Jarvis.
You recognized him immediately. He'd been on the team before you left—junior member back then, always eager, always trying to prove himself. Tactical support, if you remembered right. Competent. Reliable. The kind of guy who showed up early and stayed late.
He looked different now. More confident. Settled into himself. His hand was resting on the table near Wanda's—not touching, but close. Familiar.
So that was how it was.
The conversation died the moment you stepped inside.
Everyone turned to look at you. Some with curiosity. Some with confusion. Sam looked at you like you were a stranger who'd wandered into the wrong room—which made sense, since he'd never met you before.
You probably looked like one.
Three years of living under a false identity, three years of constant vigilance, three years of carving yourself into someone else—it left marks. You'd lost weight. Your hair was different. Your eyes were different. Everything was different.
Wanda turned around.
For a moment—just a moment—something flickered across her face. Recognition. Relief. Maybe even joy.
Then it was gone.
Replaced by something else. Shock. Disbelief. Like she was seeing a ghost and wasn't sure if she should be happy or terrified.
Jarvis was staring at you too. His expression was harder to read. Surprise, definitely. But something else underneath. Guilt? Defensiveness? Maybe he'd known all along that you'd come back eventually.
Maybe he'd hoped you wouldn't.
"Hi," you said.
Your voice came out rougher than you'd intended. You'd barely used it for anything real in three years. Just lies, cover stories, whatever the job required.
"Holy shit," Tony said. His voice was rough with disbelief. He was older than most of the team, had been around since before you'd even joined. "Is that—"
"Yeah," you said. Still looking at Wanda. Only at her. "It's me."
She stood up slowly. Her chair scraped against the floor.
"You're back," she said.
It wasn't a question. Just a statement. Flat. Like she was trying to process something that didn't make sense.
"I'm back."
Silence.
Jarvis was looking between the two of you with an expression you couldn't quite parse. He knew. Of course he knew. Everyone on the team had known there was something between you and Wanda, even if neither of you had ever put a name to it. He'd known when he'd made his move. When he'd stepped into the space you'd left behind.
The fiancé—the replacement—was looking at you like you were a problem he'd thought was solved.
"The boss sent me," you said. Forced yourself to look away from her. To address the room. "He wants me to report. Tell you what I've been doing."
"Three years," Tony said. There was weight in his voice. He'd seen people disappear before. Seen them come back changed, or not come back at all. "You've been gone three years. Boss said it was classified. That we shouldn't ask questions."
You'd expected that. The boss never told anyone more than they needed to know. It was how he operated. Compartmentalization. Keep everyone in the dark, keep everyone controlled.
"It was a long-term operation," you said. Your voice sounded hollow, even to yourself. "Deep cover. I couldn't contact anyone."
"Three years," Tony repeated, and you could hear the understanding in his voice. He knew what that meant. What that cost.
"Yeah."
Sam spoke up, his voice measured and professional. "What kind of operation?"
You looked at him. Mid-to-late twenties, maybe. He had the careful bearing of someone who'd learned to watch and listen before speaking. Smart enough to have survived his first couple years on the team.
"Infiltration," you said. "The Groznyjgrad organization. Started as a runner, worked my way up. Gathered intelligence on their supply chains, their distribution networks, their connections to local law enforcement."
You recited it like you were reading from a report. Facts. Data. Nothing that would betray how it had felt. How it had hollowed you out.
"The Groznyjgrad crew?" Steve said. "They got hit hard about six months ago. Lost half their leadership. Was that—"
"Yes."
No elaboration. No details.
The room went quiet. They were all watching now. Studying. Trying to reconcile the person who'd left three years ago with whoever was standing in front of them now.
Good luck with that. You couldn't reconcile it either.
"I identified seventeen key members of the organization," you continued. Voice flat. Professional. "Provided intel that led to six arrests. Disrupted three major shipments. Facilitated the removal of five individuals who posed ongoing threats."
Removal.
Such a clean word for it.
"Jesus," someone muttered.
You kept going. Listed locations. Dates. Results. The boss had wanted you to tell them what you'd accomplished, so you told them. You gave them the sanitized version, the one that sounded like success. Like you'd done something that mattered.
You didn't tell them about the kid on his knees, begging.
You didn't tell them about the nights you'd spent staring at walls, trying to remember who you were.
You didn't tell them about the way you'd carved yourself into something unrecognizable just to survive.
They didn't need to know that.
When you finished, the room was silent.
"That's incredible work," Tony said quietly. His voice had softened. He'd been doing this long enough to read between the lines. To know what you weren't saying. "Three years under. I can't even imagine what that—" He stopped. Shook his head. "Hell of a thing."
You said nothing.
Sam leaned forward slightly, fingers steepled. "What was the extraction protocol? How did they pull you out?"
"They didn't." The words came out flat. "The operation concluded. I reported the final intel and walked out."
"Just like that?" Sam's eyebrows raised slightly.
"Just like that."
Wanda still hadn't said anything. Just stood there, staring at you with an expression you couldn't read. Jarvis had put his hand on her shoulder—protective, possessive—and she hadn't shrugged it off.
You remembered that hand. Remembered it passing you ammunition during a firefight—back when you'd both been on the team together, before any of this. Before the three years. Before everything. Remembered it clapping you on the back after a successful job. Remembered thinking, distantly, that Jarvis was a good guy. Solid. Trustworthy.
Funny how things worked out.
That hurt more than it should have.
"Well," Tony said, and you could hear him struggling to find the right words. Years of experience, and he still didn't know what to say to someone who'd been gone that long. "It's—it's damn good to have you back. Really."
Was it?
You weren't sure anymore.
"Thanks," you said.
Another silence. Awkward, stretching. No one seemed to know what to say. How to bridge the gap of three years, three years of absence and silence and change.
You'd been part of this team once. You'd known these people. Trusted them. And they'd trusted you.
Now you were a stranger.
"I should go," you said.
"Wait—" Wanda finally spoke. Her voice was strained. "Can we—can I talk to you? Alone?"
Jarvis's hand tightened on her shoulder. "Wanda—"
"Just for a minute," she said. Not looking at him. Still looking at you.
You should've said no. Should've walked out, finished this performance, disappeared like you'd wanted to.
But you couldn't.
"Okay," you said.
---
The room emptied. Tony clapped you on the shoulder as he passed, his grip firm and lingering a moment too long—the kind of gesture from someone who'd seen too many people leave and not come back. Steve nodded. Carol gave you a look you couldn't read. Sam simply gathered his papers and left without a word, still not sure who you were or what you'd been to this team.
Jarvis was the last to leave. He stood at the door for a moment, looking back at Wanda. Something passed between them—some silent communication you weren't part of.
"I'll be right outside," he said. To Wanda, not to you.
Then he was gone.
The door closed.
And then it was just the two of you.
The silence stretched. Heavy. Suffocating.
Wanda was still standing by the table, one hand gripping the back of her chair. You stayed by the door. Too far away. Not far enough.
"I didn't know," she said finally. Her voice was quiet. Careful. "About the mission. The boss never told us. Never told me."
"I know."
"I thought—" Her voice cracked slightly. "I thought something had happened to you. That you were dead, or—" She stopped. Took a breath. "And then months went by and no one said anything and I just—I had to accept that you were gone."
You watched her. Tried to feel something. But there was just—nothing. A vast emptiness where your emotions used to be.
"I'm sorry," you said.
It sounded hollow.
"Three years," she said. The words everyone kept saying. "Why didn't you—couldn't you have—"
"No."
The word came out harder than you'd intended.
"It was deep cover," you said. "I couldn't risk contact. Couldn't risk anything that might compromise the operation. You know how it works."
She nodded. But her eyes were wet.
"I missed you," she said quietly.
Something twisted in your chest. Sharp. Painful.
"I saw the ring," you said.
Her hand went to it automatically. The diamond caught the light.
"His name's Jarvis," she said. Like you didn't already know. Like you hadn't worked alongside him for months before you'd left. "He's—he's good. Solid. He was there when I—when I needed someone."
When you weren't.
She didn't say it, but you heard it anyway.
"I know," you said. "I remember him."
Something flickered in her eyes. Guilt, maybe.
"It wasn't—" She stopped. Started again. "I didn't plan for it to happen. But you were gone, and he was here, and I just—I couldn't keep waiting for someone who might never come back."
You understood the logic. It was sound. Practical. Jarvis had been there. You hadn't. Simple as that.
But understanding didn't make it hurt less.
"He's a good choice," you said. And meant it. Jarvis was stable. Reliable. The kind of man who wouldn't disappear for three years. The kind of man who could give her a life.
A better life than you ever could.
But even as you said it, something bitter twisted in your chest. Because Jarvis had been part of the team too. He'd known what you were to each other. And he'd made his move anyway.
Maybe that was fair. You'd been gone. She'd needed someone.
Or maybe it just meant everyone was selfish in the end. Everyone took what they could get.
Even the good ones.
"Are you—" She hesitated. "Are you okay?"
The question was so absurd you almost laughed.
Were you okay?
You'd spent three years becoming someone else. You'd killed people. You'd lost yourself. You'd come back to find that the one thing you'd held onto—the one person who'd made you feel like maybe you mattered—had moved on with her life.
Were you okay?
"I'm fine," you said.
She didn't believe you. You could see it in her eyes.
"You're different," she said.
"It's been three years."
"No, it's—" She shook her head. "You're different. The way you talk. The way you—you're not the same person."
She was right.
You weren't.
"I did what I had to do," you said.
"I know, but—" She took a step closer. "What did they do to you? What did he do to you?"
Everything, you wanted to say. He took everything.
But you just shook your head.
"It doesn't matter."
"It does—"
"No." You cut her off. "It doesn't. I'm done. After this, I'm—"
You stopped. Because you'd been about to say you were out. That you'd disappear. That you'd finally be free.
But the words died in your throat.
Because you both knew they were a lie.
"You deserve better than this," you said instead. "Better than me. Jarvis—he's solid. He'll be there. That's what you deserve."
She was crying now. Tears sliding down her face.
"I don't want—" She stopped. Started again. "I wished you'd come back. Every day. And now you're here and you're—you're—"
"Gone," you finished quietly.
She looked at you. Really looked at you. And you saw the moment she understood.
The person who'd left three years ago wasn't coming back.
Because that person was dead.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Me too."
You turned and walked toward the door.
"Wait—"
You stopped. Hand on the doorknob.
"Will I—" Her voice broke. "Will I see you again?"
You looked back at her. Took in her face one last time. Tried to memorize it, even though you knew you'd probably forget eventually. You forgot everything, given enough time.
The tears on her cheeks. The ring on her finger. The way she was looking at you—like she was watching someone drown and couldn't reach them.
Maybe she was.
But before you could answer, the door opened from the other side.
Jarvis stood there. He'd been listening. You could see it in his face.
For a moment, the three of you stood frozen. A triangle of broken things.
Then you stepped past him without a word.
Down the hallway.
Back to Nick's office.
Back to the only thing you had left.
Next Part / read on AO3 / masterlist
The reason I used the name Jarvis is simply because I like it haha.
summary: after another night together, it’s hard to tell if wanda sees something past this agreement with you.
a/n: this is the first thing i’ve written in the longest time so im actually super nervous to even put this out. but y oh well?. if u guys don’t like it literally don’t tell me because i’m sensitive and will cry.
edit: pt 2
minors do not interact
“have you thought about what you want to do yet?” wanda asks, rolling to the other side of the bed to retrieve her phone from her night stand, the blanket slipping enough to show her bare back.
a small groan of frustration escapes your throat as you throw a pillow at her face from right next to her, “can you shut up about a plan? i really don’t see a point in doing anything for my birthday. i mean, the last time we went out, aggie almost sold us out”
wanda has always been a step ahead of you, in every way, shape, and form. when you have girls’ nights with your friend group, she knows exactly what you’ll order, the fact that you drink water right after a soda, how long it’ll take for you to get cold and steal her jacket (that she was never going to use and only brought for you)
maybe that’s the reason you fell for her, maybe that’s the reason you’ve been stuck in this endless cycle of being friends with benefits with her.
wanda scoffs and rolls her eyes, “why not? we used to always have count downs for your birthday when we were younger”
that’s true. when you two were still in college, the month leading up to your birthday would be filled with the two of you texting each other ‘two weeks!’ ‘four days!’ ‘tomorrow!’
with a sigh, you get up from the bed and redress yourself with wanda’s black button down and a pair of her pajama shorts.
wanda watches as you dress, playing with a loose thread on her comforter, admiring how you look in her clothes with a glint in her eyes that you can’t quite place.
or maybe you’re just too scared to think it means more than that.
“i don’t know,” you say with a small defeated sigh as you put your hair in a ponytail, “i think the whole ‘birthday joy and excitement’ wore off over time.”
wanda lets out a soft chuckle, propping herself up on an elbow while looking at you with a small smirk.
“jesus, you sound like an adult. when did that happen?”
letting out a small exhale of a laugh, “is that what we are?”
wanda smiles softly at you as you notice her chest is littered with small marks and a bite mark on her left collar bone, reminders of last night. the sunlight peeking through the shut curtains illuminates her face and shows off her green irises, the ends of her hair lighter than they were a few months ago.
she gets out of bed and throws on baggy black sweats and an old t-shirt she’s had since she was seventeen.
a small giggle leaves your lips as you see the shirt, the same deftones shirt you’d gifted to her that same birthday.
picking at her ‘just rolled out of bed’ appearance, “looking hot, wands”
wanda looks over at you, smirking as she passes by you to get to the kitchen and giving you two small but firm taps on your left cheek, “it’s what got you into my bed last night, isn’t it?”
a small blush covers your cheeks, your face now feeling hot after wanda’s flirty tease. taking a deep breath and trying to cover it up before you walk out into her apartments kitchen, you murmur to yourself, “jesus christ”
wanda moves skillfully around her kitchen as she cooks a simple breakfast, which she usually hates making since she’s not a breakfast person, but knowing you’ll have a busy day is the only reason she’s putting herself through the hassle.
“you know,” she begins with her back facing you as she plates the food, “celebrating you is probably one of the easiest things i’ve ever done”
your heart stops for a second. wanda’s not one to say romantic things like this. is this meant to be romantic? or is this wishful thinking?
“please let us celebrate?” almost in a pleading tone, almost.
sighing softly with a small pout adorning her lips, “if you don’t want a party, at least let me take you out.. just us two”
the memory of the two of you at a party when you two were freshly engaged in this new agreement slowly creeps into your mind.
“you ready, bub?” wanda whispers into the crown of your head, giving you a soft forehead kiss as she cradles the side of your face.
the party’s atmosphere has slowly become one of your worst nightmares: sweaty bodies, terrible mixed drinks, and oddly placed furniture.
“please,” you say softly as you lean into her hold, “i wanna go home, i don’t like it here”
a soft chuckle escapes her lips, she knew you wouldn’t make it two hours at this party, but you needed to go out after being cramped inside during midterm season.
“whatever you want,” she replies with a smile. grabbing your hand softly, she leads you through the crowd towards the front door.
“where are you two lovebirds going?” a familiar voice asks as you make it two feet from the door, agatha.
lovebirds. is that what you two looked like? sure, the topic of putting a label on it hasn’t come up.. but then again, you two never go on dates.
unless you count the weekly rendezvous in wanda’s apartment dates.
“i’m taking her home,” wanda replies, moving you behind her slowly and away from agatha.
agatha smirks, placing her hand on her hip in an almost teasing way, “taking her home, huh?”
wanda gives a pleading look to agatha, silently begging her to keep her silence.
agatha straightens up after rolling her eyes, but not before saying a quick quip about their not-so-secret friends with benefits dynamic.
“you’re no fun,” she mumbles under her breath and walks off.
wanda lets out a sigh of relief and guides you with a hand behind your back to her car.
with a small groan, you sit down and begin eating, avoiding her sentence.
you’re almost afraid of people seeing you like that again— clinging to someone who doesn’t see a future with you, just using you as a layover on the way to their real destination.
“please?”
with a roll of your eyes and a small smile, you reluctantly agree.
wanda’s eyes light up and a huge grin appears on her face, “thank you, bub. i’ll plan a party here for you with just our closest friends and then i’ll take you out the night after.”
bub. she hardly ever calls you that anymore, it’s almost like a blast from the past when it slips her lips.
it feels like your heart is physically aching at the sound of it, a reminder of how much simpler time used to be— before your feelings for her got too complicated.
as you two got older and life happened, it seemed as though the two of you stopped being so flirtatious and just saw each other as what you two had agreed on: friends with benefits.
that wasn’t at all what you wanted. in all honesty, the idea of wanda being romantic with another girl that wasn’t you made you sick to your core, it made your heart clench.
but part of you always had the lingering thought and feeling that wanda wanted something else, someone else.
after all, just because the two of you always found each other in bed often didn’t mean she didn’t date other people and have flings.
“you’re such a sweetheart,” you say softly as you continue with your eyes on your plate.
what you didn’t see was wanda trying to hide a smile and blush behind a fork full of food.
Summary: Wanda was on the verge of breaking down when she was called to attend her brother's engagement party. Alone and unable to keep up with her mother's expectations she makes a deal with the devil that would lead her to discover a side of her that may either destroy her or bring the happiness she so craves for herself.
Pairing: Female!Reader x Wanda Maximoff
Warnings: au, Moder setting, No powered charcaters, cheating, idiots in love, unrequite/requited love, jealousy, drama, angst, broken hearts, homophobia, more warnings as chapters come in.
Author's Note: Hello guys! I know I have seen this before but thi time around I will take my time but ill force myself to write through this and finished it. This is the new, improve, version of a story that will tell you what happened to Reader in her everyday life. I hope you like it.
Electric blue broke into the sky falling with a single jolt of energy on the land.
The thunder rumbled with waves of sound crashing against the glass of the windows, the world around the villa trembled just as darkness consumed the room. The lights flickered once, then twice, and finally they gave in leaving the house in complete darkness breaking into gloomy shadows that danced into the night.
Time stood still.
The silence was broken by the wind and the drops of heavy water breaking into the land.
The Weather Channel had announced the storm early in the morning, and while you had not been averse to the idea of being trapped in such an Aegean paradise, you were not overly fond of being trapped in such a place with her.
Wanda Maximoff.
Your heart trembled at the sight of her deep, forest eyes. The frailty of her expression was accompanied by the beauty that had always charmed those around her.
You never thought you would see her again.
Not after she broke your heart.
And you decided to disappear.
A year Ago
- Kent, England, King George's Club.
Morning light poured through the tree lines surrounding the golf course.
The wind from the sea was fresh, with a salty taste that usually made her relax and think of better times. There was not a single sound that could distract her from her goal, her hands closed tightly around the club with her eyes narrowed slightly as she pointed to the fifth hole. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her arms, turned her torso and then swung to the left…
…missing the golf ball for mere inches.
“FUCK!”
Kate Bishop winced, it was Wanda’s fifth attempt to hit the ball and the exercise was not going well for someone that had won several golf championships since she was 14 years old. Wanda grasped the club tightly, her body trembling with bad contained rage her eyes glaring at the ball as if the small, white object were to be blamed for her failures. The morning glided through the land slowly, the heat turning into a freezing wind as the clouds changed into grey, darkened mounds in the sky.
Wanda stood frozen for a moment, her mind filled with memories of what had been a complete farce. The tears clouded her sight, she held her sobs tightly while her body trembled under the weight of the memories that brought heartbreak.
Wanda had loved Jarvis from the moment they had met.
She had fallen in love with his mind, his smile, and his lies. From the very first moment, Wanda had known it was a forbidden relationship, but the naive part of her heart hoped for a glimpse of something that would never be.
Wanda had loved him so much (she was still pretty much in love with him).
This was the reason why his deception had hurt so much.
Jarvis had betrayed her. He had used her. He had broken her in ways Wanda didn’t think possible to recover from.In the middle of the golf court, and without a warning, Wanda broke into painful sobs, her body trembling under the weight of her emotion she had been trying to hide from the world.
In the middle of the golf course Wanda finally gave in, crying her heart out at the unfairness of the situation. She cried with the golf-club falling from her hands just as she wrapped her arms around herself; Wanda had her eyes closed with tears rolling down her cheeks and was ignorant of the young woman that was hesitating a few steps away from her.
Kate bit her lower lip with her right hand hovering closer to the crying form of Wanda, she could hear the sheer pain behind the other woman’s sobs. The way Wanda trembled while holding onto herself was enough to break Kate’s heart. She stepped closer unsure on how to approach the situation without creating more pain or desperation to her best friend.
“Hey, Wands,” Kate all but whispered, stepping closer until she offered the only comfort she could at the moment.
Wanda welcomed the hug, hiding her face from the world in the crook of Kate’s neck, shaking as she sobbed and let go of all the pumped up emotions she had been holding for far too long. Kate closed her eyes wishing she could do something, anything, to heal her friend and to make the man pay for his transgressions.Kate rubbed Wanda’s back, brushing her hair soothingly as she held her close.
“It’s okay, Wands, it is gonna be okay, I promise you.” The word left Kate’s mouth before she could stop them, but even if she didn’t know how or when, she found it in her to promise Wanda a glimpse of hope for the future.
For what seemed like an eternity, Wanda cried and Kate held her tenderly allowing her to pour her heart out the way they had done so since kindergarten.
Kate had met Wanda at a younger age, and while she had been boisterous and loud and always competitive, Wanda had been the most logical and cautious one, always the voice of reason. The both of them had been together for the first love, and the first heartbreak, Wanda had been by Kate’s side when her father died, and Kate had been there for Wanda when the young woman had almost lost her brother. They had been through so much that, now that they are adults facing the real world, Kate didn’t know how to handle this situation. She didn’t know why she allowed the relationship between Wanda and Jarvis to spiral out of control, to get in the way of their friendship and, ultimately, to break Wanda the way it had done so.
“I am so stupid, Kate, so stupid…” Wanda whispered squeezing Kate tenderly before letting go, Kate hesitated stepping back her hands on Wanda’s arms, Wanda had her eyes closed and she was speaking to her friend as much as she was speaking to herself, “I should have known, I should have seen it…you warned me, everyone who knew warned me.”
Wanda knew she should have seen it from the very first moment they met. He had been in a relationship at that time, and ever since that first day Wanda had always been a shadow. A secret. The other woman. A lover, never a girlfriend, never a partner. Wanda should have done many things, and she should have known how things would end up; still a part of her had always hoped he was what Jarvis wanted, a part of Wanda had been so naïve into thinking they were meant to be together and that, by the end of everything, Jarvis would choose her.
How wrong she had been.
“Wanda…” Kate started hesitantly, she trailed off seeing the broken stare on her friend’s eyes.
“I should have known, Kate.” Wana sounded broken, detached from all emotions running through her.
Before Kate could do or say something, Wanda shook her head standing up while wiping her tears away.
“I think this is enough golf for today, don’t you?”
Kate opened and closed her mouth, she stood up locking eyes with Wanda. For a brief moment, Kate played with the idea of saying something, but the empty glance Wanda shot her way told her she just needed to forget for the time being. With a heavy heart, Kate nodded, trying to give Wanda the time she needed it to finally open up and tell her everything that had happened between her and Jarvis.
“Yes, I think you are right, it is almost midday and we should eat something for lunch before going back to the flat and get ready for Stark’s Gala tonight.” Kate mumbled, Wanda winced remembering the social event she was obliged to attend that night.
“I forgot about it,” Wanda passed her hand through her hair, wiping away the tears from her cheeks, “mother expects me to go and use the dress she got for me.”
Kate snorted knowing Wanda’s mother had been trying to control the social life of Wanda ever since she came of age and decided to be celibate and single. It was quite obvious, Wanda had been anything but celibate and single, but no one was to know that Jarvis had been the one Wanda had been dating; they were supposed to be friends nothing else nothing more. But since the relationship had been a secret Wanda’s mother, Natalya Maximoff, had tried to set her daughter up with the young single men in high london society.
“So, she is also setting you up on a date tonight?” Kate asked, trying to divert the mood into more familiar, and mundane situations, Wanda rolled her eyes getting into the golf cart with Kate.
“No, not today, dad forbid her to continue the quest of hunting for a boyfriend or a husband for me.” Wanda said, shaking her head, if it hadn’t been because of her father she was pretty sure she would be going to the Charity event with some dumbass her mother thought appropriate for her.
Kate pursed her lips for a moment, her eyes diverting to the grass and the trees before turning to Wanda.
“I guess…well, if you think about it, perhaps this could be your chance to…to finally meet someone new?” Kate ventured, she lifted her right hand opening the palm in a signal of peace, “I know it is too soon, but maybe you could think about it?”
Wanda sped up the golf cart while grabbing the wheel tightly in her hands, Kate yelped almost falling down understanding that her comment had been unnecessary. . At least, for now. The morning glided away with the sun touching the land with a cold embrace, the golf cart travelled down the camp swiftly leaving behind the many players that had just started the morning routine in the club. Kate grabbed the handler on the front while shooting Wanda a warning glare.
“You know this cart is not going to kill but probably just injures us?” Kate huffed. “I was just…it was just an idea, Wanda. You really, this situation is…I just want you to be happy.”
Wanda winced, taking a deep breath knowing that Kate wanted nothing more than for Wanda to be happy. To finally break the toxic cycle she had entered with Jarvis during their tumultuous relationship.
“I’m sorry, I just…not yet, I am not ready yet.” Wanda whispered, slowing down her driving while taking the golf cart to the main building inside the Club..
Kate shook her head leaning back in the seat, “I know, Wanda. Look, I know it is not easy, and I know it is not fair but…you can’t let this situation get over your head. You can’t let him win.”
“I don’t want him to win,” Wanda mumbled, turning left and leading the golf cart towards the court parking lot. “This is just…too much. And I haven’t even had the time to mourn properly, to actually face what happened, to talk to him I mean…”
The place was already packed with societal crowds, Wanda trailed off trying to act as if nothing but bad luck had disturbed her golfing morning. Kate followed her inside the country house towards the showers, both of them offering polite and practical smiles to the people they encountered on their way to the changing rooms.
The place was not empty but at least in their chosen space they could continue their private conversation. Wanda sat fixing her socks and shoes while furrowing her brows, her words still hanging heavily above their heads.
“I don’t understand why you haven’t blocked him or stopped talking to him.” Kate finally blurted out, the question burning inside her mind since the relationship between Wanda and Vision exploded.
Wanda shrugged, focusing her attention on the make-up, “we are supposed to be old friends, no…we were not supposed to be anything else. If he stopped talking to me, it could be suspicious.”
A heavy silence fell upon them.
This admission shattered any argument Kate was ready to present to her friend, the deep implication of such a statement finally made sense of the puzzle the young Bishop had been trying to put together since Wanda had broken up things with Vision.
“We better hurry up, I am hungry and we need to get ready for tonight.” Wanda straightened up while glancing at her reflection, her forest eyes gleaming with unshed tears and heartbreak.
The table was already occupied by Jessica Jones and Gwen Stacy waiting for them, Wanda felt dizzy, her face drained from all colour and her eyes opened big as she set her them on the woman that had meant her downfall. Kate placed a single hand on her friend’s forearm, her eyes opening lightly as she led in.
“Wands, sorry i didn’t know…” Kate started, but Wanda clenched her jaw shaking her head.
“It’s okay, I know…let’s get this over with.” Wanda said though her voice had lost its usual bite and emotion. “I have to act normal, remember?”
This last part was said with a bitter smile, and Kate had to wonder just how many times had Wanda put on an act inorder to cover her relationship with Jarvis. How long had Wanda submitted herself to be a simple shadow of the woman she really is. For the very first time, Kate could say that she felt actual hatred for someone, hatred for the man that had broken her best friend, her sister, in such a systematic and cruel way.
Jessica’s eyes lit up when she saw Wanda and Kate, the four of them had met during their High School years and their friendship had lasted since then. Wanda winced when Jessica wrapped her arms around her asking about her day and her life until then, Wanda tried to be polite and friendly, but it was obvious that something was bothering her. Gwen and Jessica interchanged knowing stares and they offered Kate and Wanda sympathetic smiles.
“I know what you guys are thinking about,” Gwen was the first one talking to Kate and Wanda, “but I know soon you will find the right man and in no time it will be me and Jessica, the ones all excited to be the maid of honour in your wedding.”
Kate almost choked on her water, Wanda rolled her eyes patting her softly on the back.
“Right, now I mean…we are happy for you two.” Kate said cleaning the water from her chin, she looked at Wanda out of the corner of her eye before turning her attention to Gwen. “But we are fine just being…maids of honor, right, Wanda?”
“Uh, yes, totally fine.” Wanda replied, forcing a tight smile that Jessica and Gwen didn’t buy.
“Look, Wands, I know Jarvis is your best friend, and that you were just as surprised as I was when he proposed to me but..”Jessica started while Wanda tried to conceal her emotions, “but you are also my friend and while the dynamic is going to be different, I want you to know that well, nothing has to change between us, and between you and Jarvis, he has been down as of late since you haven’t called him.”
Wanda sat there unable to form any words or even to react at what Jessica had stated so innocently. Kate placed a hand on Wanda’s thigh, a comforting gesture as he tried to take over the conversation.
“Pietro is also a little down since you haven’t been responding to his calls,” Gwen said furrowing her brows, “are you guys fighting or something?”
“No!” Kate exclaimed louder than was probably necessary, several people turned to her before she gave a sheepish smile and turned to the other two women, “It is my fault, I…I have been down since I found out Gwen will be married in two months, and Jess got engaged last week, I was dragging Wanda with me in an emotional comfort trip.”
Jessica and Gween soon turned their attention to Kate, their words meant to comfort the brunette in her role in their lives and the plans they could still make to enjoy their time together. Soon the conversation took an unexpected turn and Gwen was distracting everyone with the latest preparations for her wedding, Jessica was an avid listener taking notes to start the preparations from her own nuptials.
In all this time, Kate could tell Wanda was holding it together by sheer will power but that, as the time passed and they kept hearing the fairytale narrated by Jessica and Gwen’s relationship the young woman would explode. And, just as predicted, the explosion came due to Gwen’s intervention.
“Pietro was fretting due to the amount of people being invited, but your mother and I tried to calm him down and explained to him the importance of a nice pre-wedding dinner, overall for those who are not invited to the main event.” Gwen fixed her hair giving a lighthearted giggle.
The conversation could have died there, no more was necessary but Gwen had always been naive and just a little dense about the reality of the world. She settled her grey eyes on Wanda, a twitch of the woman's lips told Kate she should intervene before Gwen said anything, but she was too slow to react.
“By the way Wanda,I have heard from a very good source that Victor Von Doom will be there, and your mother has already made arrangements for you to be escorted by him to the reception.” Gwen leaned forward placing her hand on top of Wanda’s one mistaking her dumbfounded glance for one of shocked nervousness.
Kessica opened her eyes with pure glee in them, she turned to Wanda with a smile, her face completely changed into one of happiness, the same expression Gwen was wearing while giving these news.
“Oh, Wanda, that’s fantastic!! Victor is such a handsome man, and he is a good man too.” Jessica said giddy by the news, “perhaps he is your knight in shining armour, I know Victor has been trying to get into business with your father, and this could be more than just business.”
Gwen nodded smiling, “I know Victor has tried to reach out to Pietro to ask properly to get you on a date. You know they both studied in the same Universityand Victor respects your brother and father.”
“Oh, asking for permission? How romantic…”
Kate watched the world crumble under her in seconds, she turned to Wanda and could see the red on her cheeks and the glint of anger in her eyes.
“Excuse me?” Wanda couldn’t hide the anger in her voice, her eyes gleaming with animosity at the audacity coming from Jessica and Gwen.
She knew Victor Van Doom, the man was a complete jerk and he had tried to get into her family for years. Wanda despised him, he was an arrogant jerk who could care less about her desires or her feelings. The fact that her mother had been dragged into this situation, and that she was planning to get the man into a party that she would potentially attend was insulting and quite frankly disturbing.
Gwen and Jessica blinked confusedly, they were taken aback by the obvious anger coming from Wanda. Kate could see Gwen and Jessica were not only confused but slightly hurt by this reaction, a flash of concern crossing their eyes, and Kate couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. They were really honest in their words, but the sheer innocence and naivety from them had always been a sore point for Wanda.
“Van Doom is an imbecile whose reputation has been tainted by his inability to hold a business standing,” Wanda stood up, whatever frustrations she had been experiencing in the last month finally getting the best out of her. “Frankly I pitied the woman that fell into his hands, now Gwen, Jessica, if you excuse me I have an event to attend and I am already late to get ready for it.”
Wanda stood up leaving the table in a rush, Gwen sat there furrowing her brows torn between being offended and perplexed. Kate stood up as well, she shot Gwen and Jessica a smile placing her hand on top of Gwen's one.
“You better don't invite that man to the party, Gwen. Wanda really hates him, and the fact her mother is messing around to try and set her up with him is only going to end up really bad. I know Pietro would be against the idea of Van Doom coming to your party..”
Gwen shifted frowning, “Kate, I'm looking out for her. It has been so long since she dated someone, we all are getting either married or have a relationship going on whereas she is…alone. It's not right. I was just trying to get her to meet someone, perhaps dated and have a family on her own?”
“Kate, what we are trying to say here is that we are worried about you and Wanda,” Jessica continued pursing her lips. “We want you guys to experience the same excitement and happiness we feel with our boyfriends. To be loved and to actually have a future…”
Kate lifted a hand furrowing her brows for the first time, she turned her eyes to Jessica then to Gwen, they both had always been too naive for their own good. Kate straightened up wanting to leave her message pretty clear before going after Wanda.
“I understand your concern, I do.” Kate measured her words, pride in herself for being so good at being a grown up. “But you can’t expect us to be happy because you set her up with a man she obviously despises, or that all we want in life is to be in a relationship and get married. I get that for you guys it is the best thing ever, but Wanda, and even me, we are just fine the way things are.”
Then, Kate turned to Gwen, “you know Wanda wants to be happy, she is always looking for that spark, that one person that will change her view of the world and make her feel love. This is not what she wants.”
“Wanda wants to fall in love. To be loved and loved back.” Gwen nodded as if finally understanding, she softened her features, a flash of urgency growing in her grey irises. “Oh, no! I messed it up, didn’t I?I didn't want to…”
“I know, but Gwen you need to start listening to others and start listening to yourself and stand for what you think is right or not,” Kate hesitated before giving Jessica and Gween a hug. “It was good to see you guys, we…will talk later.”
“Please, tell Wanda I'm sorry and I will make sure no one she doesn't like is invited to my engagement.”
Kate walked away from the place rather relieved to know Gwen found a real man that cherished and loved her dearly. She didn't want to think what would have happened if a different individual had approached Gwen when she was younger. With determination behind her strides, Kate strolled down the halls towards the parking lot. In no time she found the car, Wanda was looking gloomily to the horizon, detached from what was happening around her while the tears gleamed under the thunder breaking into the sky. Kate huffed running under the rain before going into the car.
“Gwen and Jessica said they are sorry.”
“Hn, okay.”
Wanda turned the engine on, she grabbed the wheel tightly, breathing deeply. Her face fell for a moment, then with a tired stare she turned to Kate.
“Will you go with me tonight?”
Kate nodded shifting in the seat, “you know I will.”
“Thank you.”
And with that, the both of them drive out of the club and into the highway leading to London.
The sky bringing rain and a wind of change Wanda had been ignoring all day.
The Bodleian Library was one of the oldest libraries in Europe, an architectural and intellectual marvel, the building was located one hour away from London at the heart of Oxford University.
The Library didn’t need to be at the center of the Oxford complex, to be the heart that led investigations in social studies, politics and international relations. In busy times, the building was always filled with students,investigators, workers and even tourists, it was a mixture of people from around the country and the world and it tended to be far too overwhelming. However, with Winter so close and Christmas vacations around the corner, the library became a silent sanctuary for those who were too absorbed in their studies to care for human interaction.
That was the reason as to why this library was your favorite place in the whole world.
It felt like home for you.
The main room in the library was empty, there was only the librarian who was sitting on the far corner cataloguing some books. You sighed while stretching out while turning on the music, you grabbed the next book with your notebook filled with doodles and notes; you have been working on your thesis for more than four hours, not food or drinks, just you and the books. A pang of sadness went through your heart at the bitter reminder that regardless of the work you have done so far, you had yet to receive a proper job proposal. You frowned, lowering your gaze to the book you have been reading, ignoring your thoughts and your phone you tried to go back to your notes.
“You know you look hot acting all nerdy and interesting like this?” You jumped at the sudden irruption in the silent setting, turning around you find yourself looking directly into the green eyes of one Natasha Romanoff.
The young woman was smirking at you while taking the sit beside you, she tilted her head grabbing the book you have been reading before grabbing your phone while pausing the music. You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips at the other woman’s antics.
“Romanoff.” You tried to greet with a serious, non-sense tone of voice that your friend dismissed with a wave of her hand.
“Y/L/N.* She repeated just as formality, her grin growing winking at you. “So, what are you doing, hot stuff?”
You leaned back on the chair, your eyes drifted around the library before setting on Natasha. The brunette had been the first woman you met in the country, she had offered you friendship and companionship and for over six years, Natasha Romanoff was the best friend anyone could ask for. She had been there in the good and the bad, her friendship had saved you in ways you were not sure Natasha was aware of.
“I was finishing a mandatory reading for the lecture I am preparing.” You stretched out letting out a yawn while your stomach grumbled remembering you about your missing lunch.
Natasha lifted brow , chuckling at your red cheeks, “seems like you are hungry, wanna grab something to eat? I am pretty sure you are not forgetting to feed yourself or I will be very mad.”
You winced at the sudden change in the woman’s voice, she really was like a sister to you and Natasha took the role very seriously.
“I was too distracted, and I really wanted to finish this lecture.” You said softly, Natasha softened her feature winking at you while helping you put everything away.
“Come on, we can grab something to eat and then some coffee, in that place you like so much.”
You stopped what you were doing turning to a very eager Natasha, you narrowed your eyes at her until the young woman stiffened offering a guilty smile.
“Why are you being so considerate and helpful?”
Natasha was a kind person, she could be protective and the person to go to if you needed help. But this kind of kindness, the fact that she came all the way to the library, and the sudden guilt in her eye and smile told you there was more to this impromptu visit that she led on.
“Can I be a kind soul with my best friend in the whole world?”
“Now, I know there is something wrong with you, what is it?” You asked, narrowing your eyes once more.
Natasha winced, grabbing your backpack while shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her explanation came short as your stomach grumbled and soon you were blushing at the embarrassing sound. Natasha smirked once more, recovering her confidence while hooking her left arm with your right one.
“Come, I am pretty sure you haven't eaten anything at all since the toast Yelena left you this morning.”
“Well, I mean…I did have a coffee.” You mumbled trying to defend yourself, Natasha rolled her eyes while walking with you to the exit of the building.
“You really need to take care of yourself, Y/N.!” The cold breeze from the Oxford afternoon rushed through your face, wrapping your jacket tightly around your body and fixing your scarf as you followed Natasha down the stairs towards the yard.
A few minutes later the both of you were entering the café crossing the street from the main University building, the place was packed with students and professors while you two chose the only empty table inside. Natasha sat down tilting her head with her eyes on you, the young waitress that took your order let her eyes linger on Natasha before disappearing down the establishment.
“Lady killer, eh?” You chuckled, shaking your head before leaning in. “So, Nats, what do you want?”
Natasha laughed leaning back while placing her right hand on her chest faking surprise and indignation all in a single pout, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“You offend me, Y/N. I come as a friend to ensure you eat something instead of drowning in self-pity and books.” She said resting her cheek on her palm, her lips curling into a more sincere smile, her eyes gleaming with understanding and the knowledge that you had been beating yourself as of late for your lack of job offers. “How are you feeling? I wanted to talk to you this morning, but you weren’t there.”
You shifted chewing your lower lip while furrowing your brows, “I didn’t wanna talk.”
“I know.” You lifted your eyes to see Natasha offering a half smile, you snorted nodding. “I just…I tried so hard.”
Natasha could detect the defeat in your voice, she knew you had been affected by the lack of invitations and job offers that most of your classmates had already received. The program for your Master’s degree had opened the gates of private companies, organisations and even government organizations to reach out to the brightest minds in the program. You had been the number one student in the program, but you had been the only one who had not received a job proposal yet.
“I know you think you are not good enough, or that you are not ready, but Y/N, you are.” Natasha put her hand on yours, squeezing tenderly while offering a tiny smile, you tried to smile back but your lips faltered.
“I just…I have worked so hard.” You mumbled keeping your mouth shut as the young waitress placed the food on the table, Natasha kept her eyes and hand on you waiting until you could finally let it go.
“I worked hard everyday, I studied and I know I am smart.” You said but your voice lacked conviction, and Natasha knew right there and then that your poor opinion on yourself was getting in the way once more.
“Y/N, listen to me,” Natasha said firmly, “you are smart, you are the smarter person in that program, You will get what you need because it would be the one thing to get you to the place you are needed the most. I know it is hard, but you need to be patient.”
You snorted nodding, you knew that speech by heart.
It was easier said than done, and you sometimes didn’t have the patience to wait for what you needed or wanted. You started eating and, as soon as the food touched your mouth you gave in to the hunger you have been feeling all day. Natasha observed you in silence, you ate glancing everywhere but at the woman sitting in front of you, finally when you were focusing on your coffee she took over the conversation once more.
“I know you don’t want to hear it, but you really need to be patient.” Just then Natasha put from her pocket a white envelope, you frowned, grabbing the object while turning questioning eyes to her. The young woman shrugged before explaining, “Tony sent the invitation yesterday, but since you didn’t come home I couldn't give it to you until now.”
You grabbed the invitation with trembling hands, this was an event prepared for some investors, students, and teachers of the different faculties Stark Industries worked with in the scholarship program. The same program you had earned 8 years ago, with trembling hands you grabbed the envelope and read the invitation.
Natasha offered a half smile, she finished her coffee and waited for you to talk.
“This may be your chance to actually get to know some important figures that can be interested in your job, don’t you think?” Natasha leaned forward pointing to the invitation, “and look at that.”
In the lower part of the invitation you read your name and then…
“Miss. Y/L/N and guest you are cordially invited…” You read he last part before glancing at a grinning Natasha, the woman had a glint of triumph in her eyes tha told you she had not only won her argument about you needing to be patient, but also she had gotten something out of the situation. “So, this is what you brought me here?”
You waved the invitation, Natasha leaned back her smile still in place.
“Yes, and no.” She stated softening her features. “I meant every word, Y/N, and that invitation shows Stark also believes in you, he knows you would hate for him to intervene, so he is giving you a chance by inviting you to a place where you can make connections.”
You snorted, shaking your head, your heart shrank with the cheer weight of your emotions.
“So, all I have to do is go to the party…with you?” You asked furrowing your brows, “why are you so interested in going?”
You couldn’t help but frown at the sudden change in attitude by Natasha, the young woman was suddenly shy, her eyes downcast leaning forward as if to tell you a secret. Now you were interested, this was the first time you saw Natasha acting all bashful and hesitant.
“Carol is going to be there.” Natasha was straightforward knowing by this point you didn’t need for her to pretend, and Natasha was really wanting to make you understand the great opportunity this party was going to be.
You opened your eyes in realization at the name of the Captain of the Royal Air Forces; this time around the blush in Natasha’s face was unmistakable and you couldn’t help but laugh. Natasha grumbled throwing her napkin at you rolling her eyes at being exposed so easily.
“So, you want me to go with you because you wanna get laid!”
“It is not because of sex, you idiot.” Natasha straightened up allowing the waitress to place the food and coffee on the table, once the young woman was gone Natasha continued. “Y/N she is…look last time it went awful, I just wanna have a chance to apologize and tell her…well, I just think I can…”
It was always funny seeing Natasha trying to grasp her language functions to explain exactly why she wanted to see Carol Danvers all over again after their failed attempts at a romance. You couldn’t blame Natasha, though, Carol was not only beautiful she was smart, and funny, and one hell of a woman. Natasha had been smitten from the beginning but her insecurities and past trauma, and past ex-girlfriend, had come in the way of her building something nice with the blond-haired woman.
You thought about this for a long time, when you heard about the Stark Industries Gala you dismissed the idea of going to such an event. You knew it was important, Tony had told you as much, indicating this would be the right place to start making contacts and get into the world you were so reluctant to be a part of. It was a necessity if you wanted to continue with your studies and get a respectable job, but you never thought you received a formal invitation or that your best friend would be so eager to go. Looking over at Natasha you knew you wouldn’t say no to her so, with a sigh you nodded curtly.
“Very well, we can go to function. But you better get me something nice to wear to this thing.”
“YES!! I love you!” Natasha exclaimed grinning like a fool, you chuckled rolling your eyes while the redhead steals some of your fries. “Let's finish this and go back to my place, I am pretty sure Yelena has something that can work on you.”
You shifted on the seat nodding, “hn, okay, I guess.”
“You don’t have to sound so excited,” Natasha gauged your expression before clearing her throat, “Look, I know you don’t like these things, and that this is not your main focus but…Tony is right, Y/N, you need the contacts and you need to start working on a network for your work This could be a chance for you to meet new people.”
“I don’t like meeting new people!” You exclaimed dramatically, Natasha shrugged.
“I know but it is not so bad and, who knows? Perhaps this is the place where you would finally meet the right person.”
You furrowed you brows grabbing one of Natasha’s fries while glancing at the smirking woman.
“The right person? I already know Stark, I think he constitutes the right person alright.”
Natasha rolled her eyes, “not that kind of person, dumbass, I am talking about the person that would finally make your heart beat just a little.”
You snorted in disbelief, while Natasha shrugged in a gesture that told you she was really considering this party to be everything you might need in life.
Home House was a private club located at the heart of aristocratic London.
A palace built by James Wyatt under the orders of King George III. The palace was designed and built with high society in mind, the eccentric and intellectual class of early Eighteenth century England that was in the search of knowledge and conquest. With time, the Palace changed its history moulding itself as the beacon of culture, knowledge and power of the Empire transforming the world of Academics and cultural heritage; with the blessing of Queen Victoria, Home House entered the Twentieth Century as the meeting place for those who had the power to shape the world.
Thus, that Tony Stark had chosen Home House as the venue for the Annual Stark Enterprise Gala was not a complete surprise.
Known as a genius, billionaire, married and philanthropist, Tony Stark was a man of business at heart. The preparation of his Annual Gala had taken careful planning, leading to a select group of guests that would lead the fields of politics, economics, and international relations for the upcoming year. Tony and his wife Pepper Potts had selected the Front Parlour alongside the Private Garden in the exclusive club to house the 200 guests they had invited over.
Tony oversaw the event in person, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he observed those brilliant students that had earned the Stark Scholarship mingle with the high class and Europe leaders that may help them move forward in their careers.
The Club was filled with soft, classical music filled the room with the tender light of candelabra. The place was warm, and a great marquee was located in the garden to protect the guests from the rain; everything had been set up for students, investigators and investors to meet and talk about money and opportunities.
So far the Gala had been a complete success, people were mingling around and making good use of the new connections while some others had given in to the temptation of the free bar and the soft swing of the music.
Natasha had kept her word by getting you a dark cocktail dress that complemented your tone of skin and highlighted your honey-laced eyes. The high heels Natasha had chosen helped you look taller, but at not being used to that kind of footwear, your feet were hurting and you were holding yourself from the torture of walking around with such elegant hazards.
So far the party had not been that bad, you got a chance to talk to several people and mingled around in interesting conversations. By the time Natasha left your side to join Carol, you had to face some eager, young men that had tried to give you a shot at flirting, with some cringe you let them down before moving out of the spotlight and hide In that little corner. The only one allowed to come at you was the cute waitress that had been your source of alcohol all through the night.
Your eyes fell on the form of Tony, the man had his flirty smile on talking with every single person present in the room. His eyes darting around as if looking for someone, you winced knowing full well he had been looking for you most of the night. So far you were winning the hide and seek game Tony didn't know he was playing with you.
Why did she accept to come to this event?
You set your eyes on Natasha who was wearing the most revealing red dress she could find while talking with a blond-haired woman that at the moment seemed to be wearing her military uniform. You rolled your eyes, Natasha Romanoff was the reason you came to this party. Natasha Romanoff and her impossible libido, you snorted, emptying your champagne and looking around for your favorite waitress.
“I surely hope, dear, that you didn't think I wouldn't find you before the night was over.” The voice of Tony Stark caught you by surprise, you winced turning around to see the man glancing at you amusedly, one eyebrow lifted with his hand nursing a glass of whisky.
“Tony, I wouldn't even dream of hiding from you. That would be too childish of me.” You said softly, Tony snorted, shaking his head while offering his right arm to you, after a moment of hesitation you took it and the both of you started walking around the room.
“I'm glad you came, even if you only did it to help Romanoff with Captain Danvers.” Tony spoke beside you leading you towards the garden.
You shrugged offering a tiny smile, “she really is quite smitten, and well.. I could use the distraction.”
Tony snorted, shaking his head, from the moment he had found you in the room he could see how uncomfortable you were and the pain you were enduring by wearing those high heels.
“How are you doing, Y/N? Are you faring well with your studies?” He cocked his head, and those eyes gleamed with a tenderness you had seen just a couple of times.
“I am fine.” You finally said without much conviction, Tony raised a brow but didn’t press the matter.
With a roll of your eyes you continue, “I could be worse.”
This time around, Tony did laugh shaking his head while stopping the stroll facing the garden beyond the marquee.
“And, what about university? How about your investigation?” He asked genuinely.
“It is going just fine, to be honest. I am just…you know?” You shifted uncomfortably, you were not used to accept help or even ask for it, you had learnt a long time ago that accepting help would allow others to have control over you.
“No, I don’t know, that was one of the reasons I was asking you how you were.” Tony replied half amused and half exasperated.
“You know how I feel, why do you ask me these questions?” With a huff you turned your attention back to the party, your eyes wandering around the beautiful form of a brunette that seemed engrossed in a conversation with another brunette with the most entrancing green eyes. You frowned, those eyes looked familiar. Tony cleared his throat and you returned your attention to him blushing lightly and being caught checking-out the other woman.
“Pepper missed you last weekend.” Tony stated, you flinched looking away.
“I know, she wrote me.” You mumbled letting out a heavy sigh. “Tony, look…I…I will end my studies pretty soon, and I will turn in my investigation, afterwards, I just…”
Tony waited patiently while you mumbled and babbled until you swallowed the lump on your throat.
“I haven’t received any formal invitation to join any…anything.” The words came rushing out of your mouth, and you clenched your jaw refusing to let the tears fall down. “I know that one of the conditions for my visa is to have a work, but apparently I am…not good enough.”
The sound of conversation, laughter and music became too much, you shifted on your feet while wincing with pain at the high heels. Tony placed a hand on your forearm; he had his brows put together shaking his head in a silent reproached that was mixed with amusement and exasperation. You blinked tilting your head at the reaction of the man in front of you, a man you had considered your big brother from the day you two met.
“You are good, Y/N, you are a genius in your area of expertise.” Tony smirked at you leading you into an adjacent room, you grew confused while your eyes settled on the open door leading to a balcony.
“I know, but…I mean, it doesn’t matter if I don’t get a proposal, or…” You trailed off narrowing your eyes at Tony. “What did you do?”
Tony lifted his hands in defence shaking his head, though his smirk only grew.
“I didn’t do anything; I merely offered myself to bring you over and introduce you to your new boss.”
“Tony…” You stated warningly standing still before following Tony any further, you glared at him. “Explain!”
Tony rolled his eyes standing in front of you, “I received a call a couple of days ago, they were asking for personal and professional reference from you. When I found out who was behind this credentials validation, I have to be the one to introduce you to your future boss.”
You stood there with a hammering heart, and sweating hands.
You were about to finish your investigation, by now every single one of your classmates had received an invitation or proposal to join some company, organization, or governmental agency. A part of you grew restless, and the doubts that had always plagued your confidence and self-esteem, had come back with a dark cloud that settled above your head and heart. Seeing the childish enthusiasm in Tony’s face told you the man wasn’t joking, but what it he…
“I didn’t intervene.” Tony was quick to read the unasked question, “I was asked to give references, nothing else.”
“Tony, I…” The words tangled in your throat, a lump forming in there that made it impossible to talk. You offered a shaky smiled that Tony returned with full confidence.
“Now, suck it up, kiddo, and let’s meet your new boss.” He said fixing your hair and dress making sure he didn’t mess with the makeup while leading you towards the balcony.
—------‐—-
The moment Wanda Maximoff set foot on the club she knew the party would be a disaster.
The first sight that greeted her as soon as she entered the main room was that of Jarvis and Jessica hand in hand with Jessica showing on her recently acquired engagement ring. Wanda felt her world shattered when her eyes met those of Jarvis, the man smiled brightly at her approaching Wanda with Jessica by his side.
“Wands, looking good.” Jarvis leaned in but stopped when he noticed the glare coming from Wanda and the tension on her shoulders.
“Thank you, Vi…Jarvis.” Wanda tried to sound casual, to not raise any suspicions, but it was obvious Jarvis had caught up with her mood.
“Are you alright?” Jarvis asked tenderly, Wanda clenched her jaw, her eyes gleaming in disbelief.
Before anything could be said or done, Kate Bishop came saving the day. There young woman flashed a bright smile that didn't reach her eyes, Jarvis winced drifting her stare from Kate to Wanda, realization dawning on him.
“Oh, Jarvis-Jar,” Kate smirked at the twitch coming from the man, he hated that nickname. “Looking good, congratulations to you and Jess, may the both of you have a happy marriage, full of fidelity and love.”
“Oh, Kate, that's so sweet.” Jessica giggled finally joining the group of friends, Kate offered a half smile before dragging Wanda away.
“Sorry, guys, Wanda and I have a commitment and we cannot be late!”
Before either Jarvis or Jessica could say anything, Wanda and Kate disappeared in the ocean of people looking for an exit to the garden.
The cold wind from the night was like a sharp caress on Wanda’s sensitive skin. She had her eyes closed taking a deep breath, aware of Kate’s eyes on her.
“Wanda,” Kate started tentatively, Wanda offered a crooked smile no her eyes in the distance.
“I should have known he would be here,” Wanda said closing her eyes to try and regulate the beating of his heart.
Kate hesitated for a moment before she set a hand on top of Wanda’s one, the young woman shook her eyes, and by the time she opened her green eyes were filled with unshed tears.
“I can’t do it, Kate.” Wanda mumbled brokenly.
Kate step closer but stop herself, if she were to hug her friend she was pretty sure Wanda would start crying. Wanda offered a crooked smile before emptying the glass of whisky she had grabbed from a tray; Wanda wished she could drink some more but she was a light drinker and it was not the moment nor the time to drown away her sorrows. Kate worried her lower lip on her teeth, before she too drank her glass of whisky making a face that brough a real smile to Wanda’s face. After a moment of hesitation, Kate decided to talk again.
“You know, we came and people already saw us, if you want, we can go.” Kate gauged Wanda’s reaction, she was hoping for her friend to just give in to get out of the place and not having to see Jarvis more than they should, however, just as Kate was about to pursue the topic some more Wanda’s eyes gleamed strangely.
“What? What is it?” Kate turned around, her eyes going wide before she turned to Wanda.
“Whose that talking to Stark?” For some reason, Wanda got her abdomen knotting at the sight of the young woman. There was something familiar about her, but…
Kate glanced up then back at Wanda, “I think she…I mean, it couldn’t be, but you know, perhaps?”
Wanda rolled her eyes, her lips curving into an exasperated but pretty honest smile.
“You didn’t say anything at all,” Wanda said raising a brow before nodding to the woman with Stark. “You know her?”
Kate winced torn between telling Wanda who was that woman, or letting her friend spiralled even more into depression because of Jarvis.
“Well, you remember last year? Halloween?” Kate said tentatively, as soon as she said Halloween Kate could see the glint of recognition on Wanda’s green eyes.
“Yes! God, that little…”
“Wanda.”
Before Wanda could react or actually said anything at all, a man in a wheelchair came to her. He was offering a kind smile and his eyes had not left those of Wanda as she smiled back, with a hint of confusion in her posture.
“Uncle Charles, I thought you wouldn’t come to this event.” Wanda leaned in hugging the man who broke into a content smile.
“Well, I have an extenuating circumstance that needed my attention.” He glanced from Wanda to Kate, the other woman waved a hand to Charle before stepping back.
“Right, nice to see you, Mr. Xavier, I think I will be around.” Kate said walking backwards, Charles Xavier turned to Wanda and soon both of them were smiling.
“So I take it I am your extenuating circumstance?” Wanda observed as Kate was approached by a young woman, Wanda then returned her attention to Charles.
“Partially, yes. I also came here to meet with someone, now help an old man and take me to the other room, we need to talk.”
Wanda couldn't hide her wince, this sounded like one of those serious conversations she was not fancy to have any moment now. With a sigh and one last glare to the woman talking to Stark, Wanda took Charles out of the garden into the adjacent room .
—------
The universe had a strange way of working its design.
Your first real meeting with Wanda Maximoff was a complete disaster. You stepped into the balcony with Tony by your side, the young woman stood by Carles Xavier who directed his stare to the newcomers. Wanda had her green eyes on you, with a slight twitch on her eye and a fiery stare, you understood Wanda had recognized you. And she remembered you. Wanda narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips while you offered a half smile, full of amusement and challenge.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Maximoff herself,” You said rather impressed, laughter tainting your words, “isn’t it weird we always meet at parties? Hopefully this won’t end up like the last Halloween party, eh?”
The slap caught everyone by surprise, Wanda took a deep breath, her eyes growing big at her sudden reaction. She could see the flash of anger in your eyes, as well as the incredulity at what had transpired. But before anyone could do or say anything at all, Wanda clenched her jaw and left.
There was a moment of incredulous silence, before Tony turned to you with questioning eyes. You winced, pursing your lips while placing your hand on your cheek.
“I mean, I probably deserve that.” You said lamely, Charles Xavier laughed lifting his eyes to Tony then back at you.
“You are going to be surprised when you meet her,” Charles said, glancing at Tony, “that was what you told me when I asked you about Miss. Y/L/N.”
Tony chuckled, shrugging, “I think it is good to say we were all surprised.”
You chuckled nervously, your eyes drifting from Tony to Charles, blushing as you tried to explain.
“it wasn’t my intention, I swear I thought she probably…” You trailed off as whatever you could say about the topic would mean you would be in the spotlight for something you actually didn’t think necessary to mention at the moment.
“It is perfectly fine,” Charles said kindly, “my goddaughter has quite the temper, and I am pretty sure that whatever the story behind this circumstance is, I am sure it is not what you two had come to me to talk about.”
You had to agree with Charles, the reason behind the slap was not something you should be discussing at the moment, but you mind keep nagging you with memories of what had happened moments ago. Soon, Tony came forward stretching the hand of Charles before he pointed at you.
“As promised, this is my protegee Y/N,” Toney made a face and you stepped forward offering a tentative smile.
“A pleasure to meet you, sorry about…” You trailed off gesturing with your hands, Charles shared a laugh while Tony rolled his eyes.
“I was keen to meet with you, Miss. Y/L/N. I have heard of you from your teachers, the Oxford research team and of course, from Tony.” Charles then smirked, his eyes gleaming mischievous. “Now I have to add Wanda to the list of recommendations.”
You blushed mortified, but the older man merely snickered tilting his head with deep, sharp eyes pinning you to the spot.
“Very well, Y/N, let's talk about business.”
It was past midnight by the time you found Natasha talking with Carol in the parking lot. Your friend was looking satisfied, and rather smut when she caught sight of you. You couldn’t help the matching smile, a single brow lifted in a non-verbal communication with your best friend.
“Did you drink too much?” Natasha asked, passing you the keys of the car, you snorted, shaking your head.
“A couple of champagne shots, nothing else.” You let your eyes drift to the blond-haired woman waiting patiently, then back to Natasha who was grinning like mad. “So, you will have a good night?”
Natasha shifted hiding her blush before locking eyes with you.
“You are one to talk, you disappeared most of the night.” Natasha chuckled at your reaction, placing her hand on your forearm. “Everything okay?”
This time around there was a genuine hint of concern, her green eyes gleaming lightly. You opened your mouth until your eyes found those of Carol then you turned back to Natasha.
“Yeah, go back to your date, we will talk later today.” You shrugged, “lunch at the pub?”
“Count me in, be careful on your way back home.”
“I will, careful and…do everything I will do, Natasha!” You screamed, waving at Natasha who was glaring at you before guiding Carol to her car.
They disappeared into the night, with Carol Danver driving a luxurious car with Natasha sitting comfortably on the passenger seat. You stood in the parking lot long enough to see Wanda Maximoff stumbled out of the adjacent building leading to the garden.
You stood frozen in place, the young woman seemed to be tumbling over her own footsteps. Just before she crashed against the ground a pair of strong arms held her tightly, Wanda blinked a couple of times before her head lifted to meet a pair of honey eyes.
“You!” Her words came with a slurred, and you were not sure she was looking at you or someone else to your right.
“Wanda!”
You turned towards the newcomer, it was the same brunette you had seen Wanda with early that night. The young woman narrowed her eyes at you before rushing to Wanda.
“She almost fell down.” You tried to explain, your heart hammering against your chest when Wanda pressed her body against yours.
“I know you.” She all but whispered, her index finger drawing the edges of your chin.
You opened your eyes in panic glancing to Wanda and then to the other woman who came in wrapping her arms around Wanda.
“Wanda, come…” Kate was not a rival to a drunk Wanda, and she almost lost her footing if you hadn't intervened.
Kate found your eyes, there was a hint of apology in her dark irises, and all you could only offer a half smile.
“She is quite a handful eh?” You commented, this time around you could see a ghost of a smile on Kate's face.
“Not handful, no loove able…” Wanda slurred leaning against you, her face resting in the crook of your neck. “Mm, jus’ ‘ired.”
Tears poured into her green eyes, and soon you had Wanda crying on you. You had stopped breathing, your eyes wide open while Kate merely winced waving her hand to a blue car parked at the other side of the parking lot.
“Can you help me out? I don't think I would be able to carry her on my own.” Kate all but mouthed with a hush whispers so as to not interrupt Wanda’s sobbing babbling.
You hesitated for a moment, your eyes drifting to your car then to Kate’s car and finally to the young brunette crying on your shoulder. With a heavy sigh, you nodded and soon you and Kate were taking a crying Wanda to the car making sure she was secured on the passenger seat before Kate closed the door letting out a huff.
“Thank you.” Kate stretched her hand your way, a single smile adorning her features. “Kate Bishop.”
You snorted, taking her hand, “Y/N Y/L/N.”
Kate locked her eyes with yours, for a moment you saw a spark of recognition that was soon replaced by polite gratefulness.
“Thank you for helping me with Wanda. She…” Kate trailed off, not sure how to explain the situation without giving out Wanda’s secrets.
“No problem,” you said hesitating before glancing at the brunette that was now snoozing inside the car. “Are you sure you and her are going to be fine?”
Kate winced, nodding hesitantly. “Yes, I think we will, I live with another person so I guess we could handle her if necessary.”
“If you are sure.” You said stepping back, your eyes never leaving the sleeping form of Wanda. With a sharp jolt of concern shooting through your mind straight to your head you took another step back.
“I guess…drive safe, then.” You mumbled glancing as Kate hesitated for a moment before going into the car and driving away with Wanda.
You stood there for what seemed like an eternity, the cold air of the night sneaking into your clothes making you shivered. For a moment, all you could see was the saddened expression of the brunette, the warmth of her body against yours, the tears and the drunkenly babbling. Then, memories of Halloween night almost a year ago came crashing back and you shook your head frowning.
Wanda Maximoff was a bitch.
That much you remembered.
Then, without another thought, you walked towards your car getting rid of your high heels while sitting on the driver's seat. With a heavy sigh, you turned on the engine and drove into the night towards the flat you shared with Natasha.
The night was finally over.
But your life had already changed in ways you could barely imagine.
Could u do an very angsty with happy ending where the avengers are omega verse and thay have soulmates that is choosen before their born(they don’t know who they are until they meet and feel the connection) and not everyone in this world is as reader who is in the avengers is human so she doesn’t understand everything about their world but tries. Reader goes out with with people but only really sex and as reader is nats soulmate overtime nat starts to get more and more sick because they get sick and can die from soulmate rejection and in the end reader and Nat end up together and you can decide the rest.( sorry if this was confusing and can reader be a girl)
Soulmates
Alpha!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
[A/N] No update yesterday, sorry, I got home from London on Saturday then spent the night with my bestie before going to work yesterday 😅 Back with a new fic today though - hopefully I've understood you lovely anon, thank you for the request 😘 Hope you enjoy! ❤️
“But how did you know?” Natasha had asked, in that curious tone that only a child can manage.
“You can just tell,” Melina had replied patiently. “It’s hard to explain but you just… Know.”
“What if I don’t have one?”
“Every alpha has a soulmate Natasha, even you. You’ll cross paths with them someday and you’ll just know it’s them. Wait and see.”
It wasn’t until Natasha had met you that she’d understood exactly what Melina was talking about. She’d always assumed it was bullshit, that whole ‘you can just feel it’. There must be an actual way to tell who your soulmate is. But Natasha had realised Melina was telling the truth. There was just this feeling that she’d finally found the person she was supposed to be with. It was instantaneous. For a moment Natasha’s heart had soared, knowing she’d finally found you, her soulmate. Only for it to come crashing down.
You didn’t understand the concept of soulmates. You weren’t from her world. You’d travelled across the multiverse, escaping your dying planet and finding refuge in theirs. Everyone had assumed you had the power to travel the multiverse but you didn’t. You’d been one of the few survivors of your home planet and they’d used the last of their power to transfer you to this universe. Now you were stuck there, taken in by the Avengers whilst they gathered more information.
Learning about your universe had been fascinating but it appeared that your experience of the world was very different to theirs. Alphas, omega, soulmates, none of that existed where you were from. How was Natasha supposed to explain to you that you were her soulmate? And that she couldn’t prove it to you, she was just basing this on an extreme feeling that she had.
Her plan had been to spend time with you and eventually warm you to the idea. Not wanting to overwhelm you, Natasha had gently brought up the concept of soulmates and had been surprised by your reaction. “Soulmates? So no one actually gets to choose who they want to be with? They’re just forced to be with each other?”
Natasha can hear the hint of disdain in your voice and cringes. “Well, no, there’s a choice,” She says. “But… Why would you choose anyone else? When you’ve found your soulmate?”
“Well, what if you don’t like them? Or you’re already dating someone else? Or someone says they’re your soulmate but they’re actually an abusive piece of shit?”
“No one abuses their soulmate.” Natasha remembers a stern matron from the Red Room, who showed no remorse if the girls in her care were injured or even killed during training. How terrifying she had seemed – Natasha had been certain she had no heart until she’d caught a glimpse of her with her own soulmate. The matron’s entire demeanour had softened, like she was a completely different person. It was one of the few things that had got her through the Red Room – the belief that no matter how hard they tried to turn her into a killer, her soulmate would be able to break through all of that and see her.
“It just seems a bit… Archaic. You know?” You roll your eyes and smile. “Do you know who your soulmate is?”
After a moment’s hesitation she smiles and shakes her head “No… No, I don’t know who they are yet.”
Given that had baffled you; Natasha hadn’t gone on to explain the other details of soulmates. Soulmate Rejection was too big to put on your shoulders. You seemed to think the concept of soulmates was in some way controlling. How would you react if Natasha told you that you had to get together or she’d grow so ill that she’d eventually pass away? Natasha could just picture your face. No, she wouldn’t put that on you. You’d have to figure out you were her soulmate on your own.
Easier said than done, of course. Although the illness hadn’t taken hold of her immediately, seeing you go on a date with someone had physically hurt in a way she couldn’t explain. Like a dull ache in her chest. You’ve been in this universe for eight months now; it makes sense that you want to start dating. Seeing you with someone else was one of the most difficult experiences Natasha had ever had to deal with though. It had taken everything in her not to go feral, to snarl, to hold you in her own arms, and insist you were hers. Especially since you were going out with some boring boy of all people.
Natasha is waiting for you when you get back and you sit with her in the living room, everyone else having already gone to bed. “Does everyone have a soulmate?”
Natasha shakes her head, pleased that you haven’t shut down the idea of soulmates completely. “No, not everyone. Every alpha has one, usually an omega but sometimes a beta.”
“Could your soulmate be an alpha?”
“It’s not impossible but very rare,” Natasha watches as you hug your knees to your chest, resisting the urge to reach over and touch you. “How was your date anyway?”
“Nothing special.”
“So you won’t see him again then?” Natasha asks, unable to keep the glimmer of hope out of her voice.
“Oh, no. One date was enough. Especially since… Well, I went back to his place and there was… Nothing up about him if you catch my drift.”
“Oh! You put out on the first date?”
Your firm, irritated look quickly shuts her up and she wishes she hadn’t said anything. “I’m not really looking for anything serious right now so yeah. I ‘put out’.”
“I… I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry.”
You take pity on her, “Don’t worry about it. I suppose my attitude must seem strange to someone waiting to meet their literal soulmate.”
Your words are light and teasing but Natasha’s cheeks still turn pink. What she wouldn’t give to hold you properly, to kiss your cheek, to inhale the scent of your shampoo. If only she could tell you. Every day that goes past is making it harder and harder not to just tell you.
“What if an alpha never meets their soulmate?” You ask Natasha. “What happens?”
Natasha’s hope always soars whenever you ask her questions about soulmates. Your curiosity makes her think you could come round to the idea one day. “Soulmates are fated to meet at some point.”
“Really? What if your soulmate lives in Australia though? Or even outer space.”
Natasha avoids your gaze “They’d meet at some point. I don’t know how it works but an alpha is always destined to cross paths with their soulmate at least once.”
“That can’t be possible though, surely? What if your soulmate, I don’t know, died before you got to meet them?”
Natasha thinks about it for a moment, “I actually don’t know. I guess… It must happen. Maybe you get a new soulmate if that happens.”
You smile “Doesn’t that rather defeat the point of a soulmate though?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well to me the concept of a soulmate is that there’s one person in the entire universe who is yours. If they die and you get assigned a new one then what was the point?”
“You’re frying my head with this. Every alpha has a soulmate, assigned to them before birth. I’ve never heard of anyone whose soulmate died before they had chance to meet them. It’s just fate.”
“Is it fate if that person is assigned to them before birth?”
This conversation is stressing Natasha out though she’s not entirely sure why. “I don’t- I don’t know-”
You grin and nudge her foot teasingly before standing up “Just food for thought. Anyway, I’m heading to bed. Night Nat.”
After that you don’t ask her any more questions about soulmates. Both of you still hang out – Natasha’s been helping you pass the time by teaching you some basic Avengers drills and she loves every second that she spends with you. How can you not feel what she feels? It’s obvious to her that you’re perfect for each other yet you don’t seem to realise.
Natasha’s illness begins to set in the following week when you go on a date every night of the week. It soon becomes clear that you’re not interested in actually staying with anybody, you just want sex. Which is fine of course – Natasha still cringes when she remembers the way she’d incredulously asked about you putting out on a first date. It’s only a problem because it’s literally beginning to kill her.
Natasha’s never known anyone to go through Soulmate Rejection before so she didn’t know what to expect. It quickly seeps into her bones, making her feel weak. Just getting out of bed takes more and more effort as each day goes by. At first being near you would make the illness a little better but eventually it stopped working. If you continued to unknowingly reject her, Natasha would surely perish.
“Are you feeling okay?” You ask one morning in the gym. “You’re looking a little pale.”
Truthfully Natasha feels like she’s been hit by a truck. Her head feels like it’s full of cotton wool, every muscle and bone in her body aches, there are bags beneath her eyes. It feels even worse than she could’ve possibly imagined. That physical pain she’d felt when she saw you go on that first date gets even worse with every new date that you go on, even causing her to double over one day.
It’s Yelena who realises what’s going on “You need to tell her.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Natasha mumbles.
“Everyone else is going to figure out you’re going through Soulmate Rejection soon. And how do you think she’ll feel if she realises she’s the reason you’re on the brink of death?”
“It might not kill me. We don’t know that it definitely will.”
“Natasha-”
“Do not tell her Yelena,” Natasha says in the firmest voice she can manage, letting out a weak cough. “I won’t put that on her. It’s not fair.”
“Natasha, please-”
“Just leave it Yelena. Don’t get involved.”
Yelena does her best to respect Natasha’s wishes but it gets even harder when Natasha deteriorates so much that she ends up in the medbay. The medical staff work round the clock but are baffled when they find nothing physically wrong with her. None of them realises it’s Soulmate Rejection – it happens so rarely that it doesn’t even cross their minds. Yelena sits by Natasha’s bedside, dabbing her hot forehead with a damp cloth, trying to keep her as comfortable as possible.
“Y/N’s asking about you,” Yelena says.
“I don’t want her to see me like this.”
“Natasha, you might not have long left. Do you really want to keep your soulmate away from you?”
“Will you keep an eye on her for me? Just make sure she’s okay. All those dates she goes on, I worry about her…”
“You’re such a martyr,” Yelena says irritably, but she can’t help taking her older sister’s hand in hers. “Please let me tell her. She deserves to know.”
“I always thought my soulmate would just know they were mine,” Natasha says. “That they would feel the same connection that I felt. Do you really think she can’t feel it?”
“Maybe she can,” Yelena says. “But she knows you’re waiting for your soulmate. Why would she say anything? Why would she date you if she thought she was going to get hurt when your ‘soulmate’ came along later down the line?”
Natasha says nothing. Yelena asks again if she can tell you and she still says no. It makes Yelena want to scream but she doesn’t dare go against her sister’s wishes.
In the middle of the night Natasha realises that she doesn’t have long left. That the Soulmate Rejection has taken its toll and she’s grown too weak to hold on anymore. Natasha tries to find some peace – she’s told Yelena everything that she wanted to. Asked her to keep an eye on you. If only Natasha could’ve kissed you, just once. Every night she’s imagined your lips against hers and it makes her heart ache even more with longing.
Even if Natasha hadn’t felt that physical pull to you she would’ve known you were her soulmate. It wasn’t just your looks – you were beautiful, everyone thought so, not just Natasha. That wasn’t just what Natasha loved about you though. You were curious, finding everything about their universe fascinating. You felt the loss of your home planet deeply, never taking for granted the sacrifice that they’d made for you. Natasha could see in training how determined you were. Many nights Natasha had stayed up long after she felt exhausted just so she could talk to you. There was nothing about you that Natasha didn’t love. You were perfect.
Natasha closes her eyes, almost looking forward to dying just so the pain will finally go away. Not seeing you has definitely made her worse. A part of Natasha knows she’s being stubborn. There may have been some truth to what Yelena said. You had spoken to her often about soulmates, maybe you thought Natasha was waiting for hers, not realising it was you. But if you didn’t feel anything for her and you got with her just so Natasha would survive… Well, Natasha would rather die. Death would be better than living with a soulmate who felt trapped.
Just as Natasha begins to think she’s slipping away she feels a hand in hers, anchoring her to this world. She groans softly, “Let me go.”
“But I still have questions.”
Her eyes open as she hears your voice. You’re sat next to her bed, your hand in hers. Is it really you or a cruel trick of Natasha’s imagination? Either way, Natasha decides she will do her best to hang on. If you’re here, she wants to be here too, “Questions?”
“How do you know when you’ve found your soulmate?”
Natasha smiles weakly at you “That’s easy. You just know.”
“But how?”
“You can just feel it. It’s hard to explain. It’s unlike anything you’ll ever experience.”
“So you do know what it’s like to meet your soulmate? You’ve met yours?”
Natasha sighs and nods “Yes. I met mine.”
“What happened?”
“She didn’t realise she was my soulmate.”
You squeeze her hand “Yeah? You didn’t wanna tell her?”
“How could I? She didn’t believe in soulmates.”
Neither of you says anything for a long moment. Natasha’s breathing is laboured; it has been for the past couple of days. Every breath feels like a huge effort. Natasha can’t even lift her head from the pillow anymore, she’s too weak. Eventually you meet her gaze “I’ve been doing my own research about this whole… Soulmate thing. It’s such an insane concept to me. Soulmates was a term used in my reality but we didn’t know if it was real or not. You all seem so convinced it’s true though. Well, you’re not convinced, you know it’s true.”
Natasha doesn’t reply, happy to just listen to the sound of your voice. You squeeze her hand again “I read about what happens if your soulmate rejects you. You never told me about that.”
“It’s rare.”
“But not impossible. For an alpha to be rejected by their soulmate, whether knowingly or unintentionally. And then the alpha gets sick. Is that correct?”
“I suppose so. I’ve never known it to happen to anybody.”
“Nat…”
“I kept thinking about what you said. About how nobody gets to choose. And I would want my soulmate to choose their partner. I wouldn’t want them to feel like they were stuck with me.”
“It’s not a fair choice if they don’t have all the information to make an informed choice.”
“Y/N-”
Your voice cracks, “Please. Is it me, Nat?”
“Y/N, I… I can’t…”
“Because all those late night talks, the way your fingers would brush against mine, the electricity, the spark… I felt drawn to you almost immediately. Only to find out there were soulmates and you were still waiting for yours. And I just figured, how could it be me? How could it have been decided before you were born that it would be me? I’m not even from this planet, let alone this universe… How could anyone have possibly predicted that?”
“I don’t know,” Natasha says quietly. “Fate is just weird sometimes I guess.”
“Well who am I to argue with fate?”
Natasha’s breath falters completely when you lean down and kiss her. Finally, after all these months, you’re finally kissing her. Just like that feeling when she’d first laid eyes on you, it’s nothing like she could’ve ever imagined. Better than anything she’d ever predicted. Your lips feel so sweet against hers. She wishes she had the energy to reach out and wrap her arms around you.
When you pull away, you lean your forehead against hers “You should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want to burden you.”
“Being with you isn’t a burden Nat. Not to me.”
Natasha can already feel herself getting stronger. Like the fairytale ‘Sleeping Beauty’, your kiss seems to have revived her. Not instantly, she still feels wretched but she has a little bit of strength now – seems you’re the only remedy she needs. “Stay with me?”
“I’m not going anywhere. Not until you’re back on your feet.” You press a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m yours.”
Natasha closes her eyes again, reassured that you’re not going anywhere. If you hadn’t chosen to visit her tonight, it would’ve been too late. Natasha knows that. She knows that she was slipping away, that it was going to be her final night. But you’d chosen tonight. Almost as if it were fate. Now Natasha will live. And with her soulmate by her side, it will be worth it.
Summary: Spider-Girl risks everything to protect reality. She leaps into chaos, fights through a world tearing apart, and faces forces no one else could. But a spell will erase her from everyone’s memory, leaving her to watch the city continue without her, her heroics celebrated by a world that will never know her name. She has lost Wanda, the love of her life, and Aunt May, her last family, and now must rebuild her entire life alone, carrying the weight of love, loss, and sacrifice that no one else will remember.
A/N: Fem!Spider!Reader. Loosely based on Spider-Man: No Way Home.
_____________________________________________
The world ended quietly.
No explosion. No screaming sky. Just a single breath, sharp and cold, full of goodbye.
You stood on the top of the broken statue’s torch, the sky tearing open in a purple haze, figures clawing through the rift toward your reality. Tears threatened to fall as your hand clenched around the only thing that mattered — a ring, warm against your skin, heavy with everything you were about to lose.
“This is the only way,” Strange had said. His voice carried none of the certainty you needed, only exhaustion, resignation, maybe even a trace of pity.
No one argued. Not you. Not Wong. No one had a better plan.
One spell. One perfect erasure.
Spider-Girl would remain. The world would still know her — the hero, the Avenger, the mask, the myth.
But you, the girl beneath, would vanish. Every face that had ever turned toward you in recognition would slide past like you were a stranger. Every hand that had held yours would fall away.
Even hers. Especially hers.
There wasn’t another way. And in the end, you had agreed. Because if you didn’t, more people would die. If you didn’t, the city would burn. If you didn’t, Aunt May’s death would mean nothing.
So you stood there, letting the world forget you.
Strange met your eyes one last time. For a heartbeat, the Sorcerer Supreme wasn’t a master of the mystic arts, just a man who looked guilty, who wished there’d been another way.
“It was nice knowing you, kid,” he said quietly.
You didn’t have long before the spell would take effect. You leapt off the torch, refusing to stay and watch as Strange carved symbols into the sky to erase all of your traces. Not even glancing back to see the other versions of yourself fade into their own worlds.
_____________________________________________
You’d kissed Wanda for the last time ten minutes later, in your shared apartment twenty blocks from the statue. You pulled her close, desperate and shaking, memorizing everything, the soft drag of her bottom lip against yours, the faint smell of her shampoo, the quiet gasp she tried to hide.
She cupped your face with both hands, confusion furrowing her brow, fear bleeding through the cracks of the calm she always wore for everyone else.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t tell her the truth.
“Talk to me, baby,” she pleaded, voice breaking in a way you’d only ever heard in nightmares.
All you managed was, “I love you.”
She smiled through her tears, a broken, fragile curve of her mouth, pretending everything could be okay.
And then you had to pull away.
You swallowed hard, tears stinging, and stepped back. “I… I have to go,” you whispered. “Before it happens. I don’t want you to see… what you’ll forget.”
Her brow furrowed. “Wait—”
She studied your face, too scared to ask questions.
She whispered, Come back to me, like a promise she could anchor herself to.
You hadn’t had the heart to tell her you were already slipping away.
_____________________________________________
Now the city blurred at the edges, like wet paint smeared by invisible fingers.
From your perch on the torch, you watched the people below. They ran through the streets, coats clinging to their bodies, voices carrying up in panic, fear, confusion. A few drivers abandoned cars, screaming, headlights cutting through the rain-soaked night.
The sky above had nearly closed its jagged wound, strands of gold and purple energy spilling across the clouds like molten veins. You didn’t need anyone to tell you what was coming. You could feel it in your bones.
You felt it already, like the air itself was pushing you away, like the whole world had turned its head and stopped recognizing you mid-breath.
Your name stayed. Your memories stayed. You stayed.
But everyone else, everyone you’d ever loved, fought beside, bled for, would lose every trace of you.
2087
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