Wanda and Natasha had you stripped and bound to the bed within minutes, wrists and ankles secured by soft leather cuffs that kept your limbs spread wide.
Natasha knelt between your thighs first, her mouth descending without warning. She licked a long stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit hard, two fingers thrusting deep inside you at the same time.
Wanda watched from the side, already wearing her strap, the thick silicone cock glistening with lube as she stroked it.
Natasha added a third finger, curling them against your front wall while her tongue flicked rapidly. Your hips jerked, but the restraints held you down.
She pulled back only to slap your pussy lightly, then dove in again, tongue fucking you while her fingers pumped faster. Wanda leaned over and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so she could shove her strap into your mouth.
"Suck," Wanda ordered. You opened wide and took the cock down your throat, gagging as she thrust shallowly.
Natasha kept licking your pretty pussy, adding pressure with her thumb on your clit until your legs shook. She pulled away just long enough to spank your inner thigh, the sting making you moan around Wanda's strap.
A lit candle appeared in Wanda's hand. She tilted it, letting hot wax drip onto your breasts in slow trails. The heat made you gasp around Wanda's strap and arch, but Natasha's cock kept pounding into you, never letting up.
More wax landed on your stomach, then lower, right above your clit. Natasha leaned down and bit your nipple, sucking hard while she fucked you, making sure to leave space for Wanda. Wanda poured another line of wax across your ribs.
Natasha's hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head swim. She didn't stop thrusting, her strap driving into you with wet sounds.
Wanda climbed onto the bed and straddled your face, lowering her strap into your mouth again. You sucked greedily while Natasha held you by your throat and fucked you harder.
Wanda pulled out of your mouth and moved to your side. She spanked your ass hard, the slap echoing. Natasha released your throat only to grab your hair instead, pulling your head up so you could watch her cock slide in and out of your sopping cunt. Wanda poured more hot wax over your spread thighs, the sensation mixing with the relentless pounding.
They switched. Wanda took over fucking you with her strap while Natasha moved to your head. You sucked Natasha's strap clean, tasting yourself on it.
Wanda fucked you faster, her hips slapping against you. She reached down and rubbed your clit in tight circles. Natasha pulled your hair again, allowing you to take more of her strap down your throat.
Wanda's pace grew erratic. She slammed deep and came, the strap pulsing as it pumped thick cum inside you. The moment the warm flood filled your pussy, your thoughts scattered.
Everything went soft and hazy. The sting from the wax, the spanking, the choking—all of it faded into a pleasant fog. You kept your legs spread, ready for more, brain too mushy to register anything but the need to take whatever they gave you. Like a perfect hole for them to use and take turns with.
Natasha pulled her strap from your mouth and took Wanda's place between your legs. She thrust in without hesitation, fucking Wanda's cum deeper into your waiting pussy. Wanda straddled your chest this time, pouring more wax across your nipples while Natasha fucked you.
The hot drips made you whimper, but your mind stayed blissfully blank. Natasha fucked you hard, gripping your hips to keep you still—not like you would move away anyway.
All of a sudden, all actions ceased and you we rolled onto your side. In the blink of an eye, suddenly Wanda was between your legs the same way Natasha was, pressing the head of her strap against your already filled pussy. With Natasha still inside you, Wanda pushed in too, stretching you wide.
Both straps moved together, filling you completely. You moaned brokenly, but the cum already inside you kept your brain in that mushy state. They fucked you like that for what felt like an everlasting bursts of pleasure.
Natasha came next, burying herself deep and flooding you again. More cum pumped into you, mixing with Wanda's. Your mind went even blanker, thoughts dissolving completely.
The overstimulation never registered. You just lay there, restraints holding you open, back arching, drool teetering on the corner of your lips, eyes hazy and rolling back, hair mussed up and absorbing the smell of your sex, body accepting every thrust, every spank, every drop of wax and cum they gave you.
Wanda took over once more, fucking you through the mess while Natasha held your hair and made you suck her strap again.
They kept you like that for what felt like hours—fingers, mouths, and straps working you over while hot wax cooled on your skin and cum leaked out around their cocks. Each time one of them came inside you, your brain reset, letting you keep taking everything without resistance.
Natasha pulled her strap free with a wet sound, watching thick strands of cum stretch between the head and your stretched pussy. "Look at the mess you made around my cock, pretty girl," she murmured, voice low and approving.
"Such a greedy little hole, swallowing everything we give you." She dragged two fingers through the slick mess and pushed them back inside you, pumping slowly while Wanda leaned in to press kisses along your jaw.
Wanda tilted the candle again, letting another slow trail of hot wax drip across your stomach. "You take it so well," she cooed, her free hand stroking your cheek. "Even when it stings a little bit, yeah? You just open up wider for us. Our perfect girl."
The wax hit sensitive skin and you twitched, but Natasha's fingers kept working inside you, curling against that spot that made your thighs quiver.
Natasha withdrew her fingers and lined her strap up again, thrusting in deep without warning. "Fuck, you're still so tight," she grunted, hips snapping forward. "Even after everything we've pumped into you, huh? Just such a perfect pussy, baby."
Wanda climbed higher, straddling your chest so she could feed her strap into your mouth once more. "Suck it clean, sweetheart," she encouraged, voice soft. "Show us how much you love tasting yourself on us."
You obeyed without thought, lips wrapping around the silicone as Wanda rocked shallowly. Natasha fucked you harder, one hand gripping your hip while the other reached up to pinch your nipple through the cooling wax. "That's it, take it," Natasha praised, voice rough. "You're doing so good, letting us use you like this."
Wanda pulled her strap from your mouth and shifted down, pressing the head against your already filled entrance. "You alright over there, pretty? Can you keep going?" she asked, pausing to check your face.
You nodded dumbly, eyes glassy, and both women smiled. "Atta girl," Natasha said, voice warm with satisfaction. "Knew you could handle more."
Wanda pushed in alongside Natasha's strap, stretching you wide. They moved together, filling you completely while Wanda poured another line of wax across your ribs.
"So perfect," she whispered, watching your face. "Taking both of us like you were made for it."
Natasha's hand found your throat again, squeezing lightly as she thrust. "Look at you, all fucked out and still begging for more with that empty little head of yours."
They kept the pace steady, alternating between deep thrusts and shallow grinding while their hands roamed—spanking your thighs, tugging your hair, even going as far as pressing the hot glass container of the burning candle to your skin.
Natasha came first this time, burying deep and flooding you again. The warm rush made your thoughts scatter completely. "That's our girl," she groaned, hips jerking as the strap pulsed. "Taking every drop like the perfect cumdump you are."
Wanda followed soon after, adding to the mess inside you. "So full," she praised, voice thick. "You're dripping everywhere, baby. Such a messy little thing, but you love it, don't you?"
They pulled out slowly, watching cum leak from your used pussy onto the sheets. Natasha leaned down to kiss your forehead, then your lips. "Still with us, hm?" she checked softly. You nodded again, mind too blank to form words.
Wanda stroked your hair while Natasha ran gentle fingers over the wax trails on your chest. "Beautiful," Wanda murmured. "Covered in our marks, leaking our cum. Couldn't ask for anything better."
They left you bound and full, occasionally reaching down to push stray cum back inside you with their fingers, cooing praise the whole time. "Such a good toy," Natasha whispered against your ear. "Letting us play with you for hours. We're so proud of you, pretty."
Your mind stayed hazy and empty, accepting every touch, every word, every slow thrust they gave you. They took turns fucking you in lazy strokes, filling you whenever they wanted, praising you for staying open and willing.
"That's it," Wanda encouraged each time you took another load. "Just like that. Perfect."
Idiots in love, jealousy, denial, oral sex, reader on top of Natasha, spit in the mouth, spanking, bathroom sex, teasing, in front of the mirror, in the shower.
English is not my first language.
If jealousy could kill, Natasha would be six feet under. It all started with a discomfort in Natasha's chest. Every time she felt it, she would leave the place and go to her room to take a hot bath or go to the gym.
Charli was a SHIELD agent who was rising too fast for Natasha's liking. The worst part was that she couldn't even demand anything because the two of them were just friends. And that term haunted her in a terrifying way. Friends, only friends. A lie!
That morning, almost everyone was gathered for breakfast, as some were about to begin training and others were going about their routine tasks. When Natasha entered the kitchen, her green eyes focused on something that almost made her turn around and leave.
You were already there, but next to you was Charli, who had her best smile reserved only for you. And you were smiling back as you enthusiastically and energetically told her something.
Charli was the same age as you, 27, intelligent and resilient. She was exceeding all the agents' expectations, which is why she was transferred to spend two months at the complex training with the best.
You didn't even notice the redhead's arrival, and that bothered her quite a bit. She tried to ignore it, but the last straw for her was when her coffee ran out and she had to watch Charli pour you more coffee and offer you another sandwich, which you accepted with a smile.
She felt a tightness in her chest and refused to look for the reason. Ironically, Charli was supposed to be training with her that day. Unfortunately for Charli, or perhaps for her sanity.
You noticed Natasha in the kitchen and smiled at her, a radiant smile that made your dimples quite visible. "Good morning, Nat," you said, turning your body towards the spy's. She only murmured a greeting and returned the smile, a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Your smile faded slowly, and you stood up, making the excuse that you were late for your morning appointments, and said goodbye to Charli with a hug and the promise of lunch at the Italian restaurant you're obsessed with.
Natasha didn't hold back, not even close. She didn't even wait for Charli to recover before making her move. The girl was visibly nervous and awkward for the first time in her entire training. She sensed something was wrong, but didn't know what it was. To her, Natasha was just having a difficult day, or perhaps she was testing her limits to see if she would give up on training at the complex.
"One minute, I beg you," Charli stretched her arms toward Natasha as she tried to regulate her panting breath. She hated this training with the Black Widow. She knew she was training with the best in the world, and the best in the world wasn't making it easy for her.
"Your enemies won't wait a minute for you to recover, agent," the redhead's voice was harsh. Natasha stepped away from Charli and walked toward her water bottle.
"Sorry, I just wasn't prepared," Charli defended herself, already getting up from the floor and walking towards the bench. "Your opponent isn't going to wait for you to be ready, especially if you're trying to take something that belongs to him." The atmosphere grew tense; even Steve, who was punching a heavy bag, stopped and stared at Natasha with a raised eyebrow.
"But let's not dwell on that, darling," Natasha smiled at Charli and approached her. The girl blinked once, and her heart raced; it wasn't the kind of heartbeat you get when your love is approaching. She felt like Natasha was a lioness and she was prey about to be torn apart right there, in front of Captain America. "Especially since you have lunch waiting for you, and it's almost time," the redhead stopped a few steps from the agent and stretched out her arm, which grazed Charli. Natasha grabbed her gym bag and left with the energy of someone who had left a very clear warning. Stay away.
When the doors closed, Charli released the breath she didn't even know she was holding. "She's intense," she said, looking at Steve, who was still watching everything, already having an idea of what was happening. "She's Natasha," he replied, and went back to his exercise on the punching bag.
Lunch between you and the agent went smoothly. The funny thing was that neither of you saw the relationship as having romantic intentions. It was just a very close friendship, perhaps even too close for other people to see.
The week went by, and every time you tried to talk to Natasha, she was vague, as if she wasn't in the mood to interact, and you respected that and withdrew. Because of this, the pajama nights, trips to the movies, and dinners started to involve a new person. Instead of Natasha, it was Charli who accompanied you on all of these occasions.
Natasha was already busy trying to get rid of the feeling. Passion? Jealousy? Concern? It wasn't any of that, well, that's what she told herself. She lied in front of the mirror, she lied in her thoughts when she passed by with her arms intertwined with the new girl. Until one night of wine and games that Tony organized. It was a Friday when everyone was gathered.
You were wearing simple, comfortable clothes. Natasha was playing with the wine in her hand while Steve and Clint were playing a spy game. Even distracted, she won. She looked at you and you were laughing while playing Uno with Charli, Kate, and Yelena. The redhead rolled her eyes and looked at Yelena, who was already staring at her sister with a raised eyebrow. She just shook her head and went back to focusing on her next round of the game.
At the end of the night, Charli said goodbye with a hug and a kiss on the forehead. She said she needed to wake up early the next day but that the night had been pleasant. You smiled and wished her goodnight, and as soon as she left, Clint called you over to sit with them. You stood up with a smile and sat right in front of the redhead, next to Steve.
Natasha looked at you with an amused expression, a feigned amusement. "Has your girlfriend already gone to sleep?" When she said that, the atmosphere at the table changed. "Who? Charli? She's just a friend," you said, frowning and feeling a strange sensation.
Clint and Steve exchanged glances and got up from the table, muttering apologies that they were going to find someone.
"I thought you two were practically living together by now, with all the time you spend dating," she said, giving you an intense look. "Natasha, I don't understand you," you said, taking a deep breath. "First you act weird around me for days, and now you're asking stupid questions." She gave a fake smile, and you continued, "You're a spy. You should know I have nothing to do with her besides a new friendship." With that, you got up from the table and left the room.
Natasha realized her mistake immediately and went after you. Her steps were quick, and when you realized you were being followed, you started walking faster. Until she got into the elevator with you. Something you hated.
"Stop following me"
"We need to talk properly," she said, still keeping her distance from you, even though she knew you were angry with her.
"Talking about how fucking weird you are?", you replied, rolling your eyes and wanting to cry, but you held back the tears as much as possible. "I'm sorry, I thought that..."
"You were wrong, Natasha," her heart was racing. "You're a spy, you're a queen of body language, and you didn't realize what I never really hid?" you approached her with faltering steps. "Natasha, it's always been you, damn it, I hate myself so much for loving you."
That was a slap in the face for the redhead. You confessed your feelings. But you were only her friend.
The elevator arrived at your floor and you walked out, your legs trembling and your heart pounding. But Natasha didn't even let you touch the doorknob. She grabbed your arm and pulled you into a kiss.
Their lips met in a way that felt like fireworks were being launched into your soul. You didn't pull away, you didn't stop her, you opened up, giving her tongue space to explore your mouth.
She slowly stepped back and looked into your eyes; you blinked slowly and smiled.
Everything happened so fast. The wine was in her system, and it was taking effect. You invited her in, and when you closed the door, she pinned you against it, her breathing already heavy. Her pussy was already getting wet.
She looked at you with such intensity. A hunger of someone who couldn't wait any longer. "Damn," Natasha sniffed your neck before giving it a light bite. "I've waited so long for this, waited so long," "My love, I've always loved you."
"I love you too, Natasha," you said, stealing a kiss from her, and added something that made Natasha completely surrender to you.
"Then eat me up real good"
She threw you onto the bed and in seconds you were both naked. You arched your back, your pussy touching her abdomen. You were both dying of lust and pent-up desire that had been building for years.
Natasha wasn't wasting any time; she needed you, she needed to taste you in her mouth. She needed to know what it felt like to have your pussy on her tongue.
She kissed you passionately before moving down your body, leaving a trail of kisses and light bites wherever she went.
When she reached your pussy, she left a wet kiss right on your clitoris, which made you moan and raise your hips. Natasha looked at you, her eyebrows already furrowed and her gaze affectionate.
"It is good too?"
You simply nodded and let out a very low, seductive moan.
Natasha looked at her pussy and their lips touched as if she'd been starving for years. It was magical, something natural. Her tongue and her pussy. It was as if they were destined for this, the sensation was inexplicable. And you came in less three minutes, unable to hold back.
Natasha waited for her spasms to subside before the next step. She lay down on the bed and sat you on her stomach. You'd always had a crush on her; she'd always caught you staring at her abs during some workouts, but she was so oblivious.
You stared at her and she gave a sly smile. She placed one hand on your waist and the other on your butt, and you started rubbing against her, desperately, eye to eye. You placed both hands on her shoulders. Your breasts were bouncing, her breasts were swaying. You were so close and it was embarrassing to yourself to orgasm for the second time in such a short time. And she wasn't being gentle this time; the hand that was on your butt was slapping hard, leaving the marks of the black widow's fingers on you.
"Come for me," she moaned in a hoarse, needy voice, and you came on her abdomen. But you didn't even have time to recover this time because Natasha had already turned you over. Your back hit the mattress.
It was nonstop sex and you were loving it. Her pussy was wet and throbbing, and when she touched your pussies, it felt like stepping into the ocean.
Natasha arched her back; you were underneath, still sensitive, but the wine was making you a desperate slut. So you started rubbing against her, and she responded slowly, fitting perfectly after a few seconds.
Their bodies were in a dance. She was in control; you gave her control.
Full of lust and need, she brought her left hand to her cheeks, Natasha opened her mouth and you stuck your tongue out. She spat into your mouth and you swallowed with a moan. Sweaty, wet and desperate. With one more thrust she came inside your pussy, with a hoarse and delicious moan that you would die to hear again.
Her face was already flushed from the heat in the room. She gently guided you to the bathroom. Strands of red hair were stuck to her forehead with sweat, and some of yours were also pressed against your cheek.
The bathroom was white, with modern architecture of the highest possible quality. A huge mirror was attached to the wall, connected to the vanity unit.
She positioned you facing the mirror. Your breathing was still a little heavy from the previous orgasms. Natasha had a smile on her face, and you had an expression of someone who had been destroyed but was still ready for more.
Their naked bodies touched. You had the natural reaction of sticking your butt out, finding her still-wet vagina even more exposed.
Her breathing was heavy, right on your neck. She didn't suckle right away; she ran her nose all over your neck, as if following your veins. Your body was in a kind of shiver you'd never felt before.
Lust, desire, anticipation, passion, and surrender. That's what was happening between the two of you.
She placed a kiss on your right shoulder, and you tilted your head slightly to the side. After the kiss, she cupped your left breast with one hand, while the other rested on your waist. With that, she licked the same spot where her nose had touched seconds before.
"Natasha...", you couldn't take it anymore. This was worse than before. And she didn't even respond to your desperate, longing moan.
She moved away from you and leaned forward slightly. Natasha looked at your perfectly pert bottom facing her. She smiled when she saw the marks of her finger.
You looked her straight in the eyes through the mirror. And your gaze shifted the moment she looked at you. With that, she grabbed your hair at the nape of your neck and twisted it into an improvised hairstyle. Natasha brought her face closer to the mirror, and you stared at yourself.
"Look at yourself, princess," you nodded slightly. "You look beautiful like that," your face was covered in sweat, traces of Natasha's saliva mixed with the wetness of your vagina. You were a mess.
Her pussy was still wet, her body still arched, and so she took two fingers and penetrated her pussy at an angle that made it impossible not to let out a loud moan. But she just kept thrusting and didn't move an inch.
Her mouth was in a perfect O and her eyes were closed. Natasha knew exactly what she was doing, so without waiting another second she started fucking you hard in a way that you didn't care about the incoherent moans coming from your mouth. Desperate moans.
Her hand gripped the sink tightly, her backside was sticking out nicely, and there wasn't a shred of shame in that bathroom.
And she ate you up deliciously with a smile on her face.
Just as you were about to climax, she stopped, and you let out a frustrated groan and looked at her with a frustrated expression, but she grabbed your waist and led you to the shower. She turned it on, and as the water began to fall, Natasha kissed you hungrily. You reciprocated and began rubbing your wet, aching pussy against her.
Natasha pushed you against the wall in a position where your back was split between the shower stall and the wall. She lifted your leg, which was resting against the other wall, and bit your right breast hard. Without wasting another second, she again inserted two fingers into your vagina at an angle that made your eyes roll back. She was fucking you hard, while holding you to prevent you from falling.
You had your arms wrapped around her neck, your head thrown back, exposing her neck. She didn't know where to look—whether to look at your neck, which was beckoning to her, at your bouncing breasts, or at your swollen pussy engulfing her fingers. You looked incredibly sexy in that position, and with a cry, you came for the last time.
Summary: Wanda and Y/N start to search for Nat and the others.
Words: 8,484
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, mention of smut, Soulmate AU
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
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A Week Later
Y/N’s POV
Budapest was busy—too busy.
Crowded streets, overlapping scents, too many voices blending into one another. It made tracking harder—not impossible, just less precise. Everything needed more time, more focus. And for once, they weren’t rushing.
Y/N sat at a small café table near the edge of the street, back to the wall out of habit, but her posture wasn’t as rigid as before. One arm rested loosely along the back of her chair, the other around a glass she hadn’t really touched. Across from her, Wanda stirred her drink slowly, the spoon clinking softly against the cup. They’d been there a while—long enough for the noise of the city to fade into something almost normal.
“It’s strange,” Wanda murmured, watching people pass by. “How everything just keeps going.”
Y/N followed her gaze—couples walking, someone laughing too loud, a kid chasing pigeons across the square. “…Yeah,” she said quietly.
A pause settled between them, but not heavy this time—just quiet. Wanda took a small sip of her drink, then glanced up at Y/N. “Anything?” she asked.
Y/N shook her head, but there was no tension in it. “Not really. Too many people. Too much overlap.” She leaned back slightly. “If Nat’s been here, it wasn’t recent.”
Wanda nodded, accepting it easier than before. They’d had a week to adjust to that answer. Her fingers tapped lightly against the side of her cup. “We’ve been here longer than we planned,” she said.
“Yeah.”
Neither of them sounded urgent about it. Y/N glanced toward the street again, more out of habit than necessity, then looked back at Wanda. “We should probably move soon,” she added. “Just to be safe.”
Wanda hummed softly but didn’t argue. “Tonight?” she asked.
“Tonight’s good.”
Another pause, then Wanda’s lips curved faintly. “…At least the coffee’s better here.”
Y/N huffed softly, a small smile pulling at her mouth. “Yeah. That’s true.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something. For a moment, they just sat there—no immediate danger, no running, no gunfire. Just two people in a café, blending into the world like they were supposed to. Y/N watched Wanda for a second longer than necessary—relaxed, a little tired, but here, with her.
“…We’ll find them,” Y/N said quietly.
Wanda looked up, meeting her eyes. This time, she didn’t hesitate. “I know.”
Her shoulders eased slightly as she said it. And for now, that was enough.
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Wanda’s POV
They left the café without rushing. The sky had already begun to dim, the last of the daylight slipping behind the buildings as the city shifted into evening, streetlights flickering on one by one and casting warm pools of light along the sidewalks. Budapest felt different at night—quieter in some places, louder in others. They walked side by side, blending into the steady flow of people heading home, out to dinner, or nowhere in particular.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. Y/N’s attention moved between the street, the people, the sounds—but not as sharp as before, not on edge, just aware. Then a small movement beside her—Wanda’s shoulders pulling in slightly, a faint shiver—and Y/N noticed immediately. She glanced at her. “You cold?”
Wanda shook her head automatically. “I’m fine.”
Y/N didn’t argue, just reached up and started shrugging off her jacket. Wanda caught the movement and frowned. “No.”
Y/N paused. “You’re shivering.”
“And you’re not wearing anything under that except a shirt,” Wanda pointed out. “If you start walking around without your jacket, people are going to notice.”
Y/N blinked once, considered it… fair. She nodded slowly. “Okay.” But she didn’t look convinced.
They walked a few more steps before Y/N slowed slightly and held out her hand. Wanda glanced down at it, confused for a second. “…What?”
Y/N tilted her head just a little. “Here.”
Wanda looked at her hand, then at her, then back again. A small smile tugged at her lips before she reached out and took it. Y/N’s fingers closed around hers immediately—warm, firm, grounding—and then she shifted their hands together, slipping them both into the pocket of her jacket.
Wanda stilled.
Because now their fingers weren’t just touching—they were intertwined, fully pressed together inside the warmth of the pocket, hidden from view, insulated from the cold. Y/N didn’t react, didn’t seem to realize what she’d just done. She just kept walking like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“…Better?” she asked, glancing down briefly.
Wanda’s face had gone warm—very warm. “…Yeah,” she said softly.
Y/N nodded once, satisfied, and that was it. No hesitation, no second thought, just continued forward. Wanda, meanwhile, was very aware of everything—the way their fingers fit together, the warmth, the steady, absent-minded way Y/N’s thumb shifted slightly against her hand. Her heart picked up just a little, and she turned her gaze forward quickly, hoping the dim streetlights hid the color rising in her cheeks.
They kept walking, hands still tucked safely inside Y/N’s jacket pocket, moving in quiet sync through the evening crowd. The air had grown cooler, but the city felt warmer somehow—lights strung between buildings, voices rising and falling, the distant sound of music drifting through the streets.
At some point, the street opened up—and with it, a night market. Rows of stalls lined both sides, glowing under hanging bulbs. The smell hit first—grilled meat, spices, something sweet frying in oil. Voices overlapped in different languages, vendors calling out, laughter spilling into the open air. Y/N slowed slightly, and then—her stomach growled. Loud.
Wanda blinked, then laughed—not a quiet laugh, but a bright one that slipped out before she could stop it, cutting clean through the lingering tension from earlier. Y/N stiffened beside her. “…Don’t,” she muttered, a faint flush already creeping up her neck.
Wanda turned to her, still smiling. “Didn’t you just eat three slices of cake?”
Y/N looked away immediately. “That was… earlier.”
“That was twenty minutes ago,” Wanda said, amused.
Y/N’s blush deepened. “I burn energy faster,” she defended, a little quieter now.
Wanda’s smile softened instantly—adorable. Without really thinking about it, she lifted her free hand and reached up, fingers brushing gently through Y/N’s hair, soft and lingering for just a second longer than necessary. Y/N froze completely. Wanda noticed—and didn’t pull away right away.
“…Come on,” she said softly instead, giving her hair one last light stroke before lowering her hand. Then she tugged her forward, still holding her other hand in the pocket. “Let’s get food.”
Y/N blinked, still slightly stunned, but followed without resistance as Wanda led her toward the stalls. “Anything specific?” Wanda asked, glancing back at her.
Y/N shook her head. “Anything.”
A small huff of amusement. “Figures.”
They stepped into the market together, lights brighter here, warmth wrapping around them from every direction. The first stall they stopped at was already crowded—skewers sizzling over open flame, fat dripping and hissing as it hit the coals. The smell alone was enough to make Y/N’s stomach growl again. Wanda raised an eyebrow. Y/N pretended not to notice.
“Two,” Wanda said to the vendor, pointing.
Y/N leaned slightly closer, eyes tracking the movement of the grill. “Four.”
Wanda glanced at her. Y/N didn’t look away. “…Four.”
Wanda smiled faintly. “Four.”
They stepped aside to wait, the heat from the grill fading quickly once they moved out of the stall’s glow, the cold creeping back in almost immediately. Wanda’s shoulders tensed—just slightly. Y/N noticed. Of course she did. Without saying anything, she shifted closer, then closer still, until there was no space left between them. One arm came around Wanda’s shoulders, pulling her in against her chest—natural, easy, like it wasn’t even a question.
Wanda blinked, caught off guard for half a second as warmth wrapped around her again, stronger this time. “Y/N—”
“You’re cold,” Y/N said simply.
Wanda hesitated, then relaxed into it. “…A little.”
Y/N hummed softly, her grip adjusting just enough to be more comfortable, her chin almost brushing the top of Wanda’s head. They stayed like that while they waited—close, warm, the noise of the market fading just a little around them.
When the food was ready, Wanda stepped forward to grab it, but Y/N didn’t let go completely. Her arm lingered loosely around Wanda’s shoulders as they moved aside again. The first bite barely lasted a second. Y/N ate fast—not messy, but efficient, like she was fueling more than just hunger.
Wanda laughed under her breath as she took a slower bite of her own. “You’re not even tasting it.”
“I am.”
“You inhaled that.”
“I tasted it fast.”
Wanda shook her head, smiling.
They didn’t stop there. Next stall—something fried, crisp and golden, dusted with sugar. Y/N took a bite and paused for half a second. “…This is good.”
Wanda grinned. “High praise.”
Then something savory wrapped in thin bread, then dumplings, then something sweet again that Wanda insisted on trying—only for Y/N to end up finishing most of it anyway.
“Hey—that was mine,” Wanda protested lightly as Y/N took the last piece.
“You weren’t eating it.”
“I was going to.”
“You hesitated.”
Wanda stared at her. “…You’re unbelievable.”
Y/N shrugged, completely unbothered. “You can get another one.”
Wanda huffed—but she was smiling again.
At some point, their hands slipped back together naturally, no hesitation this time, fingers finding each other like it had already become habit. They walked slower now, weaving through the stalls, sharing bites here and there—well, Wanda sharing, Y/N mostly eating. But it didn’t feel one-sided. It felt easy, comfortable, normal.
Y/N slowed near another stall, watching as something was prepared, her attention fully caught again. Wanda glanced up at her—at the way her eyes tracked everything, at the faint flush still lingering from earlier, at how relaxed she looked now.
“…You’re happy,” Wanda said quietly.
Y/N blinked, like she hadn’t realized it. “…Yeah,” she admitted after a second.
Wanda smiled.
They stood there together, waiting for yet another order, Y/N’s arm slipping back—this time around her waist without thought. It was different, closer, and Wanda felt it immediately. Her breath hitched just slightly as Y/N’s hand settled at her side, thumb resting against the fabric of her jacket, steady and warm. There was no hesitation in the touch, no question—just instinct.
Wanda didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned into it, subtle but enough that the space between them disappeared completely.
The vendor called out something in Hungarian, and Y/N’s attention shifted forward again, focused on the food. Wanda watched her instead—the way her jaw moved slightly as she waited, the way her eyes tracked every motion behind the stall, the way her hand stayed right where it was on Wanda’s waist.
Like it belonged there.
Wanda swallowed softly. She didn’t say anything, didn’t point it out. Instead, she watched her.
Y/N’s attention had already drifted back to the stalls, eyes moving from one display to another, tracking everything with quiet focus. Every now and then, her gaze would linger just a second longer on something specific. And then—a small, unconscious movement. She licked her lips.
Wanda’s breath caught.
It was subtle, barely noticeable, but once she saw it, she couldn’t *unsee* it. Y/N did it again a moment later, eyes fixed on another stall further down, clearly already planning what she wanted next.
Wanda felt warmth creep up her neck. God.
She forced her gaze away—then back again without meaning to.
The vendor called out, pulling Y/N’s attention forward. Her hand slipped away from Wanda’s waist as she stepped up to grab the food. And just like that, the warmth disappeared.
Wanda felt it immediately—the absence, her body registering it before her mind could catch up. For a split second, she missed it. Actually missed it. The realization made her blink, a flicker of something like disappointment settling in her chest.
But before it could linger, Y/N turned back, already splitting the food in half. “Here,” she said, handing a portion to Wanda without hesitation, like it was automatic—like sharing with her was just part of the process.
Wanda smiled instantly—soft, real. The feeling from before easing just a little as she took it, their fingers brushing briefly. “Thank you,” she said.
Y/N nodded once, already taking a bite of her own, attention shifting back to the taste, to the moment, to everything around them.
Wanda watched her for a second longer, then took a bite herself—and stayed close.
She smiled even more when, the second Y/N finished her portion, she stepped right back in—closing the space again without hesitation. Her arm slipped around Wanda’s waist like it had never left, warm and steady, pulling her gently back against her front as if it was the most natural place to be while she waited.
And then she just… watched.
Not subtly, not even a little. Her eyes tracked every movement of Wanda’s hand as she ate, attention locked onto the food like she was already calculating her next bite. Wanda tried to keep a straight face—she really did—but the longer it went on, the harder it became.
“You’re staring,” she said, amused.
Y/N didn’t even deny it. “You’re eating slow.”
Wanda huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe because someone already ate everything else.”
Wanda took another bite, but her attention drifted for a moment—because they were close, very close. Y/N’s body pressed lightly against her back, her arm firm around her waist, holding her in place without force. Anyone passing by would’ve seen it instantly—a couple. The thought slipped in without warning.
Wanda didn’t pull away, didn’t even realize how much she’d leaned into her until her shoulder brushed Y/N’s chest again. She laughed softly under her breath and lifted the food slightly. “Do you want some?”
Y/N shook her head. “It’s yours.”
“It’s fine,” Wanda said easily. “I’m not that hungry. And you’re going to keep eating anyway.”
A small pause, then Y/N nodded. “Okay.”
Wanda held the piece up—and Y/N didn’t take it. Didn’t reach for it. Instead, she leaned down, close—too close—and took a bite directly from Wanda’s hand.
Wanda froze.
Her breath caught as she felt it—the warmth, the proximity, the way Y/N’s focus didn’t waver even for a second as she pulled back, chewing like nothing had happened, like that was normal. Wanda’s heart kicked hard against her ribs, heat rushing up her neck and across her cheeks.
“…Y/N,” she murmured, a little breathless.
Y/N glanced at her. “What?”
Wanda blinked. She had no idea what she was going to say. “…Nothing.”
Y/N nodded, accepting it immediately, already leaning in again slightly as if considering another bite. Wanda swallowed, her hand still raised, still holding the food, and suddenly she was very aware of it—of everything. The closeness, the way Y/N’s arm was still around her waist, the way her body hadn’t moved away.
Her heart didn’t slow down.
But she didn’t stop her either.
Instead, she lifted the food again just a little—and let Y/N take another bite.
Wanda held the food there for a second longer than necessary, watching Y/N take another bite like it was the most normal thing in the world—and maybe for her, it was. Y/N chewed, swallowed, then leaned back just enough to give Wanda space again, but her arm never left Wanda’s waist. Still there. Still warm. Still grounding.
Wanda lowered her hand slowly, her fingers feeling a little unsteady.
What is wrong with me?
Her heart was still racing—too fast, too loud for something this simple. She forced herself to take another bite, but she barely tasted it this time, her thoughts already turning inward, spiraling in a way she didn’t like. Why was she reacting like this? It was just Y/N—the same Y/N who had been beside her for weeks, who had carried her through forests, kept her warm, made sure she ate, stayed close without ever asking for anything in return.
So why did her chest feel tight? Why did her stomach flip every time Y/N got closer? Why did something as simple as being held—being looked at like that—make her feel like she couldn’t breathe properly?
Wanda swallowed, her grip on the food tightening slightly.
Then the thought came, quiet but impossible to ignore.
Am I catching feelings?
Her breath hitched.
No. That didn’t make sense. It couldn’t. She had just gotten out of a relationship. Everything was messy. They were on the run. Of course things would feel intense. Of course she’d cling to the one person she had right now.
That had to be it.
Right?
Her eyes flicked sideways. Y/N was still there—close, steady, watching her again with that same quiet attentiveness. Not intrusive, not demanding—just present.
Wanda’s heart skipped again.
She looked away quickly, heat rising to her face.
Why did she like this so much?
That was the worst part—not the confusion, not the racing thoughts. It was the fact that she didn’t want Y/N to move, didn’t want her arm to leave, didn’t want that warmth to disappear again.
Wanda exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, but her body betrayed her—leaning just a fraction more into Y/N without thinking, seeking it.
God.
Her lips pressed together as she stared down at what was left of the food in her hand.
This wasn’t good. This was complicated.
And yet—
She didn’t pull away, didn’t step out of Y/N’s hold, didn’t stop herself from offering another bite a moment later.
Because whatever this was—confusing, unwanted, too much—
It also felt right.
---
Y/N’s POV
The rest of the night blurred into movement and light. They drifted from one stall to another, the rhythm easy now—stop, look, eat, move again. Some places had sizzling grills, others rows of sweets stacked in neat displays, and further down, small tents selling handmade things—bracelets, scarves, little trinkets that caught Wanda’s attention more than the food sometimes.
Y/N followed wherever Wanda went. She didn’t even question it. If Wanda slowed, she slowed. If Wanda stopped, she stopped. If Wanda lingered at something, Y/N stayed beside her, one arm still loosely around her waist more often than not. It felt right. Simple.
Wanda laughed more tonight—that was the first thing Y/N noticed. Not the food, though it was good. Not the lights, not the noise, not even the fact that they were standing in the open without immediately scanning every shadow. It was Wanda. The way her shoulders weren’t as tense, the way her eyes lit up when she saw something new, the way her voice softened when she pointed things out—small details most people would’ve ignored.
Y/N liked that. A lot.
She didn’t say it, but she stayed close.
At one of the stalls, Wanda paused in front of a display of small handmade charms, picking one up to examine it. Y/N watched her instead of the items, her gaze softer than usual. “You like it?” she asked.
Wanda glanced back at her, then down at the charm again. “It’s cute.”
“Get it.”
Wanda shook her head lightly. “We don’t need extra things.”
Y/N didn’t argue, but a few seconds later she stepped forward anyway, quietly paying for it while Wanda was distracted by something else on the table.
They kept walking after that, stopping for more food because Y/N kept finding things she “hadn’t tried yet.” Wanda teased her about it but didn’t stop her. If anything, she encouraged it, occasionally stealing small bites just to prove she could.
At some point, Wanda leaned into her again without thinking. Y/N noticed—of course she did—and her arm tightened slightly around Wanda’s waist in response.
They didn’t talk about it.
Didn’t need to. The night stretched on like that—easy, warm, almost normal.
On the way back to the Airbnb, the noise of the market slowly faded behind them, replaced by quieter streets and softer light. The air had grown colder again, but neither of them seemed to mind. Their hands found each other somewhere along the way—no hesitation, no second guessing, just fingers slipping together naturally like it had already become something familiar.
They talked lightly this time, nothing about Hydra or plans—just small things. The food. Wanda teasing Y/N for how much she ate. Y/N defending herself with quiet seriousness.
“I still think you could’ve eaten more,” Y/N said.
Wanda laughed softly. “I had plenty.”
“You had half of what I had.”
“That’s because you ate like five people.”
“Four,” Y/N corrected.
Wanda shook her head, smiling, their hands tightening slightly around each other as they walked. Neither of them acknowledged it—but neither let go either.
By the time they reached the Airbnb, the city had quieted. The hallway was dim, and the silence settled around them as soon as the door closed. Inside, it was warm and still.
Wanda slipped off her shoes, stretching slightly as she stepped further in. Y/N lingered by the door for a moment, watching her, then reached into her pocket.
“Wanda.”
She turned. “Yeah?”
Y/N walked toward her, something small in her hand. “I got you something.”
Wanda blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to—”
Y/N opened her hand.
A necklace. Simple. Dark chain. And at the center—a small black wolf pendant.
Wanda stilled. She recognized it instantly—the stall, the moment she had paused, the way she had picked it up just for a second because it reminded her of Y/N.
Her eyes lifted slowly. “…You saw that?”
Y/N shrugged lightly. “You looked at it.”
Wanda’s chest tightened. She stepped closer, fingers brushing over the pendant, tracing its shape. It did look like her—strong, quiet, a little dangerous, and somehow comforting.
“It’s… really beautiful,” Wanda said softly.
Y/N’s gaze softened just a fraction. “Yeah. I thought so too.”
A small silence settled between them before Wanda looked back up, something gentler in her expression. “…Will you help me put it on?”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah.”
Wanda turned, lifting her hair slightly. Y/N stepped closer, her fingers careful as she fastened the clasp behind Wanda’s neck, lingering there for just a second longer than necessary.
Wanda felt it. Her breath slowed.
Y/N’s hands dropped. “…Done.”
Wanda turned back, fingers immediately finding the pendant again. She smiled—soft, real. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
Y/N nodded, but didn’t step back. Didn’t create distance.
They just stood there, close.
And the necklace rested right over Wanda’s heart.
Wanda turned slightly, her fingers still resting on the pendant.
Y/N’s hand lifted without thinking, brushing gently against it where it lay against Wanda’s chest. Her fingertips traced the small black wolf, adjusting it so it sat properly, centered. Wanda’s breath caught. She looked up.
Too close.
Y/N was right there—closer than before, her hand still lightly holding the pendant, her gaze dropping for just a second before lifting to meet Wanda’s.
And then they froze.
No movement. No sound. Just the quiet hum of the room and the space between them suddenly feeling too small. Wanda could feel it again—that pull, that tight warmth in her chest, the way her heart started racing for no reason she could explain.
Y/N didn’t move either. Their eyes locked.
And for a second, neither of them looked away.
Wanda’s breath slowed, then faltered.
This is—too much. Too close. Too—
She snapped out of it, abruptly turning away so fast it almost felt like she broke something fragile between them.
“I—I’m going to shower,” she said quickly, her voice just slightly off. “And… get ready for bed.”
She didn’t wait for a response, didn’t look back—just moved, fast, grabbing her things and heading straight for the bathroom. The door shut with a soft click.
Silence filled the room again.
Y/N stood there for a second longer, her hand still half-raised where the pendant had been. Her fingers curled slowly—confused. Then she lowered her hand, her gaze lingering on the closed bathroom door.
“…Okay,” she murmured quietly.
Y/N stayed where she was for a moment, eyes still on the closed bathroom door. Then slowly, a small smile formed.
Wanda was wearing it.
The way the pendant had looked against her skin, the way Wanda had touched it like it meant something. Like she meant something.
Y/N exhaled softly, then turned and walked over to the bed before dropping onto it—not properly, just flopping across it sideways, one arm hanging off the edge, legs still half bent. Relaxed, for once. She stared up at the ceiling, the faint hum of the room settling around her.
And she smiled. A real one, unfiltered.
Because Wanda had liked it. Because Wanda had stayed close. Because Wanda hadn’t pulled away. Her chest felt warm, full, and her thoughts drifted—inevitably—back to the same place they always did when it came to Wanda.
My Imprint.
The word settled in her mind, certain, unchangeable.
Wanda was hers.
Not in a possessive way, not something forced or taken—just meant. Like gravity. Like instinct. Like breathing.
Y/N lifted her hand slightly, staring at it like she could still feel the warmth of Wanda’s skin from earlier, the way her fingers had fit between hers so easily, the way she had leaned into her, the way she hadn’t moved away.
Her smile softened.
Maybe… maybe she could tell her.
The thought came carefully this time—not rushed, not overwhelming. Just there.
Wanda deserved to know. She deserved to understand why Y/N stayed close, why she noticed everything, why it felt impossible to let her out of her sight for too long—why being near her felt like home.
Y/N exhaled slowly, one arm coming up to rest behind her head. “…Maybe,” she murmured to herself.
Not yet. Not like this.
But soon.
She turned her head slightly, eyes flicking toward the bathroom door again—waiting, patient, and still smiling.
---
Wanda’s POV
The shower didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse.
Wanda stood under the water longer than she needed to, letting it run over her shoulders, her face, trying to quiet the storm in her chest—but her thoughts kept circling back. To the pendant. To Y/N’s hand. To how close they had been. To how, for a split second, she had almost leaned in—almost closed the distance.
Almost—
Wanda exhaled sharply, pressing her palm briefly against the cool tile. “…God.”
She couldn’t pretend anymore. This wasn’t just stress, not just proximity, not just survival instincts clinging to the only person she had. This was feelings—real ones. And that realization sat heavy in her chest as she turned off the water, dried off quickly, and got dressed.
By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, her hair still slightly damp, her expression softened—but the tension hadn’t completely left. She was going to say something. She had to. At least… something.
“Y/N, it’s your—”
She stopped.
Y/N was already on the bed, half on it, half off, like she had just dropped there and never bothered to move properly. One arm hung loosely off the side, her breathing slow and even.
Asleep. Completely.
Wanda blinked, then let out a quiet, breathy chuckle. “…Of course.”
The tension in her shoulders eased almost instantly. She stepped closer, slower this time, and sat down gently beside Y/N’s head. For a moment, she just watched her—the way her face softened in sleep, the way all that constant alertness finally disappeared, the faint rise and fall of her chest, steady, calm.
Peaceful.
Wanda’s expression softened.
Her hand lifted without thinking, fingers threading gently into Y/N’s hair, brushing through it slowly—familiar, comforting. The same way she used to when Y/N was in her wolf form, when she’d sit beside the bed and Wanda would reach down to run her fingers through soft fur.
Y/N leaned into the touch, even in her sleep.
Wanda’s breath caught. “…What are you doing to me, little wolf?” she whispered.
Y/N shifted slightly, leaning more into her hand, chasing the contact instinctively. Wanda’s heart stuttered, then picked up faster. Her hand stilled for a second, then moved again, slower this time. Her fingers drifted lower, brushing along Y/N’s temple, then her cheek.
Soft. Warm.
Her thumb hovered, then traced lightly over Y/N’s lips.
Wanda froze, her breath hitching.
She should stop. She knew she should stop.
But she didn’t.
Her eyes dropped to Y/N’s mouth, her thumb still resting there, and something in her chest tightened, pulling her forward before she could think it through. Before she could stop herself, she leaned down and pressed a soft, quick kiss to the corner of Y/N’s mouth.
The moment it happened, Wanda jolted back like she’d been burned. Her hand snapped away, her heart slamming violently against her ribs.
“Oh my—”
Her eyes widened, panic flooding in instantly as she stared at Y/N, still asleep, still unmoving.
“I—”
She pressed her hand to her mouth, her breath coming faster.
“What did I just do?”
Wanda’s heart wouldn’t slow down.
It felt like it was trying to break out of her chest, loud and frantic, every beat echoing in her ears. She stared at Y/N—still asleep, still completely unaware—and somehow that made it worse. How was she just… sleeping? After that? After Wanda had just—
Wanda dragged a hand down her face, pacing once in place before stopping again, eyes snapping back to Y/N. “…Are you serious right now?”
Nothing. Y/N didn’t even stir.
The calm of it, the peace of it—it irritated her. Not really at Y/N, but it had nowhere else to go.
“Unbelievable,” Wanda muttered under her breath, heat still burning across her face.
Before she could think better of it, she grabbed a pillow and threw it. It hit Y/N square in the head.
Y/N jolted up instantly—fully alert, eyes sharp, body tensing like she was ready for a fight, gaze snapping around the room in less than a second. “What—?”
Her eyes landed on Wanda.
Confused.
“…What happened?”
Wanda froze for half a second, caught between embarrassment and panic, her face still bright red. “I—nothing,” she said quickly. Too quickly.
Y/N frowned slightly, still trying to assess the situation. “You threw a pillow at me.”
“I didn’t throw it,” Wanda snapped, then immediately regretted how sharp it came out. “I just—”
She cut herself off, turning away abruptly. “Just go shower.”
Y/N blinked. “…Okay?”
There was a pause. Y/N glanced down at herself—still in the same clothes from outside, a little wrinkled, maybe slightly dusty from the bed. Realization clicked in her head.
“…Oh.”
She stood up without arguing. “Sorry,” she said simply. “I didn’t mean to get the bed dirty.”
Wanda pressed her lips together, guilt flickering briefly, but she didn’t turn back.
Y/N didn’t question it further. She just grabbed her things and headed toward the bathroom. The door closed behind her.
And the second it did, Wanda let out a long, frustrated groan, dropping onto the bed and covering her face with both hands.
“…What is wrong with me?”
---
The sound of the shower cutting off was the only warning Wanda had.
She had been staring at the same paragraph for ten minutes, the words blurring into meaningless shapes as her mind replayed that reckless, impulsive kiss over and over. She needed to be normal. She needed to be the cool, composed Wanda Maximoff who hadn't just had a minor heart attack because her “friend” was sleeping.
The bathroom door creaked open.
Wanda looked up, ready to offer a casual, distant nod. Instead, the book nearly slipped from her numb fingers.
Y/N stepped into the room, a cloud of steam following her. She wasn't wearing a shirt—just a tight black sports bra that left very little to the imagination and a pair of loose athletic shorts. She was focused on her hair, vigorously rubbing a towel over her head, her muscles shifting and rippling with every movement.
Wanda froze. Her breath didn't just hitch; it died in her throat.
"Why..." Wanda’s voice came out as a strained squeak. She cleared her throat, trying again. "Why are you shirtless?"
Y/N pulled the towel away, her hair a messy, damp halo around her face. She looked at Wanda with those steady, honest eyes, completely oblivious to the internal meltdown she was causing. "I'm hot," Y/N said simply. "The shower was steaming, and my internal temp is higher anyway. Is it a problem?"
"No," Wanda managed, though her brain was screaming yes.
Despite her best efforts to look literally anywhere else, Wanda’s eyes betrayed her. They traveled. She saw the damp skin of Y/N’s shoulders, the way the sports bra hugged her chest, the defined, powerful lines of her abs that flexed as she moved to toss the towel aside. And then, her gaze dipped lower—following the trail of water droplets past the waistband of the shorts toward Y/N's crotch.
The heat that flooded Wanda’s face was instantaneous and agonizing. It felt like her skin was actually on fire.
The heat that flooded Wanda’s face was instantaneous and agonizing. It felt like her skin was actually on fire, the blood rushing to her cheeks with such force it made her ears ring.
"Wanda?" Y/N’s voice was low, vibrating with that steady, grounding tone that usually calmed her, but right now it only made the fire spread. "Your face is really red. Are you having a reaction to something?"
Wanda didn't answer with words. Instead, she moved with a frantic, jerky speed, snapping her head away and nearly fumbling her book onto the floor. She shoved it onto the nightstand without looking and scrambled further down under the covers, pulling the duvet up until only the very top of her head was visible.
"I'm fine!" she muffled into the fabric, her voice sounding strangled even to her own ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her heart to stop hammering against her ribs. She was a Master of Chaos Magic, a woman who had faced down titans, yet she was currently hiding from a pair of shoulders.
Then, she felt it. The mattress dipped. The heavy, solid weight of Y/N shifted the bed behind her. Wanda stiffened, her breath hitching as she felt the heat radiating from Y/N’s body—a heat that had nothing to do with the shower and everything to do with the proximity.
"Wanda, look at me," Y/N murmured.
Suddenly, a face peeked over the edge of the duvet, looking down at her. Y/N had propped herself up on one elbow, her damp hair hanging over her forehead, those intense eyes searching Wanda's for any sign of injury or illness. From this angle, the sports bra left even less to the imagination, the curve of her collarbone just inches from Wanda’s nose.
"Go to sleep, Y/N," Wanda hissed, clutching the blanket tighter.
"Not if you're sick," Y/N countered stubbornly. She didn't move. In fact, she lay down fully behind Wanda, her front pressing dangerously close to Wanda’s back. "You're warm. Let me check." Y/N reached out, her hand sliding over the silk of Wanda’s sleeve to find the bare skin of her arm. It wasn't a grab; it was a caress—slow, firm, and devastatingly gentle.
Wanda snapped. The friction of Y/N’s palm against her skin was the final spark. Driven by a mix of frantic embarrassment, overwhelming desire, and the sheer exhaustion of hiding, Wanda whipped around to face her.
"I told you I'm—" The words died.
She froze. Turning around had been a mistake. Y/N was right there—breath-to-breath, skin-to-skin. The sight of her shirtless, the scent of rain and cedarwood clinging to her damp skin, and the raw, honest concern in her eyes stripped away the last of Wanda’s defenses.
Y/N opened her mouth to ask one more time if she was okay, her lips parting just a fraction. But Wanda didn't give her the chance.
She lunged forward, her hands tangling into Y/N’s damp hair, and pulled her down. She kissed her hard—desperate and bruising—silencing the questions and the logic and the world outside the room all at once.
The kiss was a sudden, violent collision of everything they had been holding back for weeks. But as quickly as the spark had ignited, Wanda’s mind caught up to her body. She pulled away with a sharp gasp, her chest heaving as she scrambled backward against the headboard. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide and shimmering with a sudden, sharp panic.
“I—I’m sorry,” Wanda stammered, her voice trembling. “Y/N, I shouldn't have—I didn't mean to just—”
She didn't get to finish the apology. Y/N moved like a shadow, closing the distance before Wanda could even blink. She didn't ask; she didn't hesitate. She surged forward and captured Wanda’s lips in a kiss that was deeper, hungrier, and far more demanding than the first. It wasn't a question—it was an answer.
Wanda let out a soft, broken moan against Y/N’s mouth, her panic dissolving into pure, unadulterated heat. The kiss was intense, flavored with the lingering sweetness of the market treats and the sharp, clean scent of the shower. It was a desperate exchange, their tongues tangling as they tried to make up for every moment they had spent pretending they didn't want this.
Wanda’s hands, which had been trembling with fear a second ago, now gripped Y/N’s bare shoulders with a bruising force. She felt the damp, smooth skin, the hard muscle beneath, and it wasn't enough. She wanted more. She wanted the weight.
Driven by a sudden, fierce need, Wanda hooked her fingers into the waistband of Y/N’s shorts and pulled. She guided Y/N up and over her, and Y/N followed the movement without a second of resistance, sliding between Wanda’s legs until she was hovering directly over her.
The contact was electric. Wanda wrapped her legs around Y/N’s waist, pulling her flush against her. The feeling of Y/N’s sports bra-clad chest pressing into her own, their heartbeats slamming together in a frantic, syncopated rhythm, made the world outside the room vanish.
Y/N’s hands were everywhere—clutching Wanda’s waist, sliding up to cup her face, then tangling deep into her hair to tilt her head back and deepen the kiss even further. They were both gasping for air, their breaths hitching and catching, but neither would break the contact. It was a scramble of limbs and desperate, wandering hands. Every touch felt like a brand. Wanda’s fingers traced the line of Y/N’s spine, marveling at the strength there, while Y/N’s thumb grazed the line of Wanda’s jaw, her touch firm and possessive.
The air in the room felt thick, heavy with a heat that was quickly spiraling out of control. Every time their lips met, it was like a fresh jolt of electricity, leaving Wanda’s head spinning and her body humming with a desperate, localized ache.
They continued to kiss frantically, their movements uncoordinated and driven by pure, raw instinct. When Y/N shifted, grinding her crotch firmly between Wanda’s legs, the friction sent a jolt of pleasure so sharp through Wanda’s system that she couldn't stop the long, broken moan that escaped her throat. The sound was swallowed by Y/N’s mouth, fueling the fire even more.
Through the thin fabric of the athletic shorts, Wanda could feel the unmistakable, rigid heat of Y/N—she was hard already, responding to Wanda with a ferocity that made Wanda’s heart skip a beat. Desperate to close the final bit of distance, Wanda’s hand wandered down, her fingers trembling as they slipped beneath the elastic waistband of Y/N’s shorts. The contact with skin—real, hot, bare skin—was almost too much to bear.
“Wanda…”
Y/N’s voice was soft, a mere breath against her ear. Wanda didn't stop; she leaned into the sound, letting out a soft, affirmative hum as she tilted her head to give Y/N better access to her neck. She wanted this. She wanted all of it.
“Wanda?”
The name was louder this time, tinged with a note of confusion that didn't fit the rhythm of the moment.
“Wanda!”
The world shattered.
Wanda’s eyes snapped open, and the weight of Y/N’s body, the heat of the kiss, and the friction of the sheets vanished in a heartbeat. The suffocatingly hot air of the Budapest night was suddenly replaced by the cool, quiet stillness of the bedroom.
Wanda blinked, her breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. She wasn't pinned under a beautiful, shirtless wolf; she was sitting upright against the headboard, her knuckles white as she gripped the edges of her book. The pages were crinkled where her fingers had dug in, and she realized with a jolt of horror that she hadn't moved a single inch.
Beside the bed, Y/N was standing perfectly still, the towel still draped over her damp hair. She was wearing her sports bra and shorts, just as she had been when she walked out of the bathroom, but there was no hunger in her eyes—only deep, furrowed concern.
“Wanda?” Y/N asked again, her voice low and cautious. “Are you okay? You were… you were staring at that page for like three minutes without blinking. Your heart rate just went through the roof.”
Wanda felt the phantom sensation of Y/N’s skin still lingering on her fingertips. Did she really imagine all of that? Her face, which she thought had reached its limit of redness, somehow managed to burn even hotter.
“I—I…” Wanda stammered, her eyes darting to the book, then to the floor, then anywhere that wasn't Y/N’s bare midriff. “I just… the book. It got very… interesting.”
She snapped the book shut with a loud thwack, her hands shaking so much she had to tuck them under the covers. “I’m fine,” she managed, though her voice was a octave higher than usual. “Just… got lost in thought. I’m fine!”
Y/N didn’t look convinced. Her brows were still slightly furrowed as she stepped closer, slow and careful, like Wanda might bolt if she moved too fast. Without asking, she lifted her hand and pressed it gently against Wanda’s forehead.
Warm.
But not that kind of warm.
“…You’re really hot,” Y/N murmured, more to herself than anything.
Wanda’s entire body went rigid.
“I said I’m fine,” she insisted quickly, maybe a little too quickly, her voice still higher than usual.
Y/N’s hand lingered for a second longer, then slid slightly to the side of her face, thumb brushing her temple in a way that was meant to be grounding—
But only made Wanda’s heart spike again.
“I’m not sick,” Wanda added, softer this time but firm, pulling the blanket up slightly like a barrier. “Just tired.”
Y/N studied her for another moment. Searching. Listening.
Then, slowly, she nodded. “…Okay.” She didn’t fully believe it. But she let it go.
Wanda didn’t wait for anything else. She turned onto her side quickly, facing away from Y/N, pulling the blanket up just a little higher as if that could hide the heat still burning across her face. “Goodnight,” she murmured, quieter now.
Behind her, there was a brief pause, then the subtle shift of the mattress as Y/N moved, settling into the space beside her. Not too close. Not touching. Respecting the distance Wanda had just created.
“…Goodnight,” Y/N replied.
Silence followed, but it wasn’t empty.
Wanda’s eyes stayed open longer than she wanted, staring into the dimness of the room, her thoughts still racing—replaying everything: what she had imagined, what she had almost done earlier, what she was feeling now. Her heart hadn’t fully calmed, and the worst part—she could still feel it.
Phantom touches. Lingering warmth. The memory of something that hadn’t even happened.
The next morning felt quieter—not awkward, not tense, just softer. Wanda didn’t bring up the night before, and Y/N didn’t push. Whatever had happened with Wanda, stayed unspoken.
They spent the morning walking through Budapest one last time, retracing familiar areas but taking different routes. Y/N slowed often, letting her senses stretch, filtering through the overwhelming mix of scents and sounds. Still nothing—no trace of Nat, no sign of Steve or Bucky, nothing recent enough to follow. By early afternoon, the city had grown louder, crowds thickening, the hum of life swallowing any chance of picking out something specific. Y/N exhaled as they paused near a quieter street corner. “…Nothing,” she said.
Wanda nodded, not surprised. “It was worth checking.”
Y/N glanced at her. Wanda didn’t look disappointed—just resolved. That made it easier.
“We should go,” Y/N said.
“Yeah,” Wanda agreed.
No hesitation this time. They went back, grabbed their things, and within an hour were at the station. The bus wasn’t full—just enough people to blend in. Y/N took the aisle seat automatically; Wanda chose the window. The engine rumbled to life, and slowly, Budapest slipped away behind them.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The scenery shifted from crowded streets to quieter outskirts, buildings thinning into open land. Wanda leaned her head lightly against the window, watching it pass. Y/N sat beside her, posture relaxed but attentive, eyes scanning out of habit—just not as sharp as before.
After a while, Wanda shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing against Y/N’s. She didn’t move away, and neither did Y/N. A few minutes later, Wanda’s hand slipped between them—not fully reaching, just there. Close.
Y/N noticed.
After a second, her fingers moved gently, carefully finding Wanda’s and intertwining them like it was something they didn’t question anymore. Wanda didn’t look at her. She just let it happen, her hand settling in Y/N’s as she kept her gaze on the road ahead.
The bus carried them forward—away from Budapest, toward the next city, toward whatever came next.
Together.
---
The next city blurred into motion. They didn’t stay long—just enough to step off the bus, move through the station, and buy another ticket heading further out. Keep moving, no patterns, no time to settle. It had become routine—efficient, safe.
By the time they stepped back out into the streets, the sky had already begun to darken, lights flickering on across storefronts as people moved in steady evening rhythms—heading home, meeting friends, living normal lives that still felt slightly out of reach. “We still have time,” Wanda said, glancing around. “We should eat.”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah.”
They moved through the streets side by side, not rushing, blending into the flow. The air was cooler here, sharper than Budapest, carrying different scents—cleaner in some places, heavier in others. Y/N’s hand brushed Wanda’s briefly, then stayed. Wanda didn’t pull away.
They walked like that, quiet but comfortable, scanning casually for somewhere to eat—and then Y/N stopped. Abruptly.
Wanda took another step before realizing, her hand pulling slightly as Y/N didn’t move. “Y/N?”
No response.
Y/N’s head tilted slightly, her grip on Wanda’s hand tightening—not painful, but firm. Focused. She inhaled slowly, deep, again. The world around her shifted instantly—background noise fading, scents separating, layering, organizing—
And then—
There.
Faint, but unmistakable.
Y/N’s eyes sharpened. “…Nat.”
Wanda stilled. “What?”
Y/N turned slightly, scanning the street—not with her eyes, but with something deeper. “Scent,” she said quietly. “Faint. But it’s hers.”
Wanda’s breath caught. “Here?”
Y/N nodded once, then her head shifted again, following, tracking. “…Moving,” she added.
That changed everything.
Wanda’s posture straightened instantly, tension snapping back into place. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. No doubt.
Y/N’s grip on her hand tightened again. “Come on.”
And then she moved—not running, but fast enough to weave through the crowd with purpose, pulling Wanda along with her. Her focus locked forward, every step guided by something only she could sense.
The scent shifted—subtle at first, then faster.
Y/N’s pace adjusted instantly, weaving tighter through people, cutting corners sharper. Wanda followed without question, her grip firm in Y/N’s hand as the city blurred around them.
“They’re moving,” Y/N said under her breath.
Wanda nodded, already scanning ahead, behind, above—anywhere someone could disappear.
The trail pulled them off the main street, into a narrower one—then narrower still. Until—a back street. Dimly lit, quiet, empty.
Y/N stopped abruptly. The scent stopped right there. Her eyes narrowed. “…No.”
Wanda turned in a slow circle, scanning every shadow, every doorway, every rooftop edge. “I don’t see anyone.”
She stepped forward slightly, head tilting, breathing in again—deeper this time, searching for any trace of movement.
Nothing. Too still. Too—
Her head snapped sharply to the side.
Movement.
Before Wanda could react, Y/N moved—fast. She yanked Wanda behind her with one arm while the other shot forward, catching a wrist mid-motion.
A gun.
Y/N’s grip locked around it instantly, stopping it cold before it could aim properly. Her body shifted between Wanda and the threat, shoulders squared, stance grounded. A low growl tore from her chest.
“Don’t.”
The person froze.
Small. Blonde. Her arm trapped in Y/N’s hold, the gun still in her hand but completely useless now.
Wanda’s heart pounded as she peered from behind Y/N’s shoulder, red energy flickering faintly at her fingertips.
Y/N’s growl deepened for a second—then she inhaled mid-growl and stilled.
Her grip didn’t loosen, but her expression changed—confusion cutting through the aggression. Her nose flared slightly, taking in the scent again, closer this time, stronger—
But wrong.
“…Why,” Y/N said slowly, her voice dropping into something more controlled, more dangerous in its quiet, “do you smell like her?”
The blonde woman didn’t move, didn’t fight.
Y/N’s eyes sharpened, golden flickering faintly at the edges. “Why do you smell like Nat?”
The blonde woman didn’t flinch—not at the growl, not at the grip tightening painfully around her wrist. Her eyes flicked from Y/N to Wanda, calm, too calm, taking everything in with sharp precision. Then they dropped briefly to Wanda’s hand, where faint scarlet energy still pulsed.
Recognition clicked.
“You are the Avengers,” she said, her accent unmistakably Russian, voice steady despite the situation.
Y/N’s grip tightened further. “Who are you?” she demanded, low and dangerous.
The woman’s wrist was still trapped, the gun caught between them, but she didn’t hiss, didn’t struggle. If anything, she looked mildly unimpressed.
“Relax,” she said flatly. “I’m not a threat.”
Before Y/N could respond, the woman twisted her wrist just enough—not breaking free by force, but slipping out with controlled precision. Y/N let her go, but didn’t step back, her body still firmly between Wanda and the stranger. The gun stayed in the woman’s hand, lowered but not gone.
She adjusted her stance slightly, then looked directly at Y/N again. “If I smell like Natasha,” she said, “it is because she is my sister.”
Wanda’s breath caught.
She stepped out from behind Y/N, moving to her side, eyes narrowing as she studied the woman more closely now—the blonde hair, the stance, the confidence.
Recognition hit.
“…You’re Yelena?” Wanda said.
The woman’s gaze shifted to her, a small tilt of her head. “Yes.”
The party's thumping downstairs in the Avengers compound, music vibrating through the floors like a distant heartbeat. Laughter and clinking glasses echo up from the common room where the team's celebrating our latest win. I've only been here a couple weeks, but it feels like a lifetime already—especially with Wanda. She's older than me, towering over me, her presence commanding even in a crowd. We're keeping us hidden, though. No one knows; It's our secret, ours. Wanda's hand brushes mine under the table as Tony Stark saunters over, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, grinning like he owns the night. "Come on, you two! Shots are flowing, and Cap's attempting karaoke. Don't tell me you're bailing early."
I glance at Wanda, her green eyes locking onto mine with that knowing spark. She squeezes my fingers lightly. "We're good, Tony," she says, her voice smooth but firm. "Long day. Need to unwind our way, with some TV and wine."
Tony chuckles, waving it off. "Suit yourselves. More for us." He wanders back to the chaos, and Wanda stands, tugging me up with her. We slip away unnoticed, weaving through the corridors until we reach her bedroom door. She pushes it open, guiding me inside before locking it with a soft click that seals us in our private world. The room's dimly lit, her scent—something warm and spiced—lingering in the air. Wanda turns to me, her chest rising faster now, eyes darkening with hunger. "Sweetheart," she breathes, stepping close, her hands framing my face. "I can't hold back much longer. Seeing you all evening, pretending... I need to you; Now."
Her words send a shiver down my spine, heat pooling between my legs. I nod, breathless, as she rushes to undress me. Her fingers fly over the buttons of my shirt, peeling it off my shoulders, then yanking down my pants and underwear in one swift motion. My skin prickles in the cool air, nipples hardening as she exposes me completely. "Lay on your stomach, baby," she murmurs, voice husky with command. I obey, climbing onto the soft mattress and stretching out face-down, my cheek against the mattress. The sheets feel cool against my bare body. Behind me, I can hear the rustle of fabric—Wanda undressing in a frenzy, her clothes hitting the floor. The bed dips as she climbs on, her strong thighs straddling mine, pinning my legs shut with her weight. I feel her, her hard cock pressing against my ass as she adjusts herself, the tip nudging between my thighs.
She leans over me, lips brushing my ear. "My good girl," she whispers, one hand sliding under my hips to guide her cock to my entrance. She pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching my pussy around her thickness. I gasp at the fullness, the slow burn of her entering me. "That's it, my little girl. Take mommy inside you."
I moan softly, clenching around her as she bottoms out, her hips flush against my ass. "Mommy," I whimper, the word slipping out like a plea.
Wanda starts moving, gentle thrusts that rock me into the bed, her pace deliberate and unhurried. "Good girl, call me mommy," she says, her voice affectionate, laced with need. She kisses the back of my neck, one hand stroking my side. "I've wanted this all night. You feel so perfect, so tight for me... My sweet girl."
Her words wrap around me like warmth, each slow slide of her cock drawing out my pleasure. She keeps it tender, grinding deep but not rushing, her body covering mine protectively. "I want to enjoy you for a moment," she murmurs, nipping my shoulder. "Just like this, slow and close. Your mommy's good girl, aren't you?"
"Yes, mommy," I breathe, pushing back against her slightly, savoring the drag of her inside me. Her free hand tangles in my hair, not pulling, just holding, as she whispers more endearments—her hips rolling in that steady rhythm that builds the tension without breaking it. But eventually, her control frays. Her breaths come out sharper, thrusts deepening. "God, Y/N, I need more," she groans, her weight pressing me fully into the mattress, pinning my arms down with her own before interlocking our hands together; which makes me grunt as she does so. She keeps me still, immobile under her dominance, as her pace quickens. Now she's fucking me harder, slamming into me with force that jolts my whole frame, the bed creaking under us.
"Mommy!" I cry out, the intensity overwhelming, her cock hitting deep with every thrust. She grunts above me, her hips snapping forward, driving me into the sheets. That's my girl," she pants, her voice rough now. "Take it all, you're mine."
The pressure builds fast, coiling tight in my core. Wanda's hand slips between my legs, fingers circling my clit in firm strokes that push me over the edge. I shatter, pussy clenching hard around her as waves of orgasm crash through me. She follows seconds later, burying deep and flooding me with hot cum, her body shuddering against mine. We ride it out together, intense and connected, her groans mixing with my whimpers. She doesn't pull out right away. Instead, she collapses gently over me, cock still buried inside, cockwarming me as our breaths even out. "Stay like this a bit," she says softly, kissing my damp skin. "Feel me in you. Mommy's not done yet." We linger there, her warmth seeping into me, until the ache rebuilds. Wanda shifts, starting to move again, slower at first but building quickly to that same fierce rhythm. Round two is hungrier—she flips me onto my back midway, spreading my legs wide and thrusting in deep, her eyes locked on mine as she calls me "good girl" and "mommy's girl" through gritted teeth. We climb higher, faster, until another shared climax rips through us, her cum mixing with the first load, spilling out around her as she pumps a few more times. Exhausted and sated, Wanda eases out, gathering me in her arms. "Come on, baby," she says tenderly, carrying me to her bathroom. The tub fills with warm water, steam rising as she adds bubbles and her favorite lavender oil. She settles in first, pulling me between her legs, my back to her chest.
She washes me with gentle hands, soaping my skin, massaging my shoulders and breasts with care. "My perfect girl," she murmurs, rinsing my hair, fingers combing through the strands. I lean into her, letting her pamper me—kissing my temple, tracing lazy patterns on my stomach. "You were so good for mommy tonight. Relax now." The water soothes our aching bodies, her touch turning the afterglow into something even sweeter. Downstairs, the party rages on, but here, it's just us—our secret world, safe and intimate.
Wanda “Baby, this is why you need mommy. You clearly aren’t capable of taking care of yourself.” Maximoff after you made a stupid avoidable mistake.
Natasha “You’re such a dumb baby, aren’t you? Need me to do everything for you, even the thinking.” Romanoff after you made a stupid avoidable mistake.
Hello! Will there be any Variant 2? If there aren’t yet :)
I loved it, discovered your writing with it (gonna repeat myself but I love it)
Variant: Part Two
Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Link to Part One [x]
[A/N] Ever since this request came in I wondered what direction to take this story in and eventually settled on this ❤️ Thank you for the request lovely anon, I'm glad you enjoyed 'Variant' and hopefully you enjoy Part Two as well 😘
You’ve spent a big portion of your life wondering whether you’re a good person. To most people, the answer would be yes. You’d joined the Avengers, dedicated your life to saving people. Was that a front though? A way to live with the all-consuming guilt and reality that beneath all of it, maybe you actually weren’t that good of a person.
Thinking back on your dating history makes you cringe. Back from that first girl you’d dated in High School, you’d never exactly been a good girlfriend. Your head was easily turned, and you quickly grew bored. Every time you met someone new, you’d tell yourself that she was the one, the one that you wouldn’t mess around, the one who would finally change you. It never happened. You’d bounce from girl to girl, always looking for the next best thing.
You look across the room at Wanda, blowing cigarette smoke out of your mouth. The Wanda from your universe wouldn’t have put up with you smoking in the bedroom, there would’ve been a blazing row before you’d even managed to light it. God how sick of those arguments you’d been at the time but now you’d give anything for your Wanda, the one you’d left behind, to snap at you, to raise her voice, to get angry. This Wanda, the one you’d gone with, never complained. Never argued. She was just so grateful to have you back in her life that she put up with near enough anything.
And God, were you bored of it.
You stub out your cigarette into the ashtray, feeling awful all over again as you watch the way Wanda bends over her journal, scribbling something down. She looks up and gives you a small smile that makes your heart squeeze. She’s so sweet and kind and loving. It’s not her fault that you’re like this. If you’d let her keep looking across the universes, maybe there was a version of you out there that Wanda actually deserved. One who could love her the way that she deserved to be loved.
You realise now you hadn’t wanted to be with Wanda, you’d just wanted to travel the universe, something this Wanda had been keen to do too at first. Well, so she’d said. She’d brought you back to her own universe, telling you she wanted to get settled before you began travelling. That had been months ago. Every time you bring it up, she just smiles and says ‘soon’. You’re beginning to realise that soon will never come. Wanda loves being at home with you, and she’s clearly in no rush to go anywhere.
You’d loved this home at first. Wanda has a cabin in the middle of the woods, far away from civilisation, somewhere she can freely practice her magic. It’s peaceful, right by the lake, and it had been a lovely summer when you’d first arrived, so you’d spent your daytimes exploring, splashing in the water with her, always laughing and smiling, then at night, the two of you would lie in bed together, exploring each other’s bodies, moaning and gasping until the early hours. There was no work to be done, no rush to be anywhere other than in the moment. The peace had been much needed at first.
Until winter had set in, and so had the boredom. It wasn’t like you were a prisoner here, you could borrow Wanda’s car and go into town whenever you wanted but Wanda always asked that you were home by dinnertime. You’d tried to convince her to have a night out with you, but she’d just shake her head, mumbling something about wanting you all to herself as she wrapped her arms around your waist, kissing your cheek. At first her cuddles had felt comforting, now they felt stifling.
The familiar boredom has definitely set in. It’s not unusual for you to feel this way eventually and you know that it won’t go away on its own. Your relationship with Wanda has run its course. You’re starting to find yourself missing the Wanda you’d left behind which is ridiculous because that had also run its course. Besides, she was almost definitely dating Carol by now. If only you could explore the multiverse by yourself, you would think… You didn’t have powers like Wanda though. You were stuck here.
Wanda snaps her journal closed and crosses the room to sit on the bed next to you, pulling you out of your thoughts. She wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek, “I love you.”
“Yeah… Yeah, you too,” You mumble half-heartedly, feeling another sharp stab of guilt for being such a horrible girlfriend.
Wanda leans her head on your shoulder with a content sigh. Her hand finds yours and she whispers, “This is perfect.”
You swallow hard, “Sorry if the cigarette smoke bothered you.”
“It didn’t, don’t worry. I don’t mind.”
You wonder what you’d have to do for her to finally snap. Maybe if you burnt her journal, or gave her the silent treatment for a full week… Even then you can only imagine her responding with patient understanding. It was making you feel sick with anger, but also sick with guilt. Why did she have to be so perfect all the time, so good? It drove you insane. What you wouldn’t give to get into a blazing row with your Wanda about something stupid again.
Your mind flashes back to the words you’d said to your Wanda the night you’d left. “If things don’t work out with Carol… And if I regret going to the multiverse… Then we’ll have our answer.”
You suddenly miss your Wanda with a ferocity that surprises you. It’s true that you’re always looking for the easiest option, the most fun, the next thing but you’ve never missed an ex before. Even when things with your new partner got complicated, you never considered going backwards, only forwards, on to the next girl who batted her eyelashes at you, who promised fun and a good time. Just like this Wanda had.
You made a mistake, you realise now. Things hadn’t been easy with your Wanda for a while but running away had been the wrong option. Even if this Wanda who’s cuddled into your side right now finally agreed to travel the multiverse with you, you realise that the only place you truly want to go is home. Home to your Wanda. How could you have ever felt attracted to Natasha or any other girl? Especially this one cuddling into your side who might look like your Wanda but most definitely wasn’t. You’d give anything for Wanda to roll her eyes at you, to snatch your cigarette out of your hand and stub it out whilst lecturing you on how you were endangering your health, and that it was a disgusting habit. The corners of your mouth twitch up into an almost smile as you imagine it.
“Wanda,” You say gently, turning slightly to face her, her arms still loosely wrapped around you. She meets your gaze and you swallow hard at the small, loving smile she gives you. “Wanda-”
“I was thinking we could go to the farmers market tomorrow,” Wanda says, reaching up to cup your cheek with her hand. “There’s a really cute one not far from here. We could get some nice food, come back and have a quiet meal together-”
“I- That sounds awesome, it’s just-” You turn your head away, though Wanda tilts it back gently with her hand. You avoid her gaze as you mumble, “Look, I… I’m sorry Wanda but… I think it’s time… I think it’s time I went home.”
Wanda’s eye-brows furrow and she stares at you for a moment before spluttering out a laugh, “What do you mean? You are home.”
“No, I mean… My universe. The one that I came from.” Your voice drops quieter with every word that leaves your mouth as you watch Wanda’s expression shift from contentment into confusion. “I… I shouldn’t have left. It was wrong and I’m sorry, I should never have-”
“Wrong? What do you mean it was wrong?”
“I know that we said love would come later,” You say quietly. “But… Love never came, Wanda. I don’t love you. I love… I love the Wanda that I left behind. I miss her and I want to go back.”
Hurt flashes across Wanda’s face but it’s quickly replaced with anger. You’d longed for her to snap at you for months, to disagree with you, to finally fight you on something. It seems you’ve finally struck a nerve. “We’re the same. You can’t love her but not love me, that doesn’t even make sense. You can’t miss her, I’m right here-”
“You’re… You’re not the same though. Look, I’m really sorry but you deserve better than me-”
“You agreed to come with me, I didn’t force you-”
“Yeah, I know, but… I’ve changed my mind. I want to go home.”
“You’ve changed your mind? So you’re just going to leave me here by myself?”
“I’m sure there’s a Y/N out there who’s by herself, who would-”
“Do you know how many universes I went to before finding a variation of you that agreed to come with me? How many rejections I had to suffer from the woman I love more than anything?” Wanda snaps, her voice rising. The ferocity in her face and voice frightens you – perhaps it’s because she’s usually so agreeable, so soft-spoken. This Wanda is far scarier than your Wanda. “How many years of searching it took me? So many universes where you were already dead or you loved the variant of me too much to leave. You chose this Y/N. You don’t get to back out, not after everything I went through to find you.”
“Wanda-”
“I’ve treated you well, haven’t I? We- You have a good life here Y/N. You were bored with the Wanda in your universe, you’ll only grow bored of her again.”
“I- I don’t think that’s true though, I-”
“Is it because we haven’t done our multiverse travel? I know how much you wanted to, I just… I was alone for a long time; I just wanted a year to truly enjoy you. Is that so wrong?”
“Wanda, I want to go home.” You say in the firmest voice you can manage though your hands are shaking now.
Wanda’s mouth turns into a thin line as she purses her lips before shaking her head, “No.”
“Wanda, please-”
“I said no. You can’t get back without me and I’m not sending you.”
You feel sick to your stomach, your palms turning sweaty as you shift back on the bed. Wanda’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer again. “My beloved, don’t act like this-”
“I hate when you call me that. I want to go back Wanda, I’m sorry-”
“And I’ve already told you, you’re not abandoning ship just because things aren’t as fun as you’d like. You chose to come here, this is your universe now, your home. I’m not sending you back just because you’re bored.”
Your cheeks heat up as she calls you out. “Wanda, this- This isn’t funny, you’re freaking me out. If you won’t send me back home, then… I’m not just going to stay here while you pretend everything’s perfect between us. I’ll leave. I’ll go somewhere else, start a new life with somewhere else. You can’t just keep me here.”
Wanda’s fingers gently brush over your cheek and she suddenly smiles, a dark smile that sends a chill down your spine. “Oh my beloved… You’re not going anywhere.”
There’s a flash of red before everything goes dark as you lose consciousness.
When you eventually wake up you find yourself in a dark room, with strange carvings on the wall and candles lit around the room. Probably the basement, you think, where Wanda practices most of her magic. You find her studying a book across the room and go to sit up only to discover your hands are tied behind your back and your ankles are also bound together. Panic sets in and you squirm, attracting Wanda’s attention as she looks up at you.
“It’s okay my beloved,” Wanda says softly, looking back down at the book again. “This is only temporary.”
“Please just send me home,” You beg, squirming in the ropes. “Wanda, there are so many Y/N’s out there who would be thrilled if you-”
Wanda holds up her hand, and you find you can’t talk anymore. She must be using magic to prevent you. You want to ask what she’s doing, what she’s going to do to you, to beg, to plead, to curse at her, but there’s nothing you can do. You can’t make a sound and although you squirm desperately, you can’t free yourself from the ropes. You think about your Wanda in the universe you left behind and your eyes water. A choked sob nearly escapes your lips, but Wanda’s powers are so strong that you can’t make any kind of noise at all. Silent tears trickle down your cheeks as you imagine her back at the Avengers compound, probably with Carol. It makes your heart hurt to imagine her with someone and you wish you could scream.
Finally Wanda crosses the room, squatting down in front of you and giving you a warm smile as she reaches across to brush a tear away from your cheek, “It’s okay,” Wanda says. “I’ve found the perfect spell. Everything’s going to be okay, just trust me.” Wanda pauses, her expression softening as she looks at you. “I know this isn’t what you want,” she says. “But I can’t lose you again. I just can’t.”
You try again to sob but you still can’t make any noise as Wanda sits back, crossing her legs and closing her eyes as she prepares to cast whatever spell she’s found in that book of hers. You close your own eyes and think about your Wanda, praying again for her safety, her happiness, as you prepare for whatever this Wanda has planned for you. No matter how much the image of Wanda and Carol cuddled up together hurts you, you hope Wanda is happy. That she’s loved, that she’s safe, that she’s moved on. Because you realise with a chilling finality that you’re not going anywhere. Not anytime soon.
“Come inside,” Natasha urges softly. “We’re watching a movie.” Wanda simply shakes her head, staring out at the night sky. Natasha sighs, “Wanda, it’s been months. It’s time to accept that she’s not coming back.”
Wanda had already tried to move on. Back when you’d first left she’d gotten with Carol, just like you’d advised. And it was… Nice. It was okay. But she wasn’t you. The two of them had only lasted a month until they’d broken up. Carol was amazing but that spark Wanda had thought was there had fallen flat almost immediately. They didn’t actually have much in common – Carol had returned to space, and Wanda had stayed at the compound.
After weeks of sleepless nights Wanda had finally realised what the real problem was. She’d been looking for an old jacket of hers when she’d come across a box of cigarettes, realising you must’ve hidden them away. For a moment Wanda had been furious and she’d gone to shout at you before remembering. Instead, she’d burst into tears, falling to her knees in the middle of her bedroom and sobbing until she’d thought she might throw up. Her grief for you was dull and constant, made worse because she knew you weren’t dead. Just out there in the multiverse with a girl who looked just like her, but wasn’t her.
“But she might,” Wanda eventually replies quietly. “And if she does, I’m going to be right here. Waiting for her.”
As get-togethers often go, they’re followed up at the end of the night with the traditional, “It was so nice to see you, let’s do this again soon.”
What was nice about it was that this time it was actually followed through. That’s why you’re here at Hayley’s, a dive bar not too far from the center of the city. The multicolored lights and worn-out furniture make you feel more at home than you maybe should.
You nurse a seltzer, head resting against the wall behind you as you watch the basketball playing on one of the televisions against the wall. Your girlfriend didn’t come this time, a time reserved for just your group of friends.
Part of you was relieved she wasn’t here, but another part of you wished you weren’t alone and tipsy.
The camaraderie is easy-going, something you’re happy to finally have back after busy months. You joke with your friends, share shots, and play card games in the back booth of the dive.
You’re mid-story when, out of the corner of your eye, a glass is placed to your right. With a smirk on her face, she plants herself right next to you. No words are said right away, just Wanda silently inserting herself into your conversation.
After a beat of silence, “What, she let you out for once?”
She raises her drink to take a sip, eyeing you over the rim of her glass. fighting an eyeroll, you sit back and watch as a drop falls down her chin. Of course, she sees your eyes follow the drop, and of course, you watch as her thumb wipes it off.
“I’m not on a leash, you know,” the response comes out nicer than you expected it to. voice too light for someone talking to their ex of two years, too familiar.
“She texts you enough for someone who doesn’t own you.”
Her voice is light as she says it, and if you didn’t know her, you’d brush it off. But you do know Wanda, too well, and the way her eyes don’t leave your face tells you she means it.
The two of you stay quiet for a while, her knee touching your own in its familiar way. Neither of you pays too much mind to the contact, too engrossed in the group conversation that you even realize your bodies have gravitated towards each other.
Her gaze drifts lazily over the friends around you two before eventually landing on your wrist. her eyes fixate for long enough for you to know what she’s looking at.
“Does she know that’s my bracelet you’re wearing?” she nods to your wrist, a ghost of a smirk on her lips. She knows the answer already, only wants to know how you’ll respond, “What, you told her it’s your mom’s birthstone?”
You bite your tongue, trying your best to ignore the smug way she said it. Instead, you force a smile, “Does your girlfriend know you’re questioning other girls about their jewelry?”
“And does yours know you still wear expensive jewelry gifted to you by your ex-girlfriend?”
Again, you’re at a loss for words, and Wanda knows it, “you gave it to me.”
It’s the best you can come up with. Inwardly, you berate yourself for saying something too much. They came out easier than you expected, too honest and quick.
“Three birthdays ago.”
Wanda knows she has a point, and she especially knows you’re not going to make a move to stop her accusations. Her grin widens immediately when you don’t answer immediately. There it is, the hesitation she was looking for.
“Don’t mean anything by it,” you know she does, “just thought she would’ve replaced it by now.”
You turn your body toward her, shoulder against hers, “thought what’s her face would’ve shown you by now that not everything needs to be replaced.”
Wanda’s grin twitches for just a fraction of a second. You got her with that; even she knows it. She drops the banter for a second and stays quiet, only allowing herself to enjoy your presence for a few moments longer.
Still, something warm flickers behind Wanda’s eyes as she memorizes the way the charm rests easily on your skin. satisfaction, not that you’d kept the gift, but because she caught you.
The few minutes of quiet you spent doing the same. Her presence brought a bittersweet sense of familiarity, one you shouldn’t have the privilege of feeling at the moment. Her cedar perfume only transports you back in time to the years you spent with her.
“Does she know you don’t even like sports?” Wanda asks suddenly, turning to you. Her lips curve as you scoff, acting offended, “Don’t even lie. You used to say it was unnecessary. You’re just making yourself look busy.”
Ignoring her is the only thing that you can think of doing. You try your best to avoid her, but the fact that you can feel her eyes watching you every few minutes has a heat rising in your chest that should not be welcomed.
You two pay attention to the card game that is going on at the table. For once, neither of you has a remark to make about the other. Instead, the noise of the bar fills the space between you two. Her shoulder remains against your own, but you refuse to create space.
Wanda excuses herself from the table with a muttered excuse of needing a new drink. You try to ignore the way you’d gotten used to her presence by your side after so long of not having it. You even think you slightly miss the way she casually brushes your thigh when she reaches for her phone.
“Be right back,” you say quietly to your friends, who really aren’t paying attention to you two. As if time and a girlfriend couldn’t stop you, you find your way following the taller woman to the end of the bar.
As if she knew you’d follow her, Wanda saved a space right next to her for you to fit perfectly into. She watches how you search your brain for an excuse as to why you trailed after her like a dog to a bone.
“It’s cute that you still follow me around, you know?” The smugness in her voice makes you want to hit her arm, but you refuse to do anything you used to while you were in a relationship.
“You’re not special.” Your voice doesn’t sound secure enough when you say it, maybe because it’s a lie, and you’re jealous.
She smiles at that, almost like she thinks it's a joke. It could be a joke, or it could be a way for you to pry at her thoughts. A brown drink is placed in front of her, and you can’t help but watch her hands as she reaches for it.
“Probably.”
You can practically feel the way your heart stuttered hearing the word, a heat rushing to your cheeks as you slowly pull toward her a bit more. The corner of your mouth twitches slightly before you can even notice it.
“Aw,” she coos mockingly, “you like that I could be jealous, don’t you?”
Wanda watches you from over the rim of her glass, index finger tapping against the cup. She leans against the bar, a few inches from being able to touch you, and you can’t help but watch the way her throat moves as she takes a sip of her drink.
It's pathetic, and you know it, to be with her like this when you know you both have someone else.
She’s the first to break the tension. She clears her throat and cuts eye contact, taking a small step back from you.
“For what it’s worth,” she takes in a deep breath, “I want it to be her.”
Your face mirrors that of quiet confusion, egging her to go on, “I want you to be happy with her, for this to be it, so you don’t ensure pain anymore. think that if you really love her, maybe I’ll stop…”
Her voice trails off toward the end, you almost reach out for her and beg her to finish her sentence. Instead, you settle for two words.
“Stop what?” Your voice sounds like it’s on the verge of begging, and it very well may be.
“Looking for you first,” Wanda’s eyes meet yours, a sad smile that slowly breaks your heart all over again. The breakup was never messy, and neither of you was completely at fault, so maybe that’s why it makes this even harder.
“When something good happens, when I want to tell you news, even when I have a bad day,” her smile is small, and her eyes are sad around the edges, “I hope you figure it out though.”
The sincerity in her voice brings in waves of anger, as if she’d decided once and for all that you two were not to be in each other's lives. It only angered you enough to voice it.
“You and your blonde don’t exactly scream soulmates.” You don’t know why you said it, you just know that it was on the tip of your tongue.
Wanda barks out a surprised laugh, eyes squinting and nose scrunching in the way you can’t stop loving, “There she is. Are you jealous?”
You scoff and roll your eyes. Once again, ignoring her is the only way you can preserve some sort of dignity. Wanda doesn’t need a response; she knows all of you.
“For the record, you don’t look so in love either.”
– synopsis | at one of stark’s crowded parties, you run into the woman who broke your heart — natasha romanoff. she still looks at you like you’re the only person in the room, but you’ve changed since she left. you’re stronger now, softer in different ways, and maybe, just maybe, ready to let someone else touch the pieces she shattered.
– warnings | heartbreak, emotional tension, jealousy, implied past relationship (natasha x reader), developing intimacy (wanda x reader), mild alcohol use, angst with comfort, longing, fluff. listen to "save your tears" by the weeknd for a better experience.
– word count | 993
The party is everything you’ve grown to hate about Stark’s idea of “team bonding.” Bright lights. Loud music. Too many smiles that don’t reach anyone’s eyes.
And then there’s her.
Natasha Romanoff.
You don’t even have to look to know she’s somewhere nearby — you can feel it, like static before lightning. That invisible pull, the kind that never really fades even after love turns into memory.
You promised yourself you wouldn’t care anymore, but the second you spot her across the room — standing at the bar with that quiet, haunted posture you know too well — your chest tightens. Her hair catches the light like copper flame, her shoulders broad and still, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. She looks the same, but different. Like someone who forgot how to breathe after losing something that once kept her alive.
And for a split second, she looks up. Your eyes meet.
Everything else stops.
It’s like the air is pulled out of the room. The sound of clinking glasses, the chatter, the beat of the music — it all fades until it’s just the two of you, staring across the crowd, both pretending not to drown.
You’re the first to look away.
Because if you don’t, you’ll remember too much — the warmth of her hand in yours, her breath against your neck, the way she used to whisper things only the dark could keep safe.
You take a step back, pulling your focus toward something that feels safer. That something is Wanda.
She catches your gaze immediately, a grin curving her lips — soft, knowing. She looks like she belongs to another world, one where things hurt less. You can’t help but smile back. She holds out her hand, playful, inviting.
“Come on,” she says over the music, voice low, teasing. “Dance with me before Stark drags us all into karaoke again.”
You laugh, because you know he will, and let her pull you towards the dance floor.
Her hand fits perfectly in yours, warm and steady. You can feel her pulse — quick, alive — and it matches yours beat for beat.
The song shifts, something slower now. The bass hums in your stomach, and the lights around you melt into gold and soft pink. The crowd becomes a blur of movement and color. Wanda steps closer, her perfume familiar — faint vanilla and smoke, mixed with something electric, something uniquely hers.
You sway together, not perfectly, not rehearsed — just two people moving the way their bodies want to. Her hands find your waist almost naturally, fingertips brushing the fabric of your dress. The touch makes your skin hum.
For a moment, you forget about everyone else.
You lean into her, your forehead resting against hers. Her breath hits your cheek — steady, gentle. You close your eyes, and the world feels small again, like you’ve both stepped into a secret space where everything is soft and slow.
“Wildest Dreams” begins to play. The crowd cheers, and you can’t help but smile. It’s your favorite song, and she knows it.
Wanda’s smile mirrors yours. “You always said this song feels like falling in love,” she murmurs, almost shyly.
“Maybe I did,” you whisper.
Her thumb strokes your waist in small, lazy circles. “Then maybe you should fall again.”
You open your eyes, and she’s looking at you like she means it. Like she sees the parts of you that are still stitched together with Natasha’s name — and loves you anyway.
You don’t think. You just move closer.
Her nose brushes yours. Her lips hover inches away, waiting. The tension is unbearable — that fragile, golden thread between almost and too late.
When you finally close the distance, the kiss is soft. Barely there. But it’s enough to make your chest ache. She tastes like red wine and hope. You melt into it, into her, into the gentle pressure of her hands sliding higher up your sides.
The world spins a little, but it’s not the alcohol — it’s her.
You pull back, just enough to see her smile — and it’s the kind of smile that feels like sunlight after years of winter. You brush a strand of hair from her face, your thumb grazing her cheek. She leans into the touch, eyes half-lidded, heart on display.
“I didn’t think I’d feel like this again,” you admit, voice barely audible.
Her fingers lace through yours. “Maybe you were just waiting for someone to remind you.”
You laugh softly, your heart pounding. “You think you can handle that?”
Wanda’s grin deepens, a flash of playful confidence. “Try me.”
You rest your head on her shoulder, her arm wrapping around you as the song continues. You can feel her heartbeat through her dress — steady, reassuring. The kind that tells you you’re safe now.
And across the room, Natasha watches.
She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath until Steve nudges her. She forces herself to look away, but her eyes find you again and again — drawn like a moth to a flame she burned out herself.
You have no idea that she’s still there, still watching with a heart half full of regret and half full of longing. You just keep dancing, smiling, laughing into Wanda’s ear. You deserve this. You deserve someone who stays.
By the time the song ends, you and Wanda are still standing close, your fingers tracing the inside of her wrist, her lips brushing the top of your head. She whispers something in Sokovian, words you don’t understand but feel anyway — like warmth, like promise, like something new.
The night blurs into laughter and stolen glances. You dance until your feet ache and your cheeks hurt from smiling. For the first time in a long time, you’re not haunted. You’re alive.
And somewhere behind you, Natasha finally looks down, blinking back the tears she swore she’d never cry again.
Because for her, it’s too late.
But for you — it’s the beginning of something that feels almost like peace.
