This wasn't a request or anything, it's just something I've been wanting to write for a long time now. It not explicitly stated what (Y/n) has, because also, I don't know what I have-presumably I have POTS, butttttt the American healthcare system sucks and it would be like $1K to get formally tested/diagnosed even with health insurance. Anywayyyyyyy, so this is just kind of a fic for myself lmaoooooo.
I will write a part 2 if yall want one :)
(Y/n) lies in her bed in the Huntr/x penthouse. She’s not asleep. She’s just lying there, staring at the ceiling.
She reaches over to her nightstand, pulling her water bottle towards her, and shifting up slightly to take a sip.
(Y/n) pulls herself up more on her bed, her cat, Venom, blinking at her. He looks unimpressed as always, but a soft purr rumbles in his throat as he nudges (Y/n)’s side fondly.
“It’s time then,” (Y/n) murmurs, running her finger through the cat’s fur.
He rumbles again in reply.
She swings her legs over the edge of her mattress. Her feet hit the cold hardwood. She leans forward, burying her face in her hands, her elbows resting heavily on her knees.
Her heart is pounding now, a violent, erratic fluttering that vibrated right through her ribs.
She braces her hands on the solid wood of the nightstand, digging her heels into the floor. One, two, three. She stands.
The world instantly goes gray at the edges. A swarm of dark, static pixels eat her peripheral vision, and the hum of the refrigerator down the hall faded into a distant, tinny echo. Her knees turned to wet cement.
For ten agonizing seconds, she hangs there, suspended between standing and fainting.Then, like a lens coming into focus, the static clears. The room rushes back in, loud and sharp. The cold sweat on her forehead feels freezing in the morning air.
She keeps one hand braced against the wall as she shuffles toward the bathroom. The hardwood floor feels freezing beneath her bare feet.
(Y/n) grips the marble counter and stares at herself in the mirror. The reflection waiting for her looks worn thin. There are shadows beneath her eyes, visible from underneath makeup she’d forgotten to remove from their show the night before.
(Y/n) turns on the faucet, letting the sound of the running water ground her.
Celene’s voice echoes in her head so clearly she almost flinches, Our thoughts and fears must never be seen.
“(Y/n)?” Rumi’s voice drifts sleepily down the hallway.
Rumi appears in the doorway a moment later.
And the sight of her nearly knocks the breath from (Y/n)’s lungs.
Her hair is messy from sleep, soft waves falling into her face, out of its normal braid. The hoodie she’s wearing—an oversized one of (Y/n)’s—hangs off her. Rumi’s eyes are still heavy with exhaustion.
Rumi leans lightly against the doorway, the hallway light behind her creating a soft halo around her silhouette. “You couldn’t sleep?”
(Y/n) shrugs a shoulder, “Something like that.” Not technically a lie.
Venom suddenly jumps down from the bed and trots into the bathroom, brushing against Rumi’s legs before winding around (Y/n)’s ankles.
Rumi smiles at (Y/n) fondly, she steps into the bathroom, planting a kiss on (Y/n)’s cheek. “I’m going to go make coffee and breakfast,” she cups (Y/n)’s cheek with her hand. “Come find me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
“M’kay,” (Y/n) leans slightly into Rumi’s touch. “Do you flirt with all the girls like this?”
Rumi rolls her eyes fondly. “Only the ones I really, really like.”
. . .
The penthouse is dim in the early morning light, soft gray-blue filtering through the massive windows overlooking the city.
The kitchen island still has leftover takeout boxes from last night scattered across it.
(Y/n) lowers herself carefully onto one of the barstools. She rests her elbows against the cool marble countertop and exhales slowly.
There’s something strangely soft about watching Rumi this early in the morning.
Without cameras or choreography or the polished perfection expected for all of them every second of every day.
Rumi moves sleepily, rubbing at one eye.
Venom jumps gracefully onto the counter beside (Y/n), immediately loafing himself directly into her personal space.
“You only love me for my heating pad,” (Y/n) murmurs, scratching behind his ears.
The cat purrs loudly in agreement.
Rumi glances over her shoulder as she messes with the coffee pot, a tiny smile flickers across her face, “There’s worse reasons to love someone.”
(Y/n) smiles warmly at her girlfriend.
The coffee machine hums to life—rich, warm, and comforting.
Rumi opens the fridge, “You need actual food.”
“I eat actual food.”
“You ate half a granola bar yesterday.”
(Y/n) blinks.
Rumi pauses for a second, “You don’t eat much unless someone reminds you.”
“I’ve just been busy.”
Rumi gives her a look from across the kitchen as she pops some bread into the toaster, “Babe, we’re all busy.”
Exhaustion settles over (Y/n) like wet concrete.
Rumi glances over, “You should go back to bed after this.”
(Y/n) snorts faintly, “We have rehearsals in like three hours.”
“So?”
“So Celene would kill me.”
“She’d survive.”
“But I’d be the one dying, Ru-bear,” (Y/n) replies, her lips twitching slightly.
Rumi slides a plate gently across the counter toward her, “Eat.”
Rumi sets a mug beside her next.
Coffee with cream.
Exactly how (Y/n) likes it.
The gesture is so familiar and so gentle.
“Thank you,” (Y/n) murmurs.
Rumi leans against the opposite side of the island, cradling her own mug between both hands, “You don’t have to thank me for making you breakfast.”
Maybe (Y/n) doesn’t.
But nobody’s taken care of her in a long time—not since her parents passed away when she was eleven.
(Y/n) stares down into the coffee cup. The dark surface trembles slightly from the shaking in her hands. She hopes Rumi doesn’t notice.
Then Rumi says softly, “You know you can tell us if something’s wrong, right?”
And just like that, the exhaustion in (Y/n)’s body suddenly feels crushing. Her limbs feel weighted. Her thoughts feel slow and sticky.
“You literally closed your eyes while holding your coffee.”
(Y/n) opens her mouth to argue again. But then she stops, “That’s . . . dramatic.”
Rumi huffs the tiniest laugh.
Finally, (Y/n) thinks. The sound is soft and warm and unfairly comforting.
“It’s observational.”
(Y/n) tries to smile back, but it comes out weak around the edges.
Rumi watches her for another quiet moment before speaking again, “You should sleep before rehearsal.”
(Y/n) immediately shakes her head.
Bad idea.
The motion sends dizziness rolling unpleasantly through her skull.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“If I go back to sleep now, I’ll feel worse.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is for me,” (Y/n) replies without thinking.
Rumi goes quiet, studying her carefully again.
(Y/n) suddenly becomes hyperaware of everything.
The dark circles beneath her eyes.
The way she’s slumped forward.
(Y/n) straightens slightly.
Or tries to.
Her muscles protest immediately.
Rumi’s gaze softens, and then she says very quietly, “Honey, you look miserable.”
(Y/n) lets out a tired breath through her nose, “I’m just tired.”
“You said that already.”
“Because it’s true.”
Rumi tilts her head slightly, her hair slipping across her cheek. “When’s the last time you actually rested?”
(Y/n) opens her mouth. She doesn't reply, because she honestly doesn’t know anymore. Everything lately has blurred together into rehearsals and performances and exhaustion and hiding.
Rumi’s expression shifts almost imperceptibly at her silence, like that answered enough on its own. She sets her coffee down gently, “Come take a nap.”
(Y/n) blinks at her. The words feel strangely intimate. “I’m not a toddler,” (Y/n) replies softly.
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You’re bossy in the mornings.”
“You’re stubborn all the time.”
That almost earns a real smile.
(Y/n) rubs tiredly at one eye.
God, I’m so tired.
The couch suddenly looks tempting.
The floor looks tempting.
Honestly she thinks she could sleep standing up at this point.
But another problem curls uneasily in her chest.
If I lie down now—If I stop moving—I’m not entirely sure I’ll have the energy to get back up again for a while. The thought scares her enough that she immediately pushes it away. “I’ll be okay,” she says softly.
Rumi doesn’t answer right away. Instead she walks around the kitchen island until she’s standing directly beside (Y/n).
Close enough that (Y/n) catches the faint scent of jasmine and laundry detergent, and close enough that she can feel the warmth radiating gently from her.
“You don’t always have to push yourself so hard,” Rumi says quietly.
(Y/n)’s chest tightens painfully. She looks up before she can stop herself.
Rumi’s face is soft in the pale morning light filtering through the windows. She looks sleepy. Concerned. Beautiful. So beautiful, (Y/n) thinks.
And suddenly the exhaustion inside (Y/n) feels unbearable.
Rumi seems to notice the shift immediately. Her voice softens even more. “You don’t have to sleep long,” she murmurs. “Just a little bit. Maybe an hour.”
(Y/n)’s eyes sting unexpectedly. Embarrassing, she thinks. She looks away quickly. “I probably won’t even fall asleep.”
“That’s okay,” Rumi hesitates briefly. Then slightly quieter, “I can lay with you if you want.”
(Y/n)’s heartbeat stumbles strangely.
Rumi looks suddenly uncertain after saying it, like she’s worried she crossed a line. “We could just—” she gestures vaguely, awkward for once, “—lay there. Or whatever. Whatever would help.”
The image appears immediately in (Y/n)’s exhausted brain.
Warm blankets.
Rumi beside me.
Safe.
The thought alone nearly makes her emotional again.
Which is ridiculous. It’s just a nap.
(Y/n) swallows hard, “You’d cuddle me into submission?”
A faint blush creeps across Rumi’s face instantly, “I was trying to sound less obvious than that.”
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escapes (Y/n).
Rumi visibly relaxes at the sound. “There she is,” she murmurs softly. The fondness in her voice nearly ruins (Y/n) completely.
(Y/n) stares at the countertop for another few seconds. Eventually she whispers, “Okay.”
Rumi’s expression softens immediately.
Slowly, carefully, (Y/n) slides off the stool. Her knees wobble slightly on impact.
Rumi notices, but she doesn’t comment on it. What a hypocrite I’d be if I criticised her for hiding things, Rumi thinks. She places a hand lightly against the small of (Y/n)’s back as they walk down the hallway together.
Venom trots after them lazily, his tail held high.
Halfway down the hall, another wave of exhaustion crashes into (Y/n) so hard her steps falter.
Suddenly her limbs feel unbearably heavy.
Rumi’s hand presses slightly firmer against her back, “You okay?”
Celene is going to fucking kill me, (Y/n) thinks. ‘Hide it,’ their mentor had said. ‘It’s what’s best for you as an idol. It’s better for the other girls.’
(Y/n) almost says yes again. Instead she quietly admits, “Just tired.”
Rumi glances at her.
The bedroom is still dim when they step back inside. Soft gray morning light spills through the massive windows in muted strips, painting pale lines across the floorboards and tangled blankets.
The city outside has started waking up now; distant traffic hums faintly below. Somewhere far away, a siren wails briefly before fading again.
Inside the room, everything feels muffled.
Venom immediately hops back onto the bed like he’d been there the whole time.
He circles twice before dramatically collapsing into the exact center of the mattress.
(Y/n) stares at him tiredly, “You take up more space than physically possible.”
The cat blinks slowly.
Rumi snorts softly behind her.
The sound sends a warm ache through (Y/n)’s chest.
God.
That’s becoming a problem.
Everything about Rumi is becoming a problem.
The way her voice softens in the mornings.
The way she notices things nobody else does.
The way she keeps looking at (Y/n) like she’s trying to hold her together with concern alone.
It makes something fragile inside her want to lean into it. But leaning means depending, and depending means losing control.
(Y/n) carefully lowers herself onto the edge of the mattress. The movement alone drains another awful wave of energy from her body.
Her muscles ache immediately with relief once she’s sitting again.
Rumi notices. (Y/n) can feel her eyes lingering for half a second too long.
Then Rumi quietly reaches down and pulls back the blankets for her.
Like lying down finally gives it permission to stop pretending for a second. Her heartbeat still pounds too fast beneath her ribs, but at least gravity stops fighting her here.
Beside her, the mattress dips softly as Rumi climbs in too.
(Y/n)’s breath catches faintly.
Rumi settles cautiously beside her, leaving enough distance that (Y/n) could pull away easily if she wanted. “You can say no,” Rumi says quietly.
(Y/n) blinks sleepily at her, “To what?”
“To the cuddling thing,” Rumi says, visibly embarrassed now. “I know I kind of just invited myself into your bed.” Despite the exhaustion dragging at every inch of her body, (Y/n) smiles faintly.
“You’re really awkward for someone so cool on stage.”
Rumi groans softly, “Please never tell Zoey that.”
“Blackmail material noted.”
Rumi rolls her eyes fondly.
Neither of them moves, just Rumi lying on her side, watching her girlfriend.
(Y/n) becomes hyperaware of everything.
The sound of Rumi breathing.
The warmth radiating from her body beneath the blankets.
The faint smell of jasmine shampoo lingering in her hair.
And underneath all of it—the exhaustion.
God.
It feels endless.
Now that she’s lying down, she can feel how deeply it’s rooted inside her.
Her limbs throb with it and even her eyes ache.
It’s like her body has been running on empty for so long it no longer remembers what rested is supposed to feel like.
Rumi shifts slightly beside her. Then quietly, she asks, “Can I?”
(Y/n)’s throat feels oddly tight. She nods.
Very gently, Rumi moves closer. An arm slips carefully around (Y/n)’s waist beneath the blankets, and the other tucks beneath the pillow.
And suddenly—warmth.
Steady.
And safe.
(Y/n)’s entire body reacts instantly. The tension locked into her muscles loosens so abruptly it almost hurts. Her shoulders sag, and her breathing stutters unevenly.
She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding herself together until someone touched her so gently.
Rumi goes still immediately. “You okay?” she whispers.
The question is so soft now.
Careful enough that it cracks something open inside (Y/n)’s chest. She nods weakly against the pillow, “Mhm.” Her voice comes out small.
Rumi’s thumb brushes lightly once against her side through the fabric of her shirt.
(Y/n) closes her eyes.
Instantly, the exhaustion surges forward harder.
Without distractions, she can finally feel all of it.
The pounding in her chest.
The heaviness in her limbs.
The deep ache threaded through her bones.
The awful exhaustion that sleep never fixes but constantly demands anyway.
Her body feels wrong.
And she’s so tired of fighting it alone. Celene’s going to kill me.
Beside her, Rumi stays quiet.
And maybe that’s why the fear slips out before (Y/n) can stop it, “I’m trying really hard.”
Rumi’s arm tightens slightly around her waist. “I know,” she whispers immediately.
(Y/n)’s throat burns unexpectedly. “I don’t want everyone worrying about me,” she admits softly.
Rumi is quiet for a second. Then, “That’s not really your choice.”
A weak laugh escapes (Y/n), “She says while actively worrying about me.”
“I’m serious,” Rumi’s voice stays gentle. She shifts slightly beside her. “You take care of everyone else constantly,” she murmurs. “You’re allowed to let people take care of you too.”
(Y/n) stares at the wall silently. Her vision blurs faintly. She feels frighteningly close to crying over being held gently in her own bed.
Eventually Rumi speaks again, “What does it feel like?” Her voice is quieter now.
(Y/n)’s heartbeat stumbles.
But then Rumi clarifies softly, “Being that tired all the time.”
(Y/n) stares unfocused at the pale morning light stretching across the wall, trying to find words for something that’s become her entire existence. “It’s . . .” Her voice catches slightly. “It’s like . . .” She swallows. “Like everyone else got a normal amount of gravity and I got extra.” (Y/n) keeps going quietly. “Everything feels heavier than it should.” Her eyes burn again. “Standing up. Talking. Eating. Thinking.” She lets out a tiny humorless laugh. “Sometimes even holding my head up feels difficult.”
Rumi’s arm tightens around her slightly again.
(Y/n) hovers in that strange space between awake and unconscious for a long time, aware of just enough to feel how tired she is.
Rumi’s comforting warmth is behind her, and Venom is purring somewhere near her knees. She feels Rumi shift faintly behind her at one point, fingers brushing gently through the ends of her hair.
. . .
When she wakes again, the room is brighter.
For one blissful, disoriented second, she doesn’t move.
She just exists in warmth, and blankets, and her soft mattress, and Rumi curled up behind her.
Rumi’s arm is still wrapped around her waist.
(Y/n) wants to bask in this warmth for the rest of the day.
Then reality settles back in piece by piece.
Rehearsal meant Celene.
Her stomach twists immediately.
Beside her, Rumi stirs faintly as (Y/n) carefully shifts away.
“You should sleep longer,” Rumi mumbles sleepily.
“I can’t, baby,” (Y/n) murmurs. “We have rehearsal.”
. . .
By the time they arrive at rehearsal, her body already feels wrong.
Every heartbeat lands hard and uneven inside her chest.
The studio lights make everything worse.
They’re bright and hot.
Music pounds through the rehearsal room loud enough to vibrate the floor beneath her shoes.
Usually she loves that feeling.
Usually drums are the one place her body makes sense.
Today, however, even lifting her sticks feels exhausting.
The others seem to notice immediately.
Every movement from (Y/n) is slightly delayed, like her body is buffering before responding.
Mira catches her staring blankly at her drum kit for nearly thirty seconds before rehearsal even starts.
“You with us?” Mira asks carefully, studying (Y/n) closely.
(Y/n) blinks, and for a second she genuinely forgot where she was. “I—Yeah.”
Lie.
Zoey tosses her a bottled water, “Drink.”
(Y/n) catches it awkwardly.
Her reflexes feel slow today too. Everything feels slow except her heart.
“Thanks.”
“You look dead.”
“Your concern is inspiring,” (Y/n) deadpans.
“I’m serious.”
(Y/n) twists the bottle open carefully.
Even her fingers feel weak.
The cold water helps slightly as it goes down.
Across the room, Celene claps sharply once, “Positions.”
Immediately, the atmosphere in the room shifts as tension settles over the group instinctively. They should be in professional mode.
Performance mode.
Showing no weakness.
No mistakes.
(Y/n) settles behind her drum kit. The stool beneath her feels like heaven. Relief washes through her body so intensely she almost closes her eyes.
God.
The feeling alone should probably scare her more than it does.
The music starts.
The first few songs are manageable.
She falls into rhythm through muscle memory more than actual energy.
Her arms lift.
The sticks strike.
The kick pedal pounds beneath her right foot.
The repetition helps distract (Y/n) from how terrible she feels.
At first.
And then slowly, the exhaustion catches up with her.
Sometimes her timing drags by half a beat.
Sweat gathers on the back of her neck despite the air conditioning blasting through the studio.
The lights overhead seem to be getting hotter and hotter.
Her pulse won’t slow down.
Every song leaves (Y/n) more exhausted than the last.
By the fourth run-through, even breathing feels difficult, like her body was manually performing every automatic function.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Breathe.
Lift arms.
Hit cymbal.
Hit snare.
Stay upright.
Pretend.
Pretend harder.
“Again,” Celene says.
There’s no argument, but (Y/n) can feel her girlfriend’s gaze on her.
(Y/n) flexes her fingers around her drumsticks.
Halfway through the song, her vision flickers strangely.
It doesn’t go fully black, just warped around the edges, like static crawling across a screen.
(Y/n) blinks hard.
Focus.
The bass vibrates through the floor beneath her feet.
Her heartbeat stumbles violently out of rhythm with it.
A horrible sinking sensation opens in her stomach.
No.
Not now.
She grips her sticks together.
The room tilts slightly.
Her next hit lands weak against the snare.
Rumi glances back immediately, concern flashing across her face mid-performance.
(Y/n) forces herself to nod once.
I’m okay.
The lie feels automatic now.
Heat crawls beneath her skin.
The studio lights blur together overhead.
The voices around her start sounding distant, like everything was underwater.
Her chest feels tight.
She misses another beat.
This time everyone notices.
The music stutters apart awkwardly.
Silence crashes into the room.
“Sorry,” (Y/n) croaks immediately.
Her voice sounds far away.
Celene’s expression sharpens, “You need to focus.”
“I am focused.”
“Then why are you dragging?” Celene snaps.
Because I can barely fucking see, (Y/n) swallows back her irritation, “I’m fine. Let’s just go again.”
Rumi steps forward immediately, “No.”
The word cuts through the room.
Everyone looks at her.
Rumi’s eyes stay locked on her, dark with worry now, “You need a break.”
“I don’t.”
“You can barely hold your sticks.”
Heat floods instantly into (Y/n)’s face.
Humiliation twists sharply beneath her ribs, because now everyone’s looking at her.
At her shaking hands.
Her pale face.
The sweat clinging to her hairline.
“I said I’m okay,” the frustration in her voice comes out harsher than intended as another wave of nausea crashes over her.
Rumi’s expression falters slightly, hurt flickers in her gaze briefly before concern overtakes her again.
(Y/n) instantly feels awful.
Mira steps closer carefully. “Hey,” she says softly, “maybe just sit for a minute?”
“I am sitting.”
Nobody laughs.
Zoey crouches slightly beside the drum kit now, eyes scanning over (Y/n)’s face, “You’re really pale.”
“I’m always pale.”
“Not like this, you walnut,” Zoey scolds.
(Y/n)’s stomach churns harder; her heartbeat slams violently against her ribs.
She suddenly becomes terrifyingly aware of how hard it is to pull air fully into her lungs.
The room sways again.
“(Y/n)?” fear creeps into Rumi’s voice fully for the first time.
“I’m okay,” (Y/n) whispers automatically.
Then her vision blacks out completely.
. . .
The world returns in fragments.
First noise; panicked voices overlapping too fast to understand; footsteps.
Then feeling: the cold against her cheek; the arms around her shoulders; the hand cradling the back of her head.
And underneath all of it—her heart: still racing; still pounding so violently it feels impossible that nobody else can hear it.
(Y/n) tries to inhale, her breath catches halfway.
Her chest flutters horribly.
“Hey—hey, there you are,” Rumi’s voice, very close, very shaky.
(Y/n)’s eyelids feel impossibly heavy when she finally is able to force them open.
Everything is blurry: the bright studio lights smear together overhead; Rumi kneeling on the floor beside her; Mira pacing; Zoey crouching nearby with her phone clutched tightly in her hand.
All three of them look terrified.
The realization sends a wave of shame crashing through (Y/n)’s chest. “Oh God,” she whispers hoarsely.
Rumi immediately leans closer, “Don’t move.”
“I’m okay.” Even barely conscious on the rehearsal floor, the lie comes automatically.
Rumi’s expression crumples, just enough that (Y/n)’s stomach twists painfully.
The second her body shifts upright, nausea crashes through her violently.
Black spots explode across her vision, and a horrible rushing fills her ears.
Rumi catches her immediately, “Nope. Nope, lie back down.” Warm, soft hands steady her shoulders carefully back towards the floor.
(Y/n) hates how weak her own body feels.
“You’re calling the ambulance, right?”
At that word, fear slices clean through the haze in (Y/n)’s brain.
Ambulance.
Hospital.
Tests.
“No,” (Y/n) says immediately.
Everyone freezes.
(Y/n) swallows hard, fighting through the dizziness clawing at her skull, “I don’t need an ambulance.”
Rumi stares at her like she’s lost her mind, “You literally collapsed.”
“I’m fine now.”
“You were unconscious!” Mira deadpans in her normal tone, but her eyes show her worry.
Guilt twists viciously in (Y/n)’s stomach. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she murmurs weakly.
(Y/n) squeezes her eyes shut briefly.
God.
Everything feels awful.
Her body feels both too heavy and completely disconnected.
Cold sweat sticks uncomfortably to the back of her neck.
And underneath it all, exhaustion drags at her so deeply that it feels endless.
Someone kneels beside them suddenly.
Celene.
Perfectly composed as always, (Y/n) thinks warily.
“What happened?” Celene asks sharply.
Zoey looks at her like the answer should be obvious, “She passed out!”
Celene studies (Y/n) clinically: assessing, calculating, and she doesn’t look worried at all.
That hurts more than the shoulder she’d fallen on.
“She’s just tired,” Celene says after a moment.
Rumi looks at her in disbelief, “She needs a doctor.”
“She needs rest.” Celene’s expression hardens slightly. “And an ambulance showing up at our rehearsal studio creates exactly the kind of attention we do not need right now.”
Zoey slowly lowers her phone from where she’d clearly been about to dial emergency services.
Mira looks furious, “What the hell?”
Celene doesn’t even look at her, “She overworked herself. That’s all.”
“That’s ALL?” Zoey snaps. “She fainted!”
“She needs hydration and rest.”
Rumi’s arm tightens instinctively around (Y/n)’s shoulders. The motion is so immediate it almost feels unconscious. “No,” she says quietly.
The single word slices through the room again.
Celene finally looks directly at her, because Rumi rarely openly challenged her.
“She can barely breathe,” Rumi says.
(Y/n) wants to protest automatically.
Wants to insist she’s fine. But the truth is—breathing does feel difficult right now.
Celene folds her arms, “She’s awake now.”
“She’s still shaking,” Mira says softly.
Everyone looks at (Y/n) again, and only then does she realize how violently her hands are trembling in her lap.
She curls them inward immediately.
Very gently, Rumi reaches down and wraps her hands around (Y/n)’s cold fingers.
(Y/n)’s chest tightens painfully.
Exhaustion lowers every wall she has left.
She’s too tired to hold herself together properly anymore.
Too tired to pretend collapsing didn’t terrify her too.
Too tired of pretending everything was okay.
Rumi notices the shift in her expression immediately. Her voice softens into something almost unbearably gentle. “Hey,” she whispers.
(Y/n) looks away quickly. Humiliation burns hot beneath her skin. “I’m sorry,” the words slip out before she can stop them.
Rumi looks devastated, “Why are you apologizing?”
Because I’m ruining everything.
Because I’m becoming a problem.
Because now everyone’s scared and staring and worried and—
Zoey focuses her attention on her phone again.
Celene steps forward again, “We’re not turning this into a scandal.”
Mira actually stares at her in disbelief.
“People faint from overworking all the time,” Celene says matter-of-factly.
“No,” Rumi snaps suddenly. “She’s been exhausted for weeks,” Rumi says quietly. “She gets dizzy constantly. She can barely eat. She’s freezing all the time and her hands shake and she looks like she’s going to pass out every time she stands up.”
“You should’ve told us,” Zoey says softly.
(Y/n)’s gaze flickers to Celene for a moment. “I—Our faults and fears must never be seen,” she murmurs. “I didn’t want—” Her voice cracks. She swallows hard. “I didn’t want to be a problem.”
“Oh, honey,” Rumi says quietly before she can stop herself.
The nickname makes heat rush into (Y/n)’s face.
Rumi’s arm tightens around (Y/n)’s shoulders automatically, almost protective without her even seeming to realize she’s doing it. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Rumi says softly.
The gentleness in her voice almost makes (Y/n) cry right there on the floor.
Mira crouches down beside them carefully. “How long has this been going on?” she asks.
(Y/n) swallows.
Too long.
Way too long.
But saying that out loud feels impossible.
So instead she shrugs weakly and mutters, “Just lately.”
Nobody seems to buy it.
Rumi lets out this tiny, disbelieving breath, “You’re such a bad liar.” There’s no anger in her voice.
Celene folds her arms. “She pushed herself too hard. That’s all this is.”
“No,” Rumi repeats quietly. Rumi looks down at (Y/n), and her expression softens immediately. “She looks scared all the time lately,” she says softly.
(Y/n)’s throat tightens.
Mira squeezes her shoulder gently, “You should’ve told us.”
“We would’ve helped,” Zoey says quietly.
Rumi brushes her thumb lightly over the back of (Y/n)’s hand.
“I didn’t know how to stop pretending,” (Y/n) admits quietly.
Summary: After weeks of hesitation, Y/N finally opens their mother’s diary. With Wanda by their side, the past is unearthed.
Word Counter: 11k+
Warnings: Angst, Domestic Abuse, Non-consensual, child abuse, Misogyny, little fluff, mention of smut, (18+).
A/N: This chapter is extremely heavy and contains descriptions of past trauma that may be triggering for some. Be prepared to cry!
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
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Wanda’s POV
In a few days, things had changed for Wanda. The study no longer felt new. It felt lived in. Shelves that once stood empty were now filled—books carefully arranged, some stacked where she had yet to decide their place. Letters rested neatly on one side of the desk, sealed and organized. Fresh flowers sat by the window, their scent light but present, catching the breeze slipping through the open panes.
It was hers. Entirely.
Wanda sat at the desk, posture relaxed but focused, one hand briefly resting over her stomach before returning to the parchment in front of her. Her other hand moved steadily as she wrote, pausing only to review the documents laid out in careful order.
Reports. Requests. Decisions.
“Have these sent to the council,” she said calmly to the attendant nearby, handing over one letter. “And this one—” she tapped another, “—I want reviewed again before it’s approved.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Wanda nodded once, already reaching for the next. There was no hesitation in her movements. No second-guessing. Just quiet confidence.
The door opened softly.
Wanda didn’t look up immediately. “Give me a moment,” she said, still focused.
A pause.
Then—“…I can wait.”
That voice.
Wanda’s pen stilled. She looked up.
Y/N stood by the door, one hand still resting against it like they had stopped mid-step. Watching her. And for a second, they didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just… looked. A faint smile tugged at their lips, something softer lingering behind it.
Wanda raised a brow slightly. “…You’re staring.”
Y/N exhaled quietly and stepped further inside. “I am.”
Wanda leaned back slightly in her chair, studying them now. “Is there a problem, Your Majesty?”
Y/N’s smile deepened just a little. “Yeah.”
They walked closer, slow and deliberate. “I leave you alone for a few hours and you are deep in your work.”
Wanda looked up at them, brows lifting. “That’s not the same,” she said immediately.
Y/N tilted their head. “Oh?”
“I’m not like you,” Wanda continued, gesturing lightly to the papers. “I take breaks.”
Y/N let out a quiet laugh. “That’s debatable.”
“It’s not,” she insisted, though her lips were already curving.
Y/N stepped closer to her desk, close enough now that their shadow fell over her work. “Mm,” they hummed. “From where I’m standing, it looks very familiar.”
Wanda narrowed her eyes slightly. “I was about to take a break.”
“Convenient timing.”
“It’s true.”
Y/N smiled. Slow. A little mischievous. “Good,” they said.
Before Wanda could react, their hands slid to her waist, and in one smooth motion, they lifted her.
Wanda let out a small, surprised sound, her hands instinctively grabbing onto their shoulders. “Y/N—!”
“Nope,” they said easily.
“I was working—”
“You were thinking about taking a break.”
“That counts!”
“It doesn’t.”
Wanda huffed, though she was already smiling despite herself. “Put me down.”
Y/N shook their head, that same playful grin still there. “I’m stealing you.”
Wanda blinked. “…You’re what?”
“For a bit,” they added, completely unbothered.
Wanda tried to look offended. Failed. “…You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
And just like that, they carried her out.
---
The corridors passed in a blur of quiet laughter and half-hearted protests until the doors finally opened and the garden greeted them.
The Queen’s garden.
Once Y/N’s mother’s. Now named in both Eleonora and Wanda’s honor.
The oak tree stood tall at the center, its branches wide and familiar, casting soft shade across the space below. And there, beneath it, sat a blanket and basket already prepared.
Y/N walked straight toward it, still carrying Wanda like she weighed nothing.
“…You planned this,” Wanda murmured.
“Maybe.”
Wanda looked at them. “You absolutely did.”
Y/N only smiled as they lowered her carefully onto the blanket. Gentle. Always gentle.
Wanda settled against the cushions, looking around at the quiet garden, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, the soft rustle of wind through the branches. Then she looked back at them.
“…You pulled me out of work for this.”
Y/N crouched beside her, reaching for the basket. “Correct.”
Wanda shook her head, though her smile lingered.
Y/N flipped open the lid with quiet satisfaction and began pulling things out one by one, setting them neatly across the blanket. “Fresh juice,” they said first, handing her a glass bottle. “Not too sweet.”
Wanda accepted it, amused. “You planned that too?”
“I plan everything,” Y/N replied simply.
A soft laugh escaped her.
Next came small plates of cut fruit. “Strawberries,” they said. “Because you keep stealing them from the kitchen.”
“I don’t steal,” Wanda protested lightly.
“You absolutely do.”
Wanda smiled and took one anyway.
Y/N raised a brow. “…Case in point.”
She ignored that completely.
Then came warm bread, soft enough that steam still lingered when Y/N tore it apart. Cheese. Small pastries. Nothing too heavy. Everything carefully chosen. Thoughtful.
“You’ve been paying attention,” Wanda said quietly.
Y/N glanced at her briefly before looking back into the basket. “I always do.”
Something in Wanda’s expression softened at that.
Y/N handed her another small dish before finally settling beside her. “Eat.”
Wanda took it, though her attention remained fixed on them. “…You really pulled me out of my study for this.”
Y/N nodded once. “Good decision, right?”
A faint smile curved Wanda’s lips. “…It is.”
They ate slowly. No rush. No interruptions. Just the quiet rhythm of the garden—the soft rustle of leaves overhead and the distant sounds of the palace far enough away to feel unimportant.
Wanda leaned comfortably against Y/N’s side, picking at the fruit and occasionally handing them pieces without even looking. Y/N accepted them every time without comment. At some point, their hand found hers, fingers loosely intertwined where they rested between them on the blanket.
After a while, Wanda shifted closer until she was half against them, her head brushing their shoulder. Y/N adjusted immediately, their arm slipping around her waist to pull her in a little more. They stayed like that quietly together while a breeze moved through the oak tree above them, leaves whispering softly as the shade shifted across the blanket.
Y/N’s hand tightened slightly around hers. Then, almost absently, they said, “I wish my mother had met you.”
Wanda stilled for a moment before lifting her head to look at them.
Y/N wasn’t looking back. Their gaze had drifted somewhere distant, thoughtful.
“She would have liked you,” they added quietly.
Wanda’s expression softened completely. She turned more fully toward them, one hand lifting to rest gently against their cheek. “I wish I could have met her too,” she said softly. “From the portraits… from the stories, I can tell.” A faint smile touched her lips. “You resemble her a lot.”
Y/N huffed quietly and shook their head. “No.”
Wanda raised a brow. “No?”
“Lina does,” Y/N said. “She looks like her. Even Alaric thought so.”
Wanda tilted her head slightly. “Yes,” she admitted. “Lina does look like Queen Eleonora.”
Her thumb brushed gently along Y/N’s cheek. “But so do you.”
Y/N’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “I don’t.”
“You do,” Wanda replied softly, not arguing—just certain.
Y/N looked at her for a long moment before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Fond. Grounding.
Wanda smiled faintly, her eyes closing for a second.
But when Y/N pulled back, something in their expression had shifted. Subtle, but there. Their gaze drifted again, distant in a different way this time.
Wanda noticed immediately. “…What is it?”
Y/N hesitated before exhaling softly. “I never read her diary.”
Wanda stilled.
Y/N’s fingers tightened slightly around hers. “After reading his…” they said more quietly, “I didn’t want to.”
A pause.
“…I was scared.”
Wanda’s expression softened even further.
Y/N glanced down briefly. “But I want to know what she thought. What she felt.” Their voice lowered slightly. “What she couldn’t say.”
Wanda slipped her hand from their cheek down to their intertwined fingers, holding them gently. “You don’t have to read it alone,” she said softly.
Y/N looked at her. A small silence passed between them before they asked quietly, “…Will you read it with me?”
Wanda didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Something in Y/N visibly eased, like they had been carrying the weight of it for too long.
Wanda squeezed their hand gently. “When you’re ready.”
Y/N nodded. “…Soon.” They leaned closer, resting their forehead briefly against hers—but the quiet didn’t last long.
A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips before, without warning, their fingers slipped lightly against Wanda’s side. Teasing.
Wanda jolted slightly. “Y/N—”
Too late. They did it again, brushing along her side and lower just enough to make her squirm. “Careful,” they murmured, a grin slowly forming.
Wanda laughed, trying to push their hands away. “What are you doing—”
Y/N ignored the complaint completely. Their touch moved to her other side, then lightly along her thigh as they shifted, gently guiding her back onto the blanket.
“Y/N!”
She laughed again as she landed against the soft fabric, and Y/N followed immediately, bracing themselves above her while their hands continued their relentless teasing. They nudged her legs apart just enough to settle comfortably between them.
Wanda swatted weakly at their arms, caught somewhere between protesting and laughing. “Someone might see us!”
Y/N leaned down, entirely unconcerned. “Let them,” they murmured.
Wanda gasped softly as their lips brushed against her neck, warm and playful, more teasing than anything. “Y/N—!”
They kissed her neck again, slower this time, lingering just enough before letting their breath ghost over her skin to make her squirm beneath them.
Wanda laughed again, trying to push them away with very little actual effort. “You’re terrible—”
“I know,” Y/N replied easily, sounding far too pleased with themselves.
Still smiling, Wanda finally let her hands settle against their shoulders. Then she pulled them down. The kiss was deeper this time. Not rushed. Not teasing. Just full in a way that made everything else fade quiet around them.
Y/N responded instantly, one hand steady against her side, grounding her as they kissed her back just as slowly.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads brushed together for a brief second. Y/N smiled softly before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek—and another quick one to her lips.
“Should we go back?” they asked quietly.
Wanda exhaled softly, still close enough to feel their warmth, her fingers lingering against their shoulders before she nodded.
“…Yeah.”
Y/N pushed themselves up first, then offered her a hand. Wanda took it immediately, letting them pull her back to her feet.
They didn’t let go right away.
And together, they walked back toward the palace, leaving the blanket beneath the oak tree behind—but carrying the moment with them anyway.
---
That Night
Wanda’s POV
The chambers were quiet again. Night had fully settled outside, the palace softened into a calmer rhythm after supper. Candles flickered gently along the walls, casting warm light across the room.
Wanda sat at the vanity, slowly brushing through her hair, the repetitive motion steady and calming.
Behind her, Y/N hadn’t moved much. She had noticed it earlier, but now, when she finally set the brush aside and turned slightly, she saw it clearly. Y/N sat in the large sofa chair near the window, still and silent. The diary rested in their hands unopened, their gaze fixed on the cover like it might speak first.
Wanda’s expression softened immediately. Without a word, she stood and crossed the room quietly. Y/N didn’t notice her approach until she was already there.
She gently took hold of their arms, moving them just enough before settling directly into their lap.
Y/N blinked, startled. “…Wanda—”
But she was already there. Close. Grounding. Carefully, she took the diary from their hands like it was something fragile, then looked back at them with a soft, steady expression.
“Do you want me to read it for you?” she asked quietly.
Y/N didn’t answer right away. Their hands hovered uncertainly for a moment before finally settling lightly at her waist. “…I don’t know,” they admitted.
Wanda nodded gently. “That’s okay.” She shifted slightly, one hand holding the diary while the other lifted to rest against their cheek. “You don’t have to rush it.”
Y/N’s gaze dropped briefly to the book resting in her hands. “…What if it’s like his?”
Wanda’s thumb brushed softly against their skin. “Then we’ll face it together.”
Y/N looked back at her, quiet for a moment. “…And if it’s not?”
A faint smile touched Wanda’s lips. “Then you finally get to meet her the way she wanted to be known.”
Something in Y/N’s expression changed at that. Softer. Still hesitant, but no longer carrying the weight of it alone.
Wanda adjusted slightly on their lap, opening the diary just a little—not reading yet, simply holding the moment between them. “Tell me when,” she said softly.
Y/N exhaled slowly, their hand tightening just slightly at her waist.
Then—“…Okay.”
Wanda nodded. And gently, she began.
---
“The day I arrived in Virelia, the sun was bright.”
A small pause.
“It felt wrong for a day like that to be so beautiful.”
Y/N’s arms around her tightened slightly. Wanda continued.
“The people gathered to celebrate. They believed it was a union of kingdoms.”
Her voice slowed.
“I let them believe that.”
“It was easier than telling them I had come to surrender my freedom.”
The room grew quieter.
“I remember the first time I met Alaric.”
Wanda glanced briefly at Y/N—then kept reading.
“He was not king then. Just a prince standing alone on a balcony, watching a celebration he clearly did not enjoy.”
A faint softness entered her voice.
“We spoke as if we were equals. As if neither of us belonged to crowns.”
“I think… that is why I remembered him.”
Y/N’s hold shifted. Barely.
Wanda continued.
“Years passed. And then I heard what he had become.”
Her voice dropped slightly.
“A king born from blood.”
“A man who took a throne by force—and kept it the same way.”
Silence pressed in.
“When his proposal came, my father refused.”
Wanda’s thumb brushed the edge of the page.
“I was relieved.”
“Until the army arrived.”
Y/N’s breath hitched—so quietly only Wanda felt it.
“Virelia’s banners stood outside our walls for three days.”
“On the fourth, I went to him.”
---
Eleonora’s POV
The tent was colder than I expected. Not from the weather—from him.
Alaric stood at the center, armored not for battle, but for presence. Power. Control.
I stepped inside without hesitation. I would not give him fear. Not even if it already lived inside my chest. “You’ve changed,” I said, because it was the truth and because I needed him to hear it.
He looked at me like nothing had changed at all. “You remember me.”
I did. That was the problem. “I remember someone else.”
Silence settled between us, tight and measured. Then I asked the question I already knew the answer to. “If I refuse… you will attack my kingdom?”
“Yes.” No pause. No hesitation.
My chest tightened. “You would destroy Ardelia.”
“If necessary.” There it was. Not anger. Just certainty.
That frightened me more. I closed my eyes briefly because I needed that moment—one breath before everything changed. And when I opened them again, I was no longer only a daughter. No longer only a princess.
“I will marry you.”
The words came steady even if my hands wanted to shake. Not for him. Not for love. Not for alliance. But because I had seen the soldiers. The numbers. The reality. And I knew Ardelia would not survive.
So I would. For them.
---
The palace doors closed behind me with a weight I felt deep in my chest.
The air inside Virelia was different from Ardelia—colder, quieter. The halls stretched vast around me, polished stone and gold perfected into something beautiful but entirely without warmth.
I did not slow. If I hesitated now, they would see it.
Servants lined the corridors with bowed heads while nobles watched from a distance, measuring me with careful eyes. I could feel the curiosity, the judgment, the silent question hanging between them all:
What kind of queen will she be?
I kept my posture steady. I did not know yet. But I would not be weak.
My chambers had already been prepared. Lavish. Impersonal. Nothing inside them belonged to me.
A maid stepped forward carefully. “Your Majesty, preparations for the ceremony are underway.”
I inclined my head. “How long?”
“An hour.”
Of course. Not even enough time to breathe.
“Very well.”
The maid hesitated. “…Do you require anything?”
I paused before answering quietly, “Yes. Open the window.”
The maid blinked in surprise but obeyed.
Cool air rushed into the room, and for one brief moment I simply stood there with my eyes closed, letting myself feel it.
Freedom.
Just for a second before it disappeared again.
The wedding was held in the great hall.
Magnificent—that was the word everyone would use. High ceilings draped in gold. Long banners of Virelia hanging proudly overhead. Nobles dressed in their finest, gathered to witness what they believed was a triumph. Music filled the space, bright and celebratory—everything it should not have been.
I stood at the end of the hall dressed in white. Not by choice. By tradition. My hands remained steady because I forced them to.
When the doors opened, every eye turned toward me. I walked forward slowly, each step measured and controlled. Not because I felt like a bride, but because I refused to look like a prisoner.
At the far end, Alaric waited in black and gold, every inch the king he had become. He watched me approach with that same calm certainty, like everything was unfolding exactly as it should.
I stopped before him.
The priest began speaking words I had heard before—words that once meant something.
Now they were empty. A ritual. A performance.
“Do you accept—”
“Yes,” Alaric answered before the question had even finished.
A faint murmur passed through the hall.
I never looked at him.
When it was my turn, I spoke clearly.
“I do.”
Not for him. Never for him. For Ardelia. For my people. For the lives that would continue because of this moment.
The rings were exchanged, cold metal settling against my skin like a chain disguised as a promise.
The priest raised his voice again. “By the authority of the crown—”
I barely heard the rest because, in that moment, I understood something terrifying. This was not the end of anything. It was the beginning of a life I would have to survive.
Alaric stepped closer, his hand closing around mine once more—firm, unyielding.
The hall erupted into applause.
Celebration. Joy.
A lie they had all agreed to believe.
I turned toward the crowd beside him, my expression calm, composed, unbroken.
Because if I was going to stand here as queen, then I would do it on my own terms—even if no one else could see them.
---
The celebration eventually faded into the stone walls of the palace. I was led to the royal bedchamber. It was large—too large. The fire in the hearth crackled, but it provided no warmth. I stood by the edge of the bed, still in that white dress, waiting for the finality of the day to claim me.
When the door opened, I didn’t have to look to know it was him.
Alaric didn't speak. He didn't offer a kind word or a soft touch to ease the transition of a woman who had just traded her life for her kingdom's safety. He moved with a cold, predatory efficiency.
He was not kind.
There was no tenderness in the way he reached for me, no reverence for the union we had just sworn to. Everything he did was self-centered—a claim of ownership rather than an act of intimacy.
I had prepared myself for many things. I had prepared for a cold husband, a distant king, a lonely life. But I had not prepared for the sheer weight of his disregard.
I felt a pain I had never known. Not just the physical sting, but the hollow, aching realization that to him, I was merely a conquest. A prize won through the threat of steel.
I wanted to cry. The heat burned behind my eyes, a desperate urge to sob, to scream, to crawl away.
But I didn't.
I refused to give him that. I kept my face turned away, my gaze fixed on the velvet hangings of the bed. I would not let him see me break. I would not let him own my tears. When it was over, he pulled away from me without a word of comfort. He stood, adjusting his clothes as if he had just finished a tedious task.
He looked down at the sheets. I felt his eyes on me, and then, I heard it. A small, dark chuckle. I knew he saw the stain on the sheets—the proof of what he had taken—and a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.
"Good," he murmured.
He leaned down then, pressing a kiss to my sweat-dampened forehead. The touch made my skin crawl.
"That was good, Eleonora," he said, his voice smooth and triumphant. "I will return tomorrow. Rest." He turned and walked out, the heavy thud of the door echoing through the room.
Only when the lock clicked did I move.
I didn't sit up. I didn't reach for a robe. I stayed exactly as he had left me, staring blankly at the ceiling, watching the shadows of the fire dance like ghosts.
And then, finally, I allowed the first tear to fall.
---
Wanda’s POV
Wanda stopped reading.
The words lingered heavily in the air, suffocating in a way that made the entire room feel smaller. She could feel Y/N beneath her—tense. Too still. She turned slightly, ready to say something, but before she could, Y/N moved. Not abruptly, but with a sharp, controlled motion.
They helped her carefully off their lap, hands firm against her waist before standing and turning away from her completely.
Their shoulders were tight.
Wanda frowned immediately and stepped closer. “Y/N…?”
They didn’t answer. Their hands curled into fists at their sides before they finally spoke.
“How could he do that?” Their voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room sharply enough to make Wanda still. Y/N turned just slightly—not enough to fully face her, but enough for her to see the anger written openly across their face. Raw. Unfiltered.
“How could someone do that?” they continued, jaw clenched tightly. “How could he just—” The words stopped abruptly, like even saying them aloud was unbearable. Their breathing grew uneven.
“He knew,” Y/N said, voice tightening further. “He knew she didn’t choose that. He knew and he still—” Their fist clenched harder. A sharp exhale left them before they paced once across the room like they needed movement just to keep themselves together.
“That’s not…” They shook their head roughly. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”
Wanda watched them carefully, her chest tightening painfully.
“Y/N…”
“I don’t understand it,” they said more quietly now, though no less intensely. “I don’t understand how someone can just take like that and not—” Their voice cracked slightly. But Wanda heard it.
Y/N stopped moving entirely, and suddenly the anger didn’t disappear—it broke. “I was scared,” they admitted suddenly.
Wanda blinked softly.
Y/N’s voice dropped lower, fragile now. “The first time with you… I was terrified I’d hurt you.”
Wanda’s expression softened instantly.
For the first time since standing, Y/N finally looked at her properly. Their eyes were glassy. Unsteady. “I kept asking if you were okay,” they continued, voice trembling now. “Every second I kept thinking—what if I do something wrong, what if I—”
Their breath hitched sharply. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
And there it was. The anger cracked fully open, revealing something softer underneath. Something vulnerable enough to hurt. Tears filled their eyes.
“And he just…” Y/N whispered weakly, shaking their head. “…like it was nothing.”
Wanda moved immediately. She crossed the distance between them without hesitation, both hands rising gently to cup their face.
“Hey… hey,” she murmured softly. “I’m here.”
Y/N’s breathing had turned uneven now, their shoulders trembling beneath her touch.
Wanda brushed away their tears carefully with her thumbs. “You didn’t hurt me,” she said quietly. “Not once.”
Y/N squeezed their eyes shut.
“You were careful,” Wanda continued softly. “You listened. You cared.” She rested her forehead gently against theirs. “That’s who you are.”
Y/N shook their head weakly, but they didn’t pull away. “It shouldn’t be like that,” they whispered brokenly. “For anyone…”
Wanda swallowed against the tightness in her chest. “I know.”
A brief silence passed between them before she whispered, “But you’re not him.”
Y/N’s breath caught again.
Wanda pressed a gentle kiss against their forehead. “You’ll never be him.” Then she pulled them into her arms completely, holding them close—steady, grounding, safe.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered softly.
And this time—they didn’t hold it in.
---
Hours Later
Y/N’s breathing had finally evened out. Slow and steady.
Their arm remained wrapped around Wanda, holding her close even in sleep like some part of them still refused to let go.
Wanda didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not with everything still sitting heavily inside her chest. Her eyes stayed fixed on the dim chamber, watching candlelight flicker softly across the walls while her hand rested over Y/N’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath her palm, grounding. But her mind was somewhere else entirely.
She had come to Virelia the same way. Not truly as a bride. As a solution. A peace offering. A way to stop war. She remembered it too clearly—the tension in Sokovia, the fear, the decision that had never really been a choice at all. And then this palace. These walls. This life.
Her fingers tightened slightly against Y/N’s shirt. If they had been like Alaric—her chest constricted painfully.
That could have been her. By every expectation the world had placed on queens and kingdoms, it should have been her. A king who conquered. A forced marriage. A queen with no say. A wedding night that took instead of gave.
Wanda swallowed hard, her eyes stinging faintly.
But that wasn’t what happened. Y/N had looked at her that night with careful, quiet hesitation. Almost afraid—not of her, but of hurting her. They hadn’t touched her like that. Not even close. Instead, they had cut their own hand.
Wanda’s breath caught softly at the memory.
The way they had looked at her afterward—apologetic, protective, like they were trying to shield her from something she already understood too well. They had chosen her comfort over expectation. Over tradition. Over proof.
Wanda shifted closer instinctively, pressing herself further into their warmth. Her hand slipped from their chest down to their arm, holding onto them now.
The first time they had been together, it hadn’t been fear or obligation. It had been them choosing each other with trust, care, and love.
Wanda closed her eyes briefly and exhaled slowly, before lifting her head just enough to look at them properly. Even asleep, their brow remained faintly furrowed, like the weight of everything still hadn’t fully left them.
Her hand rose gently to brush through their hair. “Thank you for being you,” she whispered. Her fingers lingered there, combing lightly through the strands as she watched them sleep. So different. So gentle.
Wanda swallowed softly before whispering again, her voice barely more than a breath.
“Thank you… for not being like him.”
The words settled quietly between them. Not heavy. Just honest. Her hand drifted back down to rest over their chest once more, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her palm.
“For loving me,” she added softly.
After a small pause, her other hand moved instinctively to her stomach, covering it protectively.
“And for loving our baby.”
Her thumb brushed lightly over the fabric as her expression softened completely. Wanda leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss just beneath Y/N’s jaw before tucking herself closer against their side, settling where she fit so naturally.
And this time, when her eyes closed—they stayed that way.
---
Eleonora’s POV
Alaric was a man of his word.
The next night, the heavy thud of the door arrived at the same hour. And the night after that. And the night after that. The regularity of it was its own form of torture. I would spend the daylight hours in a state of suspended animation, performing the duties of a Queen with a frozen face and a heart made of lead, all while counting the minutes until the sun dipped below the horizon. The setting sun wasn’t a signal for rest; it was the tolling of a bell for my return to that room.
Every night was a hollow repetition of the first.
Alaric did not seek to know me. He did not ask how I fared in his cold halls or if I missed the warmth of Ardelia. To him, my presence in that bed was a logistical fact—a requirement of the treaty, a biological necessity for an heir, and a nightly re-assertion of his dominance.
The pain of the first few times was sharp and blinding, a physical intrusion that made me feel as though I were being split in two. I would bite my lip until the copper taste of blood filled my mouth, just to keep from giving him a sound.
He didn't care. He never looked at my face long enough to see the agony.
Eventually, the sharp, tearing sensation began to dull, replaced by a deep, throbbing ache that never truly left my bones. But the pain of the skin was nothing compared to the skin-crawling discomfort that settled over me like a second shroud. The weight of him was suffocating. The heat of his breath against my neck, the rough callouses of his hands on my waist—every touch felt like a brand. I became an expert at leaving my body. I would stare at the intricate carvings on the bedposts, counting the grain of the wood, imagining myself as a bird flying over the borders of Virelia, far away from the stone walls and the man who held me captive.
I learned to be a statue. I learned to be silent.
But no matter how much the physical sting reduced, the discomfort remained—a constant, sickening reminder that I was no longer my own. I was a vessel, a prize, a ghost inhabiting a body that Alaric used at his whim. And every morning, when he would leave with that same look of cold satisfaction, I would wash myself until my skin was raw, trying to scrub away the feeling of his touch. But some things do not wash off. Some things sink beneath the surface, waiting in the marrow, silent and heavy.
I was surviving. But with every passing night, there was less and less of Eleonora left to save.
---
I learned quickly that survival required more than endurance. Endurance kept me breathing, but it did not keep me whole.
So I changed my strategy. If the nights belonged to him, then the days would belong to me.
The first time I stepped beyond the inner palace without ceremony, the court whispered. A queen was meant to sit still—to be seen, not to see. I ignored them.
Virelia was harsher than Ardelia. Louder. Sharper. Its people moved like they had learned to live beneath constant weight. They bowed when they saw me. Not all of them smiled. That told me enough.
So I began walking the city more often. At first, only to escape the palace walls. But soon, I started listening. To merchants speaking of rising costs. To mothers speaking of empty pantries. To priests speaking of unanswered prayers. They did not always realize they were speaking to their queen.
And when they did, some became afraid. Others hopeful. I held onto the latter.
The palace disapproved. I could feel it in the way conversations stopped when I entered rooms, in the way nobles watched me like I was doing something improper simply by existing outside expectation.
Let them watch. I would not sit quietly while a kingdom suffered beneath polished floors.
Music came next.
I had always played in Ardelia—soft melodies that filled silence. One evening, I asked for an instrument. The servants hesitated before obeying. At first, I played only for myself in an empty hall. But sound travels through stone places. Slowly, people came. Not nobles. Not courtiers. Servants. Guards. The ones who lived in the shadows of the palace.
They never interrupted. Never spoke. They simply listened. And for a little while, the palace felt less cold. Less hollow. So I played again the next night. And the next. Until the silence that once defined Virelia began to shift.
Alaric noticed.
Of course he did. He noticed everything. But he never stopped me. Never questioned my walks through the city or the music filling his halls.
Sometimes I caught him watching from a distance, silent in the shadows of a doorway. I never asked why. Because permission was never something I intended to rely on. Only something I would use when it was given.
I did not try to change him. I knew better. A man who carved his path through blood would not be reshaped by gentle hands. But that did not mean I would become like him. So I remained myself.
Even if quieter now. Even if hidden in smaller moments. Even if pieces of me had already been taken.
---
When I learned I was with child, I did not know what I felt first.
Relief. Fear. Or grief for the life that would now exist because of choices that were never mine.
But as the days passed, something else grew. A connection. A quiet awareness. A presence within me untouched by the world outside.
Something that was still mine.
When he was born, everything changed. Not the kingdom. Not the palace. Not Alaric.
But me.
They placed him in my arms, small and warm and impossibly alive, and for the first time since arriving in Virelia, something inside me broke open that was not pain.
He had my eyes.
That was the first thing I noticed. Not his title. Not his future. Just that. I held him closer, carefully, like he might disappear if I wasn’t gentle enough.
“My son,” I whispered.
Not the kingdom’s heir. Not the continuation of a throne.
Mine.
Alaric stood beside the bed watching silently. And when they placed the child into his arms, I saw something shift in his expression. Not softness.
Something closer to satisfaction. Certainty. Like a piece of something had finally fallen into place. He looked at the child differently than I did.
Where I saw life, he saw legacy. Where I felt love, he felt control secured. I understood that immediately. And I knew then what I had to protect.
Y/N would grow in this palace, in these halls, beneath his shadow. But not only his. Never only his.
I pressed a kiss to my son’s head as he slept against me. “You will not become him,” I whispered softly. A promise. Not to the kingdom. Not to the crown.
But to the child in my arms.
And to the part of myself I refused to lose. I was still surviving. But now, I had a reason to fight.
Because if there was anything left of Eleonora—it would live on in him.
---
For a time, Alaric said nothing. He did not interfere with how I raised our son. Perhaps because Y/N was still young. Perhaps because he believed there would be time later to shape him into whatever image he carried in his mind. Or perhaps because even Alaric found himself unable to disrupt the strange light that followed the child everywhere.
He visited occasionally. Never for long. He would appear in doorways or at the edge of gardens, silent and unreadable, watching Y/N from afar with that same measured expression he wore for everything. Sometimes Y/N noticed him. Sometimes not. But Alaric rarely approached, rarely touched, rarely spoke.
And because of that, my son grew freely.
Y/N was a happy child. So unbearably happy. He laughed at everything—birds splashing in fountains, servants making funny faces behind noble backs, flowers bending strangely in the wind. His joy came easily, spilling from him without restraint, bright enough to soften even the coldest corners of the palace.
The servants adored him. The guards smiled more when he passed. Even the old maids who had served through generations found themselves laughing quietly when Y/N ran through the halls chasing sunlight like it was something he could catch.
And every morning, he searched for me first. Always.
“Mama!”
The sound would echo through the corridor before I even saw him. Then came the quick footsteps, fast and excited, before Y/N threw himself into my arms with enough force to nearly knock the breath from me.
“Mama, look!”
“Mama, I found a bird feather!”
“Mama, Happy says I ask too many questions!”
“Mama, can flowers sleep?”
I never tired of it. Not once.
His smile… Gods. His smile could light the entire palace. It reached his eyes completely, warm and genuine in a way this kingdom did not deserve. And every time he looked at me like that—with complete trust, complete love—something inside me healed just a little.
Y/N made unbearable days survivable. Nights easier to endure. He reminded me that softness was not weakness. That kindness could still exist even inside walls built by fear.
---
The oak tree became ours slowly. Not through declaration. Just habit.
It stood at the far edge of the gardens, older than the palace itself, its branches wide enough to cast shade over half the grass beneath it. Most people avoided that part of the grounds. I preferred it for exactly that reason. And so did Y/N.
“Mama!”
I barely had time to set the blanket down before tiny hands grabbed at my skirts. Y/N stood beside me with grass stains already covering his little shoes, hair messy from running through the gardens despite the maids’ best efforts.
“You’re supposed to help me,” I said with mock seriousness.
“I helping.”
“You are sitting on the basket.”
He looked down, then back up at me with complete confidence. “That helping.”
I laughed despite myself. Gods, I laughed more because of this child than I had in years. Y/N beamed immediately at the sound, pleased with himself. Everything pleased himself at three years old. Especially making me smile.
We spent afternoons there whenever duties allowed. Simple afternoons. Bread. Fruit. Small pastries stolen from the kitchens because Y/N had already learned which servants were easiest to charm.
The child sat between my legs on the blanket, happily kicking his feet while babbling about things only half understandable. “There was bird,” he explained very seriously, holding up sticky fingers for emphasis. “And it was looking at me.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“And what did the bird say?”
Y/N gasped softly. “Mama,” he whispered dramatically, “birds no talk.”
“Of course. Forgive me.”
Y/N nodded, satisfied by my apology, then immediately forgot the conversation entirely when a butterfly passed nearby.
“Mama LOOK!”
Before I could answer, he scrambled clumsily off the blanket, chasing after it with tiny determined steps. He never caught butterflies. But that never stopped him from trying. I watched him run beneath the sunlight, laughter echoing through the gardens. So small. So alive.
There were moments when fear gripped me so sharply it stole my breath. Because this child—this bright, beautiful little soul—had been born into a kingdom that devoured softness. And yet somehow… Y/N remained soft anyway.
He cried when servants were sad. Shared food without being asked. Brought flowers to injured guards because he believed flowers fixed everything. Once, he found a dying bird near the fountain and sobbed so hard into my dress that I thought his little heart might break with it.
I held him for nearly an hour afterward.
“It hurts,” he whispered tearfully.
I kissed his hair. “Yes,” I told him honestly. “It does.”
Eventually, Y/N wandered back to me carrying something hidden behind his back. His smile already betrayed him.
“Mama.”
“Yes?”
“I got you gift.”
My heart melted every time he said it like that. “Did you?”
He nodded proudly and revealed a flower. Crushed. Slightly broken. Clearly picked with tremendous effort.
“It’s beautiful,” I said immediately.
Y/N’s entire face lit up. “Really?”
“Really.”
I took it carefully, like it was precious. Because it was. To me, it was worth more than every jewel in the treasury.
Y/N climbed clumsily back into my lap afterward, pressing against me with complete trust as I tucked the flower into my braid.
“There,” I said softly. “So I can carry your gift with me.”
Y/N stared at it proudly for a moment, then leaned back against my chest with a happy sigh.
“Mama?”
“Yes, darling?”
“I love you.”
The words came so easily from him. Without hesitation. Without fear. I closed my eyes briefly, holding him tighter. “I love you too,” I whispered.
More than my own life. More than crowns. More than kingdoms.
And beneath the oak tree, with sunlight filtering through the leaves and my child safe in my arms, I allowed myself, just for a moment, to believe happiness might survive here after all.
---
But happiness in Virelia was always fragile. Beautiful things rarely survived untouched within those walls.
I had only left for a few minutes. Y/N had been sitting on the carpet near the western gardens, happily surrounded by toys while I went to ask the kitchens for more fruit and honey cakes. Y/N had insisted he was “very busy” and could not possibly come with me.
I remember smiling as I walked away. Gods. I remember thinking how peaceful he sounded.
By the time I returned, the palace felt wrong. Not loud. Worse. Quiet. The kind of silence that comes just before something breaks.
Then—a sound. A sharp crack.
And suddenly—crying.
My child crying.
I dropped the tray before I realized I had done it. Fruit scattered across the floor as I ran.
The sitting room doors were open. And inside, Y/N was on the floor. Crying. Small hands trembling against the carpet. The doll lay several feet away.
And Alaric stood over them.
Cold. Towering. Watching.
For one horrible second, my body refused to move. Because I knew. I knew immediately. I rushed forward. “What are you doing?”
I dropped to the floor beside Y/N, gathering him into my arms immediately. He clung to me at once, sobbing against my dress hard enough his tiny body shook.
“Mama—”
“I’m here,” I whispered quickly, holding his head against my shoulder. “I’m here.” His cheek was already red. My stomach twisted violently.
I looked up at Alaric. “He’s three years old.” My voice shook with anger. “He doesn’t even understand what you’re angry about.”
“He understands weakness.”
I stared at him in disbelief. Y/N cried harder against me. “No,” I snapped. “He understands play.”
Alaric’s eyes shifted toward the toys. Toward the doll. And suddenly he crossed the room, grabbing the wooden horse from the floor before throwing it violently against the wall.
The sharp crack echoed through the room as it split apart. Y/N flinched so hard he nearly climbed into my skin.
“This,” Alaric said coldly, “is how weakness begins.”
I stood slowly, still holding my child tightly against me. “You’re frightening him.”
“Good.” The word made my blood run cold.
“He’s a child.”
“He is the heir to Virelia.”
Y/N buried his face fully into my neck now, crying so hard he could barely breathe. I held him tighter.
“And children become strong when they are ready,” I said sharply, “not when they are beaten.”
The slap came before I could prepare for it. Pain exploded across my face as my head snapped sideways. For a moment the room blurred. But I did not fall. I refused to fall.
Y/N cried out louder immediately. “Mama!”
I straightened slowly, one arm still wrapped around him protectively.
And when I looked back at Alaric, something inside me had changed. Not fear. That had existed for years already. This was something else.
A terrible, aching disappointment. Because for one foolish moment—one tiny foolish moment—I had believed he might leave Y/N untouched. I had believed love for his child might soften something inside him.
I was wrong.
“He is three,” I said quietly. The room had gone deathly still except for Y/N’s sobbing. “Let him be a child.”
Alaric’s gaze moved to Y/N again. To the tears. To the doll still lying abandoned on the carpet. And I watched his expression harden further instead of soften.
“No.” The word settled like a death sentence.
My chest tightened instantly. “Alaric—”
“He begins tomorrow.”
I stared at him. “…What?”
“Training.”
My entire body went cold. “You would start now?”
“Yes.”
“He can barely hold a spoon by himself!”
“Then he will learn.”
“He is a baby,” I snapped.
“He is my heir.”
Y/N’s fingers twisted desperately into my dress, frightened by the shouting he did not understand. I could feel his heartbeat racing against my chest.
“You will break him,” I whispered.
And gods, I meant it. I saw it already. The beginning. The first crack.
Alaric looked at our son with the same expression he wore when discussing war strategy. Controlled. Certain.
“No,” he answered coldly. “I will make him strong.”
And in that moment, holding my crying child while the shattered remains of a toy lay across the floor, I realized something terrifying. The palace had finally noticed Y/N’s softness.
And now, it intended to carve it out of him.
---
The training began the very next morning.
I remember the cold most clearly. The courtyard stones still damp from dawn, the air sharp enough to sting the lungs—and my son standing in the middle of it all barely awake, rubbing sleep from his eyes while a wooden sword far too large for him sagged in his tiny hands.
Three years old.
Gods. He was still small enough to reach for me in his sleep, still small enough to cry over scraped knees. And Alaric placed a sword in his hands like childhood itself was a flaw to be beaten out of him.
Y/N tried. That was the cruelest part. He always tried.
The sword slipped from his grip almost immediately, clattering loudly against the stone. The sound made him flinch before Alaric even moved, as though some part of him already understood what came next.
“Hold it straight,” Alaric ordered.
Y/N tried again. His little arms trembled violently beneath the weight. When the sword fell a second time, Alaric struck him.
Not enough to truly injure. Enough to teach fear.
Y/N cried instantly. The sound tore through me. But Alaric looked at the tears with cold indifference, like they were another weakness to correct.
Every dropped sword, every stumble, every frightened hesitation was punished.
“Enough.”
I remember how small Y/N looked when I lifted him from the stones. His hands shook so badly he could barely grip my dress. His face buried instantly against my shoulder.
“Mama…”
I held him tighter. “He can’t even lift the sword,” I told Alaric.
“He will.”
“He’s three.”
“He is my heir.”
Like that answered everything. Like heir meant child no longer mattered.
I stepped in front of Y/N when Alaric approached. I knew what would happen. I did it anyway.
The first strike made the guards look away. The second nearly knocked the breath from my chest. By the third, I had wrapped both arms around my son completely, shielding him with my body while he sobbed against me.
Alaric stopped eventually.
Not out of mercy.
Simply because the point had already been made.
---
But the training never stopped after that.
Every morning. Every day.
And slowly—terribly—the sword became easier for Y/N to hold. Not because he enjoyed it. Not because he wanted to learn. But because fear teaches quickly. Especially to children.
Something changed in Y/N after those mornings began. The laughter still existed, but softer now. More careful. He started watching doors before speaking. Flinching when voices rose too suddenly. Looking at Alaric with wide uncertain eyes, desperate for approval they no longer understood how to earn.
And every night after training, I would hold him in my arms while he slept, kissing bruised knuckles and sore little hands after the healers left.
Whispering the same promise over and over again into his hair.
“You are still gentle. You are still good. You are still my baby.”
Because I needed him to remember.
And perhaps, I needed to remember too.
---
Years passed.
And little by little, the palace grew quieter. The music became rarer. The laughter that once slipped so easily through the halls faded into something softer, more careful.
Even I changed.
There is only so long a person can live beneath constant fear before pieces of them begin disappearing quietly.
I smiled less. Spoke less.
And my son—my beautiful, gentle child—changed with me.
Y/N stopped crying during training. At first because he learned fear only worsened Alaric’s anger. Then because he simply… stopped allowing himself to.
That frightened me more than the tears ever had.
He grew quieter too. More watchful. Speaking only when necessary, eyes constantly searching a room before he dared relax inside it.
Alaric called it discipline. But I called it survival.
But despite everything—despite bruises and fear and endless mornings in cold courtyards—Y/N remained kind. Stubbornly kind. He still apologized to servants when he bumped into them. Still carried injured birds to the healers. Still crawled into my lap at night seeking comfort he had become too old for according to palace standards.
And every time I saw those pieces survive inside him, I protected them harder.
I stepped between him and Alaric more times than I could count. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with my body. I stopped caring about bruises long ago.
If pain bought my child one moment of safety, then it was worth enduring.
---
When Y/N was five, something changed again.
We were in the courtyard as always, morning fog still clinging to the stones while Y/N struggled through another exercise far too advanced for a child his age. The sword slipped from his hands.
I saw Alaric move immediately. I stepped forward on instinct, already prepared to shield Y/N before the strike came. But before I reached him, Y/N moved first.
Small. Shaking. But determined.
He stepped in front of me.
I still remember the look in his eyes. Not confusion. Not fear.
Anger.
Bright and raw and far too old for a five-year-old child. His little arms spread slightly like he truly believed he could protect me. It shattered something inside me. And terrified me at the same time.
Because I realized then what the palace had done. What Alaric had done. My child no longer looked at his father with longing or confusion. Only hurt and hatred.
I pulled Y/N back against me immediately, holding him close, whispering softly until his trembling eased. But Alaric had already seen it. And the worst part—the truly terrible part—was that he looked pleased. Like this was what he had wanted all along. Not love.
Strength sharpened through fear until it became something colder.
The training continued after that. Every day. Every year. And I finally understood something I had spent too long refusing to face: Alaric did not care if Y/N loved him. He only cared whether he survived becoming his heir. And I spent every remaining piece of myself trying to make sure survival did not cost my child his soul.
---
When Y/N was twelve, everything shattered again.
Though perhaps the truth is that things had been breaking slowly for years, and I was simply foolish enough to believe we still had pieces left to save.
I noticed the changes before Alaric did. The layers of clothing even in warmth. The way Y/N crossed his arms tightly over his chest whenever servants entered unexpectedly. Fear lived in him differently by then—quiet, constant. He had learned to hide pain young.
But never from me.
The night Alaric found out, I was not in the room. I only remember the screaming. And then someone shouting my name.
By the time I reached the courtyard, chaos had already consumed it. Guards shouting. Servants frozen in terror. Blood staining the dirt.
And my child—
my baby—
on the ground bleeding.
For one terrible second, I could not breathe.
Y/N looked so small despite being nearly grown now, curled instinctively around the wound in his chest while blood slipped through trembling fingers. And Alaric stood above him with a sword in his hand.
Not horrified, but furious at him, I ran before I even realized I was moving. I fell beside Y/N, pressing my hands against the wound while he clung to me desperately.
“Mother…”
Gods. That voice still haunts me.
Alaric called him cursed, as though our child had chosen this. As though his body was some betrayal instead of simply… himself.
Y/N kept trying to explain through tears that he had done nothing wrong. But Alaric no longer listened to reason. Only fear. Only rage.
When he raised the sword again, I shielded Y/N with my body without thinking.
I remember screaming at him to stop. Remember blood soaking through my hands faster than I could hold it back.
And then—being dragged away.
That was the worst part. Not the strikes. Not the bruises. Hearing my child scream for me while I could not reach him.
“Mother!”
The sound followed me into every nightmare afterward.
Y/N survived. Barely.
But something inside him changed after that day. Not softness. That never fully died no matter how hard the palace tried to kill it.
No. What changed was trust. The fragile hope that perhaps one day Alaric would love him as he was. That hope bled into the dirt beside him. And it never returned.
Alaric buried the truth quickly. Witnesses disappeared. Servants reassigned. By morning, the kingdom had already begun pretending nothing had happened.
As for me, Alaric no longer allowed distance between us afterward. He blamed me for Y/N. For his kindness. For his body. For every piece of humanity our child still possessed despite him.
And eventually, I became pregnant again. Again, not from love. But because Alaric wanted another heir. A “proper” one.
I remember sitting beside Y/N’s bed while he recovered, watching him sleep through fever and pain while my hand rested unconsciously over my stomach.
One child wounded beside me. Another growing within me.
And for the first time since arriving in Virelia, I truly hated my own body. Because it kept giving this kingdom children it did not deserve.
But even then—even broken, bandaged, and terrified—Y/N still reached for my hand when he woke. Still leaned into me when nightmares came. Still whispered apologies for things that were never his fault.
And every time he did, I loved him harder. Because Alaric had tried to make him believe he was a curse.
But he was never a curse.
He was proof that something beautiful could survive even here. And perhaps that was what frightened Alaric most of all.
---
The pregnancy drained me faster than the first ever had.
Perhaps because my body had never truly recovered from years of surviving. Or perhaps because grief consumes strength long before illness does.
Either way, with each passing month, I grew weaker.
And Y/N noticed immediately.
He had barely recovered from his own injuries when he began hovering around me like a worried shadow. At twelve, he was already taller than me sitting beside the bed, all long limbs and careful movements, trying so hard not to frighten me with the strength Alaric had forced into his body.
But no matter how much training hardened him, he remained gentle with me.
Always gentle with me.
“You should rest more,” he said almost daily now.
“And who decided that?” I asked faintly.
“You look tired.”
“I am tired.”
His expression tightened instantly with guilt, like he had done something wrong just by noticing.
Gods. Alaric had taught him to apologize for every feeling.
Y/N moved closer after a moment, kneeling beside my chair. His hands hovered uncertainly near my stomach before finally resting there lightly.
Protective. Afraid.
“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.
But I only brushed his hair back gently. “Not when you fuss over me this much.”
That earned the smallest smile. Rare enough now that I treasured every one.
He spent more time in my chambers after that. Reading beside me while I rested. Fixing blankets when the dizziness became too strong. Bringing flowers from the gardens like he used to as a child, though now he placed them quietly in water instead of proudly presenting crushed petals with grass-stained hands.
Once, I woke from an afternoon sleep to find him asleep at the foot of my bed, still in training clothes, sword abandoned nearby.
He had been watching over me. Even exhausted, he still tried.
The nightmares worsened during the pregnancy. Sometimes I woke gasping from dreams of blood and swords and screaming. And almost every time, Y/N was already there.
“Mama.”
Always soft. Always careful. I would reach for him immediately, and despite being nearly grown now, despite everything the palace demanded he become, he still climbed into bed beside me when I asked.
Still my child. Always my child.
One evening, while brushing my hair, he suddenly asked, “Do you think the baby will hate me?”
The question stole the breath from my lungs.
“I scared the servants today,” he admitted quietly. “They looked afraid when I walked in.”
My heart broke all over again. Because in that moment, he sounded so young.
Not an heir. Not a prince. Just a child terrified of becoming the monster his father believed he already was.
I reached for his face immediately. “Look at me.”
He did reluctantly, eyes full of something fragile and wounded.
“You could never make someone hate you by existing.”
“But Father—”
“No.” The word came sharper than intended. I softened immediately after. “Your father is wrong.”
Y/N still looked unconvinced, so I pressed my forehead gently against his.
“This baby will love you,” I whispered. “Because I love you.”
A small silence followed before he answered quietly,
“I love you too, Mama.”
Those words never stopped hurting beautifully. Because every time he said them, I became more terrified of leaving him behind in this place.
---
By the final months, walking exhausted me. The healers worried more often than they spoke aloud.
And Y/N noticed that too. He noticed everything.
He began escorting me everywhere himself, glaring at servants who moved too quickly near me, staying close enough to catch me whenever dizziness struck.
Once, when I nearly collapsed in the corridor, he caught me before I hit the ground. Panic flashed across his face so intensely it frightened me.
“Mama—”
“I’m alright.”
“You’re not.”
The words came broken. Angry. Scared.
And suddenly I realized Y/N already knew. Perhaps not fully. But enough. Enough to fear what was coming.
That night, he stayed beside me until I fell asleep, his hand holding mine the entire time.
Like if he let go, I might disappear.
---
Soon I knew something might happen. No healer said the words aloud. But I knew my own body.
And my body was tired. Not the ordinary exhaustion of pregnancy. Something deeper. Heavier. Like my bones themselves had begun letting go.
The mornings became the hardest. Sometimes it took all my strength simply to sit upright while maids brushed my hair. Food made me nauseous more often than not. Walking blurred my vision. Even breathing felt difficult some days, as though my lungs no longer wished to carry the weight of the world inside them.
And through all of it, Y/N watched me.
Constantly.
I caught him staring when he thought I was asleep, his expression tight with fear he did not know how to voice. He had grown taller again recently. Broader shoulders forming beneath training clothes. Hands roughened from swords and bruises.
But when he looked at me like that, he was still my little child beneath the oak tree.
Still reaching for me with flower-stained fingers.
---
One evening, I found Y/N standing alone in the nursery. The room had only recently been prepared. Soft blankets folded carefully. Tiny clothes resting untouched in drawers. Y/N stood beside the cradle silently, one hand resting lightly against the wood.
I leaned against the doorway for support. “You don’t like it?”
He startled immediately. “I do.”
“Then why do you look ready to fight the cradle?”
That earned the faintest huff of laughter. Small. But real.
Gods, I missed that sound.
I walked closer slowly, my body aching with every step. Y/N noticed immediately and moved to steady me before I could even ask. Always watching. Always careful.
He helped me sit beside the cradle, then stood awkwardly nearby.
“What’s wrong?” I asked softly.
He looked down. “…I heard the healers talking.”
My chest tightened.
Ah.
So this was the fear behind his eyes.
“They think you’re weak.”
I smiled faintly. “I am weak.”
“No.”
The answer came instantly. Sharply. Almost angry. His jaw tightened afterward like he regretted the emotion.
I reached for his hand. “My love, bodies are not meant to survive everything.”
Y/N’s expression cracked slightly. “Don’t say things like that.”
There it was. The fear. Raw and terrified beneath years of silence and discipline.
“You can’t leave.”
The words barely rose above a whisper.
I looked at my child—my beautiful child who had spent years surviving pain no one should endure—and realized he was still so young. Far too young to carry this kind of fear.
I lifted my hand slowly to his face. “You know what I am most proud of?”
He shook his head weakly.
“You stayed kind.”
Tears filled his eyes immediately.
Even now. Even after everything. Still gentle enough to cry.
“This palace tried very hard to take that from you,” I whispered. “But it couldn’t.”
Y/N looked away. “…Father says kindness makes people weak.”
“Your father is wrong.”
The words came easily now. Death has a way of making truth less frightening.
I rested my hand over his again. “You will hear cruel things in your life. About your body. Your heart. The way you exist. But none of those things make you wrong.”
His breathing hitched softly. Then slowly, Y/N knelt beside my chair, resting his forehead against my knee like he used to after nightmares when he was small. And for a moment, he let himself be held again.
I ran my fingers through his hair quietly, memorizing the feeling.
Because somewhere deep inside me, I already knew. This might be one of the last times I would ever get to.
---
Wanda’s POV
Wanda turned the page carefully. Her vision blurred slightly. She blinked hard, trying to steady herself enough to continue—but then she realized there was nothing else.
The diary ended there.
No more entries. No final thoughts. No explanation. Just silence. And tucked carefully between the last pages were two letters.
One marked in familiar elegant handwriting:
Y/N
And the other—
Baby
Wanda’s breath caught softly, her fingers trembling against the paper.
Behind her, Y/N broke again quietly against her neck. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just exhausted grief finally unraveling after years of being buried too deep. They had long since hidden their face against her shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around her waist from behind while she sat between their legs against the headboard. One of their hands rested protectively over her stomach even now. Like despite everything—despite all the pain—they still needed to hold onto something gentle. Something alive.
Their body shook against hers with silent crying they clearly no longer knew how to stop.
And gods—
Wanda wanted to cry too.
Her chest hurt so badly she thought it might split open, because suddenly she understood so much. The carefulness. The fear. The constant need Y/N had to protect everyone around them. Why they apologized for taking space. Why anger frightened them even when directed elsewhere. Why kindness felt almost sacred to them.
Eleonora had fought for every soft piece still living inside them. Every single one.
Wanda closed the diary slowly, carefully. Y/N couldn’t take more tonight. Neither could she.
She set the diary aside on the bedside table before immediately turning her attention back to them. Her hand slid behind their neck gently, fingers threading softly through their hair while she turned enough to press trembling kisses against their cheek.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered.
Her voice shook too. She hated that it did. But maybe pretending strength right now wasn’t the point.
Y/N’s grip around her tightened desperately. A broken sound left them against her throat, and Wanda’s eyes burned immediately.
“Oh, my love…”
She shifted carefully in their arms, trying to hold them closer despite the awkward angle between them. One hand stayed at the back of their neck. The other rested over theirs on her stomach, grounding them both.
“She loved you so much,” Wanda whispered softly.
Y/N cried harder at that. Not loudly. That somehow made it worse, because it sounded like someone trying not to fall apart while already shattered.
Wanda kissed their temple again. “She fought for you,” she murmured. “Every day.”
Their breathing stuttered unevenly against her skin.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The room remained dim and quiet except for Y/N’s muffled crying and the faint crackling of the fireplace. Then finally—very quietly—Y/N spoke.
“…I miss her.”
The words sounded unbearably small. Young. Not a king. Not a ruler.
Just a child missing their mother.
Wanda turned as much as she could in their hold, tears finally slipping free despite her efforts.
“I know,” she whispered.
Then she pulled one of their hands carefully from her waist and pressed a kiss into their knuckles.
Summary: The forced proximity of a long road trip is finally wearing down the walls between Wanda and Y/N. Trapped in a cramped car with an incredibly perceptive Yelena Belova, the unspoken tension reaches a boiling point.
Words: 13k+
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Soulmate AU, Mentions of Past Hydra Abuse/Experimentation, Reader has a P, mention of smut.
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
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Yelena’s POV
The road stretched endlessly ahead of them beneath heavy grey clouds that turned the late afternoon dim and cold. Trees blurred past outside the windows in dark smears of green and black, occasionally broken by tiny gas stations or forgotten roadside towns as the car pushed steadily south.
Inside, it was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the faint music drifting from the radio. Yelena drove with one hand resting lazily on the wheel, sunglasses pushed into her hair despite the lack of sunlight. Wanda sat in the passenger seat with one knee slightly pulled up, staring out at the distant hills passing by. In the backseat, Y/N sat sideways behind Wanda, one arm draped across the top of the seat. Her attention seemed split between the scenery outside and Wanda beside her. Even now. Always.
Yelena had noticed it in the rearview mirror probably a hundred times already. How the taller woman acted around Wanda. A faint smirk tugged at Yelena’s mouth before she finally broke the silence.
“Tell me again what happened.”
Wanda blinked and looked over. “The mission?”
“Yes, mission,” Yelena replied dryly.
Y/N snorted softly from the backseat.
Wanda ignored it, shifting slightly before answering. “We were ambushed during a retrieval mission. Hydra knew we were coming.”
Yelena’s amusement faded immediately. “That is bad already.”
Wanda nodded faintly. “There were too many of them. Too organized. They knew exactly how we’d move.” Her jaw tightened slightly at the memory. “It wasn’t random.”
“Someone leaked information,” Yelena said.
“Maybe,” Wanda admitted quietly. “Or they’ve been studying us longer than we thought.”
In the backseat, Y/N’s posture stiffened almost instantly.
Wanda noticed immediately. Her fingers twitched faintly in her lap before she continued. “We escaped. Barely. But during the escape we had to split up.”
“Nat, Steve, and Bucky went one way,” Y/N added quietly. “Me and Wanda went the other.”
Yelena glanced toward the mirror again. “And Natasha told you to run.”
“A week ago,” Wanda said. “She contacted us through an encrypted burner. Told us to stay off-grid, keep moving, change locations constantly, and not go near the compound.”
“Until they figured out what happened,” Yelena murmured.
Wanda nodded. Silence settled inside the car again as light rain began tapping softly against the windows. The windshield wipers swept once across the glass.
“And after that?” Yelena asked.
Wanda’s expression dimmed slightly. “Nothing.”
Yelena’s grip shifted slightly on the steering wheel. That bothered her. Natasha never stayed silent unless she had a reason. Or couldn’t answer. The thought lingered heavily in the car for a few seconds, mixing with the sound of rain against the windows and the steady rumble of tires against wet pavement.
Wanda noticed the slight tension settling into Yelena’s shoulders. “…Where are we going exactly?” she asked quietly.
Yelena blinked once, pulling herself back from the thought. “South coast.”
“That narrows it down so much,” Wanda muttered.
Yelena ignored the sarcasm easily. “There’s a place,” she said after a moment. “Old safehouse Natasha used years ago after Red Room.”
That immediately got Wanda’s attention. “You think she’d go back there?”
“No,” Yelena said simply. “Which is exactly why she might.” A faint smirk tugged at Yelena’s mouth. “Yes.” Yelena adjusted her grip on the wheel before continuing. “It’s near the coast. Small town. Forgettable.” Her expression dimmed slightly. “One of the first places Natasha brought me after we escaped Dreykov.”
Wanda’s gaze softened.
Yelena shrugged one shoulder casually, though there was something quieter beneath it. “She used it sometimes when things became... too loud.”
In the backseat, Y/N listened silently, chin resting against her folded arm near the window while rain streaked across the glass beside her.
The silence thickened again after that. Rain continued tapping softly against the windows while the car pushed farther south through long empty roads. Yelena drove one-handed again, though this time her eyes kept flicking toward the rearview mirror, but because she was studying Y/N now. Curious.
Eventually she spoke again.
“So,” Yelena said casually, “how were you able to smell Natasha on me?”
Wanda glanced over slightly.
In the backseat, Y/N blinked once. “…What?”
“At the alley,” Yelena explained. “You said I smelled like her.”
“Oh.” Y/N shifted slightly. “You do.”
“You can smell family connections?”
“No. I just have a good nose.” Y/N hesitated briefly, like she was trying to explain something obvious to someone who lacked the context for it. “I can turn into a wolf.”
Silence. Yelena stared at the mirror for a full second.
“Wait.” She glanced toward the backseat. “Like actual wolf?”
“Yes.”
“Big wolf?”
“…Yes.”
“How big?”
Y/N paused slightly. “…Big.”
Wanda smiled faintly despite herself.
Yelena barked out a laugh immediately. “That is amazing.”
Y/N relaxed slightly at the reaction. Then Yelena’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she looked at Y/N through the mirror again. “So are you enhanced too?”
Y/N frowned. “What?”
Yelena gestured vaguely toward her. “You are giant. Strong. Dramatic. Broody. I’m trying to determine if you are enhanced or just hot.”
Wanda’s head snapped toward Yelena instantly. A visible frown formed on her face.
Y/N, meanwhile, looked deeply confused again. But answered anyway, “It’s part of the wolf,” she explained quietly. “Strength. Senses. Healing.”
Yelena tilted her head slightly. “And Hydra did this?”
Y/N shook her head. “No.” A small pause. “I was born this way.”
That got Yelena’s full attention immediately. “…Seriously?”
Y/N nodded once.
For a second, Yelena just stared at her in the mirror. Then a grin spread across her face. “That is coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Wanda’s frown deepened.
Y/N looked surprised by the enthusiasm. “…Really?”
“Yes,” Yelena said immediately. “You are giant magical wolf woman.”
Another pause.
“Can I see later?”
Wanda turned sharply toward Yelena again.
Y/N blinked once. “…The wolf?”
“Yes, the wolf.”
“…Okay.”
Wanda’s jaw tightened slightly. Yelena caught it immediately finding amusing.
Wanda stared ahead at the road in complete silence now.
Yelena smirked to herself before continuing to poke at Y/N. “Can you understand people while wolf?”
“Yes.”
“Can you talk?”
“No.”
Wanda pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yelena.”
“What?”
“You are interrogating her like she is a zoo exhibit.”
“I am learning,” Yelena corrected.
Y/N tilted her head. “I don’t mind.”
“See?” Yelena pointed triumphantly.
Wanda made a noise of irritation and looked out the side window again.
Yelena was absolutely certain now. The more she complimented Y/N, the grumpier Wanda became. And Y/N was somehow too oblivious to notice any of it. Which only made it funnier.
“This is amazing,” Yelena continued.
Y/N blinked once, slightly unsure how to respond to that level of enthusiasm. “…Okay.”
“No, seriously.” Yelena pointed dramatically toward the backseat. “Do you understand how cool this is? Natasha never told me the Avengers had an actual werewolf.”
“I’m not a werewolf,” Y/N corrected automatically.
Yelena waved a dismissive hand. “Close enough.”
“It’s not.”
“What is difference?”
Y/N frowned slightly, genuinely considering it. “…I’m not cursed.”
Yelena barked out a laugh loud enough to echo through the car. Wanda stayed facing the window. Silent.
“You are funny too,” Yelena informed Y/N.
Y/N looked mildly alarmed by that statement. “I wasn’t joking.”
“That makes it better.”
Another soft laugh escaped Yelena as the car rolled down the road. In the backseat, Y/N relaxed a little more into the seat, one arm resting against the door while she watched the road ahead through the windshield.
Yelena glanced toward the mirror again. “So how does it work?”
Y/N tilted her head slightly. “What does?”
“The wolf thing.”
“Oh…I shift.”
Yelena stared at her reflection for a second. “…You are terrible at explaining things.”
Wanda’s lips twitched faintly despite herself before she forced the expression away again.
Y/N noticed immediately. Her attention shifted toward Wanda for a second longer than necessary, lingering there briefly before returning to Yelena.
“Okay!” Yelena glanced back again. “Do you chase things?”
Y/N looked genuinely confused. “…What things?”
“Cars. Squirrels. Tiny annoying animals. A ball.”
“No,” Y/N said immediately, mildly offended. “I’m not a dog.”
Wanda covered her mouth quickly to hide another laugh as she very briefly—and disastrously—imagined throwing something just to see what Y/N would do.
Y/N looked immediately pleased by the sound. That tiny shift in her expression didn’t escape Yelena either. God, these two were obvious.
“So,” Yelena said casually, still grinning to herself, “if I buy squeaky toy later—”
“No.”
“Very fast answer.”
“Because it’s stupid.”
“You thought about it though.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Wanda let out another quiet laugh before she could stop herself. Y/N’s attention snapped toward her again immediately, expression softening all over again like flipping a switch.
Wanda looked away toward the window quickly before Y/N could notice the heat returning to her face.
Unfortunately, Yelena noticed both.
The car slowly settled into a quieter rhythm after that. Rain tapped softly against the windows while the highway stretched endlessly ahead of them, illuminated only by distant headlights and occasional road signs flashing past in the dark. Yelena hummed quietly along with the radio. Wanda stayed turned toward the window, though the faint smile never fully disappeared from her mouth. And in the backseat, Y/N relaxed deeper into her corner, calm and content in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. Mostly because Wanda kept laughing.
---
Wanda’s POV
By the time they finally stopped, Wanda felt like her entire body had gone numb from sitting in the car for so many hours. The road had long since emptied into stretches of darkness, civilization thinning until there was barely anything left except trees, old gas stations, and occasional flickering signs glowing weakly in the distance.
When the motel finally appeared, it looked like something pulled straight out of a horror movie. A buzzing neon VACANCY sign flickered unevenly near the road. Half the letters were dead. Wanda stared at it through the windshield. “…Absolutely not.”
Yelena parked anyway. “Perfect hiding place,” she declared.
“It looks like we’re about to get murdered.”
“Exactly. Nobody searches for someone in murder motel.”
That was... annoyingly logical.
The gravel crunched beneath the tires as they pulled into the nearly empty parking lot. The motel itself was old and weatherworn, paint peeling along the doors and railings. A single dim light buzzed outside the office. Wanda climbed out of the car slowly, stretching her arms above her head with a quiet groan. Cold air hit immediately. Before she could even react properly, warmth settled at her back.
Y/N.
She had moved beside Wanda almost instantly after getting out, standing close enough that their shoulders brushed lightly while golden eyes scanned the parking lot carefully. Wanda tried very hard not to notice how automatic it had become.
Yelena absolutely noticed. Again. The blonde grabbed the car keys and headed toward the office with an amused little hum under her breath. “I’ll get the rooms,” she announced.
Wanda watched her disappear inside before exhaling quietly. Beside her, Y/N tilted her head slightly. “Tired?”
Wanda glanced up at her. Even exhausted, Y/N still looked unfairly good. Which was a problem Wanda was aggressively not thinking about.
“A little,” Wanda admitted.
Y/N nodded once, gaze flicking briefly toward the dark edges of the parking lot again before settling back on Wanda.
“You should sleep.”
Something about the simple certainty in her voice made warmth spread through Wanda’s chest again. Dangerous. Very dangerous.
A few minutes later, the office door opened again. Yelena stepped back outside, twirling two keycards between her fingers. “One room for me,” she said casually. Then tossed the second card directly at Y/N. “One room for the couple.”
Wanda nearly inhaled her own soul. “We are not a couple!”
Yelena raised one eyebrow slowly, visibly amused. “…Okay.”
The way she said it somehow made it infinitely worse.
Wanda’s face burned hotter instantly. “We’re not!”
“Mhm.” Yelena smirked faintly before turning away, already walking toward her room with her duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
“Goodnight, married people.”
“Yelena!”
The blonde only waved dismissively without looking back.
Wanda stood frozen in the middle of the parking lot for a full second, absolutely mortified before she grabbed her own bag quickly. “Come on.”
The motel walkway creaked softly beneath their footsteps as they crossed the parking lot. The farther they moved from the office lights, the darker everything became, shadows stretching long between the doors. Y/N walked slightly behind Wanda this time, close enough that Wanda could feel her presence without looking.
It made her chest ache in that confusing, dangerous way again.
Wanda unlocked the door quickly and pushed it open. The room was exactly what she expected. Old and small with a single buzzing lamp cast soft yellow light over faded floral wallpaper and worn carpet that had definitely seen better decades. There were two bedside tables, a tiny bathroom tucked near the back, an old TV mounted crookedly on the wall—and one bed.
Wanda stopped walking and slowly, she turned toward Y/N.
Y/N blinked once. “…What?”
“There’s one bed.”
Y/N looked at the bed. Then back at Wanda. “…Okay?”
Right. Of course that wouldn’t bother her. They’ve been sleeping on the same bed this whole time.
“It’s fine,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “We’ve shared beds before.”
Y/N nodded immediately. “Yeah.”
Because for Y/N, this really was normal. Wanda hated how much that calmed her.
Y/N quietly locked the door behind them before setting her bag down near the wall. The room immediately felt smaller afterward. Quieter.
Wanda busied herself taking off her jacket, avoiding eye contact completely. But unfortunately, Y/N noticed her mood almost instantly. “…Wanda?”
“I’m fine.” The answer came sharper than intended.
Y/N went still for a second.
Wanda immediately regretted it. She rubbed a hand over her face tiredly. “Sorry. I just—”
Before she could finish, warmth suddenly wrapped around her making her freeze. Y/N had stepped closer without a sound and pulled her gently into a hug. Not tight. Not restraining. Just there. Warm arms around her shoulders. Y/N chest against hers. Steady heartbeat beneath her ear.
“I don’t want to fight,” Y/N murmured quietly.
Wanda’s breath caught.
Y/N held her carefully, like she was afraid Wanda might pull away if she moved too suddenly.
“I just want to know if you’re okay.”
The honesty in her voice shattered something soft inside Wanda immediately. Because there was no accusation there. No frustration. No confusion. Just concern.
Wanda felt herself melt against her before she could stop it. Her forehead slowly dropped against Y/N’s shoulder as tension drained out of her body all at once.
“I know,” she whispered tiredly.
Y/N’s arms tightened slightly around her at the sound. Warm and safe.
Wanda closed her eyes.
God.
This was becoming a serious problem.
---
Wanda stayed there longer than she meant to, pressed against Y/N’s chest while the motel room hummed quietly around them, the old air conditioner rattling softly somewhere near the window.
Y/N didn’t rush her. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t push. She just held her. One hand rested carefully between Wanda’s shoulder blades while the other stayed warm against her waist, grounding and steady in that effortless way only Y/N seemed capable of.
Wanda hated how much she needed it.
After a long moment, Y/N spoke quietly. “Did I do something wrong?”
The question was so soft, so genuinely worried, that Wanda’s chest tightened painfully. She pulled back just enough to look up at her.
Y/N’s expression was open, uncertain now in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. Like Wanda’s reactions mattered more than her own comfort.
“No,” Wanda said immediately. “No, you didn’t.”
Y/N studied her face carefully, searching for any sign she was lying. “…Then why are you upset?”
Because you smile every time I laugh. Because you look at me like I’m something precious. Because I can’t breathe when you touch me anymore. Wanda swallowed hard. “I’m just tired,” she said instead.
Y/N kept looking at her for another second, then slowly nodded. “…Okay.”
She believed her enough not to push further. That somehow made Wanda feel even worse.
Y/N finally loosened her hold, though one hand lingered lightly against Wanda’s waist for a second longer before falling away completely. The loss of warmth was immediate.
Wanda tried very hard not to notice.
Y/N stepped back and glanced around the room before wrinkling her nose slightly. “This place smells weird.”
The abrupt change nearly made Wanda laugh.
“It’s a motel.”
“It smells like cigarettes and sadness.”
A startled laugh escaped Wanda before she could stop it. Y/N’s entire expression softened instantly at the sound again.
There it is. That look. Wanda felt heat crawl back into her face immediately. Wanda turned away quickly before Y/N could notice her spiraling again and dropped her bag near the bed. Behind her, she heard Y/N moving quietly around the room, checking windows and locks automatically out of habit. The familiar sounds settled something anxious in Wanda’s chest.
A few minutes later, Wanda sat near the edge of the bed while Y/N disappeared briefly into the bathroom to wash up. The second the door closed, Wanda dropped her face into her hands with a groan.
“This is bad,” she whispered to herself. Very bad. Because now every little thing affected her. The hugs, the smiles, the protective instincts, the way Y/N looked happier whenever Wanda laughed. And the worst part?
Wanda liked it. A lot.
The bathroom door opened again. Wanda looked up automatically—and immediately regretted having eyes. Y/N stepped back into the room wearing loose grey sweatpants and a black sports bra, hair still damp from washing it quickly in the sink.
Wanda forgot how breathing worked. Again.
Y/N glanced at her immediately. “…What?”
“Nothing.” That answer came way too fast.
Y/N stared at her for a second. Then, to Wanda’s absolute horror, a small smirk appeared.
“Why is your face red?”
Wanda nearly choked. “It’s not.”
“It is.”
“It’s warm in here.”
Y/N glanced around the room. The ancient air conditioner rattled loudly from the window. “…No, it isn’t.”
Wanda hated everything.
Y/N took another step closer, still looking genuinely curious despite the faint amusement lingering on her face.
“You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“The red face thing.”
Wanda grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at her. But Y/N caught it automatically. And the smirk got slightly bigger.
Wanda wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you know something.”
Y/N frowned slightly, clearly trying to understand what Wanda meant. Then, instead of backing off, she stepped closer.
Wanda immediately regretted saying anything.
“Why?” Y/N asked.
Wanda opened her mouth but nothing came out.
Y/N tilted her head. “Am I the one making you blush?”
The question hit Wanda like a freight train. Her entire brain stopped functioning. For one horrifying second, neither of them spoke. Y/N watched her carefully. Wanda stared back completely frozen. Y/N kept watching her, golden eyes focused entirely on her face. There was no teasing there. No smugness. Just curiosity. Which somehow made it ten times worse.
Slowly, Y/N reached out and took Wanda's hand.
Wanda's breath caught. “Y/N—”
“You keep doing it.”
“What?”
Y/N shifted a little closer. Far too close. Wanda could feel the warmth radiating from her.
Y/N tilted her head. “Is it?” The question came out quiet. And somehow that was the problem. Because Y/N wasn't trying to corner her. She actually wanted to understand.
“You blush when I get close,” Y/N continued carefully. “And when I touch you.”
Another inch closer.
“Your heartbeat gets faster.”
“Y/N.”
“And when I hug you—”
“Y/N.”
“Is it because—”
“Stop.”
The word came out sharper than Wanda intended.
Y/N immediately fell silent.
Wanda hated the flash of uncertainty that crossed her face. This was exactly why she couldn't do this. Because one more second and she was going to say something she couldn't take back. Something that would change everything.
Wanda pulled her hand free and stood abruptly. “I need a shower.”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
“A shower.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
Y/N glanced toward the bathroom. Then back at Wanda. Still confused.
“Did I say something wrong?”
The guilt hit instantly.
“No.”
“You seem upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
“You pushed me.”
Wanda groaned and scrubbed both hands down her face. “I just need five minutes, okay?”
Y/N studied her for a moment.
Then nodded slowly. “…Okay.”
The disappointment she tried to hide made Wanda feel even worse. Without trusting herself to say anything else, Wanda grabbed her clothes and headed for the bathroom. The door shut behind her. The lock clicked.
For a long moment, Wanda simply stood there staring at her reflection in the mirror. Then she dropped her forehead against it.
“Oh, this is a disaster.”
---
Y/N’s POV
The bathroom door clicked shut.
Y/N remained exactly where she was on the edge of the bed, staring at it. Very confused. A few minutes ago she had been certain she was finally understanding what was happening. Wanda’s heartbeat accelerated whenever Y/N got close. She blushed, she looked away and she got nervous when Y/N touched her.
Those signs seemed obvious. At least, they did to Y/N.
So why did Wanda keep denying it? It didn’t make sense.
Because Wanda was her imprint. The certainty of that sat deep inside her bones. Unshakable. The moment Y/N had seen Wanda for the first time, something had changed. Every instinct she possessed had immediately recognized her.
Protect. Stay close. Keep safe. Make her happy.
It wasn’t something Y/N had chosen. It simply was. As natural as breathing. As natural as her heartbeat. Which was why Wanda’s reactions confused her so much.
Y/N wasn’t afraid.
Why would she be?
Wanda was Wanda. Her imprint. The person her instincts trusted more than anyone else in the world. Even now, with a locked bathroom door between them, Y/N could hear Wanda moving around inside. Running water. Soft footsteps. Safe.
The knowledge settled her immediately. So why wasn’t Wanda settling too?
Y/N rubbed the back of her neck.
Maybe other people were just complicated. That seemed increasingly likely. She thought back to the car ride. The way Wanda smiled when Yelena was being ridiculous. The way her face turned red. The way she’d melted into Y/N’s arms earlier. And then five minutes later acted like Y/N had asked her to dismantle a bomb with her teeth.
None of it made sense. Y/N’s frown deepened. Maybe Wanda was afraid Y/N didn’t feel the same way. The thought made her sit up straighter.
Was that it?
Normal people needed things said out loud sometimes. Maybe Wanda couldn’t feel what Y/N felt. Maybe she didn’t understand.
Y/N stared at the bathroom door.
Of course she didn’t understand. She didn’t even know what imprinting was.
The realization hit all at once.
Y/N had spent so much time assuming Wanda knew. Assuming she could somehow see it.
But Wanda wasn’t a wolf.
She had no reason to know why Y/N always ended up beside her. Why Y/N watched every room for threats. Why her attention always drifted back to Wanda no matter what else was happening. Why hearing Wanda laugh felt better than winning a fight.
Y/N exhaled slowly.
Maybe Wanda thought those things were choices. Not instincts. Not something woven into the very core of Y/N’s existence.
The thought made her chest ache unexpectedly. Because if Wanda didn’t know…
Then from her perspective, Y/N probably looked insane.
Y/N frowned, then sighed.
Humans were confusing. Wanda was confusing. And somehow she was still the easiest person in the world to be around.
---
Wanda’s POV
The next morning, they were back on the road before sunrise.
Wanda had barely slept. Not because of the motel. Not because of the old mattress or the rattling air conditioner.
Because of Y/N.
After escaping into the shower the night before, Wanda had spent nearly twenty minutes standing under lukewarm water trying to get her thoughts under control. By the time she finally came back out, Y/N had been sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her.
Wanda had immediately announced she was tired before Y/N could continue whatever conversation they'd almost had earlier. Y/N had looked like she wanted to ask something, but after a second she'd simply nodded and said okay.
Then they'd gone to bed.
One bed. One very small bed.
Wanda was refusing to think about that too.
The motel coffee had been terrible, Yelena had insulted the complimentary waffles for five straight minutes, and somehow Y/N had still eaten four of them.
Now the three of them were driving farther south beneath a cloudy grey sky. This time, Y/N was driving. Wanda was absolutely not thinking about that. Not thinking about the way Y/N's hands looked on the steering wheel. Or the way she drove—steady, calm, one arm resting loosely near the window while the other guided the car effortlessly down the empty road. Wanda sat in the backseat behind her, staring out the window while trying very hard not to focus on the sound of Y/N laughing. Again.
For the past few hours, Yelena and Y/N had been talking almost nonstop. At first it had been practical things—roads, Natasha, safehouses, possible routes. Then somewhere along the way it had devolved into complete nonsense. And Y/N was participating.
Willingly.
Wanda still didn't understand how Yelena had managed this so fast.
When Y/N first joined the Avengers, it had taken months before she willingly joined conversations with the others. Even longer before she started joking back.
But now?
Yelena said one ridiculous thing and suddenly Y/N was relaxed enough to laugh every five minutes.
It was ridiculous.
“See?” Yelena said from the passenger seat, gesturing dramatically with half a granola bar. “This is why I don't trust goats.”
Y/N glanced at her briefly.
“…Goats?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“They look like they know secrets.”
A quiet snort escaped Y/N before she could stop it. Wanda stared at the back of her head in betrayal.
“That’s not a reason,” Y/N said, still amused.
“It is absolutely a reason. I saw one stare at me for twenty straight seconds once.”
“Maybe it didn't like you.”
“Exactly. Suspicious.”
Y/N laughed again. Wanda frowned harder at the passing scenery outside. How was this happening?
Yelena leaned back smugly in her seat.
“You laugh because you know I’m right.”
“I laugh because you sound insane.”
“Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment.”
“In my culture, it is.”
Y/N shook her head slightly, smiling to herself as she focused back on the road.
Wanda crossed her arms tighter. This was really ridiculous. She should've been happy Y/N was comfortable.
And she was. Mostly.
So why did something unpleasant twist in her chest every time Yelena made her laugh?
Wanda frowned deeper.
No. She was not jealous. Yelena was just... easy to talk to. Loud, blunt and strange. And Y/N responded well to that apparently.
---
A few hours later, they stopped at a gas station somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The place looked old and tired, tucked beside a long empty road with faded signs and only two working pumps. A tiny convenience store buzzed beneath fluorescent lights while bugs repeatedly sacrificed themselves against the windows.
Y/N had gone inside a few minutes ago after muttering something about needing the bathroom and “more snacks.”
Which really meant: Many snacks.
Wanda stayed leaning against the side of the car while Yelena finished pumping gas. The air was cooler now, carrying the smell of asphalt and distant rain.
For a minute, neither of them spoke. Until Yelena starts—“So,” Yelena said casually, screwing the gas cap back on.
Wanda immediately narrowed her eyes. That tone never meant anything good.
“What.”
Yelena leaned against the pump. “What exactly is your deal with giant wolf woman?”
Wanda nearly choked on air. “What?”
“I ask simple question.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Yelena looked deeply unconvinced.
“You sleep together.”
“We do not—”
“You literally share a bed every night.”
“Because we’re hiding!”
“Mhm.”
“And there’s usually only one bed!”
“Convenient.”
Wanda glared at her immediately. “Nothing is happening.”
Yelena hummed. “Okay. Then explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain!”
“So you are really not a couple?”
“We’re not,” Wanda said quickly.
“Very convincing.”
“We’re just—” Wanda stopped. What were they?
Yelena noticed instantly. “Oh my god.”
“Stop.”
“You don't even know.”
Wanda hated that she was right.
Yelena folded her arms. “You hold hands. You sleep together. She watches you like emotionally damaged guard dog.”
“She does not.”
“She absolutely does.”
Wanda looked away. Because the worst part? A small, traitorous part of her knew Yelena was right.
Yelena stepped closer, lowering her voice. “She looks at you like you hung moon.”
Wanda's face heated instantly. “That’s not true.”
Yelena stared at her flatly. “You know I was trained from childhood to read people, yes?”
“…Unfortunately.”
“And you”—Yelena pointed directly at her—“look at her like you want climb her like tree.”
Wanda nearly died. “Oh my god!”
Yelena burst out laughing. “You should see your face!”
“I hate you.”
“I don’t care.”
Wanda dragged both hands down her burning face miserably. This was horrible. Because now that Yelena had said it out loud, she couldn't stop thinking about it.
The touching. The closeness. The way Y/N smiled every time Wanda laughed. The way she always seemed happiest when Wanda was happy. The way Wanda immediately relaxed whenever Y/N touched her. And worse—how much she wanted it.
Yelena's amusement faded slightly.
“So why are you fighting it?”
Wanda blinked. “…What?”
“You are very obvious,” Yelena said more gently. “Both of you.”
Wanda swallowed hard. “It’s complicated.”
Yelena snorted. “No. It is actually extremely uncomplicated. You like giant wolf girl. Giant wolf girl likes you.”
If only it were that simple. Wanda thought about the motel room. About Y/N asking if she was the reason Wanda blushed. About those golden eyes looking at her with absolute sincerity while trying to understand. About how confused Y/N had seemed when Wanda ran away to the shower.
Wanda looked away. “It’s not that simple.”
“Is because of robot guy?”
Wanda's head snapped toward her. “How do you know about him?”
Yelena looked completely unbothered. “Giant wolf woman told me.”
Wanda blinked. “…What?”
“The motel.”
Yelena shrugged.
“You went to the bathroom this morning. I asked her the same question I am asking you now.”
A feeling of absolute dread settled over Wanda immediately. “You asked Y/N if she liked me?”
“Obviously.”
“And?”
Yelena stared at her. “Wanda.”
“What did she say?”
“She spent ten minutes looking confused that it was apparently not obvious.”
Wanda felt her face heating already. “Oh my god.”
“She talked about you the entire time.”
That did absolutely nothing to help.
“What exactly did she say?”
Yelena thought for a second.
“Mostly things that sounded concerning.”
“That is not an answer.”
“She said she likes being around you. That you make her happy. That she feels calmer when you are nearby. That she worries when you are upset.” Yelena paused. “And then she looked at me like I was stupid for asking.”
Wanda suddenly found the cracked pavement very interesting. “Right.”
Because how could she? Y/N didn't know about the guilt.
About Vision.
About the part of Wanda that still felt responsible for everything that had happened. That it hasn’t been long since the break up. The thought twisted sharply in her chest.
“…Partly,” Wanda admitted quietly.
Yelena leaned back against the car, some of the teasing fading from her expression. “You know Natasha told me once that love is not always dramatic thing.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes it is just a person who feels like home.”
Wanda's chest tightened painfully. Because that was exactly the problem. Before she could answer, the convenience store door opened.
Y/N stepped back outside carrying two bags absolutely stuffed with snacks. She paused immediately after seeing their expressions.
“…What happened?”
Wanda straightened so fast she almost injured herself. “Nothing.”
Yelena grinned. “Wanda was just telling me how much she enjoys your company.”
Wanda made a horrified sound.
Y/N blinked once. Then—very softly—she smiled.
Wanda’s face burned instantly. “Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath.
Y/N blinked once, still holding the overloaded snack bags in both hands. “…What?”
“Nothing,” Wanda said quickly. Far too quickly.
Yelena’s smirk widened. Wanda refused to look at either of them. She immediately turned and walked toward the car before this conversation could somehow become even worse.
Behind her, she heard Y/N following automatically. Wanda climbed into the backseat without a word, pretending to be deeply interested in literally anything outside the window.
A second later, the back door beside her opened. Wanda looked over automatically—and found Y/N holding out a candy bar.
“…I got you this.”
Wanda blinked.
“What?”
“You liked it yesterday.”
“…Thanks,” she murmured softly, taking it from her.
Y/N nodded once, visibly pleased by her reaction before closing the door and heading back toward the driver’s seat. From the front passenger side, Yelena watched the entire interaction with the expression of someone having every suspicion confirmed in real time.
Neither of them noticed.
A few minutes later, the car pulled back onto the empty highway. The sky had darkened further while they stopped, low clouds hanging overhead as distant thunder rumbled somewhere far away. Inside the car, the atmosphere felt different now. Softer.
Wanda unwrapped the candy bar quietly while trying very hard not to think about the fact that Y/N had remembered her favorite snack after a single offhand comment the day before. Or the fact that, according to Yelena, she'd apparently spent the morning talking about Wanda.
That thought refused to leave.
In the front seat, Y/N drove with one hand resting loosely on the wheel while the other occasionally disappeared into one of the snack bags. Every few minutes, her eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror automatically. Toward Wanda.
Every single time their eyes met, Y/N smiled a little without seeming aware of it. And every single time—Wanda’s stomach flipped embarrassingly hard.
Beside her, Yelena looked out the window to hide another smirk.
---
Nobody’s POV
They reached another motel long after dark. This one was somehow worse than the last.
The neon sign buzzed loudly overhead, missing half its letters, and the entire parking lot smelled faintly like gasoline and old cigarettes. A trucker smoked near one of the vending machines while static crackled from a tiny radio somewhere nearby.
Y/N parked the car and immediately started scanning the area automatically. Four occupied rooms. Two people near the ice machine. No immediate threats. Safe enough.
Beside her, Yelena stretched with a groan.
“If I die in sleep tonight because of cursed motel ghost, I blame both of you.”
“You’d fight the ghost,” Wanda muttered tiredly as she climbed out.
“Obviously.”
Y/N grabbed their bags from the trunk while Yelena headed toward the office to get rooms.
A few minutes later, she returned twirling keycards between her fingers. “One for me,” she announced. “One for emotionally repressed couple.”
Wanda immediately groaned.
Yelena smirked and handed Y/N the second keycard before disappearing toward her room.
Y/N barely paid attention to the teasing this time. Mostly because she was tired. Partly because Yelena had spent the entire day making comments like that. She adjusted the bags over her shoulder and followed Wanda across the parking lot toward the far end of the motel.
The night air was cold enough that Wanda folded her arms tightly across herself almost immediately. Without thinking, Y/N moved a little closer. Then—
“Actually...”
Y/N looked down immediately at the sound of Wanda's voice.
Wanda wouldn't meet her eyes. “You should sleep with Yelena tonight.”
“No.” Y/N frowned slightly, genuinely confused now. “I want to stay with you.” The words came out before she even thought about them.
Simple.
Obvious.
True.
Wanda's face immediately turned red. Again.
Y/N stared. There it was. The thing she'd been trying to understand since the motel the night before.
“That’s not the point,” Wanda muttered.
“Then what is the point?”
Wanda looked away.
Y/N stood there holding both their bags while trying to understand why Wanda suddenly seemed upset again. Just a few hours ago things had been fine. Wanda had laughed. They talked. Y/N bought her favorite candy bar. And Wanda had smiled. Everything had felt normal.
Now it felt like she'd somehow missed an important conversation.
Again.
A thought occurred to her. “…Is this because of yesterday?”
Wanda froze.
Y/N immediately knew she was right. “The bathroom thing?”
“Y/N.”
“I wasn't trying to upset you.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you avoiding me?”
Wanda closed her eyes briefly.
Y/N's confusion only grew. Because she wasn't avoiding Wanda. She wanted to be around Wanda. Always.
That was the problem. At least, it seemed to be the problem from Wanda's perspective. And Y/N still had absolutely no idea why.
Now suddenly Wanda was pulling away again. It made something uncomfortable twist in Y/N's chest.
Wanda rubbed a hand over her face tiredly. “I just want some privacy...”
The words hit harder than they probably should have. Y/N went quiet immediately.
Oh.
For a second, she just stood there beneath the dim motel lights, trying to understand why her chest suddenly felt tight. Then she remembered what Yelena had told her earlier.
Humans needed space sometimes. Especially when they were confused. And Wanda was definitely confused.
Y/N looked down briefly before nodding once. “…Okay.” Her voice came out quieter than before. She shifted the bags in her hands and stepped forward, handing Wanda hers.
Their fingers brushed. Usually Wanda unconsciously leaned toward contact. This time she pulled her hand back first.
Y/N immediately noticed. Something in her chest sank.
“…Goodnight,” she said softly.
Then she turned before she could ask another question she wouldn't get an answer to.
Wanda watched her walk away toward Yelena's room, shoulders slightly tense, steps quieter than usual.
And for the first time since they'd met—Y/N didn't look back. The realization hit Wanda immediately. A sharp ache spread through her chest as she stood alone outside her room. That wasn't what she wanted. Not even close. The motel suddenly felt colder.
Wanda looked toward Yelena's door just as it opened.
Yelena stepped out, took one look at Y/N, then looked across the parking lot toward Wanda. The assessment took less than two seconds. Y/N's expression.
Wanda standing alone. The distance between them. Understanding flashed across Yelena's face immediately. Her amusement disappeared.
“…What happened?”
Y/N shook her head once. “Wanda wants privacy.”
Yelena glanced at Y/N. Then at Wanda. Then back again.
“Come on.”
Y/N hesitated for one last second. Not looking at Wanda. Not checking if she was following. Then she stepped inside.
The door clicked shut behind them. Leaving Wanda alone beneath the flickering motel light while guilt settled heavily in her chest. Because somehow, in trying to create distance, she'd managed to hurt the one person she least wanted to hurt.
---
Y/N’s POV
Yelena’s motel room looked almost identical to other motels. Same dim yellow lighting.
Y/N stood near the door for a moment after stepping inside, one hand still loosely holding her bag while Yelena quietly locked the door behind them.
The silence stretched. Usually silence around Wanda felt easy. This one didn’t.
Yelena noticed immediately.
“…You look like someone’s kicked puppy.”
Y/N frowned slightly. “Nobody kicked me.”
“Mhm.” Yelena tossed her jacket onto the second bed before sitting down cross-legged against the headboard. She watched Y/N carefully for another second.
“You are upset.”
Y/N shook her head automatically. “…No.”
“Very convincing.”
Y/N stayed quiet. Because she didn’t really understand what she was feeling. Her chest just hurt. A little, not physically. Something tighter than that.
Yelena’s expression softened slightly. “She didn’t mean it badly.”
Y/N nodded. “I know.”
And she did know. Wanda wasn’t cruel. Never cruel.
But—
Y/N sat slowly on the edge of the second bed, shoulders lowering as exhaustion finally started catching up to her. “She wanted space,” she murmured quietly, more to herself than Yelena.
Yelena hummed.
“And you do not like space.”
Y/N immediately shook her head. “It’s not like that.”
Yelena raised one eyebrow. “No?”
Y/N frowned, trying to explain the uncomfortable feeling twisting inside her chest. “I just...” She hesitated. “I like knowing she’s okay.”
That part was true.
If Wanda was nearby, Y/N could relax. Sleep deeper, breathe easier. Distance felt wrong in a way she couldn't fully explain to people who weren't like her. Or people who didn't know what an imprint was.
Yelena watched her quietly. “You are aware normal people do not look physically distressed because they sleep in different room for one night?”
Y/N blinked. “…Oh.”
“Mm.”
Y/N looked down again. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”
Y/N's chest tightened again. Because Wanda had never asked for distance before.
Not really.
Even during the strange, confusing moments lately, Wanda still stayed close. Still leaned against her when tired. Still reached for her without thinking.
Tonight felt different.
Y/N rubbed her thumb absently against the edge of her sleeve. “She sounded...” Her voice lowered. “…frustrated.”
Yelena sighed and leaned back against the headboard. “She is frustrated.”
Y/N immediately looked up. “With me?”
“No.”
The answer came so fast that Y/N blinked. “Then with what?”
Yelena stared at her. For a long moment. Then groaned, “Oh my god.”
“What?”
“You genuinely have no idea.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“I know.”Yelena pointed at her. “That is the problem.”
Y/N frowned deeper.
Yelena dropped her hand over her face dramatically. “Natasha is never going to believe this.”
“Believe what?”
“That two smartest people I know are somehow both idiots.”
Y/N looked mildly offended. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Debatable.”
Y/N stared at her. Completely lost.
Yelena stared back. Completely exhausted. After several seconds, Yelena sighed heavily. “She is not frustrated with you.”
“Then why does she keep running away?”
The question slipped out before Y/N could stop it.
Yelena's expression softened immediately. Because there it was. The real problem.
Y/N looked away. “She keeps getting close.”
Closer. Laughing. Smiling. Leaning against her. Looking at her like she wanted to say something. Then the moment Y/N tried to understand, Wanda would panic and retreat. The pattern was becoming impossible to ignore.
Yelena was quiet for a moment.
“Have you considered she might be scared?”
Y/N frowned. “Of me?”
“No.” Yelena pointed at her again. “Of this.”
Y/N blinked. “This what?”
Yelena dropped backward onto the mattress with a groan. “Unbelievable.”
Y/N remained exactly as confused as before. Which somehow made Yelena groan even louder.
“With herself.”
That confused Y/N even more.
“…How?”
Yelena stared at her for a long moment. “See, this is why I asked if you liked her yesterday.”
Y/N frowned. “I do like her.”
“Yes, I know.”
“No, I mean I like her.”
Yelena pointed at her. “That. That right there.”
Y/N looked even more confused. “What?”
“You say it like it is obvious.”
“It is obvious.”
“To you.”
Y/N hesitated. Then slowly sat back against the edge of the bed. “Maybe because she’s my imprint.”
The room went silent. Yelena blinked. “…Your what?”
“My imprint.”
“What is imprint?”
Y/N frowned slightly, surprised she didn't know. “It’s a wolf thing.”
That explained absolutely nothing. Yelena waited.
Y/N seemed to realize that. “Oh.”
A pause. Then she tried again.
“When wolves find their person.”
Yelena immediately sat up straighter.
“Their person?”
Y/N nodded.
“The one they're meant to protect. Stay with. Take care of.”
Yelena stared. “Oh my god.”
Y/N tilted her head. “What?”
“You never told me that part.”
“I thought it was obvious.”
“Nothing about this is obvious.”
Y/N frowned again. “But Wanda is my imprint.”
Yelena pointed both hands at her.
“Does Wanda know this?”
“No.”
“Have you told her?”
“No.”
“Then how is it obvious?”
Y/N opened her mouth. Paused. Then slowly closed it again. For the first time, she looked uncertain. “…Oh.”
“Exactly.” Yelena dropped back against the headboard. “From Wanda's perspective, you are just showing up everywhere and looking at her like she invented happiness.”
Y/N looked down. That explained a few things.
After another moment, Y/N quietly stood and gathered her clothes. She paused near the bathroom door.
“…Do you think Wanda’s upset with me?”
The uncertainty in her voice softened Yelena’s expression immediately. “No,” she answered honestly. “I think Wanda is trying very hard not to be upset with herself.”
Y/N absorbed that silently before heading to the bathroom.
A few minutes later, the sound of running water filled the small motel room.
Yelena leaned back against the headboard with a long sigh and stared at the ceiling.
“This is painful,” she muttered to herself.
Because somehow these two idiots had managed to fall catastrophically for each other while operating with completely different instruction manuals. It was honestly impressive.
---
Wanda’s POV
The room felt wrong without Y/N in it. Wanda realized that approximately three minutes after closing the door. Which was completely ridiculous. She sat on the edge of the motel bed, still fully dressed, staring at the muted TV while silence pressed heavily around her.
The room suddenly felt colder than it had before. Wanda rubbed both hands over her face with a frustrated groan before falling backward onto the mattress. “This is stupid.”
Because this was what she wanted, wasn't it? Space. Distance. A chance to breathe. So why did her chest ache now that she had it?
Wanda stared at the ceiling while Yelena's words replayed mercilessly in her head.
You like giant wolf girl.
God.
The worst part? Yelena wasn't wrong. Wanda turned onto her side with another frustrated sound, burying half her face in the pillow. Everything had become too much too fast. The touching, the closeness, the way Y/N always noticed her first, the way she smiled every single time Wanda laughed, and now there was something else she couldn't stop thinking about.
The conversation Yelena had told her about.
The fact that Y/N had apparently spent a long time that morning talking about Wanda. The fact that she'd been confused when Yelena asked if she liked her. Like the answer was obvious. Because to Y/N, apparently, it was.
Wanda groaned into the pillow. Because once she admitted that to herself, everything else became harder to ignore too. The jealousy. The way seeing Y/N with Yelena all day had made something ugly twist in her stomach.
The realization made Wanda sit upright immediately.
“Nope.” Absolutely not. She stood and started pacing the tiny motel room instead. Because this was dangerous territory.
Vision had barely been out of her life for a month. And now Wanda was spiraling because a giant wolf woman smiled at her too sweetly?
It made her feel guilty. Confused. Excited. All at once.
Wanda stopped pacing near the window, arms folded tightly across herself. Outside, rain had started again, droplets tapping softly against the glass beneath the flickering motel lights. Her eyes drifted automatically toward the neighboring room.
The ache in her chest returned immediately. Because now all Wanda could picture was Y/N's face after she'd asked for space. That tiny shift in her expression.
The way she'd gone quiet, the way she'd said goodnight, the way she hadn't looked back. That part hurt most. Y/N always looked back. Always checked. Always made sure Wanda was there. Tonight she hadn't.
Wanda pressed a hand against her forehead. Maybe she'd been too harsh.
No. Not harsh. Just—panicked. That was the problem. Because every time Y/N got close, Wanda felt herself wanting things she wasn't ready to want. And every time Y/N pulled away, it felt worse. A miserable realization settled over her.
She missed her. She'd sent Y/N away less than twenty minutes ago. And she already missed her.
“This is insane,” Wanda muttered to herself.
Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she grabbed her clothes and headed toward the bathroom before she could think herself into another crisis.
---
Y/N’s POV
Something woke her up. Y/N’s eyes snapped open instantly. For a second, she stayed completely still on the motel bed, listening. The room was dark except for faint moonlight leaking through the curtains. Across from her, Yelena was asleep sprawled diagonally across the mattress with one arm hanging dramatically toward the floor.
The motel itself was quiet. No footsteps outside. No strange engines. No weapons clicking into place. Nothing dangerous. And yet—something felt wrong.
Y/N sat up slowly, frowning. Her chest felt tight. Restless. Like an instinct tugging somewhere deep inside her. Across the room, Yelena shifted slightly in her sleep but didn't wake. Y/N looked toward the wall separating this room from Wanda's. Her heartbeat. Still there. But the uneasy feeling didn't leave.
Y/N quietly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. The floor creaked softly beneath her bare feet as she crossed the room and pulled on her hoodie.
A few hours ago she'd told herself she would give Wanda space. That she'd stop pushing. Stop making things harder. But now she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Not danger. Something else. Something she couldn't explain.
Cold night air wrapped around her the moment she stepped outside. The parking lot sat silent beneath flickering neon lights while distant thunder rolled somewhere far away. Y/N's eyes drifted automatically toward Wanda’s room. Her chest tightened immediately. Before she could stop herself, her feet were already moving. She crossed the parking lot and stopped outside the door.
Silence.
Y/N stared at it. Wanda wanted privacy. The reminder sat heavily in her stomach. She shouldn't bother her. Especially not after tonight. Y/N rubbed the back of her neck and paced once in front of the room. Maybe Wanda was sleeping. Maybe she was finally getting the space she'd asked for. Maybe she was happier without Y/N hovering nearby every five minutes.
The thought hurt more than it should have.
Y/N stopped again. Her instincts screamed at her to check. Just once. Just make sure Wanda was okay. She lifted her hand toward the door—Then froze.
Because what if Wanda opened it and looked disappointed to see her? The thought made her immediately lower her hand.
No. Don't push. She stepped back.
Paced once more. The feeling refused to leave. Y/N glanced around the empty parking lot before exhaling quietly through her nose. Then an idea occurred to her. A familiar one. Something she'd done dozens of times before. Back at the compound. When Wanda couldn't sleep. When nightmares woke her up. When neither of them wanted to talk.
Decision settling into place, Y/N stepped into the shadows beside the railing. Bones shifted beneath skin, and a second later, a massive wolf stood where she'd been. Golden eyes catching the faint motel lights. The wolf padded quietly back toward Wanda's door. This felt different. Safer. Not pushing. Not asking questions.
The wolf lifted one massive paw. Then, Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
Three soft scratches against the motel door. The exact same pattern she'd always used at the compound.
A silent question. Are you okay?
Then the wolf sat down outside the room patiently. Golden eyes fixed on the door while distant thunder rolled across the night sky.
Waiting.
---
Wanda’s POV
Wanda jolted upright in bed with a sharp breath, heart hammering violently against her ribs. The nightmare still clung to her. Fragments of it flashed through her mind. Darkness. Loss.
Watching people disappear and being unable to stop it. The familiar panic sat heavy in her chest even after waking. Then again—Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
For one disoriented second, Wanda thought she was back at the compound. Back in her room. Back when nightmares still woke her almost every night. Back when a giant wolf would quietly scratch at her door before curling up beside her bed until she fell asleep again.
Then reality caught up.
Wanda was already moving before she fully processed it. She threw aside the blankets and hurried toward the door, pulse racing for an entirely different reason now. The second she opened it—she froze.
A massive wolf sat quietly beneath the flickering motel light. Golden eyes lifted immediately toward her.
Y/N.
Relief hit Wanda so hard her knees almost weakened. Immediately followed by guilt. Because she'd sent her away. And somehow Y/N had still come.
“Oh my god—Y/N!”
The wolf's ears flicked backward slightly. Wanda grabbed the door quickly and looked around the parking lot. Empty. Thank god.
“Inside,” Wanda whispered urgently. “Now.”
The wolf immediately stood and slipped past her into the room. The second the door shut, Wanda turned toward her with exasperated disbelief.
“What are you doing?” she hissed quietly. “You can't just turn into a wolf outside the motel!”
The wolf lowered slightly. Ears flattening immediately.
“What if someone saw you?”
A soft whine escaped her. Wanda crossed her arms. “I’m serious.”
Another quieter whine. The ears lowered even further. And instantly—all of Wanda's frustration evaporated. Because somehow Y/N looked guilty. Even as a giant wolf.
Wanda let out a long sigh. “You can't do that,” she repeated, softer this time.
The wolf lowered her head. God. Wanda's chest ached. Not because of the nightmare anymore. Because she'd spent the entire evening missing her.
Without thinking, Wanda stepped forward and wrapped both arms around the wolf's neck, burying her face deep in warm Y/H/C fur.
Immediately, warmth surrounded her. The wolf made a soft sound deep in her chest and leaned into her instantly. Like she'd been waiting for permission.
Wanda closed her eyes. “You scared me,” she whispered into the fur.
The wolf huffed softly against her shoulder. For a long moment neither of them moved. Wanda simply stood there holding her while her heartbeat gradually slowed from the nightmare. While the lingering fear drained away. While the horrible emptiness she'd felt all evening quietly disappeared.
Her fingers threaded slowly through thick fur.
“You know,” she murmured after a while, “I think you were right.”
The wolf's ears twitched. Wanda smiled weakly. “The room was awful without you.”
The wolf immediately perked up. Wanda actually laughed. A real laugh. The wolf's tail thumped once against the carpet.
Wanda stared. “Don't.”
Another thump.
“You are enjoying this.”
The tail thumped again.
Wanda rolled her eyes fondly before resting her forehead against soft fur. Then, more quietly—“How do you always know?”
The wolf tilted her head.
Wanda swallowed against the last remnants of the nightmare.
“…When I have nightmares,” she murmured. “How do you always know?”
The wolf stared at her silently.
Then stepped closer until her large head pressed carefully against Wanda's chest. Like the answer was obvious. Like she'd always know.
Wanda's expression softened painfully. She reached up and cradled the wolf's face between her hands before pressing her forehead against soft fur again. And just like that—the room didn't feel cold anymore. Neither did she.
---
Wanda stayed wrapped around her for another long moment, fingers buried deep in soft dark fur while the last remnants of the nightmare slowly loosened their grip on her chest. The wolf stayed perfectly still for her.
When Wanda finally pulled back, golden eyes were already waiting for her, focused entirely on her with that same endless attentiveness that always made her chest ache.
“You really scared me,” Wanda murmured softly.
The wolf's ears lowered immediately. Apologetic.
Wanda sighed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Y/N ears twitched upward again. That made Wanda laugh quietly.
Without really thinking about it, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against the wolf’s muzzle.
The reaction was immediate. A quick warm lick swept instinctively across Wanda’s lips.
Both of them froze. Silence filled the motel room.
Wanda blinked. The wolf stared at her with wide golden eyes. Then suddenly— a distressed whining sound escaped Y/N while her paws shuffled anxiously against the carpet.
I DIDN’T MEAN TO DO THAT.
Wanda blinked again. The whining got louder.
I’M SORRY. OH MY GOD.
Another panicked sound.
THAT WAS A REFLEX.
Wanda stared at her for one long second—then burst out laughing. Not a small laugh. Bright and helpless and exhausted all at once.
The wolf looked absolutely horrified.
I DIDN’T BITE YOU, RIGHT?
That only made Wanda laugh harder. “No,” Wanda managed between laughs, covering her mouth. “No, you didn’t bite me.”
The wolf immediately shoved her nose against Wanda’s shoulder miserably like she wanted to disappear into the fabric of her shirt. Another embarrassed whine escaped her. Wanda’s entire chest warmed painfully at how genuinely mortified she sounded.
“Oh my god,” Wanda laughed softly, rubbing both hands through her fur. “You’re adorable.”
The wolf made an offended sound at that word. Which somehow made it worse. Wanda shook her head, still smiling helplessly before stepping back slightly. “Shift back,” she murmured softly.
The wolf paused. Golden eyes lifted toward her carefully.
Wanda’s heart squeezed immediately at the uncertainty there. Then softly—“Come to bed with me.”
The wolf went completely still. For a second, Wanda thought maybe she’d imagined how intensely Y/N reacted to things in wolf form—until the giant tail behind her thumped once violently against the dresser.
Wanda smiled helplessly before waving one hand lightly. Scarlet magic flickered around the room lamps. “Okay,” she murmured. “Shift back.”
The wolf hesitated. Then slowly stood.
Wanda turned around immediately to give her privacy as the familiar sound of shifting filled the room behind her—bones moving, breath catching softly, claws retracting against carpet.
A few seconds later, silence returned.
Wanda lifted one hand and used her magic automatically, summoning one of Y/N’s shirts and sweatpants from the other room. The clothes appeared and floated gently backward through the air.
“…Thanks,” Y/N murmured quietly behind her.
Wanda’s chest squeezed at how soft her voice sounded now. Still embarrassed.
“You’re welcome.”
Wanda climbed back onto the bed while Y/N got dressed behind her. The mattress dipped softly a minute later as Y/N carefully settled beside her. Not touching. Leaving space which Wanda noticed immediately.
Y/N sat tense near the edge of the mattress for a few seconds before finally speaking quietly into the darkness. “…Is this really okay?”
Wanda turned her head slightly.
Y/N was staring down at her hands now. “You said you wanted privacy,” she added softly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
The guilt hit Wanda immediately.
Wanda rolled onto her side with a quiet sigh until she was facing her fully.
“You don’t make me uncomfortable.”
Y/N looked up immediately at that. Moonlight from the window softened her features, silver-blue across tired eyes and damp dark hair. Wanda reached up without thinking and brushed her fingers gently through that hair. Y/N immediately leaned into the touch.
Wanda’s chest ached painfully.
Her hand slid lower until she was cupping Y/N’s cheek softly, thumb brushing warm skin. Y/N visibly melted beneath her hand.
“I just panicked,” Wanda admitted quietly.
Y/N frowned slightly. “…Because of me?”
“No.” Wanda smiled faintly. “Well—yes. But not in a bad way.”
That only confused Y/N more. “I don’t understand.”
“I know.”
Y/N’s eyes searched hers carefully before words suddenly started tumbling out all at once. “I didn’t mean to crowd you and I know I stay close a lot and Yelena keeps teasing and maybe I should stop doing that and I know I hover sometimes but I just—”
Wanda leaned forward suddenly and pressed a soft kiss right against the center of Y/N’s nose.
Y/N froze instantly.
Wanda smiled a little despite herself. “There,” she murmured softly. “That stopped you.”
Y/N stared at her with wide eyes.
Wanda’s heart skipped hard in her chest.
God. She was so beautiful like this.
Wanda’s thumb brushed slowly across Y/N’s cheek again.
“…Did it only work because you were in wolf form?” she whispered softly.
Y/N’s breath caught.
Wanda leaned closer before she could lose her nerve. Then gently, but carefully, she pressed her lips against Y/N’s.
Soft. Barely there. A question more than a kiss.
Wanda felt Y/N stop breathing entirely. Their lips lingered together for one suspended second.
Then Wanda whispered softly against her mouth—“…What about there?”
It did. The second the words left Wanda’s lips, Y/N moved. Like instinct finally snapped.
Her hand came up carefully—almost hesitantly at first—cupping Wanda’s jaw as she kissed her back immediately. Not soft this time.
Wanda made a small sound against her mouth, surprised by the sudden intensity of it. Y/N kissed her like she’d been holding herself back for weeks and finally couldn’t anymore.
Which—God. Maybe she had.
Y/N shifted closer instinctively, one hand sliding carefully to Wanda’s waist while her other stayed against her cheek like she was afraid Wanda might disappear if she let go. Wanda melted instantly. Her fingers tangled into Y/N’s dark hair while she kissed her back harder, deeper this time, heart pounding violently against her ribs.
Y/N made a quiet sound low in her throat at that. The noise went straight through Wanda. Every kiss after that became less careful. Though still tender and hesitant in places, it was desperate underneath. All the restrained affection between them suddenly had somewhere to go. Wanda felt Y/N’s hand tighten slightly against her waist when she kissed her deeper, and god—that warmth, that need. It made Wanda dizzy.
Because suddenly every thought she’d been trying to bury for weeks came rushing back all at once.
Budapest. The way she’d imagined pulling Y/N closer beneath her hands. The way she’d woken up flushed and breathless after that stupid fantasy she absolutely should not have had. And now—Y/N was actually here. Kissing her. Wanting her back.
Wanda made another soft sound against her lips before instinct took over completely. Her hands slid from Y/N’s hair down to her shoulders, gripping firmly as she pulled her closer across the mattress. Y/N came willingly immediately. Like she’d been waiting for permission. The movement pressed them flush together, chest against chest beneath the blankets, and Wanda physically felt Y/N shudder at the contact.
God. That reaction alone nearly destroyed her.
Y/N kissed her again instantly, deeper this time, careful restraint cracking apart little by little with every passing second. One of her hands slipped around Wanda’s waist while the other stayed cradling her face like something precious.
Wanda couldn’t stop touching her.
Her fingers dragged through soft dark hair, down the back of Y/N’s neck, across warm shoulders beneath the thin shirt Wanda had summoned earlier.
Real. This was real.
Y/N pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against Wanda’s while both of them tried and failed to calm down. Her eyes searched Wanda’s face carefully. “Is this…Okay?” Y/N whispered softly.
The concern in her voice right after kissing her senseless made Wanda’s chest ache so hard it almost hurt. Instead of answering normally, Wanda slid one hand up into Y/N’s hair again and pulled her back down into another kiss.
A soft sound escaped her as Wanda tugged her fully on top of her this time, their bodies fitting together against the motel mattress in a way that felt almost terrifyingly natural. Wanda’s heart pounded harder the second Y/N settled between her legs.
Y/N kissed her deeper almost instantly, one hand braced beside Wanda’s head while the other slid carefully along her waist like she still couldn’t believe she was allowed to touch her like this.
Wanda definitely wanted her to. Her fingers moved down Y/N’s back slowly, dragging over muscle beneath the thin shirt before gripping the fabric firmly. Y/N shivered against her mouth.
Wanda tugged upward instinctively. Y/N immediately lifted enough to let her pull the shirt off completely without breaking the kiss for more than a second. Wanda’s breath caught instantly at the feeling of Y/N’s bare chest against hers through the oversized shirt she slept in.
Her hands roamed before she could stop them, sliding across toned shoulders and down Y/N’s back again, nails scratching lightly against warm skin. Y/N gasped softly into her mouth. The sound made heat coil low in Wanda’s stomach immediately. Every touch after that became hungrier. Still messy and inexperienced in places. But desperate. Y/N kissed like she felt things too deeply to hold back once she started.
Wanda could feel it in every movement.
Every rough inhale.
Every trembling touch against her waist.
Her fingers curled harder into Y/N’s back when Y/N pressed closer instinctively, and—
Y/N suddenly froze. The kiss broke abruptly. Wanda blinked up at her, breathless and confused. Y/N had pulled back just enough to stare downward, visibly panicked now.
“What?” Wanda whispered immediately.
Y/N looked horrified. “I—”
She swallowed hard and tried shifting backward quickly like she wanted to put distance between them.
Wanda’s brows pulled together instantly. “Y/N?”
Y/N wouldn’t look at her. And then Wanda realized why.
Oh.
Heat rushed straight into her face again. Because pressed between them, unmistakable now, she could feel how hard Y/N had gotten.
Y/N looked mortified. “I’m sorry,” she blurted immediately, panic flooding her voice. “I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to—I can stop—”
“Hey.” Wanda caught her face gently before she could spiral any further. “Hey.”
Y/N finally looked at her. Absolutely terrified she’d done something wrong. Wanda’s chest tightened painfully at the sight. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Wanda whispered softly.
Y/N still looked unconvinced. “But—”
“You’re turned on,” Wanda said gently, trying not to smile at how scandalized Y/N looked by the concept. “That tends to happen when people are making out.”
Y/N looked away again, visibly embarrassed now, her hands planted awkwardly against the mattress like she suddenly didn’t know what to do with them. “I know what it means,” she said quietly. “I just…”
She stopped.
Wanda stayed still beneath her, waiting patiently.
Y/N swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to think that’s all this is.” The words came out rushed, almost panicked. “That I just—I don’t know—got excited and that’s why I kissed you or—”
“Y/N.”
“I mean I did get excited obviously, but that’s not why—”
“Y/N.”
That finally stopped the spiral. Wanda reached up, brushing her fingers gently against Y/N’s cheek until those anxious eyes finally met hers.
“I know.”
Y/N’s shoulders loosened slightly. Only slightly. Because there was still fear there.
Real fear.
Wanda could see it now beneath all the embarrassment.
Y/N hesitated before speaking again, quieter this time. “I’ve never done this properly before.”
Wanda frowned softly.
Y/N immediately looked away again. “I just...” Her jaw tightened. “I was thirteen when Hydra took me…They did things.”The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Wanda’s chest tightened hard.
Y/N’s fingers curled against the blankets like she already regretted saying anything. “They wanted more of me,” she murmured quietly, voice flattening in the way it only did when she talked about Hydra. “More wolves.”
Wanda felt cold all over.
Y/N stared somewhere over her shoulder instead of at her. “And when they couldn’t...” She swallowed once. “They tried other ways.”
That was enough. Wanda understood immediately. Pain ripped through her chest so sharply she almost stopped breathing.
Y/N laughed once. Bitter.
“So technically I know what sex is.” Her voice dropped even quieter. “But not like this.”
Not safe. Not wanted. Not hers.
Wanda’s eyes burned instantly.
Y/N shook her head quickly, like she wanted to take the words back. “I don’t really like talking about it.”
“You don’t have to,” Wanda whispered immediately.
Y/N finally looked at her then.
For a moment neither of them spoke. The motel room felt impossibly quiet.
Then Wanda reached up and gently took one of Y/N’s hands in both of hers.
“You never have to explain those things to justify yourself to me.”
Y/N blinked.
Wanda squeezed her hand softly. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
Something fragile crossed Y/N’s face. The kind of vulnerability she almost never allowed anyone to see. “You’re not... bothered?”
The question shattered Wanda’s heart.
“Y/N.” Wanda lifted their joined hands slightly. “You survived.”
Y/N looked down.
“That’s not something you need my forgiveness for.”
Silence.
Y/N’s throat worked once. Twice. Then she laughed softly through her nose. A little unsteady. “You make everything sound simple.”
“It is simple.” Wanda brushed her thumb across Y/N’s knuckles. “What happened to you was wrong.”
Y/N’s eyes closed briefly.
“And none of it changes how I feel about you.”
When Y/N looked at her again, something in her expression had softened. A little less alone.
But suddenly Wanda heard, loud and clear.
Dirty.
Wanda reached up immediately, both hands cradling Y/N’s face firmly.
“Hey.”
Y/N’s eyes flickered uncertainly between hers.
“You are not dirty.”
The thought had barely crossed Y/N’s mind before Wanda answered it out loud. Y/N froze. Fear flashed across her face so quickly Wanda almost missed it. Not fear of Wanda. Fear of what Wanda might have seen. Her breath caught.
“Did you—” She stopped.
Wanda understood instantly.
Y/N’s eyes searched hers anxiously now, bracing for disgust. For pity. For horror.
Wanda’s heart broke all over again. Very gently, she leaned forward and kissed her. Soft. Slow. When she pulled back, she kept their foreheads touching.
“I didn’t look,” Wanda whispered.
Y/N visibly stilled.
“I only heard that thought because you were thinking it so loudly.” A tiny, sad smile touched Wanda’s lips. “Your brain practically shouted at me.”
A horrified sound escaped Y/N immediately. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know.” Wanda brushed her thumbs beneath Y/N’s eyes. “I would never go digging through your head like that.”
Y/N stared at her quietly. Still scared and uncertain. So Wanda kissed her again.
A tiny kiss. Then another against the corner of her mouth.
“You hear me?” Wanda whispered softly. “I don’t need to see anything to know Hydra hurt you.”
Y/N’s throat moved.
Wanda’s hands remained steady against her face.
“And I don’t need to see anything to know none of it was your fault.”
For a second, Y/N just looked at her. Then her eyes dropped. Like hearing the words was somehow harder than saying them. Wanda felt her chest tighten.
“You survived,” she continued quietly. “That doesn’t make you dirty.”
Y/N closed her eyes. Wanda could see the fight happening behind them. Years of shame, of pain. Years of being treated like something that belonged to other people.
“You are still you,” Wanda whispered.
Y/N’s breath shook.
“And I still see the same person.” Slowly, Y/N opened her eyes again.
Wanda smiled faintly. “The person who brings me my favorite candy bar.”
A tiny huff escaped Y/N.
“The person who scratches at my door when I have nightmares.”
Another tiny huff.
“The person who accepted Yelena, even though she doesn’t stop talking.”
That finally earned the smallest laugh. Wanda’s smile widened.
“The person who always notices when I’m upset.”
Y/N’s expression softened immediately.
“The person who somehow knows exactly what I need before I do.” The laugh faded into something quieter. Something warmer. Wanda brushed her thumb gently across Y/N’s cheek.
“The person who makes me feel safe.”
Y/N froze. Wanda felt her own heart pounding now. Because this part was terrifying. But not nearly as terrifying as losing the chance to say it.
“The person who made me miss her after twenty minutes.”
A startled sound escaped Y/N. Wanda laughed softly. “It was very annoying.”
Y/N’s eyes never left hers. Like she was afraid to blink. Wanda swallowed.
Then Wanda reached up and gently pulled Y/N down toward her.
“The person who I can't stop thinking about.”
Y/N’s breath caught.
“The person who makes me nervous.”
A faint smile tugged at Y/N’s mouth.
“You?”
“Yes, me.”
Another tiny laugh. Wanda’s chest squeezed painfully.
“The person...” She hesitated, suddenly feeling far more vulnerable than she had during any fight she'd ever been in. “The person I think I'm starting to fall for.”
Silence. Complete silence. Y/N stared at her. For one horrible second, Wanda wondered if she'd broken her.
Then Y/N's eyes softened. Not with surprise. With certainty.
“I know.”
Wanda blinked. “You know?”
Y/N nodded once. “You blush every time I get close.”
Despite everything, Wanda groaned. “Oh my god.”
A tiny smile appeared on Y/N's face. “I like you too.”
The words landed so gently that for a second Wanda almost missed them. Then her heart stopped.
“What?”
Y/N looked embarrassed immediately. But she didn't look away.
“I like you.” Simple. Honest. Like she'd been carrying the truth for a long time.
Wanda stared at her. Then before she could overthink it, she grabbed the front of Y/N's shirt and pulled her down into a kiss. Y/N made a surprised sound against her lips before kissing her back immediately. All the fear that had been sitting between them seemed to disappear at once. Wanda smiled into the kiss. Y/N kissed her again. And again. Neither of them seemed capable of stopping. The world narrowed down to warmth, laughter, and the relief of finally being honest with each other.
After a moment, Y/N shifted closer instinctively. The movement was completely automatic. Unthinking. She moved further between Wanda’s legs, pressing closer as the kiss deepened.
Wanda felt it immediately. The firm pressure of Y/N’s arousal brushing against her through their clothes. For a split second, neither of them seemed to process what had happened. Then Y/N shifted again without thinking and accidentally pressed more firmly against her. Both of them froze.
The kiss breaking apart.
Y/N’s eyes widened in horror as realization crashed over her. Wanda stared up at her, equally stunned. For one long second, neither of them moved. Then Wanda buried her face against Y/N’s shoulder as a breathless laugh escaped her.
“I think...” she managed between embarrassed laughter, “maybe we should sleep tonight.”
The mortified sound Y/N made only made her laugh harder. Y/N went bright red. Immediately.
“Right.”
“Very much right.”
“Sleep.”
“Yes.”
Y/N nodded so fast it was almost impressive.
“Definitely sleep.”
Wanda laughed again and brushed a kiss against her cheek.
Neither of them moved for several seconds. Still tangled together, smiling.
Eventually Y/N carefully settled beside her beneath the blankets. But Wanda immediately rolled toward her anyway. Y/N's arm wrapped around her without hesitation. Safe. Home.
Within minutes, the tension that had haunted the entire day finally began to fade. And for the first time in a long time, both of them fell asleep smiling.
---
Yelena’s POV
By the next morning, Yelena knew something had happened.
Not because anyone said anything. Because both of them were acting weird.
Well—weirder.
Yelena leaned against the hood of the car, sipping terrible gas station coffee while watching Wanda and Y/N approach from the motel office carrying breakfast.
Y/N was smiling. Not occasionally. Constantly. At Wanda talking. At Wanda handing her coffee. At Wanda literally existing.
It was honestly disgusting.
And Wanda—
Wanda wasn't much better. Yesterday she'd been tense. Guarded. Pretending not to stare. Today she kept drifting closer without even realizing it.
When they reached the car, Y/N handed her a coffee. Wanda accepted it, then immediately reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair out of Y/N's face. The movement was completely natural.
Neither of them seemed to notice.
Yelena nearly threw her coffee into traffic. Interesting. Very interesting.
Also—Y/N never came back to her room last night. Which already told Yelena something important.
Not what she'd originally assumed.
Because one look at them made it obvious neither of these idiots had gotten much farther than finally admitting their feelings. They had the exact same energy as two people who had stayed awake all night talking and then spent the morning staring at each other like they'd discovered fire.
Yelena hated it.
Y/N opened the passenger door for Wanda automatically. Wanda rolled her eyes but smiled anyway before getting inside.
Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.
Y/N started walking around toward the driver's side when Wanda reached out instinctively and caught the sleeve of her flannel. Tiny movement. Barely noticeable.
But Y/N stopped immediately. Turned around without hesitation. Wanda said something too quiet for Yelena to hear. Y/N's entire face softened.
Oh my god. They were unbearable already.
Yelena climbed into the backseat with the exhausted expression of someone trapped between two people who were one shared playlist away from becoming completely insufferable. The engine started a moment later.
And immediately—Wanda reached over and stole one of Y/N's hash browns without asking.
Y/N looked offended for approximately half a second before sighing dramatically and handing her the entire bag.
“You said you weren't hungry.”
“I changed my mind.”
“That's my breakfast.”
“You're big. You'll survive.”
Y/N muttered something under her breath, but there was absolutely no annoyance behind it. Worse. She looked fond.
Yelena stared at the back of Y/N's head in horror. Oh, they were down catastrophically bad.
A few minutes later, Wanda noticed a smear of ketchup near the corner of Y/N's mouth. Without thinking, she reached over. Y/N immediately stopped talking. Wanda wiped it away with her thumb.
“Thanks,” Y/N said softly.
“You're welcome.”
Then Wanda went right back to eating Y/N's breakfast like she hadn't just short-circuited the driver's brain. Yelena considered jumping out of the moving vehicle. The car rolled back onto the empty highway while morning sunlight slowly spread across the road ahead.
Nobody said a word. Nobody had to.
By then, Yelena had reached to a conclusion. Natasha absolutely owed her money for putting her in the middle of this emotional disaster.
---
Unknown POV
The motel looked almost abandoned in the afternoon light.
Most of the guests had already left hours ago, leaving behind an empty parking lot shimmering beneath the heat. Somewhere nearby, a broken ice machine rattled loudly while insects buzzed lazily around the flickering neon sign. A motel room door opened quietly. A man stepped outside, shielding his eyes briefly against the sun before looking toward the far end of the parking lot. His gaze slowly lifted toward the old security camera mounted above the motel office. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. The call connected immediately.
“Yes,” he said calmly. A pause. “The wolf was here.”
His eyes drifted briefly toward the motel rooms again. “The camera caught it.” Another pause. “No. I’m certain.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small flash drive between gloved fingers. “The fur color changed,” he continued quietly. “H/C this time.” Silence answered him for a moment. The man’s expression shifted slightly at whatever was said next. “Yes,” he murmured. “That’s what I thought too.”
A truck rumbled loudly past the motel on the distant highway. The man watched it disappear southbound. “They left this morning,” he said. “Heading south.” Another long pause.
Then—“No. They didn’t notice surveillance.” His gaze flicked once more toward the camera above the office. “The Maximoff woman is still with her.”
A faint crackle came through the speaker. The man listened carefully before nodding once. “…Understood.” The call disconnected.
For a few seconds, he remained standing there in the afternoon heat, thumb resting lightly against the flash drive in his hand. Then slowly—he smiled.
Soft light slipped through the curtains, brushing over warm skin and tangled sheets, the quiet of the northern palace wrapping around them like a cocoon.
Y/N was moving faster as they felt their climax close.
“Y/N…ah…I’m close” Wanda moan into Y/N ear.
Y/N’s breath caught as Wanda’s voice broke against their ear, soft and desperate and full of trust.
“Me too, my love,” Y/N whispered again, kissing slowly along Wanda’s neck before pressing their forehead against hers.
Their movements never stopped.
Steady. Deep. Loving.
Wanda clung to Y/N’s shoulders, trembling harder with every passing second, her breath turning uneven as quiet moans slipped between them. Y/N held her close through it all, one hand tangled with Wanda’s, the other resting against her waist like they couldn’t bear even an inch of distance.
Then Wanda shattered first.
A broken gasp left her lips as she arched against Y/N, clutching tightly to them while the pleasure rolled through her in waves. The sound of Wanda falling apart like that pushed Y/N over the edge right behind her.
Y/N buried their face against Wanda’s neck with a low, breathless groan as their own climax hit, body shaking while they held Wanda tightly through every second of it.
For a while, neither of them moved.
Only slow breaths filled the room.
Y/N hovered over Wanda afterward, both of them flushed and still catching their breath, foreheads nearly touching beneath the soft morning light.
Wanda’s fingers brushed weakly through Y/N’s hair, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips.
For a moment—they didn’t move. Just stayed there feeling each other. Wanda’s hands rested against Y/N’s back, fingers curled slightly, her chest rising and falling beneath them. Y/N’s arms held her securely, careful despite how close they were, mindful of every shift, every breath.
Their gaze dropped to her face. Flushed and beautiful.
Y/N leaned down, kissing her—slow, deep, unhurried. Not chasing anything now. Just savoring.
Wanda kissed them back just as softly, her lips lingering, her hands sliding up to their shoulders.
When Y/N pulled back, just enough to look at her, a smile spread across their face.
“Happy birthday, my love.”
Wanda’s expression softened instantly, her eyes warm as she smiled back.
She kissed them again. Gentle and sweet.
Y/N exhaled quietly against her lips, their nose brushing hers as their hand slid along her side, grounding.
“We should…” they murmured between kisses, voice low, still a little rough. “I need to get things ready for you.”
Wanda didn’t let them move.
Her hand came up, slipping behind their neck, pulling them back down before they could even try to pull away.
“I’m not done,” she whispered.
Y/N let out a quiet, helpless breath.
“…Wanda.”
“Just one more time,” she murmured against their lips, already kissing them again.
And that—
that was all it took.
Y/N melted instantly, giving in without another word, kissing her deeper this time, slower, like the morning belonged only to them.
Their hand slid along her thigh, careful but instinctive, hooking gently beneath her knee to pull her closer—to keep her there with them, like they couldn’t get enough.
Wanda let out a soft breath against their lips—
but then—she broke the kiss.
Y/N froze immediately.
“…Wait,” Wanda whispered, her voice still soft but different now.
Y/N blinked, breath uneven, hovering just above her.
Y/N frowned faintly—then felt it. A strong, sudden kick against their stomach. They both paused—and then Y/N let out a quiet, breathless laugh.
“Okay—” they murmured, dropping their forehead against hers. “That was definitely on purpose.”
Wanda laughed softly beneath them, her hands sliding up to their shoulders.
“I told you.”
Y/N shook their head slightly, still smiling, then shifted carefully, one hand immediately moving to her stomach again, palm spreading protectively.
“Hey,” they whispered, amused. “Good morning to you too.”
Another faint movement answered.
Y/N huffed softly. “Yeah, yeah… we hear you.”
They leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her bump, lingering there a moment. Y/N huffed softly, their lips still brushing against her skin as they lingered there.
“You were not supposed to wake up yet,” they murmured, voice low and amused. “It’s still Mama and Papa’s time.”
Wanda laughed quietly above them, fingers sliding into their hair.
“Tell them that,” she whispered.
As if in response—another small, insistent kick.
Y/N stilled—then let out a quiet, incredulous laugh.
“Oh, so now you’re answering back?” they said, lifting their head slightly before looking down again, their hand spreading protectively over her bump.
“Already stubborn,” they added.
Wanda smiled, watching them, her eyes soft.
“They take after you.”
Y/N glanced up at her. “That is not absurd.”
Wanda giggled.
Another faint movement followed. Y/N shook their head, smiling despite themselves, then leaned down again, pressing a softer, gentler kiss this time.
“Alright, alright,” they murmured. “We’ll share.”
Their thumb traced slow circles.
“But just this once.”
Wanda laughed, pulling them back up by the back of their neck, kissing them again—slower now, more affectionate than before.
“I guess my plan to have you inside me the whole day is ruined,” she whispered against their lips.
Y/N chuckled softly against her lips, the sound low and warm as they rested their forehead briefly against hers. “Careful,” they murmured, amused. “You’re setting expectations I might not be able to meet.”
Wanda’s fingers tightened slightly at the back of their neck, her eyes still heavy with warmth as she looked at them.
“I was very serious,” she whispered.
Y/N smiled, brushing their nose lightly against hers.
“I know you were.”
Their hand slid gently over her side, grounding, before settling again over her stomach.
“But,” they added, softer now, “I have a surprise for you tonight.”
Wanda’s brows lifted slightly.
“A surprise?”
Y/N nodded.
“Mm. A proper one.”
A small pause—then they leaned closer again, voice dropping just enough to tease, “Maybe we can… continue your plan after that.”
The look Wanda gave them—warm, heated, unmistakable—made something in Y/N’s chest tighten.
“Oh,” they breathed, before kissing her again. This time deeper. Hungrier. Like they forgot, just for a second—everything else.
Wanda responded instantly, pulling them closer, the moment slipping again—until—Y/N stilled. Again.
They pulled back just enough, eyes dropping between them as they felt it.
Another firm kick.
Clear.
Insistent.
Y/N exhaled sharply, then laughed under their breath, shaking their head. “…Fine,” they muttered. “Got it.”
Wanda burst into laughter, her hand covering her mouth as she leaned back slightly.
“They really don’t like being ignored.”
Y/N sat back a little more, still smiling but clearly defeated for the moment.
“Apparently not.”
Wanda looked at them, still amused—but there was a hint of shared frustration there too.
“…Tonight,” she reminded softly.
Y/N met her gaze, a faint smirk returning.
“Tonight.”
And this time—they both meant it.
---
By the time Y/N stepped out into the corridors, the warmth of the morning still lingered on their skin—but their mind had shifted. Today wasn’t just any day. It was Wanda’s.
And they were going to make it right.
They found Happy near the main hall of the northern palace, already overseeing the preparations. Servants moved quietly around him—carrying flowers, setting tables, adjusting candles.
It wasn’t grand. Not like the capital.
But that was the point.
Y/N approached, hands resting briefly behind their back as they took everything in.
“Happy.”
Ser Hogan turned immediately, a small, respectful bow following.
“Your Majesty.”
Y/N glanced around once more.
“Everything alright?”
Happy’s expression softened slightly. “It is,” he said. “The preparations are going well. Just as you instructed.”
Y/N nodded.
“Keep it simple,” they reminded. “No unnecessary extravagance.”
“Of course.”
A small pause. Then Happy added, more gently—“Her Majesty will like this.”
Y/N’s expression softened. “…I hope so.”
Happy smiled. “She will.”
Y/N exhaled quietly, nodding once before stepping further into the space.
The hall had already begun to transform. Soft lights. Fresh flowers—nothing too arranged, just natural, warm. A long table, but not formal. More like something meant to gather people, not impress them.
This wasn’t for nobles. Not for politics. This was—
for them.
The knights. The servants. The people who stayed.
And the people who mattered.
Y/N’s gaze lingered on the details for a moment longer before turning back.
“Food?”
“Already being prepared,” Happy replied.
“Music?”
“A small group. Nothing overwhelming.”
Y/N nodded.
“Good.”
Another pause.
Then, quieter—“Lina?”
“Her maid is helping her get ready. She’s… very excited.”
Y/N huffed softly.
“That sounds about right.”
Happy’s lips curved faintly.
Y/N stood there for a moment after that. Just looking. Taking it in. Not as a king—but as someone preparing something for the person they loved most.
“…It’s not much,” they murmured.
Happy tilted his head slightly.
Then asked, carefully—
“May I ask, Your Majesty… why keep it this small?”
Y/N glanced at him.
“Small?”
“Her Majesty’s birthday,” Happy continued gently. “It is usually… something the whole kingdom would celebrate.”
Y/N let out a quiet breath.
“…I know.”
Their gaze drifted back to the hall. To the simple arrangements. The warmth instead of grandeur.
“My father would have made it… loud,” they said after a moment. “A display.”
Their expression tightened slightly.
“He liked to show off. Power. Wealth. Control.”
A pause.
“I never did.”
Happy didn’t interrupt.
Y/N crossed their arms loosely, still watching as a servant adjusted a table setting. “And we just became stable,” they added. “The kingdom is only starting to settle. I won’t pull resources just to impress people.”
They shook their head faintly.
“That’s not what this is.”
Happy’s expression softened.
“…Then what is it?”
Y/N’s gaze shifted again—this time, warmer.
“Family,” they said simply.
A small pause.
“Friends.”
They exhaled quietly.
“She deserves a day that feels… real.”
Not watched. Not performed.
Just—hers.
“And we want to spend it with the people who actually matter to us.”
Happy smiled.
A quiet, approving kind of smile.
“I believe that is far more meaningful.”
Y/N glanced at him.
“…I think so too.”
Then, after a beat, a faint smirk touched their lips.
“And it also means fewer speeches.”
Happy chuckled softly.
“A wise decision, Your Majesty.”
Y/N huffed lightly.
“Exactly.”
---
Wanda’s POV
The garden was quieter than the rest of the palace.
It always had been.
The northern air carried a soft chill, the kind that felt refreshing rather than cold, and the flowers here grew a little wilder—less arranged, more natural. Wanda liked that.
She sat on a stone bench beneath a flowering tree, one hand resting over her stomach, the other lightly brushing the petals beside her.
Across from her, Ser Romanoff stood at first—as always. Composed.
Wanda glanced up at her. “You can sit, you know.”
Nat hesitated slightly. “…Your Majesty—”
“Nat.”
Nat exhaled quietly and sat beside her. Not stiff, but not fully relaxed either.
Wanda smiled faintly. “Better.”
Nat glanced at her. “…You used to say that all the time.”
Wanda hummed softly.
“And you used to ignore me every time.”
“That is still accurate.”
Wanda laughed quietly. The sound felt easy here.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the wind brushing gently through the garden. Then Nat’s gaze shifted—to Wanda’s stomach. “…How are you feeling?” she asked.
Wanda followed her gaze, her hand instinctively smoothing over the fabric. “Good,” she said softly. “Tired sometimes.”
Nat nodded. “That’s expected.”
Wanda glanced at her, amused. “You sound like a healer.”
“I listen,” Nat replied simply.
Wanda smiled. “They moved two days ago,” Wanda said quietly.
Nat’s head turned immediately. “…The baby?”
Wanda nodded, her expression softening. “For the first time.”
Nat’s features shifted—subtle, but there. Something warmer. “…How was it?”
Wanda let out a quiet breath. “Everything.”A small laugh followed.
“I cried.”
Nat’s lips curved faintly. “I would have expected nothing less.”
Wanda nudged her lightly. “You’re terrible.”
“I am accurate, Your Majesty.”
They both smiled.
Then Nat leaned back slightly, her posture easing just a little more than before. “…And Their Majesty?” she asked.
Wanda smiled immediately. Soft. Fond. “They’re… excited,” she said.
Nat raised a brow slightly. “That is one way to describe them.”
Wanda laughed quietly. “They’ve been hovering over me since yesterday.”
“I am not surprised.”
“They won’t let me carry anything,” Wanda continued, amused. “They keep asking if I’m tired, if I’ve eaten, if I need to sit—”
Nat nodded. “That is also expected.”
Wanda glanced at her. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Wanda shook her head, smiling.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The breeze moved softly through the garden, carrying the scent of flowers and something familiar—something that reminded Wanda of a place far away.
“…Do you remember the south courtyard in Sokovia?” Wanda asked suddenly.
Nat glanced at her. “With the broken fountain?”
Wanda laughed. “It wasn’t broken.”
“It was,” Nat said calmly. “You insisted it added ‘character.’”
“It did,” Wanda defended.
Nat’s lips twitched.
“You used to sit there for hours.”
Wanda leaned back slightly, looking up through the branches above them.
“It was quiet,” she said. “Before everything got… loud.”
Nat nodded.
“I used to stand three steps behind you,” she added.
Wanda glanced at her. “You didn’t have to.”
“I did.”
Wanda smiled faintly.
“…You always stayed anyway.”
“I always will.”
The words settled between them—simple, but steady.
Wanda’s expression softened. “This is my first birthday without Pietro,” she said.
Nat’s gaze shifted to her immediately.
Wanda looked down at her hands. “I sent him a gift,” she added softly. “Before we left.”
Nat nodded. “I sent one as well.”
Wanda looked at her, a small smile forming. “He’ll like that.”
“He will complain first,” Nat said. “Then he will like it.”
Wanda laughed quietly.
A small pause followed. Not heavy—but felt. Wanda’s hand moved over her stomach again, grounding herself in the present. Then she glanced at Nat. “What about Yelena?” she asked. “Have you heard from her?”
Nat exhaled quietly, leaning back slightly. “We write often,” she said. “She was… not pleased I chose to stay.”
Wanda laughed softly. “I feel like I should apologize.”
“You should not.”
Wanda tilted her head. “Is she still mad?”
Nat considered that. “…Less.”Then Nat added—“She wants to come here.”
Wanda blinked. “To Virelia?”
Nat nodded. “She said she would rather be annoyed at me in person than through letters.”
Wanda laughed.
Nat’s expression softened just slightly. “She wants to be close.”
Wanda looked at her. “Would you want that?”
Nat didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” Honest.
Wanda smiled warmly. “Then I hope she comes.”
Nat glanced at her. “…You would allow it?”
Wanda raised a brow. “Of course I would.”
A small pause.
“Anyone important to you is welcome here.”
Nat held her gaze for a second—then nodded. “…Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Wanda rolled her eyes lightly. “Don’t start that again.”
Nat let out a quiet laugh—soft, but real.
Wanda blinked, then laughed too, the sound easy and familiar, like it used to be. “There it is,” Wanda said, nudging her lightly. “You can laugh.”
“Rarely,” Nat replied dryly.
Wanda hummed, clearly unconvinced. A small pause settled between them, comfortable again—until Wanda tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just a little with mischief.
“So,” she said casually.
Nat glanced at her. “…So?”
Wanda’s lips curved. “Did you mention Ser Barnes in any of those letters?”
Nat stilled just for a second before saying, “…No.”which came out too quick.
Wanda’s smile widened immediately. “Not even once?”
“No.”
Wanda leaned a little closer, her tone turning lighter—teasing. “Not even to complain about him?”
“I do not complain.”
“Not even to mention that you spend an interesting amount of time training with him?”
Nat looked straight ahead. “I train with many people.”
Wanda hummed softly. “Of course you do.”
A beat passed before she added, far too casually, “…But not like that.”
Nat turned her head slowly. “…Like what?”
Wanda met her gaze without a hint of shame. “Like the way you look at him.”
Nat blinked once, then immediately looked away. “…You are imagining things.”
Wanda laughed under her breath. “I’m really not.”
A faint flush crept up Nat’s neck—subtle, but impossible to miss. Wanda noticed instantly.
“Oh,” she said, delighted. “That’s new.”
“It is not new.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Nat exhaled quietly through her nose, trying very hard to stay composed and failing just enough for Wanda to enjoy it.
Wanda leaned back, entirely too pleased with herself. “You didn’t tell Yelena because you know exactly what she would say.”
Nat went still for half a second. “…She would be insufferable.”
Wanda grinned immediately. “So you did think about telling her.”
Nat closed her eyes briefly, already regretting this conversation. “…That is not what I said.”
“Mm-hm,” Wanda laughed.
Nat shook her head faintly, but there was no real denial left anymore—only quiet resignation and something softer lingering underneath it.
Wanda watched her for another moment before smiling to herself. Because some things were finally starting to change.
---
They lingered there a while longer, their conversation drifting from teasing to quiet again, the garden wrapping around them in a calm that felt almost untouched by the rest of the world. Until they heard footsteps approaching. Familiar ones.
Wanda looked up first. And there—Y/N.
Walking toward them through the garden path, sunlight catching lightly on their shoulders, a small bundle of fresh flowers in their hand. Their eyes found Wanda immediately. And softened.
A smile followed—easy, a little charming, a little proud.
“For my queen,” they said as they approached, holding the flowers out toward her. A small tilt of their head. “The birthday girl.”
Wanda’s lips parted slightly, caught off guard for just a second—then she smiled softly and warm. “Thank you,” she said, reaching out to take them carefully her fingers brushing theirs.
Y/N didn’t pull away immediately. Their gaze lingered.
“Picked them myself,” they added, quieter now. “So… don’t expect perfection.”
Wanda glanced down at the flowers. Then back at them. “I think they’re perfect.”
Y/N huffed softly, but there was no hiding the smile that followed.
Behind them, Nat stood quietly, giving them space as she always did. “…Your Majesty,” she said, inclining her head slightly.
Y/N glanced at her and nodded once. “Romanoff.” But their attention returned to Wanda almost immediately, their hand already settling lightly against the small of her back.
“…You’ve been out here a while,” they said softly. “Are you tired?”
Wanda smiled, amused. “I’m fine.”
Y/N narrowed their eyes just slightly. “That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
“It’s not a useful one.”
Wanda laughed under her breath. Behind them, Nat looked away—but not before the faintest flicker of amusement crossed her face. Adjusting the flowers in her hands, Wanda looked back at Y/N. “What now?”
Something playful slipped into Y/N’s expression. “…Lunch,” they answered. Then, softer, “And after that, I’ll steal you away again.”
Wanda lifted a brow. “Steal me?”
Y/N only leaned closer, brushing a lingering kiss against her cheek before straightening again. Then they glanced toward Nat. “Join us for lunch.”
Nat blinked, visibly caught off guard. “That won’t be—”
“We insist,” Y/N interrupted gently, wearing that familiar smile that never really left room for refusal.
Nat opened her mouth, paused, then let out a quiet breath. “…yes, Your Majesty.”
Wanda tried not to smile at that. Failed immediately.
Y/N looked satisfied as they turned toward one of the nearby maids. “Have lunch brought here,” they instructed. “Something light.” The maid bowed quickly.
“And,” Y/N added, glancing briefly back at Wanda, “see if Lina would like to join us.”
Wanda’s expression softened instantly. Beside her, Nat folded her hands behind her back again—but this time, she didn’t step away completely.
Once the maid hurried off, Y/N returned to Wanda’s side, their hand naturally finding its place at her back again. “Better than the dining hall,” they murmured.
“Much,” Wanda agreed.
Nat glanced around the garden, then at the two of them. “…It is,” she admitted quietly.
Y/N smirked faintly. “See? Good decisions.”
Wanda laughed softly, flowers still gathered carefully in her hands as the breeze drifted through the garden once more, gentler now, carrying the quiet promise of a slow afternoon.
And for once, no one was in a hurry.
---
Later that Day
The warmth of the bath still lingered on Wanda’s skin.
The chamber was softly lit, candles flickering gently as the last traces of steam faded into the air. The scent of the oils Lily had used—something floral, something calming—clung lightly to Wanda, wrapping around her like a quiet embrace.
Lily moved with practiced ease behind her.
Careful. Attentive.
She had already helped Wanda bathe, her hands gentle as she worked the aromatic oils into her skin, easing every bit of tension from the day. It had been slow, soothing—enough that Wanda had nearly fallen asleep more than once.
Now, she stood before the mirror as Lily helped her into her gown. The fabric was soft and elegant. Flowing in a way that didn’t restrict her, but still shaped her beautifully—fitted just enough to highlight her form, while allowing room for her growing bump without pressure.
Wanda’s fingers brushed lightly over it as Lily adjusted the final ties.
“…This is new,” Wanda murmured.
Lily smiled faintly in the reflection. “It is, Your Majesty.”
Wanda tilted her head slightly. “It’s beautiful.”
Lily stepped back just enough to smooth the fabric along her sides. “Their Majesty had it made for you,” she said gently.
Wanda stilled.
“…Y/N did?”
Lily nodded. “They gave very specific instructions.”
Wanda’s lips curved slowly. Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach, smoothing over the fabric there.
“They made sure it wouldn’t be tight,” Lily added softly. “And that you would be comfortable sitting for long periods.”
Wanda let out a quiet, fond breath.
“That sounds like them.”
Lily smiled.
Wanda looked at herself in the mirror again. The gown. The softness of it. The way it fit her now—not who she used to be, but who she was becoming.
Her fingers traced the edge of the fabric lightly. “They didn’t have to do all this,” she murmured.
Lily met her gaze through the reflection.
“They wanted to.”
Wanda’s expression softened.
Yes.
They did.
She could see it in every detail.
Every stitch. Every choice.
Her hand rested more firmly over her stomach.
“…They’re trying to make today perfect,” she said quietly.
Lily stepped closer, adjusting a final strand of Wanda’s hair.
“I believe,” she said gently, “they already have.”
Wanda smiled. Then took a breath.
“…Are we ready?”
Lily stepped back fully now, giving her a small nod.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Wanda glanced at herself one last time—then turned.
Ready to see what Y/N had been planning. Ready—for whatever came next.
A soft knock echoed through the chamber.
Wanda turned slightly—and the door opened.
Y/N stepped in.
And for a moment—Wanda forgot to breathe.
They looked… stunning.
Dressed simply, but perfectly—everything fitted just right, clean lines, dark tones that made their presence feel steady, commanding without trying. Their hair was slightly tousled, like they hadn’t cared enough to fix it completely, and it only made them look better.
Wanda’s eyes moved slowly—taking them in from head to toe. Unapologetically. Lingering. And in her mind—brief, quiet flashes of later. Of when they would be alone again.
Her lips curved faintly. Then her gaze lifted—meeting theirs.
Y/N was already looking at her. Smiling. A little breathless in a way they tried to hide.
“Well,” they said quietly, stepping further into the room, their eyes trailing over her just the same, “that’s unfair.”
Wanda raised a brow.
“Unfair?”
Y/N nodded, stopping just in front of her.
“You weren’t supposed to make me want to cancel everything I planned tonight.”
Wanda laughed softly.
“I didn’t plan this.”
“No,” Y/N said, voice lowering slightly, “I did.”
Their hand lifted, hovering for just a moment before gently brushing along her arm, down to her hand.
“…You look beautiful.”
Wanda’s expression softened instantly.
“So do you.”
Y/N hummed quietly, but their thumb brushed over her knuckles.
“Ready?” they asked.
Wanda nodded. But didn’t move. Her eyes lingered on them for just a second longer—warm. Full of love. Then—she stepped closer. Close enough that her voice dropped just slightly.
“Try not to ruin your plans tonight,” she murmured.
Y/N blinked once.
“…That sounds like a threat.”
Wanda smiled. “It might be.”
Y/N’s lips curved.
“…Noted.”
They offered their arm and Wanda took it.
The corridor felt different at night—warmer somehow, lit by soft candlelight that flickered along the stone walls as they walked side by side. Wanda’s hand rested lightly on Y/N’s arm, her fingers occasionally brushing their sleeve while they guided her through the quiet palace halls.
Y/N hadn’t said much the entire walk.
Unusual.
Wanda noticed immediately.
“You’re hiding something,” she murmured, glancing up at them.
Y/N kept their gaze forward for another second before answering, far too calmly, “…I have no idea what you mean.”
Wanda smiled. “You’re terrible at pretending.”
A soft huff escaped them. “I’m trying.”
“That’s the problem.”
For a moment, silence settled between them again before the corner of Y/N’s mouth finally curved upward.
“…Just wait.”
Wanda didn’t press any further.
But her curiosity only grew.
As they turned the final corner, warm light spilled into the corridor ahead of them.
Then the doors opened.
The hall had been transformed—not into something grand or overwhelming, but something beautiful in a quieter, more thoughtful way. Soft lights hung across the room while candles glowed along the tables, flowers arranged simply but carefully, every detail intentional rather than extravagant.
Voices filled the space almost immediately. Familiar ones.
The knights were there. The servants too. People smiling not because duty demanded it, but because they genuinely wanted to.
“Your Majesties,” several greeted warmly as they entered, bowing their heads.
“Happy birthday, Your Majesty,” others added, softer now, more personal.
Wanda stilled for just a moment, quietly taking everything in.
Beside her, Y/N’s hand shifted lightly against the small of her back.
“…Do you like it?” they asked in a lower voice.
Wanda turned to look at them, and her expression softened instantly.
“I love it.”
Something subtle eased from Y/N at that—a quiet exhale, almost relieved.
Good.
Because this was exactly what they had wanted for her. Not a spectacle. Not something loud or extravagant.
Just something that felt like them.
“Wanda!”
Lina’s voice cut through the room instantly as the little girl rushed forward, stopping herself at the last second before colliding into her. Clearly remembering she wasn’t supposed to.
“You look so pretty!” Lina said brightly, practically glowing herself.
Wanda laughed softly. “Thank you.”
Lina immediately turned toward Y/N. “You too.”
Y/N gave a solemn nod. “High praise.”
That earned an immediate grin from Lina.
By then, soft music had begun drifting through the hall, gentle enough to fill the silence without overwhelming it. Around them, people slowly relaxed into conversation, laughter rising here and there as the celebration settled into something warm and easy.
And for a moment, Wanda simply stood there taking it all in.
The lights. The voices. The people she loved gathered around her.
Then her hand found Y/N’s.
She squeezed gently. “…You did this.”
Y/N glanced at her. “…We did this.”
Wanda shook her head, smiling softly. “No.”
Her gaze warmed even more as she looked at them.
“You did.”
This time, Y/N didn’t argue.
Because maybe, just this once, they wanted to take the credit.
For her.
They stayed close for the rest of the evening, moving through the room together with an ease that felt natural now. Greeting people. Laughing softly at quiet conversations. Pausing here and there while music drifted warmly through the hall around them.
And every so often, Wanda would catch Y/N looking at her.
Never for too long.
Just a second longer than necessary. Like they were checking. Making sure she was happy. Making sure all of this had been worth it.
And every single time, Wanda smiled when their eyes met.
Because she was.
---
Later, Lina disappeared for only a moment before hurrying back again, this time slower, more careful, a small box clutched tightly in both hands.
“Wanda,” she said a little breathlessly as she stopped in front of her, holding it up carefully. “This is for you.”
Wanda blinked in surprise before her expression immediately softened. “For me?”
Lina nodded eagerly. “It’s your birthday.”
Something warm melted across Wanda’s face at that. She crouched slightly to Lina’s level first, pulling her into a gentle hug.
“Thank you,” she murmured, kissing the top of her hair softly.
Lina hugged her back just as tightly before Wanda finally pulled away enough to smile at her. “Can I open it?”
“Yes!” Lina answered instantly.
Wanda accepted the box carefully, handling it like it was something precious. Y/N stepped a little closer beside her, their hand naturally settling against the small of Wanda’s back while a few nearby guests watched with quiet curiosity.
Inside was something simple.
Handmade.
A small woven bracelet, slightly uneven in places, colorful threads twisted together with a tiny charm tied carefully at the center.
Wanda went completely still.
Her fingers brushed lightly across it as she looked back up at Lina. “…You made this?”
Lina nodded, suddenly shy now that it was open. “I asked for help,” she admitted quietly. “But I did most of it.”
Wanda’s eyes shone almost immediately.
“It’s beautiful.”
Lina’s entire face lit up. “Really?”
“Really,” Wanda said without hesitation, warm and certain.
And before anyone could say anything else, she slipped it onto her wrist.
“It’s perfect.”
Lina beamed so brightly it nearly made Y/N smile wider too. They reached over and gently ruffled her hair.
“Well done,” they said quietly.
Lina grinned even harder.
Then Y/N glanced toward Wanda again, expression softer now beneath their usual composure. “…Why don’t we open the others too?”
Wanda smiled. “Now?”
Y/N nodded once. “Before Lina explodes from excitement.”
“I will not explode,” Lina argued immediately.
Y/N raised a brow. “…We’ll see.”
That finally made Wanda laugh softly. “Alright.”
---
They moved to sit together near the center of the hall, though slightly apart from the larger crowd. Nothing formal. No throne waiting for them.
Just chairs placed close together in the warm candlelight.
Servants began bringing over the gifts one by one, arranging them carefully nearby. There were far more than Wanda expected—different sizes, different wrapping, some simple and others elaborate.
She blinked softly at the growing pile. “…There’s a lot.”
Beside her, Y/N rested one arm along the back of her chair, relaxed. “There’s more.”
Wanda turned toward them. “More?”
Y/N nodded once. “In our chambers.” A brief pause followed before they added casually, “And more back in the capital.”
Wanda let out a quiet breath, already overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to—”
Before Wanda could respond, Y/N reached for one of the boxes nearby. This one, though, they held a little longer before finally handing it over.
“…This one first.”
Wanda looked down at it, then back at them. “…From you?”
Y/N nodded once.
Her hands became noticeably more careful as she took it, slower now, like it carried more weight than the others.
Because it did.
The room seemed quieter somehow as Wanda opened the box. Inside wasn’t jewelry or anything extravagant, but something far more personal.
A small handmade book.
Wanda blinked softly, fingers brushing over the worn leather cover. It felt intentionally aged, the pages uneven enough to show it had been assembled by hand.
“…What is it?” she asked quietly.
Y/N shifted slightly beside her, suddenly looking far less composed than before. “Open it.”
Wanda did.
The first page held a simple sketch of the northern palace. The lines weren’t perfect, but it was unmistakable. Familiar.
She turned the page.
The garden.
The tree she’d been sitting beneath earlier that day.
Another page showed the village they’d visited together.
Then she stopped completely.
A sketch of her.
Simple. Not detailed. But undeniably her—sitting quietly with one hand resting over her stomach.
Wanda’s breath caught softly.
“…Y/N…”
Beside her, Y/N rubbed the back of their neck almost shyly. “I asked someone to help bind it,” they admitted. “But the rest… I did.”
Wanda looked at them fully now. “You made this?”
A small nod.
“…I wanted you to have something from here,” they said quietly. “Something we could keep adding to.”
Her fingers traced lightly across the page.
“Our life,” Y/N added softly.
Not grand gestures. Not ceremonies or politics.
Just moments.
Wanda closed the book carefully and held it against her chest for a second before leaning forward to kiss them.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Like she was pouring every unspoken feeling into it.
When she pulled away, her forehead rested against theirs.
“I love it,” she whispered.
Y/N exhaled quietly, relief slipping through at last. “…Good.”
Wanda smiled, slipping her hand into theirs.
And suddenly the gift no longer felt like something finished.
It felt like the beginning of something they would continue building together.
The moment lingered a little longer—Wanda still holding the handmade book close, Y/N’s hand still intertwined with hers—before the gentle rhythm of the celebration slowly returned around them.
Voices filled the hall again. Movement. Warmth.
Carefully, Wanda set the book beside her rather than farther away, like she couldn’t quite bear losing contact with it yet.
Then Nat stepped forward.
No wrapping paper. No ornate box.
Just her.
Wanda blinked softly, tilting her head. “…Nat?”
Nat stopped in front of her, posture as straight and composed as ever, though something about her expression felt different tonight. Softer somehow beneath the control she always carried so carefully.
“I did not bring something elaborate,” she said quietly.
Wanda smiled faintly. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”
Nat shook her head once. “I wanted to.”
After a brief pause, she reached to her side and drew something free.
A dagger.
Not a ceremonial one. Not something decorative meant only for display. This one was smaller, refined, the polished blade catching softly in the candlelight while delicate engravings traced the hilt.
Wanda’s eyes widened slightly.
Nat held it out carefully—not like a weapon.
Like trust.
“This was mine,” she said. “From before.”
Wanda looked from the dagger back to her.
“I carried it when I first became a knight,” Nat continued quietly. “It kept me alive.”
A hush settled briefly around them.
Wanda accepted it slowly, fingers curling carefully around the hilt. It felt balanced. Familiar. Real.
“…Nat…”
“I want you to have it,” Nat said before she could continue. “Not because I think you’ll need to use it.” A slight pause. “But because you should never feel unprotected.”
Wanda’s grip tightened faintly.
Her expression softened immediately.
“You’re here,” she said quietly.
“I am.”
“Then I’m already protected.”
Nat didn’t answer that.
But something shifted in her face all the same.
Wanda stood just enough to lean forward and hug her.
Nat froze for half a heartbeat before carefully returning it—brief and restrained, but genuine in a way that mattered far more.
“Thank you,” Wanda murmured softly.
Nat nodded once as they pulled apart. “You’re welcome, Your Majesty.”
That earned her a look from Wanda.
And for the briefest second, Nat almost smiled.
Just like that, another quiet piece of the evening settled perfectly into place.
The atmosphere softened again as Nat stepped quietly back into place.
Wanda held the dagger carefully for another moment before setting it beside the other gifts, her fingers lingering briefly over the hilt like she understood exactly what it meant for Nat to hand it over.
Y/N watched her for a second before reaching for another box.
“This one,” they said, offering it to her, “is from Pietro.”
Wanda’s expression changed immediately—warmth flickering across her face alongside the faint ache that always came whenever her brother was mentioned.
“…You have it?” she asked softly.
Y/N nodded once. “It arrived before we left the capital.”
Wanda accepted it carefully, slower than she had taken the others. Her fingertips brushed lightly over the wrapping before she finally opened it.
Inside was a pair of riding boots. Fine leather. Soft but durable, practical in design with delicate etched details running subtly along the sides. Sokovian patterns.
Wanda exhaled quietly the moment she recognized them.
A folded note rested inside the box. She picked it up carefully, unfolding it with a small smile already forming before she even began reading.
“He says,” she read softly, “‘that since I insist on living so far away, I should at least not forget how to ride properly.’”
Y/N chuckles.
Wanda laughed under her breath, fingers brushing gently over the boots again.
“He also says…” Her voice softened further as she continued reading. “‘That he expects to see me wearing them when he visits. And if I don’t, he’ll be offended.’”
Y/N smirked faintly. “Then I suppose you don’t really have a choice.”
“…No,” Wanda admitted with another quiet laugh.
For a moment, she pressed the note lightly against her chest before folding it again with careful hands.
“I miss him,” she said softly.
Y/N’s hand found hers immediately.
“I know.”
The gentle squeeze grounded her instantly.
Wanda nodded once, then looked back down at the boots and smiled again.
Y/N reached for another box, their expression quieter this time as they handed it over.
“This one is from your parents. Your mom left with before she departed to Sokovia.”
Wanda looked up immediately, something soft and deeply fond settling across her face before she accepted it carefully with both hands.
Inside was fabric.
Rich. Familiar.
Wanda lifted it slowly, breath catching almost at once.
A shawl.
Deep crimson with intricate Sokovian embroidery woven in fine gold thread along the edges—delicate, elegant, unmistakably royal.
“…This is from home,” she whispered.
Y/N watched her closely while Wanda found the second item tucked beneath it.
A letter.
She unfolded it carefully, her eyes moving across the page as her expression softened more and more with every line.
“They send their love,” she murmured, smiling faintly. “My mother says I should rest more.”
Y/N let out a quiet huff. “I agree with her.”
Wanda laughed softly under her breath before pulling the shawl closer around herself, holding it like something grounding, something familiar enough to bridge the distance between here and home.
Beside her, Y/N’s hand rested gently against her back.
“Good?” they asked softly.
Wanda looked at them, eyes warm and full in a way words couldn’t quite capture.
“Perfect.”
And surrounded by the people she loved—both beside her and far away—it truly was.
---
The night had quieted.
The laughter had faded into soft echoes down the halls, the last of the candles burning low as servants finished clearing what remained of the celebration.
Their chambers were warm. Just the two of them.
Wanda stood near the window for a moment, the shawl from her parents draped loosely around her shoulders, the bracelet still on her wrist, the book resting carefully on the table nearby.
She exhaled softly. Then turned.
Y/N was there—removing their jacket, slower now, the energy from earlier replaced with something calmer. Softer.
Wanda watched them for a second.
Then crossed the room.
Without a word, she stepped close—close enough that Y/N barely had time to react before her arms slipped around them.
Y/N relaxed immediately, their arms wrapping around her just as easily. “…Hey,” they murmured.
Wanda buried her face against their shoulder. “Thank you.”
Y/N’s hand moved up her back, slow, grounding. “You don’t have to thank me,” they said softly.
“I do,” Wanda replied, pulling back just enough to look at them.
Her eyes were warm. Bright.
“You made today… perfect.”
Y/N’s expression softened. “It was just a small—”
“It wasn’t,” she interrupted gently. Her hand came up, resting against their cheek. “It was everything.”
A small pause.
Then, softer—
“I love you.”
Y/N didn’t answer right away. Not with words. Their hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her in just enough to kiss her—slow, steady, like they meant it with everything they had.
When they pulled back, their forehead rested against hers.
“…I love you too.”
Wanda smiled.
Then—something shifted.
Subtle.
Her gaze changed just slightly.
Warmer.
A little mischievous.
“…Do you remember what you promised me this morning?” she asked quietly.
Y/N’s lips curved immediately. A slow, knowing smirk. “…Absolutely.”
Wanda’s smile matched it. Then she stepped closer—and kissed them.
Harder this time. Hungry.
Like she had been waiting all day.
Y/N didn’t hesitate. Their hands found her instantly, pulling her closer as they kissed her back just as deeply.
And just like that—the rest of the world disappeared.
---
Few Days Later
Y/N’s POV
The week in the northern palace passed faster than any of them expected.
What had started as a quiet retreat slowly became something more—days filled with lingering moments, peaceful walks through the hills, slow mornings tangled in warmth, and evenings ending in soft laughter beneath candlelight.
And now it was time to leave.
The courtyard had already come alive with movement by early morning. Servants crossed back and forth carrying trunks toward the carriages while the horses shifted impatiently in the cold air, their breath visible in pale clouds.
Near the front of the procession, Y/N stood reviewing the final preparations with practiced calm.
“Everything secured?” they asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” one of the guards answered immediately.
Y/N nodded once, scanning the courtyard out of habit more than concern before finally turning back.
Wanda stood several steps away with Lina beside her, one hand resting unconsciously over her stomach again. Her gaze drifted over the palace behind them—the stone walls, the quiet windows, the gardens just beyond.
A small breath escaped her.
Y/N noticed immediately.
They crossed the distance without hesitation, settling a gentle hand against the small of her back.
“…You alright?”
Wanda nodded softly. “Just… looking.”
Y/N followed her gaze for a moment before answering quietly, “…We’ll come back.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “I know.”
Beside them, Lina shifted from foot to foot, clearly unhappy.
“I don’t want to leave,” she admitted quietly.
Y/N glanced down at her before crouching slightly to meet her eyes. “Of course you don’t.”
“I like it here.”
“We’ll come again,” Y/N promised.
Lina studied them carefully. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
That seemed to ease something in her, even if only a little.
Footsteps approached behind them.
“Your Majesty.”
Y/N looked up to find Happy already dressed for travel, standing straighter than usual though something lighter rested in his expression now.
“You’re coming with us,” Y/N said simply.
It wasn’t phrased like a question.
Happy inclined his head. “As agreed.”
“Good.” A brief pause followed before Y/N added more quietly, “…The capital could use you.”
Happy’s expression softened slightly. “And I will serve where I am needed.”
Y/N held his gaze for another second before nodding once more.
“Ready,” Ser Wilson called from near the horses.
Nearby, Nat sat already mounted, composed and alert as always, her sharp attention never fully leaving the surroundings.
Y/N inhaled slowly, then turned back toward Wanda and offered her an arm.
“Come.”
Wanda took it easily.
Lina climbed eagerly into the carriage with help, immediately peeking back out the window despite her earlier sadness. Y/N helped Wanda up more carefully, steady hands focused entirely on her until she was settled comfortably inside before climbing in after her.
The carriage door closed.
A signal was given.
The horses began to move.
And just like that, the northern palace slowly started to disappear behind them.
Wanda looked back only once.
Just once.
Then she turned forward again—toward the road stretching ahead, toward the capital, toward the life waiting for them there.
Beside her, Y/N’s hand found hers and squeezed gently.
And this time, she didn’t look back again.
---
The journey back had been long and quiet, and by the time the carriages finally rolled through the palace gates, night had already settled over the capital.
Torches flickered warmly across the courtyard while guards stood at attention as the wheels slowed to a stop.
Inside the carriage, both Wanda and Lina had fallen asleep.
Lina was curled awkwardly against one side, peaceful despite the uncomfortable position. Wanda rested against Y/N’s shoulder, breathing softly, one hand still settled protectively over her stomach even in sleep.
Y/N didn’t move immediately. They just looked at them for a moment.
Then the carriage door opened.
“Your Majesty.”
Ser Barnes stood outside with Ser Rogers beside him.
Y/N nodded once. “They’re asleep.”
Rogers stepped forward first, instinctively lowering his voice. “I’ll take the princess.”
Carefully, Y/N shifted just enough for Rogers to gently lift Lina into his arms. She stirred faintly but didn’t wake.
“Careful,” Y/N murmured automatically.
“Always,” Rogers replied.
Then Y/N turned back toward Wanda.
Slowly and carefully, they slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, lifting her effortlessly into their arms. Wanda barely reacted beyond unconsciously leaning closer, her face brushing softly against their shoulder.
Y/N’s expression softened immediately.
“…Got you,” they murmured quietly.
As they stepped out into the courtyard, Barnes moved alongside them. “We can go over everything tonight if you—”
“Tomorrow,” Y/N interrupted gently while adjusting their hold on Wanda.
Barnes paused, then nodded. “Tomorrow.”
Y/N inclined their head slightly before their gaze flicked briefly toward Ser Romanoff standing nearby—watching, composed as always.
Then back to Barnes.
A slow grin tugged faintly at Y/N’s mouth as they leaned closer while passing him.
“…Why don’t you check on a certain knight first?” they murmured under their breath.
Barnes froze for exactly half a second before the tips of his ears turned faintly red.
Y/N didn’t wait for an answer.
They were already walking away with Wanda secure in their arms while Rogers carried Lina carefully inside behind them.
Barnes remained standing there another moment longer before, very casually, his eyes drifted toward Romanoff.
Nat didn’t look directly at him.
But she didn’t move away either.
Inside the palace, the halls were quiet and dimly lit, familiar in a way that settled something deep in Y/N’s chest. They walked carefully through the corridors, steady and unhurried, never loosening their hold on Wanda.
When they reached their chambers, Y/N nudged the door open easily and stepped inside.
Stillness greeted them.
Warmth.
Home.
They crossed to the bed and lowered Wanda carefully onto the mattress, hands lingering briefly to make sure she was comfortable before pulling away.
Wanda stirred faintly at the movement.
“…Y/N…” she murmured sleepily.
“I’m here,” they answered softly at once.
Her breathing settled again almost immediately.
Y/N brushed a loose strand of hair gently from her face before leaning down to press a soft kiss against her forehead.
And for the first time since returning to the capital, they finally let themselves breathe.
Because they were home.
---
Wanda’s POV
The room was quiet when Wanda finally stirred awake.
Soft morning light filtered through the curtains, spilling gently across the bed where she lay alone. For a moment, she stayed still, eyes only half-open as her hand instinctively drifted to her stomach.
Warm. Familiar.
Then came a soft knock at the door.
“Your Majesty?”
Lily.
Wanda exhaled quietly. “Come in.”
The door opened carefully and Lily stepped inside with her usual quiet grace, dipping her head politely. “Good morning, Your Majesty.”
“Good morning, Lily,” Wanda replied softly as she pushed herself upright, blankets sliding around her.
Lily crossed the room to adjust the curtains, letting a little more morning light spill inside. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did. Thank you.”
Wanda’s gaze drifted briefly around the room before settling back on her again.
“…Where is Y/N?”
Lily paused only slightly before answering calmly. “Their Majesty is with Ser Barnes, receiving updates after your absence.”
Wanda nodded faintly.
Of course.
Work never truly waited in the capital.
Still, Lily smiled softly as she added, “They said they would return for breakfast with you.”
A quiet breath left her as something soft settled in her chest. “Alright.”
“Shall I prepare your bath?” Lily asked gently.
Wanda glanced once more toward the brightening window before nodding. “Yes.”
Lily moved quietly through the chamber, already preparing everything while Wanda remained seated at the edge of the bed, slowly waking into the morning.
The capital palace felt different from the northern one.
Larger. Busier.
Even now, there was a faint hum somewhere beyond the walls—a reminder that life here never truly slowed down.
But inside the chamber, everything remained calm.
Still.
Wanda rested her hand over her stomach again, thumb brushing lightly across the fabric of her nightdress.
“…Good morning,” she murmured softly beneath her breath.
As though answering her, a faint movement fluttered beneath her palm.
Small.
But there.
Wanda smiled instantly, her shoulders relaxing. “You’re awake too,” she whispered.
Another gentle flutter followed, weaker than before but enough to make her smile deepen.
The sound of water pouring softly nearby eventually pulled her attention back. Steam had already begun rising from the bath while the scent of oils slowly filled the room—warm, calming, familiar.
“Would you like help, Your Majesty?” Lily asked.
Wanda nodded as she stood carefully. “Yes.”
Lily stepped closer, helping her out of her nightdress before guiding her toward the bath chamber. Warmth wrapped around Wanda immediately as she stepped into the water, tension leaving her body almost at once.
Beside her, Lily worked quietly, adding oils before moving behind her to gently massage her shoulders.
The exhaustion from the journey, from the long week away, slowly melted under careful hands.
Wanda closed her eyes. Just breathing. Just existing in the quiet.
“…You may rest your hands there,” Lily said softly, guiding her hands toward her stomach.
Wanda obeyed instinctively, palms settling protectively over the curve of her bump.
Warm.
Safe.
Lily’s hands moved slowly along her shoulders and back, never pressing too firmly, always careful.
“You should not overexert yourself today,” Lily added gently.
A faint smile touched Wanda’s lips, eyes still closed. “I’ll try.”
“You have to do more than try, You Majesty.”
Wanda let out a quiet huff of amusement. “That sounds like something Y/N would say.”
Lily smiled softly. “They are very attentive.”
Wanda opened her eyes slightly at that.
“They are.”
There was no hesitation in her voice. Only certainty.
After a while, Lily helped Wanda out of the bath, wrapping her carefully in soft fabric before drying her off and guiding her back into the main chamber.
Fresh clothes had already been laid out—light, comfortable, chosen carefully so nothing pressed too tightly against her stomach. Wanda dressed slowly while Lily adjusted the fabric where needed, smoothing everything into place with practiced care.
When it was done, Wanda stood in front of the mirror for a quiet moment.
Just looking.
At herself. At the subtle changes in her body. At the life growing beneath her hands.
Then the chamber door opened without a knock.
Wanda smiled faintly before even turning around. “…You’re late.”
“I said I’d be back for breakfast.”
She turned then, smile lingering as Y/N stepped fully into the room like they hadn’t even paused outside the door. Their eyes found her immediately and stayed there.
“…You’re staring,” Wanda said, amused.
“I am,” Y/N answered easily as they crossed the room toward her, gaze traveling slowly over her.
“Problem?”
“Yeah.” A small pause. “I’m supposed to focus on work today.”
Wanda laughed softly. “That sounds like your problem.”
“It is.”
They stopped directly in front of her, fingers brushing lightly along her arm before settling naturally at her waist.
“You look good,” they murmured.
Her expression softened instantly. “So do you.”
Almost automatically, Y/N’s hand slipped down to rest over her stomach.
“…Morning,” they murmured quietly.
A second later, a faint movement fluttered beneath their palm.
Y/N smiled immediately. “Did you miss Papa?”
Another small flutter answered them.
A pleased huff escaped Y/N at once. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Wanda laughed gently, covering their hand with hers. “You’ve been gone for, what, an hour?”
“Long enough.”
Their thumb traced slow circles over her stomach while the softness in their expression remained completely unhidden now.
“Next time I’ll bring you with me,” they said quietly. “Meet everyone early.”
Wanda shook her head, amused. “They’re not even here yet.”
“Planning ahead.”
She watched them for another moment before smiling more softly. “They’ll be just as attached to you as you are to them.”
Y/N glanced up at her, something uncertain flickering briefly behind their eyes. “…You think?”
“I know.”
They held her gaze for a second, searching it, before some quieter tension eased from their expression.
“…Good,” they murmured.
Their hand remained against her stomach a little longer, thumb brushing gently like the contact itself grounded them.
Then, more quietly, “I don’t want them to ever feel like they have to reach for me.”
“I do,” she replied steadily. “Because you’re already there.” Her fingers tightened softly around theirs. “They won’t have to reach. You’ll be right beside them.”
Y/N looked down briefly at her stomach before meeting her eyes again. “…I’ll try.”
Wanda smiled faintly and shook her head. “You don’t have to try.”
One brow lifted. “No?”
“You just have to be you.”
Y/N huffed softly. “…And what is that?”
Wanda didn’t answer right away.
She simply looked at them fully before lifting her hand to brush her fingers gently along their cheek.
“Someone who stays,” she said quietly.
Y/N went still.
“Someone who listens, even when nobody says anything.” Her thumb traced softly against their skin. “And someone who cares too much.”
A faint huff escaped them. “That sounds exhausting.”
Wanda laughed quietly. “It is.”
Then, softer, “But it’s also why I love you.”
This time Y/N didn’t joke or look away.
Their hand only tightened slightly around hers.
“…You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not,” Wanda said gently after a brief pause. “But it’s you.”
Something shifted in Y/N’s expression then—quieter, steadier somehow.
Their thumb brushed slowly across her knuckles.
“…Alright,” they murmured.
Wanda smiled before leaning in to press a soft kiss against their lips.
“Let’s eat,” she whispered.
---
They settled into breakfast slowly, the quiet of the morning wrapping around them. Sunlight filled the room, soft and warm. Y/N stayed close, as always—pouring her tea first, making sure her plate was filled before touching their own.
Wanda noticed.
“You’re doing it again,” she said lightly.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do.”
“I’m being efficient.”
“You’re hovering.”
Y/N glanced at her. “…Yes.”
Wanda laughed softly.
They ate unhurriedly, talking between bites.
“What do you have today?” Wanda asked.
“Meetings,” Y/N said. “Reports. There are still things to fix.”
Wanda nodded. “I don’t want you to go back right away,” she admitted quietly.
Y/N looked at her, expression softening. “…I know, my love. But I’m not going yet.”
Wanda tilted her head. “No?”
Y/N’s lips curved faintly. “I have something else for you.”
Wanda blinked. “…Another surprise? You already gave me one.”
“I know.”
“That was enough.”
“I disagree.”
Wanda laughed.
---
After breakfast, Y/N stood and offered Wanda their hand.
“Come on.”
Wanda took it easily, letting them guide her through a quieter corridor within their wing of the palace, one she realized she’d barely noticed before.
“…We don’t usually come here,” she murmured.
“Not yet,” Y/N replied.
They stopped at a door and opened it.
Wanda stepped inside—and immediately stilled.
The room was entirely new. Renovated. Sunlight streamed through tall windows while empty shelves lined the walls, waiting to be filled. A large desk sat near the light, thoughtfully placed, surrounded by comfortable seating and open space designed for quiet work and reflection.
A room meant for presence.
“…What is this?” Wanda asked softly.
Y/N stepped in behind her. “…I wanted to give you my mother’s study.”
Wanda turned slightly toward them. “But she never had one.”
A quiet pause followed as Y/N’s gaze drifted around the room.
“My father never allowed her a voice in matters of the kingdom,” they said quietly. “He never gave her space to be part of it.” Their eyes lowered briefly before lifting back to Wanda again. “But she still tried. She always tried.”
Silence settled softly between them.
“I won’t repeat that,” Y/N continued, voice steady now. Certain. “You are my queen, Wanda. Not just in title.”
They stepped closer.
“You make me stronger. Wiser. Better.” Their hand found hers naturally. “I want you beside me in every way that matters.”
A small pause.
“This is your study.”
Wanda looked around the room again, but this time differently. Not just seeing it anymore. Understanding it. Feeling what it meant. “…You did this for me,” she whispered.
Y/N didn’t deny it.
Instead, Wanda stepped forward and wrapped her arms around them. Y/N held her immediately, close and grounding, like they’d been waiting for her to do it.
“I love it,” she murmured against them.
Y/N rested their cheek lightly against her hair and exhaled softly. “…Really?”
Wanda pulled back just enough to look at them properly. “Really.”
Her fingers brushed gently along their jaw. “It’s not just the room,” she said softly. “It’s what it means.”
Y/N held her gaze quietly while she smiled faintly.
“You didn’t just give me a place to work,” Wanda continued. “You gave me a place beside you.”
Something in Y/N’s expression shifted at that—quieter, more vulnerable than they usually allowed anyone to see. “That’s where you were always meant to be,” they said softly.
Wanda’s eyes warmed immediately. “I know.”
After another moment, her attention drifted back around the room, excitement beginning to slip through her expression now.
“I can put books here,” she said, gesturing lightly toward one side. “And letters—maybe a writing desk near the window…”
Y/N watched her fondly.
Wanda turn slipping her arms around them again and leaned in and kissed them softly, lingering just long enough to leave warmth behind when she finally pulled away, forehead resting gently against theirs.
“Thank you,” she whispered again.
Y/N’s thumb brushed lightly along her side. “…You’re welcome.”
A comfortable silence settled between them after that—warm and full in the way only home could feel.
Then Y/N sighed quietly. “I really do have to work now.”
Wanda groaned softly. “I knew this was coming.”
That earned a faint smile from them. “I won’t be long.”
She narrowed her eyes immediately. “You always say that.”
“…This time I mean it.”
Wanda finally stepped back, though her fingers lingered in theirs a second longer. “Fine. But you’re coming back to me.”
Y/N squeezed her hand gently. “Always.”
And this time, it didn’t sound like a promise. It sounded like a fact.
Summary: Wanda's not so happy when she finds out your colleague calls you her "work wife"
A/N: Happy bday, @a-cat-on-titan! Thank you for being such a cool, amazing friend and for always giving me great fic ideas <3
PS - whoever guesses the reference on the title gets a cookie ;)
Wanda’s used to getting what she wants.
From her time as a junior editor and all the way to releasing her own fashion line, she’s had her charm and wit to help.
You were the exception, only at first.
It was supposed to be a sales meeting, to pitch and close the biggest deal of your entire career. Wanda, on the other hand, had decided the minute she laid eyes on you that she was going to make you hers.
Flattery and charm couldn’t win you over, not when she had all the money in the world to date whoever she wanted. You assumed it was just a game to her, to see how much she could string you along before breaking your heart and leaving your quarterly commission dangerously low.
If she insisted on reviewing the financial proposal face to face, you went to work and kept it professional. Even when she smiled at you, and tried to steer the conversation away from work and on to more personal topics.
Especifically, your dating life.
“I don’t mix business and pleasure, Miss Maximoff” you had said once.
It only made her want you more.
And truth be told? During all those conversations, the back and forth, negotiating and preparing a contract to sign, you had fallen for her.
When she asked you to come over after hours to approve the final offer, you pretended it was totally normal.
You sat in front of her, and watched as she signed with a smile.
“Now, can I take you out on a proper date?” she said.
“Well…”
“What is it?” she tilted her head. She had seen the way you acted around her, and Wanda knew you felt something too.
“If people think I slept with you to get this deal… my career is over”
“But you didn’t”
“Miss Maximoff” you walked around her desk, leaning against the edge. Your skirt hiked up only a little, but it was enough to distract Wanda. “It’s not about what happened. It’s about what people will believe”
“Ok, so consider it gone. I will rip this apart. You’re done” she took the contract, ready to set it on fire or throw it out the window.
“Hey, that’s a big commission” you smiled, taking it away from her before she backed out of the deal. “Like any great salesperson, I happen to have a counteroffer. And I think you’ll want to hear it”
“Fine. But you have five minutes” she finally stood up, standing between your legs. It was driving her crazy, having you so close, both physically and metaphorically; because this was the final stretch and she was expecting a big reward in the end.
Wanda wanted all of you.
“I close this deal” you started to say, sighing when you felt lips on your jaw. Your hand wrapped around her wrist, squeezing as she bit the spot behind your ear. “I cash my commission. And then I quit”
“You quit? Want to be my sugar baby?” she asked, hands pushing your skirt up.
“No. I already have another job. Better salary, manager position. I thought this through, Wanda. That’s why I was taking as long as I did” you wrapped your legs around her middle, pulling her closer. “So, how does my offer sound?”
“You’re taking a two week break between jobs. And you’re going to Paris with me” she said, holding your chin in place.
“I can work with that. Handshake on it?” you offered your hand, and Wanda chuckled, inching closer to you.
“I have other ideas to seal the deal, detka”
And you did. Right on her desk until your legs gave out.
—
It was everything Wanda had dreamed of, and even more.
Now, a year and a half later, you were newlyweds, living in a beautiful house outside of the bustling city.
It is the perfect escape from work, responsibilities, and the constant harrassment from the press, wanting to know the details of Wanda’s private life. Turns out, if you dress celebrities, you’re bound to become one.
Aside from a few sightings here and there, your relationship and marriage had been kept as a secret and you were more than happy to stay that way.
Wanda thought she was happy with that too.
And then she noticed her.
It all started one afternoon, as you were busy making dinner and she reviewed some designs. Once she was done with work (or too tired to keep it up) she went to find you in the kitchen, cornering you between her body and the counter.
“Food’s almost ready” you say, hands going to her shoulders, rubbing the tension away. She’s always slouching.
“How long? We can pass time in some other ways” her hands move to cup your ass, and you let out a breathless laugh, though it turns into a moan when you feel her lips against that spot behind your ear that always makes you weak.
It could have been the perfect rendevousz, right in the middle of your new kitchen, but your phone keeps buzzing.
“Work” you mutter between breaths, forgetting about it when Wanda kneels, pulling your denim shorts and underwear down, your arousal exposed.
Too busy with her head between your legs, you barely register the constant buzzing, throwing the phone across the room.
This is your day off, and you are determined to come in Wanda’s mouth. Which happens not long after, your chest heaving and her face glistening as she climbs back to let you have a taste from her lips.
It could have been fine, but right in the middle of dinner, the phone buzzes again.
“Work?” Wanda says as you scroll through your texts. Which was weird, because you emailed or Slacked everyone.
“Yeah. Sorry” you set it down again, resumig the episode of I love Lucy Wanda had chosen for the night.
It bothers your wife, but she tries to keep it to herself. The company you currently work for grew massively in the last few months, which meant more people to manage, more work and more headaches. Even if your career wasn’t as glamorous as Wanda’s, it was important to you, and she supported that.
As much as she’d like to support you in other ways (namely, financially) so she could have you all to herself 24/7.
But then again, your phone buzzes as you get ready for bed. Wanda’s already done with her routine, and she can’t help but look at your screen.
Sasha: Anything for my work wife, LOL!
Sasha: Sweet dreams ;)
Wanda was expecting you to notice as soon as you settle in bed, but her poker face must have been better than she thought. Because you just kiss her cheek, say goodnight and turn off your side of the lights.
But Wanda doesn’t move, so you turn back around and give her a look.
“Baby?”
“Who is Sasha?”
“Darling” you sigh, kissing your early night goodbye.
“Work wife? Really?” she snaps. Now she does look pissed, but the thing is, you never take it seriously. Because you know she’s not mad at you. She’s mad at whoever dares to think they have a chance with you.
“Look, she’s new. From marketing, you know how it is between our departments. I honestly don’t like the whole work wife things because, boundaries. But she’s new and I guess just trying to fit in?”
“I will kill her”
“Now that would be really inconvenient because we’re in the middle of Q3 and that would set me back big time” you straddle her lap, smiling when she frowns. Nothing will ease her mind except one thing.
And honestly? You’re fine with that.
“I am yours, Wanda Maximoff. No one else’s. Ok?”
“Promise?”
“Swear. Now…” you take your shirt off, and finally, the puppy eyes stop, her gaze clouded by lust. “Why don’t you show me how much you own me, baby?”
—
“Hey, wifey”
Your coworker greets you, and you have to control your stupid smile from remembering how Wanda had her way with you this morning.
You really don’t want to talk to HR.
“Heya” you say, straightening up in your chair. “What’s up?”
“Well, I was wondering if…”
“Hey, these are for you” Leroy, the guy at the front desk suddenly knocks on your office door. He’s having trouble with the huge flower arrangement, and you stand up quickly, helping him. “Sorry, there’s more. Tulips… and daisies”
By the time he’s done, your desk and couch are overflowing with flowers.
Sasha interrupts the moment a second later, sneezing loudly.
“Sorry, allergies” she says. “I better go before all this pollen kills me”
“Yeah, if you need anything, I guess you can Slack me!” you say, hoping her allergies are nothing serious.
And of course, you know who’s behind this.
“Hello, moyá lyubóv'” Wanda says, sounding a lot happier than she did last night.
“I got the flowers and I love them, thank you. If it makes you happy, she’s allergic to them so I won’t have anyone calling me work wife around for the day”
“Really? Well, good to know. I’m sending flowers to you every week, then”
“Wanda” you laugh, knowing she’ll do it.
“I love you”
“I love you too, even when you act crazy”
—
Crazy was just the start. The sound of a text coming through set off a Pavlovian response for Wanda. She practically pounced on you everytime you got a message, as if it was a button to jump start her jealous streak.
“Baby, this isn’t even her, it’s a scam message” you moaned against her lips one morning, her fingers sinking in your cunt until you forgot your own name.
But now, she’s on a work trip. It’s only two days, that you can’t afford to take because it’s the last week of the month, and the last chance to close out all the deals left.
You weren’t surprised when Leroy dropped another flower arrangement in your desk.
“You dating a florist?” Sasha jokes, not daring to come in.
“Well, she does like colors and style” you reply.
Only a handful of people in the office know you are married, though the identity of your spouse is a mystery. The only lead they could work on was the picture you kept in your desk, but Wanda was wearing sunglasses and not facing the camera, kissing your cheek as you laughed.
“When we close this deal, we should go out and celebrate” Sasha says.
“Yeah, might be good for team morale”
“Oh, I meant…”
Thankfully, your potential customers finally join the call. And of course, Sasha has to take it in her own office, as your space is a hazzard for her. You’re the first to present, knowing your way around the sales pitch and the conditions of the contract.
You finish your presentation, handing it over to Sasha. She thanks you with a big smile and a lot more excitement than necessary for a sales meeting.
And then, your phone pings. It seems like Wanda’s not the only one conditioned to get horny off a notification.
You hold on tighter to the pen in your hand, knowing who’s messaging you.
Wands: I’m coming back tonight. Got you a little surprise ;)
Y/N: more flowers?
You’re aware that you’re smiling while Sasha speaks, and you hope to god she doesn’t think it’s because of her.
And then, your actual wife sends you the last thing you’re expecting. A picture in front of the mirror, Wanda naked except for the harness and a crystal strap hanging sensually from her hips.
The cherry on top? There’s a fucking flower pattern in the dildo.
You let out a laugh, but disguise it as a cough, legs squeezing together at the anticipation of what’s to come.
Y/N: Killer cock, darling
—
A few weeks went by, and things started to settle again. Wanda was busy with work, which gave her little time to worry over your self proclaimed work spouse.
It took one text to change everything.
Sasha: All ready. You should wear that white top for preso. You look stunning in it <3
Wanda knew which top she meant. It was the one you rarely wore, because one tricky movement and part of your cleavage was on full display.
That’s fine. Wanda can give this slut something to oggle at, other than your breasts.
You’re not even out of the shower when Wanda’s discarding your towel, hands on your breasts, pinching your nipples.
“Baby?” you say, and you’re not sure what is it you’re asking. All you know is Wanda’s pushing you against the bed, head between your legs and licking your cunt like there’s no tomorrow.
Her movements are slow, and you know what that means. Wanda wants to edge you until you’re begging.
Which happens pretty quickly, after she leaves you hanging two times, teeth scrapping against your clit.
“Please, Wanda. Baby, just make me come, ok? I’ll do anything” you almost cry. It’s too early, you haven’t had your coffee and your hot, possessive wife is denying you the release you desperately need.
“Anything?” she tilts her head, in that way that tells you she’s up to no good. But you’re too desperate, so you nod frantically, promising that yes, you’ll do anything as long as she lets you come.
Instead of returning between your legs, she goes on top of you, her arms caging you in while her leg rubs against your center.
“You’re so fucking desperate, hump my leg and do it yourself”
She knows exactly which buttons to push, because the words only turn you on more, and you do as she says. As your movements become more frantic, Wanda sinks her teeth in the flesh of your breasts, marking you everywhere she can.
Pain and pleasure mix as you finally come, letting out a strangled moan against her shoulder. She doesn’t stop marking you, even after you slump in bed, too tired to move.
“I have a presentation today” you say, out of breath.
“I know” Wanda nods, smiling.
“You left me looking like a vampire attacked me” you accuse, not needing to look in the mirror to imagine what you look like.
Fuck, it’s going to take extra time to cover the hickeys.
Once you find the will to move, Wanda follows you close behind, pulling out the cause of all this mess from your closet.
“Wanda”
“You said you’d do anything if I let you come” she reminds you. “Wear this. And your engagement ring”
“Baby” you say, but stop the minute she gives you an icy look.
You’re pretty sure everyone in the office is staring, even if you tried your best to cover the hickeys. Or, it might be the giant engagement ring that Wanda got you, the diamond so big you swear it makes your hand heavier.
Honestly, you consider it a success when you only stutter once during your presentation, but then you lean forward to pass a file towards Sasha, and you know she’s not only getting a good look at your boobs, but also at all the marks your wife left on you.
“Shit” she drops the file and you’re quicker than her, left hand going to pick it up. “That’s… a huge ring”
“Uh, yeah…”
What else is there to say?
Yeah, if you keep calling me work wife I’m pretty sure my actual wife will get here and fuck me in front of the entire office.
But again, you really don’t want to talk to HR.
Thankfully, the meeting ends, and you go back to your office, locking the door for good measure.
It’s going to be a long day.
—
“All packed?” Wanda says, and you nod. “Ok, I’ll leave you at your office and then pick you up after lunch”
“Yes, darling”
Finally, after an exhausting month, you get to take a few days off. Wanda was more than happy to plan a mini holiday, and all you had to do was swear that your phone would be off for the entire time.
Though, considering how she gets when you get a text… you’re thinking about using it to spur her on.
“Alright, see you later” you smile, but look confused when Wanda gets out of the car, walking with you. “Baby?”
“Come on, I’ll walk you to the office”
“Wanda” you begin to say, but then her lips are on yours, tongue pushing until you submit to her, allowing her to explore your mouth.
“It’s fine. What do you think I’ll do? Slap her?”
“Maybe, yeah”
“I just want to walk with you, detka” she says, but you know it’s a lie. Still, you walk into the elevator, pressing the button to the fourth floor.
“After you” she gestures to the door.
“You gonna walk me all the way to my office?”
“Maybe” she smiles and you roll your eyes, knowing it’s no use to argue with her.
“There, I’m all set” you say, opening your laptop and kissing Wanda’s cheek. “See you in a bit”
“Ok, my love” she nods, but makes no effort to move.
And you know that look.
It’s trouble.
For you, and for anyone who dares walk into your office. Because before you know it, Wanda’s pushing you against your desk, hands cupping your ass as you sink your nails in her arms.
“I’m so getting fired” you sigh, fearing someone will see you.
“Afraid you’ll have to find a new work wife?”
“Wanda” you scoff, but she bits down your lip. Hard.
“Say my name, darling. Remember who owns you, yes?”
“Yes” you sigh against her mouth.
You swear to God, if it wasn’t for Sasha, you’d be bent over the fucking desk, Wanda pounding into you until your legs gave out.
But she does walk in, blushing madly, as you break apart. Wanda glares at her for a second, before changing her entire demeanor to a charming smile.
“Well, my darling wife. I’ll pick you up in a bit”
“Yes, baby”
“Oop, your lipstick’s all smudged” she laughs.
You wanna remind her it's her fault, but you know better.
If you want to spend the entire holiday getting fucked in the best way possible, you have to be a nice girl for Wanda.
With a final kiss, she walks past your coworker, who you’re sure will never EVER call you “work wife” again.
“Was that… Wanda Maximoff?” she says, jaw on the floor. “You’re married to Wanda Maximoff?”
“Yeap. The one and only”
“What is it like? I mean, isn’t she super rich?” the woman is still in shock. You just snort out a laugh.
“Yeah, she is. I guess that makes me super rich too. And what is she like? Well, Sasha. She doesn’t like to share. At all”
In case you didn’t make it clear that day, Wanda sends you back from your holiday with a new set of hickeys.
Summary: The journey to the northern village begins. Amidst the travel and the quiet of the northern palace, Y/N and Wanda share a milestone moment that makes the reality of their growing family feel truly real.
Wanda walked through the halls at an unhurried pace, one hand resting lightly over her stomach as Lily followed just a step behind, carrying the last of her smaller belongings.
Ahead, the main doors stood open, sunlight pouring in. Outside, the courtyard was alive with movement—servants carefully loading trunks into the carriage, guards adjusting their gear, the quiet coordination of a departure already in motion.
Wanda stepped out, the fresh air cool enough to make her pause for just a second before continuing forward.
Y/N stood near the carriage, focused. Ser Rogers was beside them, listening closely as Y/N spoke in low, precise tones. “—double the rotation on the eastern watch. And keep Barnes informed of any council decisions that cannot wait until our return.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And the supply routes—”
“Already secured,” Rogers replied. “We’ll maintain the schedule you approved.”
Y/N nodded once. “Good.”
Wanda slowed as she approached, watching them for a moment. There was something steady in the way they carried themselves now, confident and grounded.
Y/N glanced up—and immediately spotted her. Everything softened. Just slightly, but enough. They stepped away from Rogers without hesitation and walked toward her. “You’re ready?” they asked.
Wanda smiled. “Yes.”
Y/N’s gaze dropped instinctively to her stomach, their hand coming to rest there gently. “Are you two okay?”
“We are.” Wanda smile softly before leaning up to kiss their cheek.
They smile softly and say, “Good.”
Behind them, Lina’s voice rang out somewhere in the courtyard, excited and bright as she ran past a servant who tried—and failed—to slow her down. “I’m ready!”
Wanda laughed softly. “She’s been ready since yesterday.”
Y/N huffed quietly. “I believe that.”
Their hand found Wanda’s again, fingers lacing naturally. “We’ll be gone a week,” Y/N said, glancing briefly back toward Rogers. “If anything urgent happens—”
“It won’t,” Wanda said gently.
Y/N looked back at her. “You don’t know that.”
“I know you prepared for it.”
A pause.
Then Y/N exhaled softly. “…I did.”
Wanda smiled. “Then trust that.”
Y/N held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. “…Alright.”
They leaned in slightly, brushing a quick, quiet kiss to her temple. “Let’s go,” they said.
Lina was already halfway there, hurrying toward the carriage in her floral dress, the fabric swaying as she moved, excitement written all over her face. “Wait for me!” she called, even though she was clearly the fastest one there.
Y/N stepped ahead, reaching the carriage just as Lina did. “Careful,” they said, though their tone was fond.
“I am careful,” Lina insisted.
Y/N smiled faintly and lifted her easily, guiding her up into the carriage. “There. Princess delivered safely.”
Lina beamed, settling into her seat.
Y/N turned back immediately.
Wanda was just behind them. Their expression softened again as they offered her their hand. “Come,” they said gently.
Wanda placed her hand in theirs, stepping up carefully as Y/N supported her—one hand steady at her waist, the other holding hers securely until she was safely inside.
“Comfortable?” they asked softly.
“Yes.”
Only then did Y/N follow, stepping into the carriage and taking the seat beside her. Lina sat across from them, already peeking out the window with bright curiosity.
Outside, the rest of the movement continued. Lily entered a second carriage with Lina’s maid, ensuring everything was in place.
A moment later, Ser Wilson rode up beside the main carriage on horseback, reins held loosely but confidently. He glanced toward the open door. “Your Majesty,” he called. “Ready to move?”
Y/N leaned slightly toward the opening. “Yes.”
Wilson nodded once, then turned. “Move out!”
The signal carried quickly. The guards shifted into formation, hooves striking the ground as the carriage began to roll forward. Beside it, Ser Romanoff rode close, her presence steady and watchful, matching the carriage’s pace with ease.
Inside, Lina leaned forward. “Are we really going?”
Y/N glanced at her. “We are.”
Wanda smiled softly beside them.
And just like that, the journey began.
---
No One’s POV
The journey to the north unfolded slowly. Deliberately.
Y/N had made the decision before they even left the capital—the direct path through the forest would have taken three days, but it was rough, uneven, and unpredictable. This time, that wasn’t acceptable. Not with Wanda with child, and not with Lina.
So they took the longer rout. Four days instead of three—safer, smoother, planned.
The first day passed easily. The carriage moved along wide roads that gradually narrowed as the capital disappeared behind them. Fields stretched outward, villages scattered along the way, and the air grew fresher the farther they traveled.
Inside the carriage, Lina was a constant source of energy. She asked questions about everything.
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“How about now?”
“No.”
“What about—”
“Still no.”
Wanda laughed softly every time. Y/N pretended to be patient.
Pretended.
Their hand rarely left Wanda—resting over her stomach, brushing against her back, always checking, always grounding. “Are you comfortable?” they asked more than once.
“I am,” Wanda reassured each time.
Still, Y/N checked again.
---
By evening, they reached the first village. It was small, but well-kept—far different from the one they had visited before. The people were surprised by the arrival but prepared enough to host them properly.
This time, Y/N allowed it.
A proper bed. Warm food. Safe walls.
Because this time, it wasn’t about seeing hardship. It was about protecting what mattered.
Lina was thrilled. Everything fascinated her. “The rooms are smaller,” she whispered to Wanda as if it were a great secret.
Wanda smiled. “They are.”
“I like it,” Lina commented.
Y/N watched her with quiet amusement, then glanced at Wanda. “Too much?” they asked softly.
Wanda shook her head. “No.”
Y/N nodded—but still checked the room again. The bed. The windows. The doors.
Only when everything felt right did they finally relax.
A little.
---
The second day brought them closer to the forest.
The trees began to rise taller, thicker, their shadows stretching across the road. The air cooled slightly, and the light filtered through leaves instead of open sky. They didn’t enter it fully—they circled it. The road curved along its edge, offering glimpses of the dense interior—dark, quiet, and untouched.
Lina pressed her face to the window. “It looks beautiful,” she said.
“It does,” Wanda replied softly.
Y/N’s gaze lingered on the forest for a moment longer, then shifted back inside.
Always back to them.
The second night, they stayed at a larger town—more structured, more prepared. Y/N spoke briefly with the local steward, ensuring everything was in order—not just for them, but for the people living there.
Even on the road, they didn’t stop being king.
But they did it faster now. More efficiently. So they could return sooner.
By the third day, the land began to change. Hills rose gently, the air grew sharper, and the signs of the northern region became clearer. Pines replaced softer trees, the wind carried a different chill, and the roads grew quieter.
Inside the carriage, Lina had finally begun to tire. She leaned against Wanda at one point, half-asleep, her earlier excitement softening into something quieter. Wanda stroked her hair gently.
Y/N watched both of them.
Their expression—soft. Full.
“…We’ll be there tomorrow,” they said quietly.
Wanda looked at them before landing her head on their shoulder.
The final night was spent in a small lodge just before the northern palace grounds—simple, warm, prepared in advance. Y/N barely slept. Not out of discomfort, but because they checked on Wanda more than once.
And Lina.
Just to be sure.
---
The carriage slowed as the northern palace came into view. The air was colder and cleaner here. Tall pines framed the path leading up to the estate, their shadows stretching across the stone road. The palace itself stood nestled against the hills—less grand than the capital, but warmer in a way that couldn’t be measured in size.
Familiar.
The carriage came to a stop. But before the door even fully opened—
Lina leaned forward. “We’re here!”
Y/N smiled faintly. “Yes, we are.”They stepped out first, boots meeting the stone with quiet certainty. Their gaze lifted immediately—
And softened.
The servants were already lined up. And at the front—Ser Hogan.
“Your Majesty,” he greeted, bowing properly.
Y/N didn’t let him stay like that.
“Happy.”
The name slipped out easily.
Ser Hogan looked up—and smiled. “It’s good to see you, Your Majesty.” he said.
Y/N stepped closer, closing the distance without hesitation. “It’s good to be back.”
Behind them, Lina appeared. The moment she saw him—
“Happy!”
She ran forward without a second thought.
Ser Hogan barely had time to react before she wrapped her arms around him.
He laughed softly, surprised but not resisting as he returned the hug.
“Princess Lina,” he said warmly. “You’ve grown.”
“I know,” she said proudly, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Did you miss me?”
“Very much.”
Satisfied, Lina nodded. Then glanced around, already taking everything in again like it was new.
Wanda stepped down next.
Y/N turned immediately, offering their hand to steady her.
“Careful.”
“I am,” she said softly, though she still leaned into their support.
Once she was down, her gaze moved to Ser Hogan.
“Ser Hogan,” she greeted politely.
“Your Majesty,” he replied with a respectful bow.
Wanda smiled faintly. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You as well.” Ser Hogan’s gaze shifted—subtle, but unmistakable.
To Wanda’s stomach.
The gentle curve beneath her dress.
His expression softened immediately. Warmer. He had heard Wanda and Y/N were having a baby, of course. Everyone had. But seeing it—was different.
“Congratulations,” he said quietly.
Not just formal.
Sincere.
His eyes moved between them—Wanda, then Y/N.
“To both of you.”
Wanda smiled, her hand instinctively resting over her bump.
“Thank you.”
Y/N inclined their head slightly.
“Thank you, Happy.”
Ser Hogan’s gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment longer.
And there—
there was pride.
Not loud.
Not spoken.
But clear.
The kind that came from watching someone grow.
From knowing who they were—and seeing who they had become.
Y/N noticed. Just slightly. Their expression softened in return. A quiet understanding passing between them.
Then Lina’s voice echoed again from somewhere ahead—
“Come on!”
Y/N huffed softly.
“Some things,” they muttered, “never change.”
Wanda smiled.
And together—they followed.
---
Wanda’s POV
The room felt familiar.
Not in the way the capital did—but in a quieter, softer sense. The kind of place that held memories in the walls without demanding anything in return.
Wanda sat on the edge of the bed with a small sigh, her hand resting instinctively over her stomach as she let herself settle for the first time since the journey ended.
Y/N noticed immediately.
“I’ll have the servants bring food here,” they said, already turning slightly toward the door. “We should rest today.”
Wanda looked up at them.
“I’m fine.”
Y/N paused before turning back fully. And without hesitation they walked straight to her and kneeling in front of her.
Wanda blinked softly at the movement.
Y/N’s hands came to rest gently at her thighs, their gaze lifting to meet hers.
“You are pregnant,” they said, voice calm but firm.
Wanda smiled faintly. “I’m aware.”
“The journey was long.”
“I know.”
“And we are here,” they continued, softer now but no less certain, “to celebrate your birthday.”
Wanda’s expression softened.
“And to rest.”
Their thumbs brushed lightly against her through the fabric.
“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” they added quietly.
Wanda held their gaze for a moment.
Then exhaled softly.
“…I’m not tired.”
Y/N tilted their head slightly. “Not even a little?”
Wanda hesitated, “…maybe a little.”
Y/N’s lips curved faintly. “That’s what I thought.” They leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her stomach first. Then lifted slightly to kiss her lips.
When they pulled back, Y/N didn’t move far.
“I’ll ask Lily to prepare the bath,” they said softly, their hand still resting over her bump. “We can take some time to relax.”
Wanda watched them, already knowing there was more.
Y/N’s thumb traced a slow, absent circle.
“I can give you a massage,” they added, voice gentler now. “Help with the tension from the journey.”
Wanda’s expression softened.
“And after that,” Y/N continued, “we’ll have lunch here. No rushing. No interruptions.”
They looked at her properly then. “What do you think?”
Wanda smiled.
“I think,” she said softly, “that sounds perfect.”
Y/N’s shoulders eased, just slightly. “Good.”
Wanda reached for their face, brushing her fingers along their cheek before leaning in to kiss them again—slow, warm, content.
“For someone who claims they’re not overprotective,” she murmured against their lips, “you’re doing a very convincing job.”
Y/N huffed quietly. “I’m being reasonable.”
Wanda smiled.
“Of course you are.”
And this time—she didn’t argue at all.
---
Y/N’s POV
By the time Y/N stepped out into the corridor, the quiet of the northern palace had already settled around them. Lily would handle the bath like she always did.
That left one more thing.
Y/N walked down the familiar hall, stopping in front of Lina’s chambers. The door was barely closed—
They knocked once, and the door flew open immediately.
“Y/N!”
Lina stood there, bright-eyed and already full of energy, practically bouncing in place.
“What are we doing first?” she asked excitedly.
Y/N laughed softly.
Some things truly didn’t change.
They crouched down in front of her, steadying her lightly by the arms.
“Hey,” they said gently. “Slow down.”
Lina tried but failed.
Y/N smiled and continued, “I came to tell you something first.”
Lina blinked, immediately attentive.
“Wanda is a little tired from the journey,” Y/N explained. “And for the sake of the baby, we’re going to stay in today.”
Lina’s excitement dimmed slightly—but only a little.
“Oh.”
Y/N brushed a hand through her hair.
“You, however,” they added, “can do whatever you want.”
That brightened her immediately.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Y/N nodded.
“You can explore the palace, go to the gardens, see the stables—”
Lina gasped softly.
“The horses?”
“Yes,” Y/N said, amused.
“But,” they added, just a little firmer, “if you go outside the palace grounds, you need to have Happy and Ser Wilson with you. No exceptions.”
Lina nodded quickly.
“I will!”
Y/N studied her for a second—
Then nodded.
“Good.”
Lina hesitated then, her expression shifting slightly. “…Is Wanda okay?”
Y/N’s gaze softened immediately. They pulled her into a gentle hug, one hand cradling the back of her head as they pressed a soft kiss to her temple.
“She’s okay,” they murmured. “And so is the baby.”
Lina relaxed in their arms.
“Just tired,” Y/N added.
Lina nodded against them. “Okay.”
Y/N pulled back slightly, brushing her hair back again. “Tomorrow,” they said, “we’ll go see the city together.”
Lina’s face lit up again. “Really?”
Y/N smiled. “Really.”
And just like that—everything was right again.
---
By the time Y/N returned to their chambers, the soft sound of water already echoed faintly from the bath chamber beyond. Lily stood near the bed, carefully folding Wanda’s gown.
Wanda sat nearby, now in her chemise, her posture relaxed but clearly grateful to be out of her travel clothes.
Y/N’s gaze softened immediately. “Thank you, Lily,” they said.
Lily bowed her head slightly. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Y/N gave a small nod. “I’ll take it from here.”
Lily understood the dismissal without needing anything more. She finished what she was doing and quietly took her leave.
Once the door closed—Y/N turned back to Wanda.
“Come here,” they said gently. They offered her their hand, helping her up with care before guiding her toward the bath chamber. Warmth greeted them instantly. Steam curled softly in the air, the large bath already filled, the scent of herbs faint but calming.
Y/N guided Wanda to the chair nearby. “Sit for a moment,” they murmured.
Wanda obeyed easily, watching them with a small, knowing smile.
Y/N stepped back just enough to remove their own clothes, movements unhurried, familiar. Once done, they returned to her, their hands gentle as they helped her out of her chemise.
Once she was ready, Y/N stepped into the bath first, testing the water out of habit before turning back to her.
“Alright,” Y/N said softly. They held out their hands.
Wanda placed hers in theirs, and Y/N guided her carefully into the bath, making sure her footing was steady before letting her settle.
The warmth wrapped around them both instantly. Wanda exhaled softly.
Y/N stayed close, one arm behind her, the other resting lightly over her stomach as they both let the quiet settle in.
For a moment—they simply breathed. Then Y/N reached for the cloth.
Slowly, carefully, they began to wash her—movements gentle, attentive, never rushed. Over her shoulders, her arms, mindful of every shift, every small reaction.
“You alright?” they asked quietly.
Wanda nodded, eyes half-lidded now. “Mm… yes.”
Y/N’s thumb brushed lightly against her skin as they continued, their touch steady, grounding.
“Good.”
And in the quiet warmth of the bath—everything else faded.
---
After lunch Wanda was warm in their arms, soft and relaxed from sleep, her face tucked into the curve of Y/N’s neck. Y/N had been reading—but not really. Their hand had been moving slowly along her back, grounding, familiar… drifting down every now and then to rest over her stomach. Just checking.
Wanda stirred and pressed closer. Buried herself deeper into them.
Y/N smiled faintly, setting the book aside without a thought as both arms wrapped around her properly now. One hand cradled the back of her head, the other settled over her bump again, thumb brushing slowly.
They kissed her hair. “Did you sleep well—” But they freeze before they finish the sentence.
Because—something moved.
Their hand went still against her stomach, their breath catching sharply as their eyes dropped to where their palm rested. It was small. A flutter. But it was there.
Y/N didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Then—again.
Stronger this time. Enough that there was no doubt.
Wanda lifted her head, eyes wide as she looked at them.
“…Was it—”
Another movement. Clear this time. Both of them felt it.
Y/N’s eyes widened, their lips parting slightly as something in their chest cracked open all at once. “…I felt it,” they whispered. Their voice broke.
Wanda’s breath hitched, her hand flying to cover theirs. “I felt it too,” she whispered, almost laughing, almost crying.
Y/N’s vision blurred. They blinked—and a tear slipped free before they could stop it.
Wanda saw it immediately. Her expression softened, eyes shining just the same. “Oh—hey…” she cooed softly, bringing her hand up to their face. “Don’t—don’t start, or I’m going to cry too.”
Y/N let out a weak, breathless laugh, shaking their head slightly as more tears threatened. “I can’t—” they exhaled, voice unsteady. “I can’t help it.”
Another flutter. Right under their hand. Y/N let out a soft, disbelieving sound, their forehead dropping gently against Wanda’s.
“…Our baby,” they whispered.
Wanda smiled through the tears gathering in her own eyes.
Wanda let out a quiet, emotional laugh, her hand tightening over theirs.
“Already the best gift,” she whispered.
As if answering—the baby moved again. A little stronger.
Y/N inhaled sharply, a quiet, broken laugh leaving them as they shifted slightly, their hand spreading more fully over her stomach.
“Hey…” they murmured softly, voice trembling but full. “Easy there.” They leaned down slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to Wanda’s bump, lingering there as if they could stay forever.
“Hi,” they whispered against her skin. “We felt that.”
Another small movement.
Y/N let out a soft laugh, tears still in their eyes. “Yeah,” they murmured. “We felt you.”
Their hand stroked slowly over her stomach, reverent, careful.
“Keep being gentle with Mama, alright?” they added softly. “She’s carrying you.”
Wanda laughed quietly above them, her fingers threading into Y/N’s hair.
Then she softened. Her hand slid down, resting over Y/N’s where it covered her stomach, holding it there.
“Mama and Papa love you so much,” she murmured gently.
The words settled into the space between them— warm and certain.
Y/N went still again. Not from surprise this time—but from the weight of it. From how real it sounded.
How right.
Their throat tightened as they lifted their head slightly, eyes flicking up to Wanda before dropping back to her stomach.
“…You hear that?” they whispered softly, voice still a little unsteady. Their thumb brushed slowly over the spot.
“That’s us.”
Another faint movement answered.
Y/N let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “Yeah… you hear us.” They leaned in again, pressing a lingering kiss to her bump, eyes closing for just a second as they stayed there.
“Hey, little one,” they murmured. “It’s us.”
Wanda watched them, her expression full—soft, emotional, completely in love with the moment.
Y/N pulled back just enough to look at her again. Their eyes were still a little wet. But they were smiling.
“I’m never leaving you two alone again,” they said quietly.
Wanda laughed softly. “You say that like you ever did.”
“…Fair.”
Another small flutter. And this time—they both leaned into it.
Together.
---
The room stayed quiet after that. Not empty—full.
Wanda’s hand rested over theirs, both of them still holding the place where their baby had moved, as if letting go might somehow make it stop.
Y/N didn’t want to move. Didn’t want this moment to end.
Another faint flutter came—softer this time.
Y/N let out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh, their forehead resting gently against Wanda’s again.
“…You’re really there,” they whispered. Not to Wanda. To the life beneath their hands.
Wanda watched them, her expression softening even more as she reached up, brushing away the dampness still clinging to Y/N’s lashes.
“Hey,” she murmured gently. “You’re okay.”
Y/N huffed softly, leaning into her touch. “I know.” Their voice was steadier now—but still thick with emotion.
“I just…” they swallowed. “I didn’t expect it to feel like this.”
“Like what?”
Y/N’s hand moved slowly over her stomach again, reverent.
“…Everything at once.”
Wanda smiled faintly. “Yeah.”
Another small movement making Y/N laugh again.
They leaned down, pressing another kiss to Wanda’s bump, lingering longer this time.
“Alright,” they murmured quietly. “We hear you.” Their thumb brushed slowly. “Getting impatient already, hm?”
Wanda giggled softly above them, her fingers threading gently through their hair again.
“They take after you.”
Y/N huffed. “That’s not reassuring.”
Another faint flutter. Y/N stilled—then shook their head slightly, smiling in disbelief. They looked down at Wanda’s stomach again, their hand still spread gently over it, as if they could feel every tiny movement lingering beneath their skin.
“…Hey,” they murmured softly. Their voice had changed, quieter and full of love.
“I can’t wait to meet you.” Their thumb brushed slowly, carefully. “We’re going to show you everything,” they continued. “The palace… the gardens… Lina’s going to spoil you completely.”
A faint huff of breath left them, almost a laugh.
“And your mama—” their voice softened even more, “—she’s the best person you’ll ever know.”
Y/N swallowed slightly.
Then, more firmly—“I promise you something.”
Their hand pressed just a little more securely. “I will always be there for you.”
A pause.
“I will protect you.”
Their voice dropped, steady and certain.
“And I will always protect your mama.”
The room went quiet again.
No movement.
No flutter.
Y/N waited.
A second.
Two.
Nothing.
Their expression softened, a small, fond smile forming.
“…I think they fell asleep,” they murmured.
They leaned down, pressing one last lingering kiss to Wanda’s bump.
“Alright,” they whispered. “Rest, little one.”
Slowly, they moved back up—their hand trailing gently from her stomach as their gaze lifted to Wanda’s face.
And froze.
Wanda was crying. Just quiet tears slipping down her cheeks, her eyes shining as she looked at them.
Y/N’s breath caught immediately. “Hey—hey—” they murmured softly, moving up quickly, one hand coming to cup her face. “What happened? Did I—”
Wanda shook her head quickly, a small, emotional laugh escaping through her tears.
“No,” she whispered. “No, you didn’t—”
Y/N’s thumb brushed gently under her eye, wiping the tear away.
“Then why are you crying?” they asked softly, voice full of concern.
Wanda looked at them. Really looked.
Her hand came up, covering theirs against her cheek.
“You,” she said quietly.
Y/N blinked.
“What about me?”
Wanda let out a soft, shaky breath.
“You’re going to be such a good parent.”
Y/N went still.
Another tear slipped from Wanda’s eye as she smiled at them.
“They’re so lucky,” she whispered.
Y/N’s throat tightened.
Their hand trembled slightly against her cheek.
“…We are lucky ones,” they said softly. Then they leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there as they pulled her closer into their arms.
Careful. Protective. Like she was something fragile—even though she wasn’t.
Wanda melted into them anyway. Her arms slipped around their waist, holding them just as tightly as they held her, her face pressing into their shoulder as she let out a soft, shaky breath.
Y/N kept one arm wrapped around her, the other moving instinctively—back to Wanda’s stomach.
Always back there.
Their palm rested over the place where the movement had been, thumb brushing slow, soothing circles like they were still trying to feel it again.
“It’s okay,” they murmured softly, pressing another kiss into her hair. “I’ve got you.”
Wanda let out a quiet, tearful laugh against them. “I know,” she whispered.
Y/N tightened their hold just slightly. They stayed like that for a moment.
No rush.
No need to speak.
Just breathing each other in.
Then Y/N shifted just enough to lean back and look at her again, their hand coming up to gently wipe the remaining tears from her cheeks.
“Hey,” they said softly. “None of that.”
Wanda sniffled lightly, smiling despite herself. “You started it.”
“I did not.”
“You made promises,” she countered quietly.
Y/N’s expression softened.
“…I meant every word.”
“I know,” she said.
Y/N huffed a quiet breath, then leaned in again, brushing a soft kiss to her lips this time—slow, grounding, reassuring.
When they pulled back, their forehead rested against hers again. “We’re going to be alright,” they murmured.
Wanda nodded. “We are.”
Y/N’s hand slid down once more, resting over her stomach again.
Gentler this time. Patient.
“…They’re quiet now,” Wanda whispered.
Y/N smiled faintly.
“Tired.”
“From making their entrance?”
“Exactly.”
Wanda laughed softly.
Y/N leaned down again, pressing another light kiss to her bump, their voice dropping into something softer, playful but full of warmth. “Rest now,” they murmured. “We’ll talk again later.”
Wanda watched them, her chest tightening again—but this time from something warm.
Y/N moved back up, settling beside her again, pulling her into their side. Their hand never left her.
---
Lina’s POV
The northern palace felt smaller this time.
Or maybe—she was just bigger.
Lina walked quickly beside Ser Wilson, her steps almost bouncing with excitement as they made their way toward the stables. Everything felt new again, even if she had been here before.
The last time, she had been small. Now she was almost seven. And that meant—she could do more. See more. And remember more.
“I can go closer this time, right?” she asked, looking up at Ser Wilson.
He glanced down at her, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“With me there? Yes.”
Lina grinned. “Yes!”
She liked it here. She always had. It was quieter. No shouting. No heavy footsteps echoing through halls.
No papa—
Her expression softened just slightly. She didn’t like thinking about him.
Not here.
Here, she remembered other things.
Like her mama.
Her picture still hung in the hallway—Y/N had shown her once. Lina had stood there for a long time, just looking at it. She thought her mama looked kind.
Like Y/N.
Maybe that’s why Y/N liked coming here so much.
Lina shook the thought away as the stables came into view. Immediately—she lit up again. The smell of hay, the soft sounds of horses shifting and huffing—it all wrapped around her in a way that made her feel warm.
A man stepped forward as they approached. He was older, with kind eyes and steady hands.
“Princess Lina,” he greeted with a respectful bow—but with a gentle smile that made it feel less formal. “It’s good to see you again.”
Lina smiled brightly.
“Hi!”
The man chuckled softly. “It’s been a while.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m bigger now.”
“That you are.” He stepped aside slightly, gesturing toward the stables.
“Would you like to see them?”
Lina nodded immediately. “Yes!”
He led her inside, walking slowly as he pointed things out. “These are the calmer ones,” he explained, motioning to a few horses that stood quietly, their ears flicking curiously toward her.
Lina approached carefully, just like she had been taught.
Her eyes were wide. “They’re pretty…”
“They are,” the man agreed.
“They like gentle hands,” he added.
Lina nodded seriously, reaching out slowly to pet one of them. The horse huffed softly, leaning into her touch making her giggle.
“I think it likes me.”
“I think it does too.”
She moved along, looking at each one with the same fascination, asking questions, listening carefully. She had always liked horses. Even when she was really small.
They felt…safe. Strong and kind. Like they wouldn’t hurt you if you didn’t hurt them.
Lina glanced back at Ser Wilson for a moment, then back at the horses.
“Can I come again tomorrow?” she asked.
The man smiled.
“You can come as often as you like.”
Lina beamed.
“Okay.”
Lina didn’t want to leave. She stood there, one hand still resting against the horse’s neck, her eyes bright as she looked back at Ser Wilson.
“Can I ride?” she asked.
Ser Wilson hesitated. Just a little.
“…Usually,” he started carefully, “you ride when Their Majesty is with you.”
Lina frowned slightly.
“But Y/N said I can do whatever I want,” she said, very sure of herself.
Wilson exhaled quietly through his nose. She wasn’t wrong. And he was there.
He looked at the stablemaster, then back at Lina.
“…A short ride,” he said finally.
Lina lit up immediately.
“Yes!”
Moments later, she was carefully lifted onto one of the calmer horses, her small hands gripping where she had been taught, posture a little straighter now that she was determined to do it properly.
Wilson mounted his own horse beside her.
“Please stay close, Your Highness.” he said.
“I will,” Lina promised.
They rode out slowly. The northern air was cooler, brushing against Lina’s face as the horse moved beneath her. At first, she focused hard—doing everything right, remembering what Y/N had taught her.
But soon—she relaxed. Little by little. And then she smiled. “I like this,” she said.
Wilson glanced at her. “I can tell.”
They rode along a quiet path, the palace slowly disappearing behind them, replaced by open land and soft hills.
That’s when Lina saw them.
Flowers. Small wild flowers scattered across a patch of grass like little bursts of color.
“Wait!” she said.
Wilson slowed immediately as Lina carefully brought her horse to a stop, just like she had been taught.
She looked at the flowers, then back at him.
“Can I get down?”
He nodded, already moving to help her.
Once her feet touched the ground, Lina ran carefully toward the flowers, crouching down as she looked at them. “They’re pretty…” She reached out, picking a few carefully—trying not to ruin them.
Wilson watched quietly.
Lina gathered a small bunch, holding them gently in her hands. Then she smiled. “I’ll give these to Wanda,” she said.
She paused. Then added softly—“And the baby.”
Wilson’s expression softened just slightly.
“That’s a good idea, Your Highness.”
Lina nodded proudly. “Yeah.”
She stood up, holding the flowers close. As if they were something important.
Because to her—they were.
---
The ride felt too short.
It always did.
But Lina didn’t complain—not really—as Ser Wilson helped her down from the horse once they returned to the stables. She held onto the flowers carefully, making sure none of them fell or bent too much.
“They’re still pretty,” she said, inspecting them.
“They are,” Wilson agreed.
Lina nodded, satisfied.
After thanking the stable keeper, properly, because Y/N said she should, she wandered off again—this time back toward the palace. There was still so much to see.
The halls felt quieter than the capital. Bigger too. Or maybe just… calmer.
Lina walked through them slowly, peeking into rooms she remembered—some she didn’t. She passed by the hallway where her mama’s portrait was, slowing just a little before continuing.
“I’ll come back later, Mama” she whispered to herself.
Then—her stomach growled.
Lina blinked.
“Oh.”
And she started heading to the kitchen.
The kitchen staff lit up when they saw her.
“Princess Lina,” one of them greeted warmly.
“Hi!” she said, walking right in like she belonged there—because she did.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
A small plate was prepared for her—bread, fruit, and something warm that smelled really good.
Lina sat at the edge of the table, swinging her legs slightly as she ate.
“This is good,” she said.
The staff smiled.
“I’m glad.”
She ate happily, carefully keeping the flowers beside her, checking on them every now and then like they were just as important as her snack.
After that, she explored a little more.
The garden.
The corridors.
Even the big windows that showed the hills outside.
Everything felt… nice.
Safe.
Like the palace was breathing slower here.
Eventually, a familiar voice found her.
“Princess Lina.”
She turned. Her maid stood there, smiling gently.
“It’s time to prepare for supper.”
Lina blinked. Already?
“…Okay.”
She looked down at her dress—dust a little at the bottom from the stables. And her hands. And the flowers.
“Oh—wait,” she said, holding them up. “I need to give these to Wanda first.”
Her maid smiled.
“We can take them to Her Majesty after your bath, Your Highness.”
Lina nodded quickly.
“Okay!”
And just like that—she was off again.
---
Y/N’s POV
Y/N walked through the corridor with an easy pace, one hand adjusting the cuff of their sleeve as they headed toward Lina’s chambers.
Behind them, the door to their own room had just closed—Lily inside with Wanda, helping her dress for supper.
Everything felt…quiet. Calm.
Until—a sound. A cry.
Y/N froze. “Lina!”
They reached Lina’s door in seconds and pushed it open without knocking.
“Lina—”
Inside, her maid was kneeling, trying to soothe her—but Lina was crying hard, her small shoulders shaking, her hands clenched tight in her dress.
The moment Lina saw them—
“Y/N—!”
She reached out immediately.
Y/N crossed the distance in two strides, dropping to their knees without hesitation as the maid stepped back.
“What happened?” Y/N asked, already pulling Lina into their arms.
The maid straightened.
“Your Majesty—”
“It’s alright,” Y/N said quickly, eyes still on Lina. “I’ve got her.”
Lina clung to them, burying her face into their shoulder, her cries muffled but no less intense.
Y/N’s hand came up to cradle the back of her head, the other rubbing slow, steady circles against her back.
“Hey… hey…” they murmured softly. “I’m here.”
Lina hiccuped, trying to speak through her tears. “I—I ruined it—”
Y/N frowned slightly, pulling back just enough to look at her face, thumbs gently brushing away her tears.
“Ruined what, hm?”
“The gift,” Lina cried, her voice breaking. “For Wanda—and the baby—”
Y/N followed her small, trembling hand as she pointed to the side.
The flowers. It was wilted. Crushed. Some petals already fallen apart.
Y/N stilled for a moment, before they looked back at Lina.
And softened completely. “Oh,” they murmured gently.
They pulled her closer again, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
“Hey… hey… it’s okay.”
Lina shook her head against them.
“No—it’s not—I wanted to give it to them and now it’s ugly and dead and—”
“It’s not ugly,” Y/N said immediately, their voice calm but firm.
Lina sniffled, pulling back just enough to look at them with watery eyes.
“It’s not?” she asked weakly.
Y/N shook their head, brushing her hair back gently.
“No.”
They glanced briefly at the flowers again. Then back at her. “You picked those yourself, didn’t you?”
Lina nodded.
“And you picked them because you were thinking about Wanda and the baby.”
Y/N tilted their head. “Do you think Wanda is going to care about that?”
Lina hesitated.
“…No.”
“Do you think she’s going to care that you picked them for her?”
A pause.
“…Yes.”
Y/N nodded. “Exactly.”
Lina looked down at her hands, her breathing slowly beginning to steady.
Y/N wiped the last of her tears gently.
“Hey,” they added softly. “Flowers don’t last long anyway.”
Lina sniffled.
“They don’t?”
“No,” Y/N said. “But the reason you picked them—that lasts.”
Lina looked back at them.
A little calmer now.
“Really?”
“Really.” Y/N gave her a small smile. Then gently wiped the rest of her tears away, thumbs brushing carefully under her eyes.
“Come on,” they said softly. “Why don’t we go give it to Wanda now?”
Lina hesitated. Her fingers tightened slightly behind her back.
“…But it’s ruined.”
Y/N shook their head. “It’s not,” they said quietly. “And I promise you—she’s going to love it.”
Lina looked at them, searching.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
A small pause—then Lina nodded.
“Okay…”
Y/N stood, offering their hand.
“Let’s go.”
They walked together down the corridor, Lina staying close this time, one hand holding Y/N’s while the other kept the flowers hidden behind her back.
When they reached the chamber doors, Y/N knocked once before opening them.
Inside, Wanda was already ready. Dressed, calm, glowing softly in the warm light of the room.
She looked up immediately and smiled.
“Lina,” she called gently, opening her arms.
Lina stepped in slowly this time. Not running. Just… quiet.
She walked over, her hands still tucked behind her back as she leaned into Wanda’s embrace.
Wanda hugged her warmly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head.
“Hey,” she murmured. “Did you have a good day?”
Lina nodded slightly against her.
“Mm-hm…”
Wanda pulled back just enough to look at her—and noticed. The way Lina was holding herself, how her hands stayed hidden, and the way her eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers.
“…What’s that?” Wanda asked softly.
Lina hesitated. Her lip trembled slightly. Then slowly—she brought her hands forward.
The flowers. Wilted. Some petals barely hanging on.
“I got them for you,” Lina said, her voice already breaking. “For you and the baby…”
Her eyes filled again.
“But they died,” she added, and the words seemed to break something in her as tears spilled over. “I didn’t mean to—I tried to keep them nice but they—”
Her voice cracked completely.
“I’m sorry…” She started crying again.
Y/N stood just behind, watching quietly—giving Wanda the space.
Wanda didn’t hesitate. She reached forward immediately, gathering Lina back into her arms, holding her close despite the crushed flowers between them.
“Hey, hey… it’s okay,” she murmured softly, one hand cradling the back of Lina’s head, the other carefully steadying her.
Lina cried into her, small hands clutching at Wanda’s dress.
“I ruined it,” she sobbed. “I wanted it to be pretty…”
Wanda pulled back just enough to look at her, her expression gentle—so gentle it made Lina hiccup mid-cry.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Wanda said softly.
Lina shook her head. “But they’re dead—”
Wanda smiled faintly. “Then we’ll say they’re resting.”
Lina blinked through her tears.
“…Resting?”
Wanda nodded.
“Flowers don’t last forever,” she explained gently. “But the reason you picked them—that’s what matters.”
She reached for the flowers, taking them carefully from Lina’s hands like they were something precious.
“And these,” she added, “are very special.”
Lina watched her, still sniffling.
“They are?”
“They are,” Wanda said firmly.
She brought the flowers closer, smiling softly as she looked at them—truly looked, not pretending.
“Because you picked them for us.”
Lina’s breathing started to slow.
Wanda glanced down at her stomach, then gently guided Lina’s hand to rest there.
“For me,” she said softly.
Then placed Lina’s other hand over her bump.
“And for the baby.”
Lina’s eyes widened slightly.
Wanda smiled.
“And I think,” she added quietly, “they already love them.”
Lina sniffled. “…Really?”
Wanda nodded.
“Really.”
Lina’s breathing hitched softly as she kept both hands there, tiny palms warm against Wanda’s stomach.
And then—
A small movement pressed gently beneath her hand.
Lina gasped. Her eyes flew wide as she jerked her head up to Wanda. “It moved!”
Wanda laughed quietly, soft and breathless at the same time, one hand covering Lina’s over the spot.
“There,” she whispered warmly. “See?”
The baby moved again—smaller this time, but enough.
Lina made the tiniest startled sound, halfway between a laugh and another gasp.
“Wow…”
Wanda smiled so tenderly it almost hurt to look at.
“I think,” she said softly, “that was their way of saying thank you for the flowers.”
Lina stared at her stomach in complete awe now, tears still clinging to her lashes but no longer sad ones.
“They can really feel me?”
“Mhm,” Wanda murmured. “Babies know more than people think.”
Carefully, Wanda guided Lina even closer until the little girl was leaning fully against her side. Lina kept one hand on the bump like she was afraid the baby would disappear if she let go.
Another tiny kick.
Lina let out a watery laugh this time. “It did it again!”
“I know,” Wanda said, grinning now.
Behind them, Y/N finally smiled too, leaning quietly against the doorway as she watched the two of them together.
Lina looked completely mesmerized.
“All this time…” she whispered, eyes fixed downward. “There was really a baby in there…”
Wanda brushed a few curls back from her face gently.
“Really.”
Lina swallowed hard, then looked down at the wilted flowers still clutched carefully in Wanda’s hand.
“The baby don’t hate the flowers?”
Wanda immediately shook her head.
“No, sweetheart.” Her voice was impossibly soft. “We love them.”
Lina’s face crumpled again a little—but this time from relief.
Wanda opened one arm toward her again instantly, and Lina climbed into her lap carefully, pressing herself against Wanda while still trying not to squish the baby.
“I’m sorry I cried so much,” Lina mumbled into her shoulder.
“You never have to apologize for crying,” Wanda whispered, kissing the top of her head.
The room fell quiet after that.
Warm.
Safe.
Lina stayed there for a long moment, small hands still resting protectively over Wanda’s stomach like she’d already decided the baby was hers to protect too.
Wanda didn’t rush her. She kept one arm around Lina, the other gently covering her hands, grounding her.
Behind them, Y/N finally stepped closer. Careful not to break the moment.
Their hand came to rest lightly at Lina’s back.
“Better?” they asked gently.
Lina nodded.
“Mm-hm.”
Y/N’s lips curved faintly. “Good.”
They glanced at Wanda briefly—something quiet passing between them—before their attention returned to Lina.
“Now,” Y/N added, tone a little lighter, “we have one more important thing to do.”
Lina looked up.
“What?”
“Supper.”
Lina blinked.
Then her stomach betrayed her with a small growl.
Wanda laughed softly. “Well,” she said, amused, “that answers that.”
Lina’s cheeks turned slightly pink.
“I forgot…”
Y/N huffed quietly. “That tends to happen when you spend the whole day exploring.”
Lina smiled just a little.
Wanda carefully guided her hands away from her stomach, but not before giving them a gentle squeeze.
“We’ll keep these,” she said, lifting the flowers again. “I’ll have them placed somewhere nice.”
Lina looked at them one more time. “They won’t throw them away?”
Wanda shook her head. “Not a chance.”
Satisfied, Lina nodded.
Y/N reached for her hand.
“Come on.”
Lina took it immediately.
And together, they turned toward the door. Wanda followed just behind them, one hand resting over her stomach again.
---
Supper was already prepared when they arrived.
Not in the grand hall—but in a smaller dining room Y/N had chosen. A long table sat in the center, lit by soft candlelight, the windows slightly open to let in the cool northern air. The food was simple but carefully made—soup, fresh bread, vegetables, a light dish of meat. Balanced.
“Here,” Y/N murmured as they pulled a chair out for Wanda.
Wanda smiled, letting them help her sit before Y/N took the seat beside her instead of at the head.
Lina climbed onto her chair across from them, still holding onto Y/N’s sleeve until she settled properly.
Servants moved quietly, placing dishes and pouring tea before stepping back.
They ate slowly.
Talking between bites. Lina told them everything. About the horses. About how she didn’t fall.
About the flowers. About the kitchen.
“And I saw a big window and you can see all the hills and I think tomorrow we should go there and—”
“Tomorrow,” Y/N cut in gently, “we will go together.”
Lina nodded quickly.
“Okay.”
Wanda watched them both, quiet for a moment. Then her hand slipped under the table, finding Y/N’s.
Y/N glanced at her.
She didn’t say anything but her smile said enough.
Y/N squeezed her hand gently.
---
Wanda’s POV
The morning felt different. Lighter.
Wanda woke to warmth at her back—Y/N’s arm wrapped securely around her, their hand already resting over her stomach like it had never moved through the night.
She smiled faintly.
Some things didn’t change.
“Are you awake?” Y/N murmured softly against her hair.
Wanda hummed.
“Mm… now I am.”
Y/N pressed a slow kiss to her shoulder.
“Good.”
She turned slightly in their arms, meeting their eyes.
“You’re eager.”
“I said I’d take you to the town,” they replied simply.
Wanda smiled.
“And Lina?”
Right on cue—a knock.
“Are you awake?!”
Y/N sighed softly.
“Yes.”
“Good! I’m ready!”
Wanda laughed. “Give us a moment,” she said gently.
“Okay!”
Silence—then Y/N looked back at Wanda.
“…We should hurry.”
Wanda smiled.
---
Not long after, they were on their way.
The carriage rolled down from the northern palace, the scenery shifting from quiet hills to a lively, smaller town nestled below.
It wasn’t like the capital. There were no towering buildings, no overwhelming crowds. Just narrow streets, small shops, people moving at a slower pace. Warmer. Closer.
Lina was already pressed to the window. “Look! There’s so many people!”
Y/N sat beside Wanda, one arm behind her, steady as always.
“Stay seated,” they reminded gently.
“I am!”
Wanda shook her head, amused.
“You forget she’s excited.”
“I don’t forget,” Y/N said. “I’m preparing.”
Wanda smiled.
When they stepped out of the carriage, the town seemed to pause for just a moment. Not out of fear just recognition.
But Y/N didn’t linger in it. They stayed close to Wanda, one hand at her back, guiding her carefully as Lina stayed just ahead—but not too far.
“Stay where I can see you,” Y/N called.
“I am!”
“Lina—”
“I am!”
Wanda laughed softly.
“She is.”
Y/N exhaled.
“…Alright.”
They walked through the market first.
Stalls lined the streets—fresh bread, woven fabrics, handmade trinkets, fruits laid out in neat rows.
Lina stopped at everything. “Can we look at this?”
“Yes.”
“And this?”
“Yes.”
“And—”
“Lina.”
“…Okay, this one last.”
Wanda smiled, her hand slipping into Y/N’s.
“It’s nice,” she murmured.
Y/N glanced at her. Then around to the people, the life there. “…It is.”
A vendor offered Lina a small sweet. But she looked at Y/N first.
Y/N nodded once. “Say thank you.”
“Thank you!” She took it carefully, smiling brightly.
Wanda watched, her chest warming. Then her hand drifted down again—to her stomach.
Y/N noticed immediately.
Their hand followed, resting over hers. “You alright?” they asked softly.
Wanda nodded. “Mm. Just… thinking.”
“About?”
Wanda looked up at them.
Then smiled.
“…This.”
Y/N’s gaze softened.
Their thumb brushed gently over her hand.
“…Yeah.”
And as they walked through the town together—Lina running just ahead, laughing, pointing at everything—Wanda realized something.
This wasn’t just a visit. It was a memory being made. One they’d carry—all of them—for a long time.
They didn’t rush. That was the difference.
In the capital, even calm felt heavy. Here, the town moved gently—like it had nothing to prove.
As they walked through the market, people began to notice.
One by one.
A baker paused mid-task. A woman at a fabric stall straightened. A group of villagers stepped aside respectfully.
“Your Majesties,” they greeted, bowing their heads.
“And Princess Lina.”
Lina blinked every time.
Then remembered—“Oh—hi!” she said, waving.
Y/N gave a small nod in return, calm and composed, but not distant.
Wanda smiled warmly at each of them.
“You don’t need to bow so much,” she said gently to one of the older women.
The woman smiled anyway. “It is our honor.”
Wanda didn’t argue. But her smile softened.
At the first stall, the vendor greeted them immediately.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing slightly. “It’s good to have you here.”
Y/N inclined their head. “How has trade been?”
The man blinked—clearly not expecting that question.
“…Better,” he admitted. “Since the last shipment arrived.”
Y/N nodded. “Good.”
Wanda watched quietly.
Even here—they were still listening.
Lina had already wandered to the fabrics again.
“This one is soft,” she said, touching it.
The vendor smiled at her. “For the princess, everything should be soft.”
Lina grinned.
Wanda leaned closer. “What do you think?”
“…This one,” Lina decided.
“Why?”
“…Because I like it.”
Wanda laughed softly.
Y/N chuckled but paid for the fabrics.
They moved on.
A fruit stall this time. Bright colors laid out neatly.
The woman running it bowed quickly. “Your Majesties—please, take some.”
“That’s not necessary,” Wanda said gently.
“It would make me happy,” the woman insisted.
Y/N exchanged a glance with Wanda—then nodded.
“One piece,” they said.
The woman handed Lina a small fruit.
Lina looked at Y/N first.
Y/N nodded.
“Say thank you.”
“Thank you!”
The woman smiled brightly.
“Of course, Princess.”
---
At the bakery, the reaction was the same. A quiet pause.
Then—“Your Majesties.”
But here, it was warmer. Less formal.
“Please, sit,” the baker insisted. “It would be an honor.”
Y/N hesitated—Wanda gently nudged them.
“…Alright.”
They sat outside on a small bench, the baker personally bringing them something fresh.
“No charge,” he added quickly.
Y/N looked at him.
“You’ll be compensated,” they said.
The baker shook his head.
“It’s enough that you’re here.”
Wanda smiled softly.
“Then we’ll come again,” she said.
That seemed to satisfy him.
Lina ate happily, swinging her legs. Powdered sugar dusted her fingers.
Wanda leaned back slightly, enjoying the warmth.
Y/N sat close. Closer than necessary. Their hand found hers again.
“…Tired?” they asked quietly.
“No,” Wanda said softly.
Then, after a moment—“I like this.”
Y/N looked around. The people. The quiet conversations resuming. The way no one looked afraid.
“…So do I,” they admitted.
---
As they walked further, more villagers greeted them. Some bowed, some simply nodded, and some smiled.
“Your Majesties.”
“Princess Lina.”
Lina waved every time.
They reached the edge of the town eventually. Where the buildings gave way to open land. The hills stretched out ahead, quiet and endless.
“There!” Lina pointed. “That’s what I saw!”
Y/N smiled faintly. “Good eye.”
Villagers nearby paused again.
“Your Majesties,” one greeted softly.
Y/N nodded.
Wanda smiled.
Then her hand drifted down to her stomach again.
Y/N’s followed immediately. “You’re cold?” they asked.
“No.”
Wanda looked out at the hills.
Then at Lina.
“…We’ll bring them here,” she said softly.
Y/N understood immediately.
“…We will.”
Lina turned.
“Bring who?”
Wanda smiled.
“You’ll see.”
Lina frowned.
“…Okay.”
Behind them, a few villagers exchanged quiet smiles. And as they turned back toward the town—walking together, unhurried—it felt like something had changed.
“all you were doing was following your girlfriend's plan. But all she saw was green"
Genre – fluff? warnings - none
Now playing – Blank Space, by Taylor Swift
“So it's gonna be forever. Or it's gonna go down in flames"
Jaeyi doesn't know exactly when it all started to taste bitter in her mouth, she just knows that at some point the time you were spending with Ye-ri started to piss her off.
She knows it was her idea, I mean, of course you wouldn't be that close to Ye-ri if you didn't have your girlfriend's permission. Not in your dreams would you be so close to another girl without Jaeyi knowing about it. The big deal is that Jaeyi began to bitterly regret the plan she thought up when she saw how comfortable Ye-ri was feeling around you.
Everyone at that school knew you belonged to Yoo Jaeyi, and no one dared lay a finger on you, spoke up, stared too long, or lusted after you. No one was crazy enough to try to defy Jaeyi, at least not until now.
As much as all this bothered your girlfriend, she knew that you would NEVER prefer Ye-ri to her. But Ye-ri's intrusive behavior was already getting on her nerves. The long touches, the way Ye-ri laughed at your stupid jokes, you following Ye-ri to all her classes like an obedient puppy... All of this irritated Jaeyi, because you weren't Ye-ri's! She couldn't be that comfortable with you! You're Jaeyi's!
And she was going to make you remember that.
She waited patiently in your room. The light from your desk lamp faintly illuminating the room in yellow, Jaeyi's cell phone showing your location in real time. She'd seen you walk up to Ye-ri's house - and she'd calculated exactly how long you'd stood at the door, just to make sure Ye-ri wouldn't ask you to come in - minutes before, but now, you're almost at your own house, your steps calm, as if you don't have any worries to deal with.
Jaeyi's phone had already notified her of two messages from you, just asking how she was and if she'd arrived home yet. Her eyes narrowed at this, and she let out a sarcastic snort. “Oh, now you want to know how I am...” That's what she said after seeing your message.
Jaeyi was startled slightly by the sound of the door opening, not even realizing that she had disassociated long enough for you to finally arrive home. She heard your footsteps coming up the stairs, settling into the armchair in your room as if she owned the place (maybe she did).
When the door opened, her eyes immediately landed on you. You were there, confusion stamped on your face as you scratched your head, looking at your phone and probably wondering why your girlfriend hadn't answered your messages yet.
You sat on the edge of the bed with an annoyed huff, still unaware of your girlfriend's presence two meters away from you. “She always makes me answer her messages immediately, but she can't answer a single fucking message.”
Jaeyi's eyebrow arched, surprised that you were saying things like that about her when you were alone, when while you were with her, all you did was nod and agree like an idiot puppy.
“Is that what you say about me when you're alone?” Jaeyi's voice echoed through the silent room.
You startled, jumping onto the bed and almost falling face-first onto the floor. With agility, you managed to put your hands on the floor, looking at the armchair in the corner of your room, only to see your girlfriend with that characteristic little smile that sent shivers down your spine.
“Jagiya!” The name came out of your lips automatically. "Fuck, you scared me! What are you doing here? And why didn't you answer me?"
Your questions were ignored, as was the feeling of love Jaeyi felt when she heard you call her by her nickname.
“Did you have fun with Ye-ri?”
The question made your head tilt slightly to the left, confused as if the youngest of the Yoo's had asked an absurd question - which she doesn't think is the case.
"I left her at home... But I haven't gotten anything out of what she's doing with your father yet, sorry." You've barely finished speaking before you hear your girlfriend's sarcastic giggle.
She was still sitting in the armchair, staring at you kneeling on the floor next to your bed. She loved seeing how dumb you looked in front of her, it was almost as if she sucked all the knowledge out of your brain and left it trapped between her fingers, only letting it slip out when she wanted it to.
“That's a surprise, given the fact that she's so close to you.” Jaeyi's gaze was challenging, almost as if she wanted you to ask what she was talking about.
“All right, I really don't understand.” You got up from the floor, putting your hands on your waist, trying to make yourself look bigger in front of your girlfriend.
“Of course you don't understand.” She stood up from the armchair, and you took a step back. Your hands fell away from your waist, being positioned uncomfortably next to your body. “You're just too innocent a puppy to notice that Ye-ri is shamelessly hitting on you!”
Her words hit you hard, you hadn't realized that Ye-ri was hitting on you, you thought it was just her, being the usual flirtatious girl. Well, it seems you were wrong.
"I was just following your plan, jagiya. I didn't want you to feel that way..."
Jaeyi's footsteps echoed through the room, she slowly approached you.
“Like what, jagiya?” She asked, raising her hand to run her fingers through your hair.
“You know...” You replied, tilting your head and closing your eyes. Letting yourself be carried away by her fingers caressing your scalp. “Jealous.”
The giggle that came out of your girlfriend's mouth made you open your eyes again, looking at her only to find that she was already looking at you with those beautiful eyes.
"Oh jagiya... I'm not jealous, I'm just going to make sure you know you're mine!"
just testing again ;)
i told you how obsessed i was with “friendly rivalry” and then some of you told me to write to the girls and here i am.
i hope you like it, it's not much but it's something ;)
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.
---
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.”
⊱ a/n: Hello everyone! Sorry it took me a few days to post this chapter, but it ended up being so long that I had to split it into two parts and add a little more content so it wouldn’t feel too rushed. Chapter 7 will be up soon since it’s already ready. Enjoy!!
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Chapter VI
“isn't the view spectacular?”
⋆༺𓆩☾𓆪༻⋆ ━━━━━ ⋆༺𓆩☾𓆪༻⋆
The journey to London felt longer than it should have.
Perhaps it was the silence.
Or the way it settled between them, thick and unspoken, stretching with every mile the carriage carried them further from the manor.
Y/N had not meant to fall asleep.
And yet, at some point along the way, the steady motion of the carriage had lulled her into it, her head coming to rest—unwittingly—against Jennie’s shoulder.
Jennie had not moved.
Not once.
She remained as she was, her posture unchanged, as though the slightest shift might disturb her. Her gaze did not turn to the window, nor to the others within the carriage, but lingered—quiet, watchful—upon Y/N.
When Y/N stirred at last, it was not the city that reached her first, but the quiet awareness of coldness beneath her cheek.
She stilled.
Then, slowly, she drew back, her breath catching softly as realization settled in.
“My apologies,” she murmured, her voice still touched with sleep.
Jennie’s gaze held hers for a brief moment. “There's no need,” she replied, her tone even.
Nothing more was said.
Across from them, Benjamin remained composed, his attention elsewhere, while Augustus continued his light conversation, unaware—or unwilling to notice.
The carriage slowed.
Then stopped.
“Welcome,” he said, a faint smile settling on his lips, “to my home.”
A servant stepped forward at once, opening the carriage door.
Augustus descended first, turning back immediately as he extended a hand toward Y/N.
She hesitated only for a moment. Then, with careful composure, she placed her hand in his and allowed herself to be guided down.
Her shoes met polished stone, and she withdrew her hand as soon as it was proper to do so.
Her gaze lifted.
The house stood before her.
Not merely grand—but expansive, set apart from the city itself, its grounds stretching wide behind wrought-iron gates and high stone walls that spoke of privacy as much as wealth.
Tall windows framed by pale stone, a sweeping drive, and a line of servants waiting in perfect stillness along the entrance.
Everything about it spoke of certainty.
Of wealth long established.
Of decisions already made.
Of a future she had not chosen.
Jennie stepped out last. She didn't look at Augustus. Her gaze lingered, instead, upon Y/N—measured, unreadable, and just a moment too long.
They had barely stepped inside when the doors closed behind them with a quiet finality.
The entrance hall was vast, lined with marble and gold, the kind of space that seemed designed less for comfort and more for display. Every detail felt deliberate, measured—untouchable.
“Mother is waiting,” Augustus said, already moving forward.
Y/N followed, her steps slower, her gaze drifting across the unfamiliar surroundings as servants passed silently by.
Jennie remained just a step behind her.
Close enough.
Always close enough.
They were led into a drawing room bathed in soft afternoon light, where two figures stood waiting near the tall windows.
A woman first. Poised. Impeccably dressed, her posture straight, her expression composed into something that resembled warmth without quite reaching it.
And beside her—
a man.
Older, quieter, his presence less immediate but no less imposing, his gaze sharp in a way that missed very little.
“Augustus,” the woman greeted, her voice smooth as silk. “You’ve returned.”
“And with company,” she added, her eyes already settling on Y/N.
Assessing.
Measuring.
Augustus stepped forward. “Mother, Father—this is Y/N.”
A pause.
Just long enough to be felt.
“How lovely,” the woman said at last, though her gaze lingered in a way that suggested evaluation rather than admiration. “Augustus has mentioned you in his letters.”
Y/N inclined her head slightly, her hands folding together to keep them still. “I hope only good things.”
The woman’s lips curved faintly. “That depends on one’s expectations.”
A subtle answer.
A sharper one than it appeared.
Y/N glanced over her shoulder at Jennie, her eyes soft—but laced with something far less steady.
Jennie noticed.
She stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. A quiet gesture. Reassuring and grounding.
“And you are?” the woman asked, her gaze turning from Y/N to Jennie with quiet deliberation.
“Jennie.”
No title. No formalities. Not even a full name.
“Victoria Grosvenor,” she replied, her tone smooth and unyielding. She did not nod. Did not soften. There was no courtesy in it—only quiet authority.
“Albert,” the man added simply, though his gaze lingered far longer than necessary.
Victoria’s eyes returned to Jennie, measured, deliberate. “We were not expecting… additional guests.”
The pause was intentional. And sharp.
“Y/N insisted,” Augustus intervened smoothly, his hand settling at the small of her back in a gesture that appeared natural—yet lingered just enough to feel otherwise. “She claims she does not go anywhere without her companion.”
A faint smile touched Victoria’s lips. “Of course she doesn’t.”
Albert just laughed, patting his son's shoulder. "Well, good luck with your lady's whims from now on, son."
Y/N’s expression didn’t change, but Jennie felt the tension beneath it.
“You better make yourself presentable,” Victoria said, her gaze fixed on Y/N. “The gathering begins in a few hours.”
“My maids will show you to your chambers,” she added, gesturing lightly toward the staircase.
Two maids stepped forward at once, lowering their heads in a movement so slight it seemed rehearsed—careful, almost fearful of doing too much.
Y/N hesitated, her gaze flickering back to Jennie. “Jennie…?”
There was something in her voice closer to fear.
Victoria noticed.
“I will have a word with her,” she said smoothly, a smile curving her lips—pleasant in shape, but empty of warmth. “I am quite curious to know more about your… companion.”
The word lingered.
Measured.
Deliberate.
Y/N didn’t move immediately, but the maids did. Gentle hands guided her toward the stairs, insistent despite their softness, until she had no choice but to follow. Her gaze remained on Jennie for as long as she could.
Jennie did not look away.
Not even once.
⋆༺𓆩☾𓆪༻⋆
By the time the maids were nearly finished, Y/N could hardly recognize herself.
The dress clung to her figure in a way that felt less like elegance and more like restraint, the fabric pulled tight across her ribs, laced with such precision that every breath felt measured, controlled.
“Just a little more,” one of the maids murmured behind her, tightening the corset with practiced hands.
Y/N tried to inhale, but the air seemed to stop halfway, caught somewhere between her chest and her throat beneath layers of fabric and expectation.
“It’s too tight,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended.
“It must be,” the maid replied gently, her hands never slowing. “It suits you.”
Another pull, sharper this time.
Y/N’s fingers curled against the edge of the vanity, her knuckles paling as she steadied herself, the room beginning to feel smaller, closer, as though the walls were inching inward with every breath she failed to take.
“Please,” she added, softer now. “I can’t—”
The maid paused, only briefly, before finishing the final pull with a firm motion and tying the laces neatly in place.
“There,” she said, stepping back. “Perfect.”
Y/N stared at her reflection, her waist drawn in unnaturally, her posture forced upright, her body held in place not by grace but by constraint.
She lifted a hand slowly, brushing the fabric at her chest as if she might loosen it herself, though she already knew she wouldn’t.
“Breathe through it,” the other maid suggested quietly. “You will grow used to it.”
Y/N swallowed, her breath shallow and uneven, her chest rising only just enough to sustain her as she kept her gaze fixed on the mirror, searching for something familiar in the girl staring back at her and failing to find it.
For a moment, her thoughts drifted to Jennie, to the contrast of her touch—cold, yes, but never suffocating, never confining, never something that took from her without asking.
The reflection did not change, but something in her gaze did, a quiet realization settling beneath the surface as the tightness of the corset pressed in and her breath refused to deepen.
For the first time since arriving in London, she felt it clearly, undeniably—
she was trapped.
Y/N’s hands tightened around the edge of the vanity as she tried to inhale, the breath coming shallow and uneven, caught somewhere in her chest no matter how hard she tried to pull it in.
When the door opened, she didn’t turn, too focused on keeping herself steady, on holding on to something solid while the room threatened to shift beneath her.
“Mrs. Grosvenor is expecting you downstairs.”
The voice was familiar. Sharp with others, never quite with her.
“I’ll take care of Y/N.”
There was no hesitation in it, no space left for protest, and the maids understood it immediately, exchanging only the briefest glance before stepping out and closing the door behind them, leaving the room in a quiet that felt suddenly heavier.
Jennie crossed the distance without pause, her presence settling beside Y/N as her hands found her—first at her arms, steadying her, grounding her, and then moving with quiet certainty to the laces at her back.
“Easy,” she murmured, softer now, as her fingers worked quickly, loosening the corset just enough to ease the pressure that had been holding her in place.
The shift was immediate.
Not freedom, but relief.
Air rushed in too quickly, Y/N gasping as her chest finally expanded, her grip tightening once more before slowly beginning to loosen as her breathing steadied, fragile but real.
Jennie stayed close, her hands still at her back, not pulling away, as though she didn’t trust the moment to hold if she did.
“Breathe,” she said quietly, her voice low and steady.
Y/N did.
And this time, the air came easier, filling her lungs without resistance as she remained where she was, held together by the quiet certainty of Jennie’s touch.
“I can’t do it, Jennie… I can’t,” her voice broke slightly, smaller than she intended, fragile in a way she hated but couldn’t hide.
Jennie didn’t answer right away.
She stayed behind her, close enough that Y/N could feel her presence more than see it, their reflections overlapping in the mirror—hers trembling, Jennie’s still.
For a moment, Jennie just looked at her through it, as if reading something she didn’t say out loud.
Then she leaned in.
Her lips brushed Y/N’s shoulder—soft, almost absent, but grounding in a way that made her breath catch again, not from fear this time, but from something quieter she didn’t know how to name.
“Ssh,” she murmured.
The sound settled between them.
Y/N’s gaze didn’t leave the mirror. Neither did Jennie’s.
In the reflection, Jennie was too close. Closer than she needed to be. Close enough that Y/N could see the way her expression softened when she thought she wasn’t being watched. Close enough that there was no real space left between comfort and something far more dangerous.
Y/N swallowed, her fingers tightening faintly against the edge of the vanity as she tried to steady herself. Yet, she didn’t move away.
Instead, slowly, she turned.
Not fully at first—just enough that her eyes met Jennie’s in the mirror before meeting them directly.
Jennie didn’t step back. She didn’t need to. Their distance had already disappeared somewhere between breath and silence.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
The room felt smaller again, but this time not because of the corset, not because of fabric or pressure—because of proximity.
Because of choice.
Y/N exhaled softly, weaker than before. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be.”
Jennie’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips before lifting again, steady. “You don’t have to know,” she paused before adding: “not yet.”
⋆༺𓆩☾𓆪༻⋆
The ballroom was already full when they arrived, music flowing through the space like something alive, slipping between chandeliers of crystal light and polished marble floors while laughter rose and fell in careful, practiced waves.
Y/N followed just behind Augustus, her steps measured, her presence announced only by proximity, not by acknowledgement. He greeted people as they passed, exchanging words that never quite included her, his hand occasionally guiding her forward as though she were part of the introduction without ever needing to be named.
She smiled when it seemed appropriate. Nodded when it was expected. But most of the time, she simply moved with him, learning quickly that she did not need to be spoken to in order to be positioned.
Jennie stayed close.
Not behind her. Not in front. Just there. A quiet constant in a room that refused to settle.
At first, people looked at Y/N—briefly, politely, as one might glance at something new entering a familiar space. Then, slowly, their attention drifted away, not abruptly, but naturally, as if there had never been anything there to hold it in the first place.
Conversations continued around her rather than with her, voices overlapping in a rhythm she could hear but not enter. Even when she shifted slightly, the room adjusted without noticing, making space without ever acknowledging her presence.
Augustus eventually let go of her hand without ceremony, his voice smooth as he excused himself toward another group, leaving her standing where she was as if it were entirely natural for her to remain behind.
And somehow, it was.
Y/N stayed still, surrounded by movement that did not include her, the weight of the room pressing in without ever touching her directly.
Her fingers tightened faintly against the fabric of her dress.
She looked for Jennie.
Found her immediately.
Jennie was not far, speaking to no one in particular, but watching everything at once. And when their eyes met, there was no change in her expression, only recognition—steady, unwavering, as if she had never stopped seeing her in the first place.
Y/N held her gaze for a moment longer than she intended, something in her chest tightening in a way she couldn’t explain, before looking away again, still standing in the same place, still surrounded by people who moved as if she were not there at all.
She smiled when Jennie lifted her untouched champagne glass slightly in her direction, a quiet gesture meant only for her, something that didn’t belong to the rest of the room.
Then Jennie nodded once toward the balcony in a silent invitation.
Y/N understood immediately.
For a moment, she simply stood there, breathing in air that didn’t feel watched, nor measured.
Jennie was already by the railing, glass in hand, though she never truly drank from it—only held it, as if it belonged to the performance of the evening rather than to her.
“You were suffocating in there,” she said quietly, still looking out over the city.
Y/N let out a small breath that almost became a laugh. “Was it that obvious?”
Jennie turned her head then.
“Only to me.”
The words settled between them without needing anything else.
Y/N stepped closer to the railing, letting her fingers rest against the cold stone, grounding herself in something real for the first time that night. Behind her, the ballroom kept moving, full of voices and music, as if she had never left.
In front of her, the gardens stretched far into the night, wide and carefully kept but still soft in the dim light. Paths curved through the greenery, disappearing between hedges and trees, while flowerbeds spilled over with blooms of every kind.
The air carried their scent—sweet, almost overwhelming at times.
Roses, mostly.
A faint breeze moved through the leaves, making them shift and whisper quietly around her, and somewhere farther away, she could hear the soft sound of water from a fountain.
The full moon hung high above, its light brushing against her skin, cool and gentle.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The breeze moved again, catching a loose strand of Y/N’s hair, and Jennie’s hand lifted almost instinctively, brushing it back into place with a touch so light it barely lingered.
Still, it stayed.
Y/N’s fingers tightened slightly against the stone. “isn't the view spectacular?”
“Yes."
But Jennie didn't look at the gardens at all.
A pause before she spoke again.
“You didn’t have to follow me,” she said quietly to fill the silence, her fingers tightening slightly around the stem of the glass she still wasn’t drinking from.
“I know,” Y/N replied, her gaze lifting toward the night sky as if she could trace familiar constellations between the scattered stars, as if naming them would make the world inside feel less heavy. “But I wanted to.”
Jennie let out a soft breath that almost passed for a laugh. “You act like a lost puppy looking for an owner.”
Y/N made a sound in response, something caught between a scoff and a laugh, before lowering her gaze back to Jennie. “More like someone who finally understands what she wants.”
“And what do you want?” Jennie asked quietly, though the answer was already there, sitting between them like something neither of them had dared to name out loud.
“You know what I want.”
Y/N’s voice was softer this time, but there was no hesitation in the way she turned toward her. She wasn’t half-facing the city anymore, nor hiding in the space between railing and night air. The balcony, the lights below them, even the distant sound of the ballroom—all of it faded slightly as she stepped closer.
Jennie noticed every part of it.
The shift in her posture. The way her breath changed. The way she no longer looked away.
Then Y/N spoke again, quieter now, almost careful in its honesty.
“Are you going to push me away this time, too?”
For a moment, Jennie didn’t respond. Not because she didn’t hear her, but because something in her had stopped reacting the way it usually did.
Her gaze stayed on Y/N longer than it should have, as if she was measuring distance that was no longer there, as if she was trying to find the point where this should have become too much—and not finding it.
Her fingers tightened once around the glass she still wasn’t drinking from. Then she lowered it. The base touched the stone railing with a soft sound that felt louder than it should have been in the silence between them. “Why would I push you away?”
Y/N didn’t reply immediately. She didn’t need to, because she was already close enough that Jennie could feel the warmth of her presence more than see it, close enough that the space between them no longer felt like space at all, just a thin hesitation neither of them was using.
Y/N’s gaze flickered—just once—to Jennie’s lips. And then back up.
Jennie noticed.
Something in her expression shifted, subtle but undeniable, like a decision being made without permission. Her hand didn’t move, didn’t reach, didn’t retreat.
She simply stayed there. Still. Present.
Y/N leaned in slowly, closing the space between them with a certainty that surprised even her, her breath shallow but steady as she stopped just before Jennie.
Jennie didn’t move away.
That alone was enough to make her hesitate for half a second, her gaze dropping briefly to Jennie’s lips before lifting again, as if confirming she was really still allowed to do this.
Then she closed the distance completely.
The kiss was soft at first—careful, almost testing, like she was waiting for resistance that never came.
Jennie didn’t react immediately. Not because she was frozen, but because there was nothing in her that needed to catch up to it. Her hand at Y/N’s waist tightened slightly, not pulling her closer, but holding her steady as Y/N leaned in a little more, as if reassured by the lack of rejection.
Y/N shifted, adjusting instinctively, her fingers curling lightly against Jennie’s sleeve for balance as the kiss deepened—still slow, still cautious, but no longer uncertain.
Jennie responded after a moment, her lips moving against Y/N’s with a controlled slowness that felt deliberate rather than hesitant, as if she was choosing exactly how much to give in real time.
Her other hand rose, this time more firmly, resting at Y/N’s back just enough to close the space that was left between them without forcing anything.
Y/N exhaled softly against her, a small, instinctive sound, before leaning in again, this time without stopping herself.
The kiss lasted longer this time. Steady, growing warmer in a way neither of them acknowledged out loud.
It was only when Y/N’s fingers loosened slightly against Jennie’s sleeve that the moment began to ease.
Jennie didn’t waste a second. Her hand closed around Y/N’s wrist, steady and certain as she guided her away from the balcony without hesitation.
Not back toward the ballroom. Not toward Augustus. But deeper into the house.
Toward her room.
⋆༺𓆩☾𓆪༻⋆ ━━━━━ ⋆༺𓆩☾𓆪༻⋆
I apologize again for making you wait, but I hope I made it up to you with this chapter. The next one will be even better!
Yu Jimin (Karina)
❣ Taste feat. Winter
❣ The Art of Confessing
❣ A Game of Almosts feat. Winter
❣ Three Words, Eight Letters feat. Winter (Part 2 of A game of Almosts)
❣ Don’t Fly So Close To Me (during editing..)
Uchinaga Aeri (Giselle)
︾ A Contract of Silence (Finished ✓)︾
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14
❣ Flights, Not Feelings
Kim Minjeong (Winter)
❣ When the First Snow Falls
Ning Yizhuo (Ningning)
︾ Bored (Finished ✓)︾
Paradise on Venus
But I'm Not the One To Keep
Turning Your Goodbyes Into Hellos
❣ Still Yours
Bae Joohyun (Irene)
❣ The Echo of an Ordinary Girl
❣ Let Me In
Kang Seulgi
Nothing yet.. ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა
Son Seungwan (Wendy)
Nothing yet.. ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა
Park Sooyoung (Joy)
Nothing yet.. ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა
Kim Yerim (Yeri)
Nothing yet.. ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა
Park Roseanne (Rosé)
❣ Stay a Little Longer
❣ Number One Girl (Part 2 of Stay a Little Longer)
❣ Drinks or coffee
︾ Messy (Finished ✓) ︾
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Kim Jisoo
Nothing yet.. ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა
Kim Jennie
❣ A Taste of Love
❣ Over the Handlebars
❣ Twin
❣ When We Get Older (Part 2 of Twin)
❣ Better When You're Gone
❣ I'm With You
︾ A Soulmate Who.. (Ongoing)︾
A Soulmate Who Should Have Stayed
A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be
A Soulmate Who Can't Let Go
A Soulmate Who.. (coming soon..)
Lalisa Manobal (Lisa)
❣ What We Don’t Say
❣ The Slowest Heartbeat
❣ Warming You Up (Part 2 of The Slowest Heartbeat)
Kim Chaewon
❣ If You
Miyawaki Sakura
Nothing yet.. ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა
Huh Yunjin
❣ A Holiday to Remember
Nakamura Kazuha
❣ The Dance We Share
Hong Eunchae (nope, she's still a baby, sorry)
Minatozaki Sana
❣ Encore of love
❣ Toxic till the end
❣ The (Not So) Fearless Movie Night
︾ The Price of Affection (Finished ✓) ︾
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Myoui Mina
︾ Skating the Divide (Finished ✓) ︾
Rivals at First Sight
Cracks in the Ice
Shattered Trust
Skating on Thin Ice
Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.
tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af, you might dislike gojo in this im sorry, very very mild geto x reader
NOTESજ⁀➴ hiii sorry for the late upload but i was really not feeling myself the past few days (BECAUSE OF A GODDAMN MAN FFS) but yeah hope you enjoyyy sorry if there are any errors i really dont have the mental capacity for this rn lol HAHAH
wcજ⁀➴ 6.0k
taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie @higuchislut @domilovestoru @aishies-stuff @genxnarumi @username23345
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR
It was lunchtime, and the hallway was as chaotic as ever. Students were clustered in groups, exchanging gossip, laughing, or heading out to the courtyard for a break. You were trying to keep a low profile, hoping to slip past unnoticed, and find a quiet corner to eat away from the noise.
After everything that happened last night, you had been avoiding Gojo like the plague.
The touch of his hand on your cheek, the way his eyes softened in a moment that felt far too intimate—it had all left you spinning, and you couldn’t risk seeing him again, not while your heart was still tangled in those messy feelings.
So far, you had been successful.
The steady hum of voices and the shuffle of footsteps filled the hallway as you maneuvered through the throng of students, clutching your packed sandwich to your chest. Your goal was simple: find a secluded corner, eat in peace, and get through the day without running into him.
But that was easier said than done.
Every time your thoughts wandered back to last night, your chest tightened.
His hand, his touch, the way his eyes softened like he’d forgotten the world around him for just a second—it was like a loop you couldn’t turn off.
Your heart did a traitorous flip as you remembered the way he had cupped your cheek, so tender and yet so fleeting. The moment had felt like a spark in the dark, dangerous and intoxicating.
You shook your head, trying to force the memory out. He has Mina. You’re just a friend. You clenched your fists and sped up, determined to focus on literally anything else.
The cafeteria was too crowded, so you ducked into one of the quieter hallways, your eyes scanning for an empty classroom or a nook where you could hide away.
But then, as you turned a corner, you saw it—his unmistakable figure leaning against a locker. That familiar white hair caught the sunlight streaming through the hallway windows, making him stand out like he always did. He was laughing at something a friend had said, his grin easy and magnetic, but it was when he turned slightly that your heart lurched.
His blue eyes.
The same blue eyes you had seen so many times, always full of life and teasing, but now they felt like they were seeing straight through you. For a fleeting moment, it was as if he was looking directly at you—at the you you never showed anyone else. The you that had spent years harboring feelings for him in silence.
Panic set in. Without thinking, you spun on your heel and walked away as fast as your legs would carry you.
What the hell was wrong with you?
You had seen Gojo a thousand times before, but today, just the mere glimpse of him had your heart racing like you’d run a marathon. The way he had looked at you—No.
You didn’t want to think about it.
You’ve been avoiding him for a reason.
You ducked down a side hallway, pressing your back against the cool wall as you tried to catch your breath. It was ridiculous, really. You’d seen Gojo a thousand times before, spent hours by his side, laughed at his terrible jokes—but now, just the mere sight of him had your heart racing like you’d run a marathon.
Get it together. He’s still the same Gojo.
Except he wasn’t.
Not to you.
Not after last night.
Last night had stirred up feelings you’d tried so hard to suppress, the ones you had neatly boxed away the day he announced his relationship with Mina. You had no right to feel this way, no right to replay that moment when he cupped your cheek like it was something more.
And yet, your traitorous heart clung to the memory of his touch and his gaze.
No. You shook your head, as if the motion could physically dislodge the thoughts.
You couldn’t let yourself fall into that trap, couldn’t confuse his vulnerability for something it wasn’t. Even if he was unsure about Mina, it didn’t mean there was a place for you in his heart.
You closed your eyes, pressing your palms to your face, as if you could push the thoughts away. You had to get a grip. This was getting out of hand.
You couldn’t keep doing this—letting his proximity send your heart into overdrive. You had to forget the way he made you feel. Forget the way his touch had made your skin burn with a desire you couldn’t place.
But even as you stood there, trying to gather yourself, one thought refused to leave your mind:
Had Gojo felt it too?
And that thought was the most dangerous one of all.
The last bell rang, signaling the end of the day, and you couldn’t have left the classroom fast enough. The entire day had been an exhausting exercise in avoidance and pretense, and all you wanted now was to go home, lock yourself in your room, and forget Gojo Satoru even existed—if only for a few hours.
The hallway was bustling with students chatting and making plans for the evening, but you kept your head down, weaving through the crowd like a ghost. Your phone buzzed in your pocket again, and you didn’t have to guess who it was.
You had been ignoring Gojo’s messages all afternoon. His texts had started out innocuous enough:
“Hey, barely saw you around during lunch. Didn’t feel like hanging out?”
“You sick or something? Or are you sick of me!?”
And then, as if he’d gotten bored waiting for a reply:
“You missed it—Suguru tried to eat an entire slice of pizza in one bite. Spoiler: it didn’t end well.”
There was no malice in his words, no suspicion—just the usual carefree banter you had come to expect from him. But even that was enough to tie your stomach in knots. How could he be so normal, so casual, after everything that had happened? Did last night really not faze him at all?
The thought stung more than you cared to admit, so you didn’t open his messages. Instead, you stuffed your phone deeper into your pocket and focused on making it to the school gates without incident.
You mentally mapped out your evening as a distraction. Go home. Have an early dinner. Play the guitar until my fingers hurt or my bones are too tired to think. It was a good plan. It would keep your mind busy, keep you from replaying last night over and over until you drove yourself mad.
You reached the last hallway leading to the front gates, the sunlight filtering through the windows casting golden streaks on the floor. The crowd had thinned out, and the air felt quieter, calmer. You were almost free.
But just as you exhaled, feeling the tension in your shoulders begin to ease, you felt it—a hand wrapping around your arm, pulling you back.
Your heart leapt into your throat as you turned to see him.
“Satoru,” you breathed, his name coming out like a reflex.
He was standing close, a little too close, his usual easy grin plastered across his face. His white hair caught the light in a way that made him seem almost unreal, and those blue eyes—those infuriating, magnetic eyes—were locked onto yours.
Gojo’s grin widened as he tilted his head, looking far too pleased with himself. “Finally caught you,” he teased, his voice carrying that trademark playful lilt. “Do you know how hard it’s been to track you down all day? It’s like you’re a little mouse scurrying around trying not to get caught.”
You blinked, heat rushing to your face at his analogy. “A mouse? Really?”
He chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “What else do you call it when someone’s dodging you at every turn?”
“I wasn’t dodging you,” you said quickly, though your voice betrayed your nervousness.
“Oh, really?” he drawled, raising a skeptical brow. “So skipping lunch and disappearing before I could even say hi after class was just a coincidence?”
You looked away, scrambling for an excuse. “I—I’ve just been busy, that’s all. I’m actually headed home now,” you added, hoping to change the subject. “I wanted to get some practice in.”
“Practice?” he asked, intrigued.
“Yeah,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “On my guitar. Just thought I’d get some extra practice in since the shows nearing, so I figured I’d spend the evening catching up.”
Gojo pressed a hand to his chest, staggering back as though your words had physically wounded him. “Aw, seriously? I was hoping we could hang out.” His voice was exaggeratedly dramatic, as if you’d shattered his grand plans for the evening.
His words hung in the air, and despite everything—your resolve to keep your distance, the plan to distract yourself into oblivion—those two little words were already tempting you to cave in.
Hang out.
You couldn’t help it. Your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat at the mere thought of spending time with him again. It was ridiculous, really. You’d spent the entire day avoiding him, dodging his messages and steering clear of any chance encounters. But now? The idea of hanging out with Gojo—of just being near him—was irresistible.
You swallowed, trying to keep your expression neutral. “You want to hang out?” you asked, a little too casually, as though his words hadn’t just thrown your day’s plans out the window.
“Yeah,” he said, his grin softening into something less playful and more genuine. “I mean, unless you’re too busy shredding on your guitar to spare a little time for your best friend.” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically, his playful tone making you smile despite yourself.
The word best friend stung a little more than it should have, but you ignored it, focusing instead on how your chest warmed at the thought of being with him again. “I don’t know…” you said, pretending to deliberate, even though your heart had already decided for you.
Gojo leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling with mock urgency. “C’mon, just for a bit. I swear, I’ll even cheer you on at your next show. Front row, obnoxious applause and everything.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and you hated how easily he could draw it out of you. “Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “But if I bomb at my next performance because of this, I’m blaming you.”
“Deal,” he said, his grin widening as he took your hand without hesitation, tugging you along toward the gates. “You won’t regret this, I promise. I’ve got the perfect spot in mind, discovered it only recently. Snacks on me.”
You let him lead the way, the warmth of his hand in yours sending a rush of emotions you tried to bury. Despite your earlier resolve to avoid him, you couldn’t deny it—being with Gojo felt like slipping into something familiar and comforting, even if it hurt a little too.
Because no matter how much you tried to fight it, you loved him. And even if this was just a fleeting moment, you couldn’t help but want to hold onto it for as long as you could.
Gojo led you through the streets with a bounce in his step, his hand never letting go of yours. A crinkling bag of snacks dangled from his other hand, and his cheerful chatter filled the space between you. He was talking about something—probably a random observation or one of his over-the-top stories—but you barely registered the words. You were too focused on the warmth of his hand and the effortless ease in his demeanor.
The path he took wasn’t unfamiliar, but the destination was. He led you to a quiet park just off the main street, where the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, painting everything in golden hues. The spot he’d chosen was tucked away, with a low stone wall overlooking a small pond surrounded by reeds. It was peaceful, almost serene, as if the world outside had melted away.
“Perfect, right?” Gojo said, grinning as he plopped himself down on the wall and gestured for you to join him.
You hesitated for only a moment before sitting beside him, close enough that your knees almost touched. He opened the bag of snacks, offering it to you with a flourish. “Snacks for the lady,” he said with mock chivalry, making you roll your eyes.
You took one and nibbled at it, letting the calm atmosphere settle over you. For a while, neither of you said anything. The sound of birds chirping and the gentle rustle of leaves filled the air, and for the first time all day, you felt yourself relax.
Gojo leaned back on his hands, his gaze fixed on the pond. “Y’know, I found this place by chance when I was kinda stressed out last time,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “Kinda nice, isn’t it? Like, everything feels quieter here.”
You hummed in agreement, not trusting yourself to speak. It was dangerous, being here with him, letting yourself sink into the illusion of normalcy. Was it wrong to indulge yourself in this moment, knowing what you knew?
Despite knowing he didn’t love you back?
Despite knowing he had a girlfriend?
Your chest tightened at the thought, but you forced a small smile, biting into another snack as a distraction. This wasn’t about what you wanted or what you felt. Gojo didn’t see you that way—he had Mina, and whatever issues he was working through with her, it didn’t change the fact that you were just a friend to him.
And yet, sitting here beside him, it was so easy to forget all of that. It was so easy to let yourself believe, just for a second, that things could be different.
“Hey,” Gojo said suddenly, breaking your train of thought. He leaned closer, tilting his head to get a better look at your face. “You okay? You’ve been quiet. Not like you to let me talk this much without interrupting.”
You blinked, startled by the sudden proximity. His eyes, impossibly blue and full of concern, searched yours, and you felt your breath hitch.
“I’m fine,” you said quickly, looking away. “Just… tired, I guess.”
He didn’t seem convinced but didn’t press further. Instead, he straightened up, a teasing grin replacing his concern. “Well, don’t fall asleep on me now. I dragged you all the way out here, you know. I’d be very offended if you just nodded off.”
You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “I won’t, don’t worry.”
Gojo let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, throwing himself back dramatically with his arms spread wide. “Phew, good. I’d hate to think my company is boring you to sleep. I’m basically a walking entertainment show, y’know.”
He grabbed a stray blade of grass and twirled it between his fingers, then grinned mischievously. Without warning, he started blowing on it, attempting to make that sharp, whistling sound kids often do. Instead, the grass snapped, and the noise came out as an awkward spluttering.
You chuckled, shaking your head at his antics. “Seriously? How old are you again?”
“Old enough to do this,” he retorted, plucking another blade and trying again with even more gusto. This time, the noise was louder but hilariously off-pitch, sounding more like a dying bird than anything else.
You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, clutching your sides as the ridiculousness of it all settled in. Gojo grinned triumphantly, tossing the grass aside. “See? Told you I’m good for a laugh.”
He leaned back again, resting his weight on his hands as he watched you. There was something softer in his expression now, a quiet kind of satisfaction that made your chest ache.
“Man,” he said after a moment, his voice teasing but with a hint of genuine warmth. “I like that laugh of yours. You should do it more often.”
You looked away, your cheeks growing warm. “Don’t start,” you muttered, but the smile lingering on your lips betrayed you.
Gojo stretched, letting out a groan of exaggerated exhaustion. “All this work to keep you entertained is killing me. I need to recharge.” Before you could react, he flopped over dramatically, his head landing in your lap.
Your breath hitched as you froze, staring down at him in disbelief. “Satoru, what are you—”
“Shhh,” he interrupted, closing his eyes as he nestled against your legs. “This is perfect. You’re comfy, the sun’s warm, and I’ve earned this, don’t you think?”
“Earned this?” you repeated incredulously, your voice wavering between annoyance and amusement.
“Absolutely,” he said, smirking up at you without opening his eyes. “Besides, you’re not gonna push me off, are you? You’re too nice for that.”
He had a point, and the smug look on his face told you he knew it. You sighed, trying to will your heart to stop pounding in your chest. Despite everything—his audacity, his obliviousness, the complicated mess of feelings swirling inside you—you couldn’t deny that this moment, however fleeting, felt impossibly right.
Gojo stayed draped across your lap like he belonged there, his trademark grin fixed on his face. “You know,” he began, his tone casual but carrying a subtle undercurrent of something unspoken, “this is probably the most comfortable I’ve been all week.”
You rolled your eyes, trying not to let your heart betray you. “Is that so?” you said lightly, though the memory of last night—the way his hand had lingered against your cheek, his gaze piercing and unrelenting—still clung to you like a shadow.
“Definitely,” Gojo replied, shifting slightly to get more comfortable against your lap. “This spot? Ten out of ten. You’re like the perfect mix of firm and soft, you know? Like one of those expensive memory foam pillows.”
“Wow, thanks for the glowing review,” you said dryly, though your lips twitched at his ridiculous analogy.
“Hey, it’s a compliment!” he said, feigning offense. “You should be honored. Not just anyone gets to be Gojo Satoru’s personal recliner. Consider yourself chosen.”
You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you keep me around. Wonder why that is,” he teased, tilting his head ever so slightly, though his eyes remained closed.
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you let the words hang in the air, letting him fill the silence the way he always did—with his rambling, carefree charm.
“And another thing,” he went on, oblivious to the way your heart was twisting. “This week has been a total grind. Like, I had two papers due, plus that ridiculous group project. Do you know how hard it is to be the brains and the beauty in a group? Exhausting. But here I am, thriving, because I’m built different.”
You bit back a smile, letting his voice wash over you like a soothing tide. He always managed to make the world feel a little less heavy, even if he had no idea how much weight you were carrying.
As he continued to talk—something about his epic debate with a professor over the meaning of “deadline”—your gaze softened. His face was so unguarded like this, the usual spark of mischief in his expression muted by the gentle glow of the afternoon sun.
Before you could stop yourself, your hand moved, your fingers grazing the silvery strands of his hair. It was soft, softer than you’d imagined, and as you absentmindedly combed through it, a quiet calm settled over you.
As your fingers threaded gently through Gojo’s hair, his voice began to falter. Words trailed off into nothingness until he finally stopped talking altogether. The silence that followed was thick but not uncomfortable—just the sound of the breeze and distant laughter from others in the park.
You didn’t realize how intimate the moment had become until it swallowed you whole. The quiet was startling, and with it came the sharp awareness of what you were doing. Your hand froze, and you quickly pulled it away, a soft gasp escaping your lips.
“Sorry,” you murmured, flustered, your cheeks burning as you tried to look anywhere but at him.
“Don’t.” His voice was soft but firm, grounding you instantly. You glanced down to find his eyes open now, half-lidded and gazing up at you with an expression that made your heart stutter. “Don’t apologize.”
You hesitated. “I didn’t mean—”
“Just keep doing it,” he interrupted, a rare seriousness in his tone. Then, as if to break the spell, he smirked. “It’s nice. You’re pretty good at this, you know. Ever consider a career in pampering me full-time?”
You rolled your eyes, but a shy smile crept across your face. “Don’t push your luck.”
He closed his eyes again, his grin softening into something less playful, more content. “No promises,” he mumbled, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.
Your hand moved again, your touch hesitant at first but growing steadier as you combed through his hair once more. The silky strands slipped through your fingers effortlessly, and you swore you could feel his breathing even out beneath your touch.
The moment lingered, impossibly sweet and unspoken, a fragile bubble of time neither of you wanted to pop. And for now, that was enough.
────────────────────────────────────────────
A few hours had passed in what felt like an instant. You and Gojo had fallen into an easy rhythm, laughing, talking, and sharing bits of your lives with no real agenda. It was... nice. Comforting, even.
But as the sun began to dip lower on the horizon, the reality of the situation started to settle in. Gojo stretched and sat up from your lap, groaning as he wiped at his eyes. “Guess it’s time to head back,” he said, his voice a little reluctant, though there was a hint of playfulness in his tone.
You nodded, slowly standing up as well, feeling the stiffness in your legs after sitting for so long. Gojo grabbed his jacket, tossing it over his shoulder, and started to gather his things. But just as he was about to turn toward you, his phone buzzed—loudly, insistently. He glanced at it, and his easygoing expression faltered for a second.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He looked down at the screen, eyes scanning the stream of missed calls and texts that had piled up. Mina.
You could see the flicker of tension in his posture as he cursed again, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He turned to you with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I kinda lost track of time. Mina’s been blowing up my phone.”
You forced a smile, nodding, even though the pit in your stomach grew a little heavier. “It’s fine. You should probably call her back.”
“Yeah, I guess I should.” He sighed, the weight of the situation settling into his voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.”
With that, Gojo stepped away from you, his steps taking him farther down the path toward a more secluded area of the park. You stayed put, arms crossed loosely as you sat back down on the grass, trying to push the knot in your chest aside.
From your spot, you could see Gojo standing a few feet away, his posture tense as he pulled his phone back out. The conversation had already started, his tone shifting into something more serious as he swiped to answer the call.
“Mina,” he said, his voice soft but carrying an edge of apology. “Hey… yeah, I’m sorry, I kinda lost track of time.”
You couldn’t help but glance over at him as he spoke. He ran a hand through his white hair, his back slightly turned so you couldn’t hear Mina’s words, but you could see the slight furrow of his brow. He was listening intently, nodding occasionally, and even though you couldn’t hear her responses, you could tell by his body language that the conversation was serious.
Your heart gave a little twinge as Gojo’s smile faded and was replaced with a more apologetic look. His voice was quieter now, more restrained. “I didn’t mean to worry you, Mina. I just… I was hanging out with a friend, and time slipped away. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
You bit your lip, looking away quickly to hide the faint ache in your chest. You knew this wasn’t something you could control, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. The knowledge that he was apologizing to her, his girlfriend, for his time spent with you felt like a weight you weren’t sure you could carry.
For a moment, you entertained the thought of standing up and walking away, leaving them to their conversation in peace. But you stayed rooted in your spot, as if listening to the gentle rustle of the trees and the occasional snippets of Gojo’s words could somehow keep you tethered to this fleeting moment.
“I’ll make it up to you, okay?” Gojo continued, his tone soft and sincere. “How about we go out tomorrow, just the two of us?”
Your breath caught, but you quickly brushed it off. Of course, Gojo would make plans with Mina. She was his girlfriend. He cared about her.
But still, as you watched him nod and smile into the phone, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if you had asked him to stay a little longer, or if you’d been more honest about your feelings.
It was foolish, you knew. There was no place for you in that world, not when Mina was already there. Yet, as you glanced at Gojo’s back, his posture slightly relaxed but still tense, you couldn’t help but feel the sting of his words echoing in your chest.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Gojo said softly, his tone lightening a little as he spoke. “Love you.”
The words hung in the air like a dagger, though they were clearly meant for her, not you. And as he ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket, you forced yourself to smile when he turned back toward you, walking toward your spot with a quiet sigh of relief.
“You good?” he asked, his easy smile back in place as he neared you. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
You nodded, standing up as he got closer. “No problem,” you said softly, though you couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
As you both walked down the path, the city’s hum barely reached you through the quiet night, the only sound the crunch of your footsteps on the gravel. Gojo was walking beside you, his usual upbeat energy slightly toned down but still present in the easy way he moved. There was a comfortable silence between you, but it wasn’t long before your thoughts began to wander back to the conversation he’d had with Mina.
You couldn’t shake the lingering curiosity about how things were between them now, especially after what he’d said the day before. Without really thinking, the question slipped out.
“So… how’s everything with you and Mina? You were venting a bit yesterday, so I was wondering.”
Gojo hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting to the sidewalk ahead of him. There was a flicker of uncertainty, but it didn’t last long. He shrugged casually as if he hadn’t really given it much thought.
“I mean, it’s a work in progress, I guess,” he said with a slight grin, his tone relaxed. “I haven’t really told her about everything that’s been on my mind. Figured it’s something I should handle myself.”
He paused for a second, as though considering his words before continuing, his tone still light, almost like he was describing the weather.
“But I’m trying to sort my feelings out. That’s all I can really do right now.”
You nodded, a soft hum escaping you as you processed his words. There wasn’t a heavy burden in his voice, just a simple acknowledgment of the situation. He wasn’t looking for sympathy, just stating facts.
The silence between you two lingered, the weight of unspoken things hanging there, until Gojo shifted in the air, as if easing the tension that had quietly settled in.
“Relationships, huh?” he muttered, his eyes on the ground. “They’re complicated. People always expect something from you—attention, validation, whatever it is. And it’s exhausting, you know?”
You looked at him curiously, sensing the slight shift in his demeanor, the rare flicker of something more vulnerable beneath the usual carefree surface.
Gojo glanced up at you, that familiar grin slowly pulling at his lips. “But you, you’re different. You don’t want anything from me. You’re not looking for anything—just here, in the moment. It’s like you just… want to be here, and that’s enough. It’s rare. And honestly? I appreciate that more than you know.”
You blinked, caught off guard by his straightforward comment, but it didn’t seem like he was fishing for a response. It was almost like he was just observing things as they were. He shot you a grin, his usual playful energy returning.
“Anyway, that’s just how I see it. No big deal,” he added with a casual shrug, as though he hadn’t just shared something unexpectedly honest.
You couldn’t help but smile a little, the ease of his words making everything feel lighter. “Well, I guess I just don’t like bothering people with my stuff. You’ve got enough on your plate already.”
Gojo’s smile softened, but it stayed light, like the conversation was just another passing thought in the night. “You’re not bothering me. Never.” He paused, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment before continuing, his voice unchanged. “That’s why it’s easy to talk to you. No pressure, no expectations. It’s nice, actually.”
The way he said it made it feel like a simple fact, no weight behind it. It was just Gojo being Gojo—easygoing, direct, with no hidden meaning.
You nodded, feeling a small sense of relief settle in your chest, even though the curiosity still lingered. You didn’t need to dissect it now. There’d be time for that later.
“Alright, I’ll take your word for it,” you said, the smile still hanging on your lips. “Just don’t go getting all sentimental on me now.”
Gojo chuckled, the familiar grin returning as he nudged you lightly with his elbow. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you continued walking, the night stretching out ahead of you. There was no tension in the air, no heavy unspoken words. Just two people walking through the quiet streets, each with their own thoughts and the faintest sense of understanding passing between them.
As you reached your door, the night’s quiet settling around you, you turned to Gojo, feeling a mix of gratitude and confusion still lingering in the air. You could feel it—the weight of everything unspoken between you two, the subtle tension from earlier now thickening in the cool night.
“Thanks for walking me home,” you said, your voice lighter than it had been earlier, but still threaded with something unidentifiable. You gave him a small smile, but it was different this time, more open, almost a little hesitant. You didn’t know why, but it felt like there was something hanging in the balance between you two.
Gojo nodded, his usual playful grin softened by something else in his eyes. “Of course. Wouldn’t leave you to walk alone.”
You stood there for a moment longer than you expected, the night stretching on, and something about it felt strangely familiar. The world around you seemed to blur for a brief second, and for a heartbeat, it was like you’d been here before—standing exactly like this, talking to him, just like yesterday.
And for a moment, it felt like déjà vu.
Before you could fully process the thought, Gojo spoke again, his voice softer, more sincere than you’d heard it all night. “You’ve been spacing out a lot today. You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his gaze lingering on you. There was an intensity to it, like he was seeing something in you that you hadn’t shared.
For a second, it felt like everything around you paused. This has happened before, you thought again, the sensation growing stronger. You could almost hear the echo of his voice, feel the weight of the night, like some strange repetition that you couldn’t escape.
You forced the feeling away, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired.” But even as you said it, you felt that faint discomfort creeping in, as if your own words didn’t quite match the way you felt.
Gojo studied you for a moment, and in that silence, something seemed to shift. He took a small step forward, closing the distance between you ever so slightly.
And then, like a memory replaying, he reached up, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered at the back of your neck before his hand moved to cup your cheek, his touch so unexpectedly soft, so... tender. The warmth of his palm against your skin made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, everything around you felt real, but also like it was slipping into something more unreal.
His eyes locked onto yours then, gaze soft but intense, and you felt the world narrow down to just the two of you in that moment. He didn’t say anything, but the way he was looking at you felt like he was searching for something, like he was trying to figure out the pieces of some puzzle that had been left incomplete for too long.
It wasn’t until you realized you were holding your breath that you snapped back to yourself, blinking quickly as the déjà vu hit you full force. The way his fingers brushed your cheek. The weight of his gaze. The almost impossible tension between you two. It felt like it had happened just the night before, like a scene repeated but with more meaning this time, something in the air different, but still the same.
“Satoru…” you whispered, unsure of what to say, unsure if you were still standing in the present or if you had somehow crossed into something else entirely.
He didn’t respond immediately, his hand still resting on your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin as if savoring the moment. The touch was gentle, careful, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.
And then, just as you were about to speak again, to ask what was going on, something shifted. The air seemed to hum with an unfamiliar energy, and Gojo’s hand dropped away from your face as he took a step back. His eyes were still locked onto you, but this time, there was a flicker of uncertainty behind the playful glint, as though he, too, was questioning something he couldn’t quite place.
For a moment, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other, the silence thick with something unsaid, something almost tangible. You couldn’t tell if it was you or if it was him who was feeling it—the electric tension that seemed to pulse in the space between you.
Gojo’s voice broke the silence, but it was quieter than usual. “Guess I should get going.” His grin was back, but it was softer now, like he was still holding onto something he couldn’t fully let go of.
You nodded slowly, unable to shake the feeling that this moment, this exchange, wasn’t quite over yet. As he turned to leave, you couldn’t stop yourself from watching him go. The weight of everything you had just felt hung in the air like a question, and you were left standing there, feeling the weight of the déjà vu, the strange familiarity of it all.
But before you could fully process it, the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, leaving you standing at your door with the echoes of that moment still lingering, unanswered and unresolved.
A/N: I had this idea of Wolf Reader, but I still don’t have any idea how this story will go. The updates for this one will be slow, so just hang tight and enjoy 😉
Summary: Wanda and Y/N continue to follow Nat’s order.
Words: 9,737
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mention of death, Soulmate AU
A/N: I know you all are waiting for this. Hope you enjoy 😉
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
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Somewhere in Romania
Natasha’s POV
The storage unit smelled like dust, motor oil, and old cardboard.
Natasha nudged the metal door shut behind her with her foot, a plastic grocery bag swinging lightly from her hand. The single fluorescent strip overhead flickered before settling into a steady, tired buzz.
Across the room, Steve and Bucky stood near the center. Between them sat the man they’d grabbed during the escape from the warehouse. He was tied to a metal chair—hands zip-tied behind the backrest, ankles secured, posture rigid but unharmed. His face was tense, eyes darting between the two super soldiers towering over him.
Nat paused a moment, reading the room. No blood. No bruises. Just pressure.
Good.
“Anything?” she asked.
Steve glanced over at her. “No.”
Bucky shook his head slightly. “He hasn’t said much.”
The man shifted uncomfortably in the chair but stayed silent.
Nat set the grocery bag down on an overturned crate and began pulling things out—wrapped sandwiches, bottled water, a couple bags of chips. “Good news,” she said dryly. “I brought food.”
She tossed a sandwich toward Bucky. He caught it easily.
Steve took the other.
The man in the chair watched the food like a starving dog.
Nat noticed immediately. She grabbed the last sandwich, unwrapped it slowly, then took a bite while maintaining eye contact with him.
The message landed.
He swallowed.
Steve wiped his hands on a napkin and stepped back a little, giving Nat room. Bucky followed, leaning casually against a support beam—but still close enough that the prisoner knew exactly where he was.
Nat dusted crumbs from her fingers and dragged another crate across the concrete floor. The scrape echoed through the storage space. She sat down in front of the man, elbows resting on her knees. Calm and patient.
“Alright,” she said.
The man tried to hold her gaze. He lasted about three seconds before looking away.
Nat smiled faintly. “Let’s try this again.” She tilted her head slightly. “Who told you we were coming?”
The man said nothing. Not even a shrug.
Just silence.
Nat studied him for a moment, expression unreadable.
Steve leaned against a nearby crate, arms crossed, watching quietly. Bucky stood a few steps behind the chair, metal arm resting loosely at his side. Neither of them intervened.
Nat exhaled softly. “Okay.” She reached down to the holster at her thigh and drew one of her guns in a smooth, practiced motion. The man’s eyes tracked the weapon instantly.
Nat raised the gun slowly. Then aimed it directly at his groin.
The man froze.
For the first time since she’d walked in, he made a sound.
“…What are you doing?”
Nat didn’t answer. She simply watched him.
“You wouldn’t,” he said quickly, trying to recover his confidence. “You’re not gonna—”
The metallic rack of the slide cut him off as Nat chambered a round. The sound echoed sharply through the storage unit.
His confidence vanished. “Wait—”
Nat’s voice remained calm. “I’m going to start counting,” she said.
Both Steve and Bucky didn’t move. Neither of them looked surprised.
“Ten.”
The man swallowed.
“You can’t—”
“Nine.”
His breathing sped up.
“Eight.”
“Okay, okay—”
“Seven.”
His voice cracked. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Six.”
The barrel didn’t waver.
“Five.”
The man started shaking.
“Four.”
“WAIT.”
Nat’s finger rested lightly on the trigger.
“Three.”
“Okay! Okay!”
He leaned forward against the restraints, panic breaking through.
“I’ll talk!”
Nat didn’t lower the gun.
“Two.”
“Someone tipped them off!” he blurted.
Nat stopped counting.
“Go on.”
The man’s breathing was uneven now.
“I don’t know who it was,” he said quickly. “We never got a name.”
Nat’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Who gave the order?”
“A handler,” he said. “Remote. Voice only. But he said the intel came from someone who knew your team.”
Steve straightened slightly.
“Define knew,” Nat said quietly.
The man shook his head frantically.
“That’s all I got! I swear!”
Nat kept the gun steady.
“He said the source knew how you operate,” the man rushed on. “Your response times. Your entry patterns. That you’d come after the backup drive.”
Silence settled over the storage unit. Natasha’s eyes hardened slightly. “Then explain something to me,” she said calmly.
The man shifted in the chair.
“Why separate us?”
He didn’t answer.
Nat tilted her head, studying him.
“Why split Wanda and Y/N from us?” she continued. “And why bring thirty men for a retrieval mission?”
Still nothing.
The man stared at the floor.
Nat sighed softly. Then she lifted her gun again and pressed the barrel firmly against his groin.
The reaction was immediate.
“HEY—!”
“Answer the question,” Nat said quietly.
His breathing spiked.
“I—I told you everything—”
Nat pressed the gun harder.
The metal clicked lightly against the chair frame.
“You’re holding back.”
“NO, I—”
Nat’s voice remained calm. “Three seconds.”
The man panicked instantly.
“WAIT!”
Nat didn’t move the gun.
“One—”
“Okay! Okay!”
He leaned forward against the restraints, shaking now.
“They wanted enhanced targets!” he blurted.
Nat’s eyes narrowed. “Which ones.”
“They said if the trap worked we were supposed to split the team and grab whoever we could!”
Bucky straightened slightly behind the chair.
“Who,” Nat repeated.
The man swallowed hard.
“The brief listed priorities,” he said quickly.
Nat pushed the barrel a fraction closer.
“Say them.”
“The Winter Soldier!” he said immediately.
Bucky’s jaw tightened.
“And the wolf,” he finished quickly.
Silence fell again. Steve looked at Nat. The man kept talking now, words tumbling out. “They said those two were the priority targets if separation happened! Especially the wolf. That’s why there were so many of us—we were supposed to overwhelm you long enough to isolate the wolf and him!” The man signal to Bucky.
Nat lowered the gun slightly. “Capture,” she said.
The man nodded frantically. “Alive.”
Another heavy silence settled over the storage unit.
Steve’s voice came low. “Why those two?”
The man shook his head. “I don’t know! That wasn’t my clearance!”
Nat slowly stepped back. Her mind was already moving through the implications. Separate Y/N and Bucky, and capture them. Someone hadn’t just studied the Avengers. They’d built an operation around their specific weaknesses. And that meant the man had been right about one thing. The source didn’t just know the Avengers.
They knew them very well.
---
Wanda & Y/N’s POV
The next few days became a pattern.
Move.
Disappear.
Move again.
They followed Nat’s instructions exactly. Twenty-four hours in one place—no more. Then gone.
The first motel lasted one night. By morning they were already back on the road.
A small bus station two towns over. Cash tickets. No questions asked. They sat near the back, backpacks at their feet, heads down. The bus rattled through farmland and sleepy towns while Wanda watched reflections in the windows and Y/N quietly tracked every movement around them.
No Avengers tech.
No powers in public.
No patterns.
Just two travelers moving west.
The second stop was a roadside inn near a truck route. Cheap carpet. Cigarette burns in the dresser. The kind of place where nobody remembered faces.
Y/N checked the room first. Habit. Door frame. Windows. Bathroom vent. Under the bed. Only after she gave a small nod did Wanda close the door.
They slept a little easier that night. Not much.
By the third day they were already crossing state lines.
Gas stations. Diners. Greyhound routes. Rides from strangers who didn’t care who they were as long as they paid for gas.
Y/N drove when they rented cars under fake names Wanda created with careful magic. Wanda navigated and watched the rearview mirror for the same headlights appearing twice.
Every town looked the same. Every night felt temporary.
Somewhere on the fourth evening they stopped at a diner outside a highway junction. The neon sign flickered. Inside smelled like coffee and frying oil. They took the booth closest to the exit.
Y/N automatically slid into the booth seat facing the door.
Wanda noticed. She always noticed.
It had become instinct now—Y/N’s back to the wall, eyes on entrances, every reflection in the diner windows giving her another angle of the room.
The waitress approached with a coffee pot and paused for half a second. Her eyes flicked over Y/N—taking in the height, the broad shoulders, the sharp features. A quick once-over, not hostile. Just… appreciative.
Wanda raised a brow.
The waitress didn’t linger long. She poured their coffee and walked away.
Wanda took a slow sip, pretending she hadn’t seen it. Then she set the mug down.
“Do you think they’re still looking for us?” she asked quietly.
Y/N didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes were already moving around the diner—the trucker at the counter, the couple arguing softly near the window, the cook passing plates through the kitchen window. She catalogued every movement before finally looking back at Wanda.
“Yeah,” she said simply. Honest.
Wanda exhaled slowly.
Y/N tilted her head slightly, lowering her voice. “But we’re moving. Different states. Different routes.”
Her fingers tapped lightly against the coffee mug. “Makes it harder.”
Wanda nodded. Before she could respond, the waitress returned with a small notepad.
“Ready to order?”Her attention went immediately to Y/N. Not subtle about it either.
Wanda noticed. Of course she noticed.
Y/N, meanwhile, was still studying the menu like it required serious analysis. She didn’t even look up.
The waitress shifted her weight slightly, waiting.
Wanda watched the exchange over the rim of her coffee cup, expression carefully neutral.
Y/N finally spoke. “Burger,” she said, still looking at the menu. “Fries.”
The waitress lingered half a second longer than necessary. “Sure thing,” she said, voice a little brighter.
Wanda ordered next. “I’ll take the grilled chicken sandwich.”
The waitress scribbled it down but her attention kept drifting back to Y/N.
Y/N finished scanning the menu, apparently deciding nothing else on it was worth further thought. She closed it and handed it back. Only then did she look up.
Their eyes met briefly as she passed the menu across the table.
The waitress smiled. A wider one this time. “Be right back with that,” she said.
She walked away.
Wanda watched her go.
Then she slowly turned back to Y/N.
“…You have no idea that just happened, do you.”
Y/N frowned faintly. “What happened?”
Wanda leaned back in the booth.
“The waitress.”
Y/N blinked once.
“What about her.”
Wanda studied her for a moment, then shook her head slightly.
“Nothing.”
Wanda reached for her coffee again.
Y/N watched her for a moment, still slightly suspicious, like she knew there was information she was missing but couldn’t identify what it was.
“…Okay,” she said eventually.
The diner hummed around them—silverware clinking, a trucker laughing at something on the small TV above the counter, the steady hiss of the grill from the kitchen.
Y/N picked up her coffee mug but didn’t drink.
Instead she scanned the room again.
Door.
Kitchen exit.
Windows.
Same routine.
After a moment she set the mug down.
“I need to use the restroom,” she said quietly.
Then she glanced at Wanda, expression serious in that automatic, protective way she always had now.
“You okay here?”
Wanda blinked at the question.
They were sitting in a diner in the middle of the afternoon.
Still—She understood why Y/N asked.
“I’ll survive,” Wanda said lightly.
Y/N studied her another second just to be sure. “You’re sure?”
Wanda gave a small smile. “Yes.”
That seemed to satisfy Y/N. “Okay.”
Y/N slid out of the booth, stretching slightly as she stood. The movement drew a couple quick glances from nearby tables—mostly because of her height. She ignored them completely. Her attention stayed on the room as she walked toward the back of the diner where the restroom signs hung above a short hallway.
Wanda watched her go. Then leaned back against the booth seat.
For a few seconds everything felt… normal. Just another roadside diner. Just another quiet stop on the road.
Then the waitress returned with their drinks refilled. And her eyes immediately flicked toward the hallway Y/N had disappeared into.
Wanda noticed that too.
---
The waitress returned a few minutes later balancing two plates. The smell hit the table before the food did—grilled meat, fries, toasted bread.
“Burger and fries,” she said, placing the plate in front of the empty seat.
“Chicken sandwich,” she added, sliding the other plate toward Wanda.
Wanda thanked her quietly, though her eyes flicked briefly toward the hallway again.
Right on cue—Y/N appeared, walking back toward the booth. She slowed when she saw the waitress still standing at the table and stopped a step behind her, waiting patiently so she could sit once the woman moved.
The waitress finished placing the condiments. Then she turned. And immediately walked straight into Y/N.
Not a full collision. Just enough.
“Oh—!” the waitress said, stumbling forward like she’d been surprised.
Wanda saw it perfectly. Too perfectly.
It was deliberate.
Y/N reacted instantly, hands coming up to catch the woman by the arms to steady her before she could fall.
“Sorry,” Y/N said automatically.
The waitress looked up at her with wide eyes.
“Oh my god, that was my fault,” she said quickly.
But she didn’t step back. Instead, her hands slid up Y/N’s arms where Y/N was holding her. She squeezed lightly at Y/N’s biceps. “Wow,” she laughed softly. “You’re strong.”
Wanda’s chair scraped half an inch against the floor. Her hand had already tightened around the edge of the table.
For a split second she was very close—very close—to standing up and slapping the woman across the diner.
Y/N, meanwhile, looked completely confused. She released the waitress immediately.
“…Sorry,” she repeated, stepping aside so she could pass.
The waitress smiled again, clearly not bothered in the slightest. “No worries.”
Then she walked away toward the counter.
Wanda was still staring at her.
Hard.
Y/N slid back into the booth across from her and reached for the ketchup bottle like nothing unusual had happened.
“…What?” she asked after noticing Wanda’s expression.
Wanda inhaled slowly. Very slowly. She picked up her fork.
“Nothing.” But the word came out tight.
Very tight.
Y/N frowned slightly. “…What’s wrong?”
Wanda didn’t look up from her plate.
“Eat,” she said.
Cold. Flat.
Y/N paused for a second, clearly sensing the shift but not understanding it.
“…Okay.”
She nodded once and picked up her burger.
The rest of the meal passed in silence. Not the comfortable kind they’d had the past few days. This one was stiff and heavy. Y/N ate slowly, occasionally glancing up at Wanda like she was trying to figure out what had changed. Wanda kept her eyes on her food, expression controlled.
When they finished, Y/N reached for the bill before Wanda could.
“I’ve got it,” she said.
Wanda didn’t argue.
The waitress came back a minute later to collect the cash.
Y/N handed it over politely.
“Thanks,” she said.
The waitress smiled again. The same smile.
“Of course.”
Then she did something else.
As she handed back the change, she slipped a small folded piece of paper into Y/N’s hand. And winked.
Wanda saw it. Every second of it.
Y/N blinked down at the paper in confusion.
Before she could even open it—
Wanda snatched it out of her hand.
Y/N startled slightly.
Wanda unfolded it just enough to see the phone number scribbled inside. Her jaw tightened. Without a word, she shoved the paper straight back toward the waitress.
“You dropped this,” Wanda said sharply.
The waitress blinked, clearly caught off guard.
Wanda didn’t wait for a response. She grabbed Y/N’s wrist.
“Come on.”
Y/N barely had time to stand before Wanda was already pulling her toward the diner door. They pushed outside into the cool evening air. Wanda released her hand the second they hit the sidewalk and started walking toward the motel across the road.
Fast.
Y/N stood there for a moment, completely confused. “…Wanda?”
No answer.
Wanda kept walking.
Y/N hurried after her.
“What just happened?” she asked.
Still nothing.
Wanda reached the motel walkway and kept moving toward their room.
Y/N followed a few steps behind, brow furrowed.
“…Did I do something?” she asked finally.
Wanda didn’t stop walking.
And Y/N still had absolutely no idea why Wanda was angry.
---
They reached the motel room in silence.
Wanda pushed the door open harder than necessary and walked inside. The door shut behind them with a sharp click.
Y/N watched her for a second.
Wanda paced once across the small room, still wound tight with irritation.
Before she could start pacing again, Y/N stepped forward and gently caught her hand. Not forceful. Just enough to stop her.
“Wanda,” she said quietly. “What’s wrong?”
Wanda turned around sharply.
Her eyes flashed.
“You kept letting that bitch flirt with you,” she snapped.
Y/N blinked. “…What?”
“The waitress,” Wanda continued, words coming faster now. “She kept staring at you and bumping into you and touching you and you just—stood there!”
Y/N looked even more confused. “I didn’t even look at her.”
“That’s not the point!”
The jealousy clouding Wanda’s thoughts pushed the words out before she could stop them.
“You just let her do it!”
Y/N opened her mouth again. “I didn’t—”
Wanda slapped her arm.
Not hard. Just frustrated.
“You’re impossible!”
Y/N stared at her like she was trying to translate a language she didn’t speak.
Wanda kept going.
“You’re smiling at her and letting her grab your arms and taking her stupid number—”
“I didn’t take—”
“You might as well have!”
The room went quiet for half a second.
Wanda’s chest rose and fell quickly. Then the words slipped out.
“You’re my little wolf.”
The moment they left her mouth—She froze.
Oh.
Oh no.
Her eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
The silence stretched.
Y/N looked at her—
But before she could say anything, Wanda turned abruptly, tripping over her own thoughts. “I’m—” she started, then stopped, clearly flustered. “I’m going to shower.” It came out too fast, too sudden. She didn’t wait for a response. She walked straight to the bathroom, pushed the door open, and slipped inside. The lock clicked.
The room fell quiet.
For a second, Y/N just stood there.
Then she smiled—soft, slow, something warm settling deep in her chest as Wanda’s words replayed in her mind.
You’re my little wolf.
The feeling spread through her, grounding and steady, making everything else go quiet. Mine.
Y/N leaned back against the wall, arms crossing loosely, gaze still fixed on the closed bathroom door. A faint, almost unconscious purr started low in her chest.
“Oh,” she murmured softly.
The sound of the shower turning on filtered through the door. Y/N tilted her head slightly, listening, then pushed herself off the wall and sat on the edge of the bed, still facing the bathroom.
Waiting. Patient. Content.
Because for the first time since all of this started—
She understood.
And she liked it.
---
Wanda’s POV
The moment the door locked, Wanda pressed her back against it and exhaled sharply.
“What is wrong with me,” she muttered under her breath.
The question didn’t go away.
If anything, it got louder.
She turned on the shower too quickly, the pipes rattling in protest before hot water finally rushed through. Steam began to fill the small bathroom, curling against the mirror as Wanda stepped under the spray.
She braced her hands against the tile, head dipping forward.
Jealous.
The word sat heavy in her chest.
No.
That wasn’t right. They were friends. That’s all this was supposed to be.
She had just ended a relationship. Everything was already complicated enough without… this.
So why did it feel like that?
Why did her chest tighten when the waitress touched Y/N?
Why did she want to—God—hit her?
Wanda groaned softly, letting the water run over her face.
“It’s just because it’s us,” she told herself. “We’re on the run. We only have each other right now.”
That had to be it.
Proximity. Stress. Adrenaline.
Not jealousy.
Not anything else.
She straightened, scrubbing her face harder than necessary, frustration building the more she tried to make it make sense.
“I’m not jealous,” she insisted quietly.
But the words didn’t feel convincing.
Her jaw tightened.
She finished the shower quicker than she meant to, movements sharper now, controlled in that way she used when her emotions got too close to the surface.
By the time she dried off and got dressed, her expression was set.
Neutral.
Composed.
Controlled.
She opened the door.
Steam followed her out into the room.
And immediately—Y/N was there.
Close. Too close.
With that soft, bright smile—open, warm, unmistakably happy in a way that hit Wanda straight in the chest.
Like a puppy waiting at the door. Like nothing had happened. Like everything was simple.
Wanda’s stomach flipped, but she shut it down instantly. Her expression cooled. “What?” she said, tone flat.
The shift was immediate.
Sharp.
Deliberate.
Y/N’s smile didn’t disappear—but it faltered, just slightly.
Wanda stepped past her without another word, moving toward the bed like the moment hadn’t mattered.
Like she hadn’t just—
No.
She wasn’t going to think about it.
Not now. Not like this.
---
Y/N’s POV
Y/N blinked as Wanda brushed past her.
The shift was immediate.
Cold and distant.
Wanda didn’t look at her again—just went straight to the bed, pulling the blanket over herself and turning onto her side, back facing the room.
Y/N stood there for a second, confused.
A few minutes ago—
Wanda had said you’re my little wolf, after getting mad that the waitress flirted with Y/N.
She’d been flustered, sure—but there had been something real in it. Something that made Y/N’s chest feel full and steady and right.
Now—
This?
Y/N hesitated, then smiled again—soft, careful—and walked over to the bed.
“Hey,” she said gently. “Do you want to… talk about what happened?”
She kept her voice light.
Not pushing. Just offering.
Because she knew what it was.
Jealousy.
And that—that made her happy.
Not in a smug way. Not in a selfish way. Just… relieved. Because it meant Wanda was starting to feel it too.
Even if she didn’t understand it yet. Even if she didn’t have a name for it.
The imprint didn’t need words.
It just was.
Y/N’s chest warmed at the thought.
But Wanda didn’t turn around. “I don’t want to talk, Y/N.”
The words were cold.
Sharp and final.
Y/N’s smile faltered. “…Okay,” she said quietly.
But Wanda wasn’t done.
“I said I don’t want to talk,” Wanda added, more irritated now, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “Just—drop it.”
Then she shifted further away, like she was putting distance between them even on the same bed.
Y/N went still. The warmth in her chest flickered. Confusion took its place.
She stood there beside the bed, unsure what she’d done wrong.
Had she pushed too much?
Misread something?
…Misread everything?
The silence stretched.
Wanda didn’t move. Didn’t look back.
Y/N stayed there for a while, just standing, trying to make sense of it.
Then, slowly, she nodded to herself.
“Okay,” she murmured softly.
Maybe… she was wrong. Maybe Wanda wasn’t ready. Maybe she didn’t understand what she felt yet—or maybe she didn’t feel it at all. The thought stung more than Y/N expected.
She turned away from the bed and headed for the bathroom instead. “I’ll—shower,” she said quietly, though she wasn’t sure Wanda was even listening.
No response.
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Inside, Y/N leaned her hands against the sink for a moment, head lowered.
Was she mistaken?
The question lingered, heavier than anything else.
Maybe the imprint… wasn’t something Wanda was ready to know.
Not yet.
So Y/N did the only thing she could think of.
She gave her space.
Let her breathe.
Let her calm down.
Even if it meant standing on the outside of something she felt so deeply, so instinctively—Alone.
---
Unknown POV
The room was silent in the way only places built for control could be. Cold metal. Harsh white light. No windows. No distractions. Only consequence.
“You had them.”
The voice was low. Not raised.
That made it worse.
The subordinate stood rigid in the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders locked, every muscle screaming not to move.
“You had the Avengers contained,” the man continued, pacing slowly in a tight circle around him. “You had numbers. You had positioning. You had advance knowledge of their movements.”
A pause.
“You had everything.” The man stopped behind him. “And you still failed.”
The word dropped like a blade.
The subordinate swallowed. “Sir, the operation encountered unexpected—”
A sharp crack echoed—
Not a strike. Not yet.
But the man’s hand slamming against the metal table hard enough to dent it.
“Do not insult me,” he said quietly.
The subordinate froze.
“Do not reduce incompetence to unexpected variables.”
The man moved again, stepping into his line of sight now. His expression was calm—too calm. His eyes, however, were not.
“You knew the wolf would be there,” he said. “You knew the witch would follow her. You knew exactly how the team would respond.”
Another step closer.
“And still… you lost them.”
The subordinate’s voice faltered. “We deployed recovery units immediately. We—”
“You lost the wolf,” the man cut in. The words sharpened. “You lost the primary target.”
The air in the room seemed to tighten.
“And instead of correcting that failure,” he continued, voice dropping further, “you allowed one of your men to be captured.”
A flicker of something dangerous crossed his face.
“They are probably talking to him right now.”
The subordinate’s breathing grew shallow. “We are attempting to contain that breach—”
“It has been,” the man said slowly, each word deliberate, “almost a week.”
A week.
“And you have nothing. No sightings. No trails. No recoveries…Nothing.”
The man stepped back, running a hand slowly across his mouth as if physically restraining something darker.
“They are moving,” he said quietly. “Constant relocation. No patterns. No signals.”
He looked back at the subordinate.
“They are learning.”
A beat.
“And you are not.”
Silence pressed in.
The subordinate forced himself to speak. “We’ve expanded the search grid. Transit hubs, rural motels, highway surveillance—”
“Not enough.”
The words snapped this time. The man’s composure cracked—not outwardly, but in the sharpness of his tone, in the way his hand flexed like he wanted to tear something apart.
“You think this is about the Avengers?” he asked, almost incredulous.
A humorless smile tugged at his lips.
“They are distractions.”
His gaze darkened.
“The wolf is the objective.”
The way he said it—
Not just interest.
Obsession.
“The wolf is essential,” he continued, voice quieter now, but far more dangerous. “Not as a soldier. Not as a weapon.”
He stepped over the spreading blood without looking down.
“As a source.” A slow breath.
“You all keep making the same mistake,” he went on. “You see what she can do and think that is the value.”
His gaze hardened.
“It isn’t.”
He paced once, measured, controlled. “She was born with it,” he said. “Not injected. Not engineered. Not grafted onto a failing host.”
A faint tilt of his head. “Natural integration.”
That word carried weight. Reverence twisted into something clinical. “Do you understand how rare that is?” he asked softly, though there was no answer. “Her physiology didn’t reject it. Didn’t degrade. It stabilized. Adapted. Perfectly.”
His jaw tightened.
“We were going to begin replication.”
A pause.
“The first stage—serum extraction and synthesis—should have been complete by now.”
His fingers flexed once at his side.
“But every attempt since her escape has failed.”
Another step.
“Unstable subjects. Rejection. Collapse within hours.”
His voice dropped further.
“Because we don’t have the original anymore.”
Silence pressed in.
“She is the source,” he said. “Without her, we are guessing.”
A beat.
“And Hydra does not guess.” His eyes flicked once more to the body on the floor. “They let her slip through containment once,” he continued coldly. “Interference from the Avengers.”
Another pause.
“Unacceptable.”
His gaze sharpened.
“And now—after we found her again—after we rebuilt the trail, reestablished surveillance, positioned an entire operation around reacquiring her…”
His voice thinned into something lethal.
“You lost her.”
The words echoed.
Flat. Final.
“She should have been back on a table,” he went on. “Sedated. Contained. Ready for extraction.”
His lips pressed into a hard line.
“Instead, she is out there. Moving. Adapting. Surrounded by variables we cannot control.”
A flicker of anger surfaced again—colder this time, refined into something precise.
“And because of that,” he said quietly, “your failure is not a mistake.”
He turned.
There was already a gun in his hand, pointed directly at the subordinate’s head.
For the first time, the man broke.
“Sir—wait—please,” he stammered, composure shattering instantly. “I can fix this. I’ll find her. I’ll—”
The safety clicked off.
“I’ll do better,” he rushed, voice cracking now. “Just give me another—”
The shot cut him off.
Clean.
The bullet snapped his head back, and he dropped where he stood, body hitting the metal floor with a dull, lifeless thud.
Silence followed.
The smell of gunpowder lingered.
The man didn’t move for a moment, gaze resting on the corpse like he was evaluating the result of an experiment.
Then—
He exhaled slowly.
Calm again. Controlled.
He lowered the gun and turned his head slightly toward the far side of the room.
Another subordinate stood there.
Frozen. Eyes wide. Waiting.
“Clean this up,” the man said, tone almost bored now.
A pause.
Then his gaze sharpened again.
“And listen carefully.”
The subordinate nodded immediately, too fast. “Yes, sir.”
“Bring me the wolf,” he said. “Within a week.”
The weight of it settled instantly.
The subordinate swallowed hard.
“Yes, sir.”
A step forward.
The man’s voice dropped—low, lethal.
“Or you will join him.”
A glance toward the body on the floor. The message didn’t need repeating.
The subordinate nodded again—frantic now. “Understood.”
“Go.”
He didn’t wait. He turned and hurried out of the room, the door sliding shut behind him with a sharp hiss.
Silence returned.
The man stood alone again. Gun still in hand. Eyes distant. Calculating.
“Run stupid wolf,” he murmured under his breath. “Let’s see how far you make it.”
---
Wanda’s POV
Wanda woke suddenly.
Not fully—just enough for her body to shift, mind still caught somewhere between sleep and awareness. She turned slightly on the bed, instinct guiding her more than thought, one hand drifting across the sheets beside her. Her hand searched for the warmth beside her, just to find nothing.
Her eyes snapped open. In an instant, she was upright—heart racing, breath catching as alertness slammed into her system. The room was dim, washed in faint red from the flickering neon outside. Shadows stretched across the walls.
“Y/N—?”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
Then she saw her.
On the floor.
Curled beside the bed in her wolf form, massive body tucked in tight, fur rising and falling slowly with steady breaths. Sleeping.
Wanda exhaled sharply, the tension leaving her all at once. Relief flooded through her chest, heavy and immediate.
“…Okay,” she murmured softly.
Her shoulders eased as she leaned back slightly against the headboard, gaze lingering on the familiar shape beside her.
And then—she remembered what happened, the diner, the argument, her voice—sharp, jealous, unfair, the way Y/N had looked at her confused…hurt.
Wanda’s chest tightened.
“I didn’t mean to…” she whispered under her breath.
But she had.
Not the words exactly. But the anger.
The jealousy.
The part of her that didn’t make sense.
Her gaze dropped again to Y/N.
Sleeping on the floor because of her.
Guilt settled in, quiet and heavy.
Slowly, Wanda shifted closer to the edge of the bed. She leaned down, reaching out carefully, fingers sinking into thick fur between Y/N’s ears.
Warm.
Soft.
Familiar.
Y/N stirred faintly at the touch but didn’t wake, only letting out a low, content huff, leaning subtly into Wanda’s hand even in sleep.
That small reaction made something ache in Wanda’s chest.
“…You always do this,” she murmured.
Always close, always there. Even when pushed away.
Her fingers moved gently, slow strokes through the fur, through the fur that now had a different color. The same color of Y/N hair now. Wanda continue to move her fingers through the fur, the motion grounding both of them as Wanda found black spots here and there, making her giggle.
Wanda bury her nose into the fur and the action reminded her of the compound—quiet nights, soft breathing, the steady presence that had become something she relied on without ever admitting it out loud.
Back then, it had been simple. Or at least—it had felt like it. Now everything was… tangled.
Wanda swallowed. Her hand didn’t stop moving.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible.
Y/N’s ear flicked once under her touch. Still asleep.
Wanda hesitated for a moment before she slid off the bed slowly, careful not to startle her. The cold floor barely registered as she moved closer, settling beside Y/N instead of above her.
For a second, she just sat there.
Looking.
Then she leaned in. Carefully. She curled into Y/N’s side, pressing into the warmth of her thick fur, one arm draping over her neck as she tucked herself close.
Y/N reacted instantly—even asleep. Her body shifted just enough to accommodate her, a low, protective rumble vibrating faintly in her chest as she curled slightly around Wanda without waking.
Instinct.
Always instinct.
Wanda closed her eyes, cheek resting against soft fur, breath evening out as the warmth seeped into her.
Safe.
The word came unbidden. Her fingers curled lightly into Y/N’s fur. “…Just for tonight,” she whispered to no one.
But she didn’t move away.
---
Next Morning
Morning came slowly. Not with sunlight—just the soft shift in the air, the faint hum of the motel AC, and the quiet rhythm of something steady beneath her cheek.
Warm.
Wanda stirred, still half asleep, her mind slow to catch up with her body. Her face was buried in something soft—thick, warm, familiar. Her fingers were tangled in it, her legs tucked close, her entire body cocooned in heat.
She didn’t think. She just… moved closer. A quiet sigh slipped past her lips as she nuzzled in, pressing her face deeper into the fur, seeking more warmth, more comfort. One arm tightened instinctively where it rested, pulling herself in like she belonged there.
For a few seconds, nothing existed beyond that.
Then—
A soft huff.
Warm air brushed against the top of her head as a large muzzle shifted, nudging lightly into her hair.
Wanda stilled. Barely.
Still half-asleep, still not fully pulling away.
A pause.
Then—
Are you feeling better?
The thought was gentle. Careful.
Right there in her mind.
Wanda blinked her eyes open slowly. Reality slipped back into place.
Motel room.
Last night.
The argument.
The way she’d ended up here—
Curled against Y/N. Her breath caught softly. But she didn’t move away.
Not yet.
Instead, she let her hand slide a little further into the fur at Y/N’s chest, fingers curling there as she tilted her head slightly.
“Mm…” she murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
A small, sleepy nod followed. “…yeah.”
Her lips curved faintly, barely there. “Better.”
Y/N’s nose brushed her hair again—gentler this time. A quiet, satisfied huff followed, the kind that felt like relief more than anything else.
Wanda closed her eyes again for a second. Just one more second.
She shifted slightly, this time aware of what she was doing—but still choosing it—pressing closer into Y/N’s warmth, her forehead resting against soft fur.
“…you’re warm,” she mumbled.
A beat. Then, softer—“Don’t move.”
For a moment, there was only quiet. The steady rise and fall beneath her cheek. The warmth wrapped around her like something solid, something real.
Then, a small shift.
Y/N’s head tilted slightly above her, breath brushing warm against Wanda’s hair.
…You’re not mad anymore?
The thought came softer this time. Careful. Like she was testing the ground before stepping on it.
Wanda’s chest tightened, but she didn’t answer right away. Her fingers curled a little deeper into the fur at Y/N’s chest, grounding herself before she let out a slow breath. “I…” she started, voice still quiet from sleep.
She exhaled. “No,” she admitted softly. “I’m not mad.”
A pause.
“…I wasn’t really mad at you.”
That part felt important.
She shifted slightly, just enough to tilt her face up, though she still didn’t fully pull away. Her cheek brushed along Y/N’s fur as she moved, lingering close.
“I just—” she frowned faintly, searching for the right words. “I didn’t understand what I was feeling.”
Another pause.
Then—
Y/N’s nose nudged her again. Gentler this time.
Okay…Why are you on the floor too?
Wanda blinked. The question caught her off guard. For a second, she just stared—processing—before a small, breathy sound escaped her. Not quite a laugh. More like embarrassment. She glanced down briefly, suddenly very aware of their position.
“…I didn’t mean to fall asleep here,” she said at first, a weak excuse.
Then she sighed.
Her fingers resumed their slow movement through Y/N’s fur.
“…I just didn’t like that you were down here alone.”
The honesty slipped out before she could stop it.
She swallowed, gaze softening.
“You always sleep next to me,” she murmured. “And last night… I pushed you away.”
Her hand stilled. “I didn’t like that.”
A quiet beat passed.
Then, softer—“So I came down.”
Wanda let her forehead rest more fully against Y/N’s chest again, eyes half-lidded now.
“…if that’s okay.”
Another small pause.
Then, almost as an afterthought—barely above a whisper—
“I didn’t want you to feel alone.”
The question came almost immediately.
…So you like when I sleep next to you?
Wanda froze. Not physically—she was still tucked against Y/N, still warm, still close—but something inside her stilled completely.
Her breath caught. That… was not a complicated question. It should have been easy.
Yes or no.
Simple.
But her mind didn’t feel simple right now. Her fingers tightened slightly in Y/N’s fur, the motion unconscious.
“I—” She hesitated.
And that hesitation said more than she wanted it to.
Wanda swallowed, eyes dropping for a second before she forced herself to answer.
“…Yes.”
Quiet. Honest. No deflection this time. She shifted slightly, enough to rest her chin more comfortably against Y/N, still not pulling away.
“I do,” she added, softer now. “I sleep better.”
A small pause.
Her lips pressed together faintly before she continued, voice even quieter—“It’s… easier to breathe.”
The admission lingered in the space between them. Wanda let out a slow breath, almost like she was letting something go along with it. Then, as if trying to balance the weight of what she’d just said, she added lightly—“…and you’re warm.”
A faint, sleepy smile tugged at her lips, and she didn’t move away. Didn’t create distance. Didn’t take it back.
If anything—She leaned in just a little more.
They stayed like that for a while.
Quiet. Warm.
No urgency, no danger pressing in—just the steady rhythm of breathing and the soft hum of the room around them.
Y/N didn’t move, careful not to disturb her. But after a moment, her ears flicked slightly, attention shifting just enough for her thoughts to brush against Wanda again.
Where are we going next?
Wanda let out a small hum against her fur, still half-lost in the warmth, not quite ready to leave it behind.
“We should cross the border,” she murmured, voice muffled slightly where her face rested. “Soon.”
Her fingers traced absent patterns into Y/N’s fur as she spoke, slow and lazy.
“If we keep moving west… we can get out of the immediate search radius,” she continued. “Less pressure. Fewer eyes.”
A small pause. Then, softer—“Our next stop should be in Hungary.”
The word lingered, heavier than the rest.
Another country. Further from everything familiar.
Wanda shifted slightly, just enough to glance up without fully pulling away, her expression still soft with sleep.
“Small town,” she added. “Same plan. Cash. No patterns.”
Y/N’s presence remained steady beneath her—solid, listening, processing.
Wanda let her gaze drift for a second before it softened again.
“…but not yet,” she said quietly.
Her fingers curled gently into the fur at Y/N’s chest.
“Just… a few more minutes.”
She settled back down, cheek pressing into warmth again.
Because for now—This was enough.
---
A few hours later, they were on the road.
The motel was behind them—already fading into something distant and unimportant. Now, it was just asphalt stretching into nothing. Open land.
Y/N drove, hands steady on the wheel, eyes forward. The car moved along a worn road that slowly gave way to something rougher, less defined. Dry terrain stretched endlessly on either side, broken only by scattered trees and low hills in the distance.
No traffic.
No signs.
No cameras.
Exactly what they needed.
Wanda sat in the passenger seat, her elbow resting against the door, fingers loosely curled near her chin. She watched the landscape pass by in silence for a while, the quiet settling between them in a way that no longer felt strange. Just… shared. They were taking a route that avoided everything official. No checkpoints. No records. Just empty land and instinct.
After a while, Wanda shifted slightly, glancing at Y/N.
“You’ve been really quiet,” she said softly.
Y/N’s lips twitched faintly. “I’m driving.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
A small huff of amusement.
Silence stretched again—but this time, it felt different. Not empty. Just… waiting.
Wanda tilted her head slightly, studying her profile.
“…Can I ask you something?”
Y/N glanced at her briefly, then back to the road. “Yeah.”
A pause.
Wanda hesitated—not because she didn’t want to ask, but because she realized she didn’t actually know the answer.
“What were you like… before all of this?” she asked quietly. “Before Hydra. Before the Avengers.”
Y/N stilled slightly.
Just a fraction.
Then—she exhaled.
“I lived in a small place,” she said after a moment. “Far from cities. Mostly forest. Mountains not too far off.” Her voice was calm. Not distant. Just… remembering. “My mom liked it that way,” she continued. “She said it was quieter. Safer.”
Wanda listened, eyes softening.
“She was…” Y/N paused, searching. “…gentle. Really gentle. But not weak.” A faint smile touched her lips. “She had this way of making everything feel… calm. Like nothing bad could touch you if she was there.”
Wanda’s chest tightened slightly. “And your dad?” she asked softly.
Y/N’s grip on the wheel shifted—not tense, just grounding. “He was strong,” she said. “Not just physically. Just… steady. You always knew where you stood with him.”
A small pause.
“He’s the one who taught me about the wolf.”
That caught Wanda’s attention. She turned slightly in her seat.
“You knew about it?” she asked.
Y/N nodded once.
“Yeah.”
Another quiet breath.
“It runs in my family,” she explained. “Not everyone has it—but it’s there. Generations back.”
Her eyes stayed on the road, but her voice softened just a little. “He started teaching me when I was young. How to control it. How to listen to it without letting it take over.”
Wanda’s fingers stilled in her lap. “…So you weren’t afraid of it?” she asked.
Y/N shook her head faintly.
“No.”
A beat.
“I was taught not to be.”
Another pause.
“He used to say it wasn’t something to fight,” she added. “It’s part of you. If you treat it like an enemy, it becomes one.”
Wanda let that sink in. It sounded… nothing like the files. Nothing like Hydra.
Her voice came quieter now. “They sounded… good.”
Y/N nodded once.
“They were.”
Simple.
Certain.
Wanda swallowed, gaze drifting out the window for a second before returning to her. For a moment, she thought that was the end of it—but Y/N spoke again.
“It was peaceful,” she said quietly. “For a long time… until Hydra found us.”
The shift was immediate. Not louder, not sharper—just heavier. Wanda stilled, her fingers curling slightly in her lap as Y/N kept her eyes on the road, expression steady.
“They didn’t come subtle,” Y/N continued. “No warning. No negotiation. They came prepared.” She exhaled slowly. “My parents fought. They didn’t hesitate. They knew what Hydra wanted the second they saw them.”
Wanda’s chest tightened. “…What happened?”
Y/N’s grip on the wheel shifted just slightly. “They told me to run. My dad—he didn’t explain. Just told me to shift and go.” A small pause. “So I did. I didn’t want to… but I listened.”
Her voice stayed calm, but something underneath it pressed harder.
“I ran into the forest. As fast as I could. Didn’t look back.” A breath. “But I heard it anyway.”
Wanda’s throat closed.
“The gunshots.”
Silence filled the car.
“They bought me time,” Y/N continued, quieter now. “That’s all it was supposed to be. But Hydra wasn’t just after them. They tracked me. They had teams already set up, equipment, vehicles… I was faster, but I was still a kid. I didn’t know how to hide yet.”
The road stretched endlessly ahead.
“They caught me before I made it out of the forest.”
The words landed simply. No anger. No dramatics. Just truth.
Wanda stared at her. “…You were alone.”
Y/N nodded once. “Yeah.”
Silence settled again—thicker this time.
“…I’m sorry,” Wanda whispered.
Y/N glanced at her briefly, just for a second. “…Me too.”
Wanda didn’t think before she moved. Her hand came to rest lightly on Y/N’s arm where it held the wheel. Y/N stilled at the contact—but didn’t pull away.
The car kept moving.
And neither of them spoke again for a while.
The car kept moving, tires crunching softly over uneven ground as the landscape stretched wide and empty around them. Wanda didn’t pull her hand away. For a while, she just let it rest there, feeling the steady strength beneath her palm, grounding herself in something real after everything Y/N had just said.
After a moment, she spoke again—quieter this time.
“…Can I ask you something else?”
Y/N glanced at her briefly. “Yeah.”
Wanda hesitated, choosing her words more carefully now.
“Your wolf,” she said. “What is it… exactly?”
Y/N didn’t answer right away. Her gaze stayed forward, but Wanda saw the way her shoulders shifted slightly—not tense, just thoughtful. “It’s not separate,” Y/N said after a moment. “Not like… another personality or something.”
Wanda listened closely.
“It’s me,” Y/N continued. “Just… more.”
A small pause.
“More instinct. More awareness. Everything is sharper—sounds, scent, movement. Emotions too.”
Wanda’s fingers stilled slightly against her arm.
“…Is that why you always know when something’s wrong?” she asked.
Y/N huffed faintly. “Partly.”
Another beat.
“I can hear things before they happen sometimes. Not literally—but changes. Heartbeats, breathing, tension. It tells me when something’s off.”
Wanda thought about that. About the way Y/N always reacted just a second faster than everyone else. The way she always seemed to know.
“…And control?” Wanda asked softly. “You never lose it.”
Y/N shook her head slightly. “I was taught not to.”
A pause.
“My dad made sure of that.” Her voice softened just a fraction at the mention. “It’s not about suppressing it. It’s about… working with it. If I try to force it down, it pushes back harder.”
Wanda nodded slowly. “That’s why Hydra couldn’t control you,” she murmured.
Y/N’s jaw tightened faintly. “They tried,” she said simply.
Wanda didn’t miss that. “…Does it ever feel like too much?” she asked after a moment. “Feeling everything that strongly?”
Y/N thought about it. “…Sometimes,” she admitted. “But not in the way you think.”
Wanda tilted her head slightly.
“How?”
Y/N glanced at her again—longer this time.
“It’s harder to ignore things,” she said. “Feelings. People. You can’t just… shut it off.”
Wanda’s breath caught slightly. Because that sounded familiar. “…That sounds exhausting,” she said quietly.
Y/N gave a small shrug. “It can be.”
A pause.
“But it also makes things… clearer.”
Wanda studied her for a second.
“Clearer how?”
Y/N looked back at the road. “…You know what matters,” she said.
The words settled between them. Wanda didn’t respond right away. Her hand was still resting on Y/N’s arm.
And for some reason—she didn’t want to move it.
---
About an hour later, the road began to thin out. Less pavement. More dirt. Fewer signs of anything human. Y/N slowed the car gradually, eyes scanning the area—not just what was visible, but everything beyond it. Her head tilted slightly, senses stretching outward, listening for anything out of place.
“Here,” she said quietly.
The car rolled to a stop just off the side of the road, half-hidden by dry brush and uneven terrain. The engine idled for a second—then Y/N turned it off. Silence settled immediately. No other cars. No distant engines. Just wind moving through dry grass.
Wanda unbuckled her seatbelt slowly, glancing around as she opened the door. The air outside was cooler, carrying that empty, untouched feeling that meant no one had passed through here recently.
Y/N stepped out on her side, already scanning.
“We don’t take it any further,” she said. “Too easy to track.”
Wanda nodded. “Agreed.”
They moved quickly but without panic, grabbing what they needed from the back—two backpacks, water, basic supplies. Nothing excessive. Nothing that would slow them down.
Wanda glanced at the car one last time and closed the door gently, then stepped back.
Y/N adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder, eyes already shifting toward the terrain ahead—rough land, uneven paths, and no clear direction unless you knew how to read it.
Wanda followed her gaze.
“Which way?”
Y/N didn’t answer immediately. She crouched slightly, brushing her fingers against the ground, then lifted her head, inhaling deeply. Her eyes narrowed just a fraction as she mapped out the space around them—distance, elevation, possible routes. Then she stood.
“West,” she said.
Wanda nodded once.
No map. No GPS. Just trust.
They started walking.
The further they moved from the road, the quieter everything became. No tire tracks. No clear paths. Just open land stretching ahead, forcing them to rely on instinct instead of direction signs.
Wanda adjusted her pace to match Y/N’s as they kept moving further from anything that could find them. And closer—To whatever came next.
---
Hours Later
They had been walking for hours.
The road was long gone behind them, swallowed by distance and darkness. What little light remained had faded completely, leaving only the dim outline of trees and the faint glow of the sky above to guide them.
By the time they reached the woods, Wanda’s legs ached and her steps had slowed—not enough to stop them, but enough that Y/N noticed.
They moved deeper between the trees, branches brushing past, the ground uneven beneath their feet. The air grew cooler, quieter. The kind of quiet that felt like it was listening back.
After another stretch of silence, Y/N spoke.
“We should move faster.”
Wanda glanced at her. “You’re thinking the same thing.”
Y/N nodded once. “If we cross while it’s still dark, we lower the chances of anyone picking us up.”
Wanda didn’t argue. “Do it,” she said.
Y/N didn’t hesitate. She stepped slightly ahead, setting her bag down and rolling her shoulders once. Then the shift came—controlled, fluid. Bone reshaped beneath skin, muscles expanding, fur cascading outward as her form grew, stretched, transformed. Seconds later, the wolf stood where she had been.
Massive.Powerful. Golden eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
Wanda didn’t waste time. She stepped forward, fingers finding familiar purchase in thick fur as she climbed onto Y/N’s back. The wolf adjusted instantly, lowering just enough to steady her before rising again, muscles coiling beneath her like restrained energy.
Hold on, Y/N thought, steady and clear.
Wanda tightened her grip. “I’m good,” she murmured.
And then—Y/N moved.
She didn’t just run.
She launched.
The forest blurred around them as she sprinted through the trees, paws hitting the ground in powerful, silent strides. Branches whipped past, shadows breaking and reforming with every movement, but Y/N didn’t falter.
She navigated effortlessly. Roots. Rocks. Uneven ground—none of it slowed her.
Wanda leaned closer instinctively, one hand buried deep in fur, the other braced as the wind rushed past her face. Her heart pounded—not from fear, but from the sheer speed of it.
Freedom.
That’s what it felt like.
Y/N cut through the forest like she belonged to it—like the terrain itself bent to her will.
The forest began to thin. Not completely—but enough that the air shifted, that subtle warning Y/N always seemed to feel before anything became visible. Her pace slowed slightly. Then she stopped.
Wanda felt it immediately and leaned forward a fraction. “What is it?”
Y/N’s ears angled forward, body still as she listened.
Patrol, she said. Ahead. Two… no—three. Rotating along a fence line.
Wanda’s focus sharpened instantly. She lifted her head, but all she could see through the dark were shadows and open ground beyond the trees.
“…Border?” she asked.
Yeah.
A beat.
Wanda exhaled slowly, mind already shifting—not planning steps, just… reaching for that familiar current inside her.
“Wait for them to move,” she said. “I’ll handle it.”
Y/N shifted her weight slightly beneath her. You want me to jump it?
Wanda shook her head. “No. Too visible.”
Her fingers curled into the fur at Y/N’s neck. “I’ll lift us,” she murmured. “Higher than their sightline.”
A pause.
“And I’ll keep us hidden.”
Y/N didn’t question it.
Okay.
She lowered herself slightly. Go down.
Wanda slid off her back, boots hitting the ground softly. The cold air brushed against her as she stepped aside, giving Y/N space.
The shift came quickly—controlled, quiet. Fur receded, bones reshaping until Y/N stood there again in her human form, breathing steady, eyes fixed toward the patrol.
Wanda stepped closer. She raised her hand and the red energy was already there—low, steady, humming beneath her skin. Scarlet bled softly into the air around them. It wrapped around Y/N first, then around herself, bending light, softening edges, pulling them out of sight.
The ground fell away as Wanda’s power carried them upward, smooth and weightless. The trees dropped beneath them, the fence line coming into view—a stark barrier cutting across the land. Patrol lights swept lazily across it, three figures moving along their route, unaware.
Wanda held steady, her focus narrowing.
“Now,” she whispered.
They drifted forward, over the fence and above the patrol. Close enough to hear them talking—something mundane, careless. One of them laughed. They had no idea.
Wanda didn’t lower them. Not until they were well past the perimeter. Only then did she ease them down, letting their feet touch the ground far from the border.
Wanda exhaled, shoulders dropping slightly as the effort caught up with her.
“…Okay,” she murmured. “That worked.”
Y/N looked at her for a second—really looked—then nodded.
“Yeah. It did.”
A brief pause.
Then, softer—
“Thank you.”
Before Wanda could respond—
Y/N stepped forward and lifted her effortlessly. One arm under her knees, the other supporting her back.
Wanda blinked, startled. “What—?”
Y/N adjusted her hold slightly, secure, steady.
“I know you’re tired,” she said simply.
Wanda opened her mouth to argue—
Then stopped.
Because she was. Hours of walking. Uneven ground. Constant awareness. The kind of exhaustion that settled into muscles and bones, quiet but persistent. The kind that didn’t announce itself until you finally stopped moving.
Her shoulders eased just slightly as she let herself sink into Y/N’s hold.
“…We’ve been walking for hours,” she admitted under her breath, almost like she was justifying it.
Y/N didn’t answer.
She just adjusted her grip—subtle, careful—so Wanda was more comfortable against her, one arm secure beneath her knees, the other steady at her back.
Wanda let her head tilt slightly, resting near Y/N’s shoulder.
The night air brushed past them as Y/N moved, steady and unrelenting, her pace unbroken even with Wanda in her arms.
“You don’t get tired, do you?” Wanda murmured after a moment.
A faint huff.
“I do,” Y/N said. “Just not like this.”
Wanda glanced up at her briefly, studying the way she moved—controlled, efficient, like her body was built for endurance.
“…Show off,” she muttered.
Y/N’s lips twitched faintly.
Silence settled again—but softer now.
Wanda’s grip on her shirt loosened slightly as her body relaxed despite herself. Her eyes drifted half-closed, the steady motion, the warmth, the quiet rhythm of Y/N’s breathing grounding her in a way she didn’t question anymore.
“You can tell me if I’m heavy,” she added sleepily.
Y/N didn’t even hesitate.
“You’re not.”
A beat.
“Not even close.”
Wanda hummed softly, too tired to argue, too comfortable to care. She shifted just slightly closer, and let Y/N carry her forward.
---
When Wanda woke again, it was slow.
No panic.
No sharp inhale.
Just warmth.
Soft.
Everywhere.
Her body felt heavy in that comfortable, sinking way—like she’d been asleep for longer than she realized. For a moment, she didn’t open her eyes. She just… stayed there, letting the feeling settle. Warmth at her back. A steady arm around her waist. Another resting just beneath her head.
Her breath caught—just slightly. Then her eyes opened.
Dim light filtered through thin curtains. A ceiling she didn’t recognize. A faint hum of an air conditioner.
Motel. Again.
Memory slipped back into place.
The forest.
The border.
Y/N carrying her—
Wanda went still.
Because—
Y/N was still holding her.
Wrapped around her from behind, body pressed close, arms secure but not tight—just enough. A quiet, protective hold. The blanket pulled over both of them, trapping warmth between them. Too much warmth.
Wanda’s cheeks flushed instantly. Her heart picked up—just a little. She became very aware of everything.
How close they were.
How Y/N’s breath brushed lightly against the back of her neck.
How solid she felt behind her.
How easy it would be to move away.
She didn’t.
Instead—
She shifted. Just a little closer.
Her back pressing more fully into Y/N’s chest, fitting into the space like it had always been meant for her.
The arms around her tightened instinctively in response—even in sleep. A soft, unconscious reaction.
Wanda swallowed.
Her fingers curled lightly into the blanket.
“…warm,” she murmured under her breath.
The word was barely audible.
But it wasn’t just the temperature.
Her eyes drifted closed again. The embarrassment didn’t leave—but it softened, melting into something quieter. Something she didn’t question as much as she should.
Safe.
That word again.
She exhaled slowly, letting her body relax completely this time, sinking back into the warmth behind her.
Summary: It’s been a month since Wanda broke up with Vision. Things were going well until it wasn’t…
Words: 10k+
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Soulmate AU
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
---
---
The days after Wanda broke up with Vision were… tense.
At first, the compound felt like it was holding its breath. Vision moved through the halls with his usual precision, but something colder sat beneath his calm now. He spoke little unless necessary, and when he did, his tone was clipped and professional.
Wanda kept her distance.
If they crossed paths, the silence between them was heavy enough that even the others noticed. Steve attempted to mediate once, but Wanda shut the conversation down gently.
“I’m not ready to talk about it,” she told him.
And Steve respected that.
Y/N Tries to Stay Away
For the first few days after the fight, Y/N tried to give Wanda space. She volunteered for missions, patrols, recon assignments—anything that kept her out of the compound for long stretches.
But the imprint didn’t care about her intentions.
No matter how long she stayed away, she could still feel Wanda. Not physically, not exactly, but the pull was constant—like gravity, like a compass needle that refused to point anywhere else.
She would find herself drifting toward Wanda’s floor of the compound without realizing it, pausing outside the hallway and turning back before she reached the door.
It was exhausting.
Nat noticed almost immediately.
“You’re pacing,” Nat said one evening in the training room.
Y/N blinked. “What?”
“You circle the same hallway three times a night,” Nat replied casually, stretching her shoulders. “Like a wolf guarding territory.”
Y/N didn’t answer.
Nat studied her for a moment.
“…Ah,” she said quietly.
Y/N’s jaw tightened. “Don’t.”
Nat raised both hands in surrender. “Didn’t say anything.”
Wanda Notices Too
Wanda noticed something was different.
Y/N wasn’t avoiding her—not really—but she kept a careful distance. When they were in the same room, Y/N was attentive without hovering, quiet without disappearing.
And yet Wanda always felt… watched.
Not in a threatening way.
More like a presence.
Like someone making sure she was safe without stepping into her space.
Once, Wanda woke up in the middle of the night and stepped into the hallway for water. Down at the far end, Y/N sat against the wall outside the stairwell, half asleep in wolf form.
Guarding.
When Y/N realized Wanda had seen her, she stood immediately and muttered something about “fresh air” before disappearing outside.
Wanda didn’t comment.
But she didn’t forget.
---
The rest of the Avengers adjusted to the new dynamic slowly. Vision worked mostly with Steve and Tony on strategy and planning, while Y/N spent more time training with Nat, Bucky, and Sam. Wanda floated between both groups depending on the day.
No one said anything outright—but the fracture inside the team was obvious.
Only Nat occasionally poked at it.
One afternoon in the gym, she tossed Wanda a towel. “You know the big wolf practically orbits you, right?” Nat said casually.
Wanda frowned. “She doesn’t.”
Nat just hummed.
---
Despite everything, Y/N still gravitated toward Wanda without realizing it. Not deliberately—just instinct. After a mission where Wanda pushed herself too hard, Y/N silently placed a protein bar and water beside her before walking away.
Another night, Wanda fell asleep reading on the couch. The compound had gone quiet hours ago, the lights in the common room dim, the television still playing some muted documentary no one had been watching. Wanda had curled into the corner of the couch with a book in her hands, intending to read a few pages before bed. She never made it past the third chapter.
Y/N noticed first. She had been sitting on the floor near the window, pretending to scroll through something on her phone while actually listening to the steady rhythm of Wanda’s breathing. The moment it deepened—slow and even—she glanced over.
Wanda was asleep.
The book had slipped halfway down her chest, fingers still loosely holding the edge of the page. A strand of hair had fallen across her face, rising and falling gently with each breath.
Y/N stared for a long moment, then sighed softly. “…You’re going to wreck your neck like that,” she murmured under her breath.
Carefully, she stood. The movement was quiet, deliberate. She approached the couch like she was stepping into fragile territory.
“Wanda,” Y/N said gently, nudging the book away.
No response.
Her eyes softened. “Alright,” she muttered.
With slow, careful movements, Y/N slid one arm beneath Wanda’s knees and the other around her back. She lifted her easily. Wanda stirred faintly but didn’t wake, her head instinctively settling against Y/N’s shoulder. The warmth of her breath brushed Y/N’s neck.
Y/N’s steps slowed for a fraction of a second. The imprint tugged hard in her chest.
Steady, she reminded herself.
She carried Wanda down the hallway, careful not to bump the doorframe as she nudged it open with her foot. The room was dim, the soft glow of the bedside lamp the only light. Y/N crossed the room and lowered her gently onto the mattress.
She was just about to pull her hands away—
When Wanda moved.
Her eyes opened halfway, hazy with sleep. Before Y/N could step back, Wanda’s hands lifted and curled loosely around the back of Y/N’s neck, stopping her from pulling away.
“Stay,” Wanda murmured sleepily.
Y/N froze. Her breath caught.
“Wanda…” she said quietly, unsure.
Wanda blinked a few times, waking a little more. Her hands were still resting behind Y/N’s neck, fingers loosely threaded in the short hair there.
“You’re leaving again,” Wanda said softly.
Y/N hesitated. “…You were asleep.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Wanda studied her face now, more awake, the sleep fading slowly from her expression. There was something searching in her gaze.
“Why are you being distant?” she asked quietly.
The question hit harder than Y/N expected. Her shoulders tensed slightly.
“I’m not.”
“You are,” Wanda replied gently. “You don’t sit next to me anymore. You leave rooms early. You keep volunteering for missions.”
Y/N swallowed. Her eyes dropped briefly to the mattress beside Wanda before lifting again.
“…Because it feels like it’s my fault,” she admitted.
Wanda frowned slightly. “What is?”
“You and Vision,” Y/N said, voice quieter now. “Breaking up.”
The words hung heavy between them.
Wanda stared at her for a moment. “Y/N,” she said softly.
“You don’t have to pretend,” Y/N continued quickly. “I know I made things complicated. I kept showing up, sleeping outside your door, being around all the time—”
“Hey,” Wanda interrupted gently.
Her hands tightened slightly behind Y/N’s neck, keeping her from pulling away.
“I already told you,” Wanda said, her voice steady despite the softness of it. “You were not the reason.”
Y/N shook her head faintly. “It didn’t help.”
“Maybe not,” Wanda admitted. “But the decision was mine.”
Her thumb brushed lightly against the back of Y/N’s neck without her realizing it.
“I didn’t break up with him because of you,” Wanda continued. “I broke up with him because he didn’t trust me.”
Y/N held her gaze, conflicted.
Wanda sighed softly. “You listen to me,” she added. “You respect my boundaries. When I ask you to stop, you stop.” Her eyes softened. “That matters.”
Y/N’s chest tightened.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Then Wanda shifted slightly on the bed, still holding Y/N loosely. “You’re not allowed to disappear because you think you ruined my life,” she added quietly.
A faint, surprised huff escaped Y/N. “…I wasn’t planning on disappearing.”
“Good.”
Wanda’s lips curved faintly, though her eyes remained serious. “Because I’d notice.”
The imprint in Y/N’s chest twisted painfully at that.
She exhaled slowly. “…Okay.”
Wanda’s hands finally loosened around her neck, but neither of them moved away immediately. The room was quiet—comfortable, complicated.
Wanda studied Y/N for another second, her hands still loosely resting at the back of her neck. Then a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“…Now come on,” she said softly.
Y/N blinked. “What?”
Wanda’s smile widened just a little. “You know.”
Y/N hesitated.
Then she understood.
A quiet breath left her as she stepped back from the bed. The shift came easily—bones stretching, muscles reshaping, heat rippling through her body in a familiar wave. In seconds, the massive wolf stood where she had been, fur catching the warm light of the bedside lamp.
Wanda’s face lit up immediately. “There you are,” she murmured.
She reached forward without hesitation, both hands sinking into the thick fur around Y/N’s head. Her fingers ruffled through it affectionately, scratching behind one ear before sliding down along the side of her neck.
“That’s my little wolf.”
The words were soft. Fond.
And they hit Y/N like a lightning strike.
Her heart skipped so hard it nearly made her dizzy. Overwhelmed by the warmth in Wanda’s voice, Y/N leaned forward and—without thinking—licked Wanda’s cheek.
A full, unapologetic wolf lick.
Wanda squeaked.
Then she burst into laughter.
“Oh my—!” she gasped, wiping at her cheek while Y/N pulled back slightly, ears flattening in immediate embarrassment.
Wanda shook her head, still giggling, and wrapped her arms around Y/N’s massive neck, burying her face briefly into the thick fur. “You’re unbelievable,” she murmured, voice warm with amusement.
Y/N huffed quietly, clearly apologetic.
After a moment, Wanda pulled back just enough to look at her properly. Her smile softened, something more serious settling into her eyes.
“Hey,” she said gently.
Y/N’s ears twitched forward.
Wanda’s fingers slid back into the fur at the base of her neck, steady and grounding.
“Don’t do that again.”
Y/N tilted her head slightly.
Wanda sighed softly. “Don’t pull away like that,” she clarified. “Don’t distance yourself because you think you’re the reason things ended with Vision.”
Her thumb brushed slowly through the thick fur.
“I meant what I said earlier,” Wanda continued quietly. “You didn’t cause that.”
Y/N let out a soft huff, acknowledging her words even if the guilt hadn’t fully left.
Wanda smiled again, softer now. “Good,” she murmured.
Then, without overthinking it, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Y/N’s muzzle.
Y/N froze instantly.
Golden eyes widened, heart hammering in her chest as if it might burst.
Wanda didn’t seem to realize the effect she’d just had. She simply settled back into her pillows with a small, content sigh, one hand still resting in Y/N’s fur.
“Goodnight, my little wolf,” she murmured sleepily.
And Y/N stayed right there beside the bed long after Wanda drifted off again—heart still racing from a single, innocent kiss.
---
Morning came slowly to the compound.
Soft sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the living area, catching dust motes in the air and warming the polished floor. The kitchen was already alive with quiet morning sounds—coffee brewing, a pan sizzling faintly on the stove. Steve sat at the table reading through a tablet, glasses low on his nose. Bucky leaned against the counter with a mug in hand, while Sam rummaged through the fridge like it had personally offended him.
Nat noticed the footsteps first and looked up just as Wanda appeared at the top of the stairs.
Wanda looked… better. Still a little sleepy, hair loose around her shoulders, but the tight tension that had clung to her the past few weeks had softened.
And right behind her—Y/N.
In human form this time, hands shoved awkwardly into the pockets of her sweatpants, trying very hard to look like she wasn’t instinctively staying half a step behind Wanda.
Nat’s brow lifted slightly.
Well.
That answered a few questions.
“Morning,” Wanda said as she stepped into the room.
“Morning,” Steve replied, glancing up.
Sam leaned around the fridge door. “Hey, sleeping beauty—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
Because Vision had just walked into the room.
The android froze the moment he saw them: Wanda standing in front, Y/N just behind her, close enough that it was obvious they had come down together. Something flickered across Vision’s face—too fast for most people to catch.
But Y/N saw it.
And Nat definitely did.
Vision’s gaze moved slowly from Wanda… to Y/N.
Then back again.
The silence stretched.
“Good morning,” Vision said finally. His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Morning,” Wanda replied, equally neutral as she moved toward the coffee maker.
Y/N followed automatically—until she realized what she was doing and stopped a few steps away instead. The habit caught up with her too late. She froze mid-step, shoulders tightening as she forced herself to stay where she was. Old instincts tugged at her chest, urging her to stay close, but she clenched her jaw and held her ground.
Space. Give her space.
She started to step back—
But Wanda turned.
Before Y/N could retreat, Wanda reached out and took her hand. The contact was warm and natural, like it wasn’t something she’d even thought twice about. Wanda gave a small tug, pulling Y/N forward toward the kitchen.
“Come on,” she said casually.
Y/N blinked, caught off guard, but allowed herself to be pulled along.
Behind them, Sam’s head slowly emerged from inside the refrigerator again.
Wanda didn’t seem to notice the room watching. She guided Y/N up to the counter, finally letting go of her hand only once they reached the kitchen island.
“What do you want to eat?” Wanda asked, glancing toward the cabinets.
Y/N stared at her for half a second like she’d just been asked a trick question.
“…Food?” she offered.
Nat snorted from the table.
Wanda rolled her eyes faintly but smiled anyway, opening the fridge. “Very helpful.” She pulled out a carton of eggs and a container of fruit. “Do you want eggs?” she asked over her shoulder.
Y/N nodded once. “Yeah.”
“Scrambled or fried?”
“…Yes.”
Bucky huffed into his coffee.
Wanda turned to look at Y/N, one eyebrow lifting. “You are absolutely useless in the morning.”
Y/N rubbed the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t know there would be a quiz.”
Wanda shook her head with a quiet laugh and started cooking anyway.
Across the room, Steve tried very hard to pretend he wasn’t witnessing the entire exchange. Nat leaned back in her chair, watching with open amusement.
And down the hallway—
A door shut harder than necessary.
Y/N’s ears metaphorically twitched at the sound, but when she glanced toward the hall, Wanda simply slid a plate in front of her.
“Eat,” Wanda said.
Y/N looked down at the food, then back at Wanda.
“…Thanks.”
Wanda shrugged lightly, leaning against the counter beside her.
“No problem.”
---
One Month Later
The Quinjet hummed steadily as it cut through the night sky, city lights far below reduced to scattered constellations.
Inside, the mood was focused—quiet but alert.
Steve stood near the center console, holographic blueprints projected in front of him. The warehouse district flickered in midair—loading docks, entry points, security grids.
“This is a retrieval,” Steve reminded them, voice calm but firm. “Same group as last month. They kept a backup copy of the intel. We go in, secure the data drive, and get out. No unnecessary engagement.”
Nat leaned against the wall, cleaning a pistol with absent efficiency. “Perimeter cameras show light rotation. Eight to ten guards. Mostly small arms.”
“Copy’s supposedly in the lower archive room,” Bucky added from his seat, metal arm resting against his knee. “Concrete walls. One main stairwell. Two emergency exits.”
Wanda stood beside Y/N, arms crossed as she studied the hologram, faint red energy flickering lazily at her fingertips while tracing a possible entry route. Y/N sat on the floor near the ramp with her back against the wall, one knee raised, eyes closed—not asleep. Listening.
Wanda glanced down at her briefly, almost unconsciously checking on her.
Steve noticed. “Y/N.”
Her eyes opened immediately.
“You good?”
She nodded once. “Yeah.”
The Quinjet began its descent.
Landing gear lowered with a mechanical whine as the abandoned industrial zone came into view—dark buildings, rusted fencing, empty lots. The jet touched down two blocks from the target and the ramp lowered slowly, cold night air rushing inside.
Immediately something felt wrong.
Nat’s posture shifted first. She didn’t move forward, simply scanning the empty street.
“…Too quiet.”
Bucky stepped down beside her, metal hand flexing once. “Yeah. No patrol movement.”
Steve frowned. “Thermal?”
“Minimal,” Nat replied. “Which doesn’t match what we saw an hour ago.”
Wanda stepped down next, Y/N following close behind. The second Y/N’s boots hit the pavement, her expression changed. She inhaled deeply. The air tasted wrong. Heavy. Metallic. Her head tilted slightly as she focused, filtering past wind, distant traffic, and the low electrical hum of streetlights. Then her eyes opened.
“There’s more,” she said quietly.
Steve looked at her. “More what?”
Y/N’s gaze sharpened toward the warehouse. “Heartbeats.”
Wanda stilled beside her.
“How many?” Bucky asked.
Y/N focused harder. “…At least thirty.” Silence settled over the team.
Wanda’s red glow brightened faintly as she stepped a little closer to Y/N without thinking.
Steve made the call quickly. “We don’t abort yet. Move slow. Tight formation. Nat, left flank. Bucky right.”
His gaze shifted. “Wanda, stay with Y/N.”
Neither of them argued.
They advanced toward the warehouse, boots silent against cracked pavement. Every shadow felt heavier. Every window darker.
Halfway to the entrance, Y/N stopped.
Her nose lifted again. Her eyes widened.
“…They know we’re here.”
Right on cue—The warehouse lights snapped on. Gunfire erupted from the rooftops. The first bullets hit the pavement before the echo of the gunfire finished bouncing off the buildings.
“MOVE!” Steve barked.
They scattered in practiced formation.
Nat rolled behind a rusted delivery truck, returning fire in sharp, controlled bursts. Bucky spun right, metal arm snapping up to catch a bullet mid-air before he hurled it back toward a sniper nest. Concrete exploded a heartbeat later.
Wanda lifted her hands, scarlet energy flaring outward into a defensive shield as rounds ricocheted harmlessly off the barrier.
Y/N didn’t shift. Not yet. She sprinted forward low, weaving between debris, dodging incoming fire with almost unnatural timing. A gunman dropped from a fire escape ahead of her—she closed the distance in three strides, driving her elbow into his throat before sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard. She didn’t slow.
“Rooftop—two more!” she called, already pivoting.
Bucky’s rifle barked. One dropped.
The second threw a flash grenade.
“Down!” Nat shouted.
Y/N reacted instantly. She grabbed Wanda by the arm and yanked her behind a concrete barrier just as the grenade detonated. White light swallowed the alley, ears ringing.
But they didn’t lose formation.
Steve charged straight through the smoke, shield slamming into a cluster of armed men rushing from the warehouse entrance. He moved like a battering ram—precise, controlled, overwhelming.
“We push inside!” he ordered. “Open space out here favors them!”
It made sense.
Too many elevated positions. Too many angles.
They advanced toward the warehouse doors under covering fire. Y/N ducked under a baton swing and drove her knee into the attacker’s ribs. Another came from her blind spot—she twisted, catching his wrist and slamming him face-first into a steel container.
Her senses screamed.
More movement. More heartbeats.
“They’re repositioning!” she shouted. “They’re funneling us!”
“Inside!” Nat snapped. “Now!”
They breached the warehouse doors together. The moment they crossed the threshold—The gunfire stopped. Silence swallowed the space. The interior was cavernous: stacked crates, overhead catwalks, dim industrial lights flickering weakly across concrete floors. Too still.
Wanda’s gaze swept the rafters. “I don’t like this.”
“Keep moving,” Steve said, advancing cautiously.
They moved deeper inside.
Then—Metal shutters slammed down behind them with a thunderous crash.
“Trap!” Bucky shouted.
Overhead lights flared blindingly bright. Figures emerged from behind crates, from catwalks, from hidden doorways.
Not ten.
Not thirty.
More.
Heavily armed. Organized. A voice crackled over the loudspeakers.
“Avengers. Thank you for entering the containment zone.”
Y/N’s stomach dropped. This wasn’t random. This was designed.
“They wanted us inside,” Nat muttered.
Gunfire erupted again—this time from every direction. Wanda threw up a shield, scarlet energy flaring outward as bullets hammered against it in rapid succession. The impacts vibrated through her arms, forcing her to brace her stance as the pressure mounted.
“Move!” Steve shouted. “Stairs—north side! Roof access!”
Y/N didn’t hesitate. She darted forward, cutting through the line of attackers with controlled brutality—disarming one, dropping another with a crushing elbow before pivoting to intercept a third. She moved like a blade: precise, efficient, no wasted motion.
But for every body that dropped, two more stepped into place.
“They’re rotating squads!” she called. “This is organized!”
Nat picked off a sniper on the catwalk while Bucky laid down suppressive fire. Steve smashed through a barricade, carving a path toward the metal staircase leading upward.
They made it halfway across the loading bay when—
A mechanical click echoed beneath their boots.
Y/N’s head snapped downward.
“Don’t—”
The floor gave way.
A rectangular section of reinforced steel dropped open beneath Bucky’s feet.
“Barnes!” Steve shouted.
Bucky fell.
Wanda reacted instantly. Scarlet energy snapped around his torso mid-air, halting his descent inches above the darkness. He slammed against the side of the shaft, teeth gritting as he tried to find purchase.
“I’ve got you!” Wanda strained, pulling him upward—
Then another click. Y/N’s stomach dropped. The floor beneath her shifted. She barely had time to look up before the metal panel under her boots split apart. She fell.
“Y/N!” Wanda screamed. Without thinking—without hesitation—Wanda released Bucky.
Nat lunged forward, catching Bucky’s arm just as Wanda launched herself into the open shaft.
“WANDA!” Steve roared. But it was too late.
Both of them vanished into the darkness below. The trapdoor snapped shut again with a brutal clang. Silence swallowed the loading bay for half a heartbeat. Then the gunfire resumed.
Steve turned, fury flashing across his face. “We regroup! NOW!”
But beneath the warehouse—Wanda fell through blackness.
And far below—Y/N hit the ground hard.
Wanda’s scream echoed through the shaft as she dropped into pure darkness. Instinct kicked in. Scarlet energy flared around her body, slowing her descent—but the fall had already disoriented her. The shaft was tight, metallic, the air thick with dust.
She couldn’t see.
“Y/N!” she shouted into the void.
No answer.
Her boots hovered inches above what she thought might be the floor—
Then something collided with her.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist midair. A solid body braced beneath her.
They hit the ground together, but not violently—Y/N absorbing the impact and rolling so Wanda landed against her chest instead of concrete.
The air left Y/N’s lungs in a rough exhale.
Wanda gasped, gripping the front of her shirt. “Y/N?”
“I’ve got you,” Y/N said breathlessly in the dark.
For a split second, Wanda didn’t care where they were.
She clutched tighter.
Then reality rushed back in.
Above them the trapdoor had sealed completely. No light. No sound from the battle anymore. Just the faint hum of distant machinery.
Y/N shifted beneath her, rising carefully while keeping one arm around Wanda’s waist.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
Wanda nodded before realizing Y/N probably couldn’t see it. “Yeah. You?”
“Fine.”
A lie.
Wanda heard the strain in her breathing, but there was no time to argue. Scarlet light bloomed faintly in her palm, illuminating the space around them.
They stood in a long, narrow corridor—reinforced concrete walls, industrial piping running along the ceiling. No visible exits except the shaft above.
Which was now sealed.
Y/N scanned quickly. “That wasn’t random.”
“No,” Wanda whispered. “It wasn’t.”
The floor beneath them vibrated faintly. A distant clang echoed down the corridor. Wanda’s light brightened instinctively, shadows stretching along the concrete.
Y/N’s head tilted slightly—not toward the sound, but toward the glow.
“Turn it off,” she said quietly.
Wanda blinked. “What? We can’t see.”
“I can.”
Something in Y/N’s voice had changed—lower, steadier. Focused.
Wanda looked at her properly. In the dim red glow, Y/N’s eyes weren’t Y/E/C anymore. They were gold. Bright. Reflective.
Wanda’s breath caught. “Oh.”
Y/N gave a small nod. “They’ll see you before you see them if you keep that on.”
Another metallic clang echoed, closer now. Wanda swallowed and let the light fade. Darkness swallowed them whole.
For half a second panic surged—her human eyes useless in the pitch black. Then Y/N’s hand found hers. “I’ve got you,” she murmured again. And this time, Wanda believed it.
Metal boots scraped somewhere down the corridor.
“They’re coming from both ends,” Y/N said quietly. “About twelve. Maybe more behind them.”
“How do you—”
“I can hear their gear shifting. Heartbeats.”
Wanda’s pulse jumped at that.
Y/N exhaled once.
“Hold on.”
The shift wasn’t explosive this time. It was controlled—bone reshaping, fabric tearing softly as her body expanded into muscle and fur.
In seconds the massive wolf stood where Y/N had been.
The corridor suddenly felt too small.
Golden eyes glowed in the darkness like twin embers.
Wanda felt rather than saw the transformation—bones shifting, fabric tearing, the corridor filling with the sheer presence of something ancient and powerful.
On, Y/N thought loudly.
Wanda didn’t argue.
She climbed onto Y/N’s back in one smooth motion, fingers tangling into the thick fur at the base of her neck. The wolf adjusted instantly, lowering slightly to steady her before rising again, powerful muscles coiling beneath Wanda like restrained thunder.
Y/N’s tail flicked once—a grounding gesture.
Hold tight.
Then she moved. Not reckless. Not wild.
Precise.
Her paws struck the concrete silently despite her size, claws finding grip where human boots would slip. She chose the darker end of the corridor—the direction with fewer heartbeats.
Gunfire erupted behind them as someone caught the faint outline of movement. Bullets sparked against metal piping.
Wanda instinctively raised a small shield behind them, just enough to deflect the nearest rounds without lighting up the corridor.
Left in six steps, Y/N thought sharply.
Wanda trusted her.
At the sixth stride Y/N veered left into a narrower passage just as armed men flooded into the corridor they’d abandoned. The wolf accelerated. Air rushed past Wanda’s face as Y/N moved faster than seemed possible in such tight quarters.
A soldier stepped into view ahead.
Y/N didn’t slow. She leapt.
The impact was brutal and efficient. The soldier slammed into the wall and dropped unconscious before he could cry out.
More ahead, Y/N warned.
Wanda closed her eyes briefly, reaching outward with her mind instead of her sight. She let her awareness stretch past the darkness and concrete, brushing against the sharp edges of foreign thoughts—fear, adrenaline, clipped orders over comms.
“They’re trying to herd us,” Wanda said—but the words weren’t spoken.
They echoed directly inside Y/N’s mind.
Y/N stumbled for half a stride, startled.
You’re in my head.
Only a little, Wanda replied, focused. Left corridor is blocked. They’re funneling us toward something bigger.
Y/N’s ears flattened as she ran.
Like a containment room.
Another cluster of heartbeats pulsed ahead—tight, waiting.
“Don’t go straight,” Wanda murmured aloud this time, tightening her grip in the fur at Y/N’s neck. “There’s something at the end.” Gunfire erupted again behind them, closer now.
Y/N made a split-second decision. She accelerated—not toward the corridor, but straight at the wall.
Wanda barely had time to react.
Y/N lowered her shoulder and slammed into the concrete. The wall cracked.
Again.
Concrete splintered under the third impact. They burst through into an adjacent chamber, dust exploding into the air behind them. Shouts echoed from the corridor they’d abandoned.
They didn’t expect that, Y/N thought grimly.
Wanda flashed a brief pulse of scarlet light across the room—quick, controlled.
Industrial generators. Maintenance ducts. No guards.
For now.
“They’re redirecting,” Wanda warned, feeling confusion ripple through nearby minds as it shifted into pursuit.
Y/N’s breathing had deepened, but remained steady.
Which way?
Wanda reached out again, brushing against thoughts more carefully this time.
“There’s an external access hatch two levels up. Fewer minds that way.”
Y/N didn’t question it.
She found a vertical maintenance shaft and leapt, claws digging into metal rungs as she climbed with Wanda still on her back.
Below them, boots thundered into the broken chamber. Spotlights cut through the dust. Orders were shouted.
“They’re sealing exits!” Wanda warned.
Then we don’t use doors.
Y/N reached the next level and barreled forward, ignoring the corridors entirely. She smashed through a ventilation barrier instead.
Cold night air hit them seconds later. They burst out onto the side of the warehouse structure—Into open space.
Searchlights snapped on instantly, blinding white beams sweeping across the rooftop before locking onto them. “There!” someone shouted from below.
Gunfire followed.
Y/N lunged forward across the rooftop without hesitation, claws scraping gravel and metal as bullets sparked around them. Wanda clung tighter, one arm buried in thick fur while the other rose instinctively.
Scarlet energy flared outward in controlled bursts—not attacking blindly but deflecting, redirecting. A line of incoming rounds twisted midair and scattered harmlessly off course.
“Helicopter, three o’clock!” Wanda warned.
Rotors thundered overhead as a mounted gun pivoted downward.
Y/N veered sharply left just as a spray of heavy rounds tore through the rooftop where they’d been. Concrete exploded behind them.
Wanda reached for the comm in her ear. “Steve! Status?”
Static.
“Steve, do you copy?”
Nothing.
Her chest tightened.
“Nat?” she tried.
A beat passed.
Then—
“Go,” Nat’s voice crackled through the comm, breathless but steady. “They’re focused on you two. Don’t double back. We’ll find our own exit.”
The rooftop ended abruptly in a wide gap between buildings. Three stories below, armed men swarmed the street.
Y/N gathered herself.
Hold tight.
She leapt.
For a massive creature carrying another person, the jump was impossibly graceful. They cleared the gap, landed hard on the opposite rooftop—and didn’t slow.
More gunfire. More shouting.
A second helicopter dipped lower, its spotlight tracking them like prey.
“They’re herding us toward the river,” Wanda realized, sensing the shifting movements below.
Good, Y/N replied.
Wanda blinked. “Good?”
Open space. Fewer walls. I can run faster.
Y/N reached the edge of the final building and jumped again—this time dropping straight to street level. They landed in an alley, concrete cracking beneath the impact.
Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance while searchlights swept overhead.
“Left!” Wanda called, sensing a thinner patrol grid.
Y/N pivoted instantly and accelerated—faster, faster, her paws barely touching the ground. Gunfire faded behind them as helicopters struggled to track their path between buildings.
Moments later Y/N burst out of the industrial district and into the trees lining the riverbank. Darkness swallowed them.
The rotors overhead faltered. Searchlights lost lock.
Branches whipped past as Y/N plunged deeper into the forest without slowing. She didn’t follow trails or clear paths—cutting through dense brush, leaping fallen logs, splashing through shallow water to break scent and sound. Every few minutes she changed direction sharply.
Behind them the helicopters circled once. Twice. Then drifted farther away.
Wanda kept one hand threaded in thick fur while the other hovered low with faint scarlet light—just enough to sense approaching minds. Nothing close. Only distant confusion.
Y/N ran another mile. Then another. Only when her lungs began to burn did she slow to a fast trot. Then finally— She stopped.
The forest was deep here. Thick canopy overhead. No city glow. No engine noise. Just wind moving through leaves and the distant rush of water. Y/N stood perfectly still, ears flicking, head tilting as she listened in every direction. Heartbeats. None but Wanda’s and her own.
After a long moment her thoughts came quieter.
I think we lost them.
She turned her massive head carefully to glance back at Wanda on her back.
Are you okay?
Wanda’s fingers were still gripping fur, but her breathing had steadied. Adrenaline hummed in her veins, though the panic had faded.
“I’m okay,” she said softly. “You?”
A short pause.
Fine.
Another lie—but smaller this time. Y/N lowered herself slightly so Wanda could slide off. Wanda did, boots touching damp earth. The forest felt enormous. And very, very empty.
Y/N shifted her weight, scanning the trees again.
We shouldn’t stay in one place too long.
Wanda nodded. “Agreed.”
Y/N’s focus sharpened.
We find shelter. Something covered. High ground if possible.
She started forward at a slower pace, weaving through the trees but still alert.
Wanda walked close beside her, occasionally brushing her hand against the thick fur at Y/N’s side—like she needed the reassurance that she was real.
Behind them, the city lights were gone. The team was gone. The compound was gone. It was just them. The forest. And whatever this ambush had truly meant.
They moved deeper into the forest. The darkness here was different from the city’s—alive, layered. Every rustle sounded louder, every shadow closer. Wanda kept glancing over her shoulder, nerves still humming from the chase.
Y/N noticed. She slowed, then lowered herself without a word.
Up, she thought gently.
Wanda hesitated for half a second before climbing onto her back. The warmth of thick fur under her palms steadied her instantly. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Y/N huffed softly and resumed moving. They climbed gradually into rougher terrain, trees thinning as rocky outcroppings appeared. The air grew colder. After another careful stretch, Y/N stopped. A cave entrance opened between two jagged rocks—partially hidden by brush, angled upward so rain wouldn’t collect. She approached cautiously, sniffing the air.
Empty.
Old animal scent, nothing recent.
This works.
She stepped inside. The cave wasn’t deep, but it was sheltered from the wind and dry, the ground mostly stone with patches of packed dirt.
Y/N lowered herself so Wanda could slide off. Wanda stepped down carefully, arms wrapping around herself as the chill finally caught up now that the adrenaline had faded. The cave was cold.
Y/N stepped back toward the entrance and shifted. Bones compressed, fur receded, and the air shimmered around her. Seconds later she stood in human form, barefoot on the cold stone. Her boots had torn apart during the earlier transformation, and her clothes were stretched and ripped at the seams—still covering her, but barely. She didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m going to look for branches,” Y/N said quietly. “And food if I can find it.”
Wanda frowned. “You don’t have shoes.”
“I’ll be fine.”
It wasn’t bravado. Even now her skin radiated faint warmth, the cold barely touching her.
Y/N glanced toward the dark forest outside, assessing. “You stay here,” she added. “Don’t use your powers unless you have to. They might still be scanning.”
Wanda nodded slowly.
Y/N hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer and brushed her fingers lightly against Wanda’s arm. “You’re safe here,” she said.
Then she turned and disappeared back into the forest—barefoot and silent despite the rocky ground.
Wanda stood alone in the cave. The silence pressed in. For the first time since the fall through the trapdoor, reality settled fully.
They were cut off.
No compound.
No team.
No idea what had just happened.
Just forest, cold air, and the distant sound of wind through the trees.
She wrapped her arms around herself and waited.
---
The cave grew colder as the night deepened. Wanda tried to keep moving—pacing a little, rubbing her hands together—but the stone floor leached warmth from her bones. Without adrenaline to keep her warm, the chill settled in fully. Her teeth were starting to chatter when she finally heard it: footsteps. Soft. Controlled. Familiar.
Y/N stepped into the cave entrance in her human form, barefoot but steady despite the rough terrain. A thick fallen log rested across one shoulder; tucked into the torn fold of her shirt were gathered wild fruits, and in her free hand she carried a freshly hunted rabbit. The moment her eyes landed on Wanda, she froze.
Wanda was shivering.
Y/N dropped everything immediately. The log hit the ground with a heavy thud. Fruits rolled across the stone. The rabbit landed beside them.
“You’re freezing,” Y/N said, crossing the cave in two quick strides.
“I’m fine,” Wanda tried—but her voice shook.
Y/N didn’t argue. She knelt and moved quickly, snapping the log into smaller pieces with efficient strength and stacking them in the center of the cave. The thinner branches she’d collected were arranged underneath. No lighter. No matches.
She looked at Wanda. “Just a spark,” she said softly.
Wanda crouched beside her and extended her fingers, keeping the glow small. A thin thread of scarlet brushed the dry bark. It caught immediately. Flames licked upward.
Y/N fed the kindling gradually until the fire took hold, warm orange light filling the cave and pushing back the darkness and cold. Without thinking, she shifted closer. “Here,” she murmured.
Y/N sat behind Wanda and gently pulled her back against her chest, wrapping her arms loosely around her shoulders—not trapping her, just anchoring. Her body was warm, almost unnaturally so. The difference was immediate.
Wanda sighed softly as heat seeped back into her skin.
“I told you I’d be fine,” Y/N said quietly, a faint edge of self-reproach in her voice.
Wanda leaned back into her without hesitation. “I wasn’t doubting that.”
The fire crackled softly between them. For a while neither spoke. Eventually Y/N reached for the rabbit and began preparing it with quiet efficiency, movements careful and practiced.
Wanda watched the flames.
Slowly, the shaking stopped.
---
The fire grew steadier, casting flickering gold across the cave walls. Y/N worked in silence, skin glowing warm in the firelight as she cleaned and dressed the rabbit with practiced movements. The urgency of battle had faded; only quiet focus remained.
Wanda leaned back against her, still wrapped in Y/N’s arms. She hadn’t realized how much she needed the contact until she had it again. The cave smelled of smoke, earth, and something grounding.
After a few minutes Y/N skewered the meat onto a sharpened branch and held it over the flames. “You should eat,” she said softly. “You burned a lot of energy tonight.”
Wanda hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t move away.
“Are you hurt?” she asked after a moment.
Y/N hesitated. “Just tired.”
Wanda tilted her head slightly. “That wasn’t my question.”
A pause.
Then, quieter: “I’m fine.”
Wanda didn’t push. Instead she shifted slightly, resting one hand over Y/N’s forearm where it wrapped around her.
“I’m glad you caught me,” she said softly.
Y/N’s grip tightened just a fraction. “I wasn’t going to let you fall.”
The rabbit began to cook, its scent slowly filling the cave. Wanda watched the flames for a moment before speaking again.
“They knew,” she murmured. “About the backup intel. About us coming.”
Y/N nodded against her hair. “Yeah.”
“They wanted us separated.”
“Yeah.”
The weight of that settled between them. This hadn’t been random. It had been surgical. And it had worked.
Wanda swallowed. “Do you think Steve and Nat are okay?”
Y/N’s jaw tightened slightly. “They’re not easy to kill.”
Not reassurance. Just truth.
The fire crackled as wind shifted outside the cave. For the first time since the fight, the quiet didn’t feel tense. It felt… isolated.
Wanda finally leaned forward enough to glance back at her. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“For what?”
“For not leaving me.”
Y/N blinked once, almost confused by the idea. “I wouldn’t,” she said.
And she meant it the way gravity meant falling.
Firelight danced in her golden-brown eyes.
And for now—
That was enough.
---
The fire burned down to a steady glow by the time they finished eating. Wanda had insisted Y/N take more than half the rabbit. Y/N had pretended to argue but ate it anyway. The fruits were divided quietly between them—simple, grounding.
For a few minutes afterward they sat shoulder to shoulder, listening to the forest breathe. Y/N’s posture hadn’t relaxed once. Her head tilted subtly now and then, listening, mapping the night, measuring distance between sounds.
Finally she spoke.
“We should sleep.”
Wanda glanced at her. “You can rest first. I’ll stay on guard.”
Y/N shook her head immediately. “No.”
“Y/N—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupted gently. “We can both sleep.”
Wanda frowned. “What if someone finds us?”
“If something gets within half a mile, I’ll hear it,” Y/N said calmly. “If it gets closer than that, I’ll smell it. And if it steps within a hundred meters…” She tilted her head faintly, almost playful. “It won’t get that far.”
Wanda studied her face. “You’re sure?”
Y/N nodded once. “Wolf instincts.”
No arrogance—just certainty.
After a quiet beat, Y/N stood and stepped away from the fading firelight. She shifted. The transformation flowed smoothly—bones lengthening, shoulders broadening, fur cascading outward until her massive wolf form filled nearly half the cave. Golden eyes flickered in the dim light as she lowered herself near the warmest part of the cave wall.
Her thoughts brushed gently against Wanda’s mind.
Come here.
Wanda’s lips curved. She stood and walked over without hesitation.
Y/N shifted slightly to make room, curling her body into a protective crescent. Thick fur brushed Wanda’s legs.
You’ll stay warm, Y/N thought quietly. I run hot.
Wanda knelt and lay down carefully, settling into the space between Y/N’s chest and belly. The fur was impossibly soft and warm, the steady rise and fall of breath beneath her cheek grounding in a way she hadn’t expected.
Y/N’s tail wrapped loosely over her legs—not trapping, just covering.
Wanda sighed softly as tension eased from her muscles. “This is… nice,” she murmured.
Y/N huffed faintly, one ear flicking toward the forest outside.
After a moment Wanda felt something else—a low vibration beneath her ear. Not quite a purr, but close. Her hand slid into the thick fur instinctively.
“You’re doing that again,” she whispered sleepily.
The vibration faltered for a second. Then resumed.
Wanda smiled.
The cave grew quieter. The forest breathed.
And for the first time since the ambush—
They both closed their eyes.
---
Next Morning
Morning came slowly.
Not with sunlight—very little reached the cave—but with a subtle shift in the air. The forest changed tone at dawn. Birds tested their voices. The wind softened.
Wanda stirred first.
She was warm. Very warm.
Her cheek pressed into thick fur, fingers tangled in it, her legs tucked beneath something heavy and protective. For a moment she didn’t remember where she was.
Then the night returned in fragments.
Warehouse.
Trapdoor.
Running.
Firelight.
Cave.
She blinked her eyes open.
Golden eyes were already watching her.
Y/N was awake—completely awake. Her head was slightly lifted, ears angled toward the cave entrance, body still curled around Wanda like it had been all night.
“You didn’t sleep,” Wanda murmured, voice thick with sleep.
A soft huff answered her.
I did, Y/N thought gently. Lightly.
Wanda shifted onto one elbow. The fire had burned down to ash. The air was cold again—but manageable with Y/N’s steady warmth.
“How long have you been up?”
Since the birds started.
Wanda smiled faintly. “That’s not a real time.”
Y/N’s tail flicked once in mild amusement.
Nothing came close, she added. Closest movement was a deer about four hundred meters east. Wind shifted after that.
Of course she knew the direction.
Wanda studied her for another moment. Even in wolf form the tension was visible—the alert shoulders, the constant listening.
“You’re still listening.”
Always.
Wanda reached up and scratched gently behind her ear.
“You can relax a little.”
Y/N leaned into the touch before catching herself.
I am relaxed.
Wanda raised an eyebrow.
The wolf blinked slowly.
Then, after a beat:
Mostly.
Wanda laughed softly, the sound echoing faintly off the cave walls.
For a moment they simply looked at each other in the dim light.
No helicopters.
No gunfire.
No shouting.
Just morning.
Wanda’s expression slowly shifted.
“We need to figure out what happened.”
Y/N’s ears twitched. Yeah.
“And we need to reach the others.”
A pause.
Okay.
Wanda pushed herself up, brushing leaves and stray fur from her clothes. Cool morning air crept through the cave entrance.
Y/N shifted back to human form, the change fluid and quiet. She rolled her shoulders once, bare feet settling on the cold stone without complaint.
“We shouldn’t use standard comms,” Wanda said, thinking aloud. “If they trapped us that deliberately, they’re probably monitoring known frequencies.”
Y/N nodded. “Safe house?”
Wanda hesitated. “…No.”
Y/N frowned slightly.
“If they planned that ambush, they’ve probably mapped every Avengers-associated property within a hundred miles—safe houses, supply caches, known routes.”
Y/N exhaled slowly. “Yeah. They’d expect that.”
Silence settled between them again.
They didn’t know where the others were.
They didn’t know who orchestrated the trap.
They didn’t even know if the Quinjet survived.
“We need something normal,” Wanda said finally. “Somewhere no one expects us.”
Y/N tilted her head. “Normal?”
“A motel. Small town. Cash payment. No enhanced activity.”
Y/N blinked once. “…That’s very human.”
Wanda gave her a tired smile. “Exactly.”
Y/N considered it, then nodded. “We move west. There’s a highway about three miles from here.”
Wanda glanced down at Y/N’s torn clothes and bare feet. “Hold on.”
She stepped closer, lifting her hands. Scarlet threads of energy wove through the air, stitching torn fabric back together. The ripped seams sealed, the shirt and pants reshaping cleanly.
Y/N looked down at herself, mildly impressed. “…Convenient.”
Wanda smirked faintly. “Try not to shred them again.”
Y/N huffed. “No promises.”
Wanda knelt briefly and focused again. Scarlet light gathered around Y/N’s feet, forming simple dark sneakers—sturdy and anonymous.
Y/N flexed her toes experimentally. “…You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
Their eyes met a moment longer than necessary.
Then Wanda stepped back. “Let’s go.”
They moved through the trees together—quieter now, less frantic than the night before. After about forty minutes, the forest thinned. The faint hum of distant traffic reached Y/N first.
“We’re close.”
Wanda nodded.
The treeline opened onto a two-lane highway cutting through open fields. Half a mile down stood a small gas station—and beyond it, a roadside motel sign flickering in tired neon.
VACANCY.
Wanda exhaled slowly. “Okay,” she murmured. “Step one.”
Y/N scanned the area carefully. No unusual heartbeats. No tactical vehicles. Just normal morning traffic.
“Cash only,” Y/N reminded her.
Wanda slipped a hand into her jacket. Thankfully chaos magic didn’t just repair clothes—it could produce a few believable bills.
“Normal,” Wanda repeated quietly.
For now—
They would disappear in plain sight.
---
The motel office smelled like stale coffee and cleaning spray. A tired man behind the counter barely glanced up when Wanda pushed open the door. She kept her hood up, posture loose—normal.
“Room?” he asked flatly.
“Just one night.”
Cash slid across the counter. No questions. A key card slid back.
Room 17.
They crossed the cracked parking lot in silence, morning sun fully up now. The world looked painfully ordinary after the chaos of the night before.
Inside, the room was small but clean enough—two towels folded at the foot of a queen bed, faded carpet, a humming air conditioner.
The door clicked shut.
For the first time since the warehouse—
They were inside four walls again.
Wanda turned the deadbolt. Y/N stood in the middle of the room for a moment, scanning and listening, shoulders still tight.
“It’s fine,” Wanda said gently. “No one’s tracking us right now.”
Y/N nodded once. “Can I shower first.”
“Of course!” Wanda didn’t argue.
Twenty minutes later steam drifted from the bathroom as Y/N stepped out wearing borrowed motel sweats and a plain shirt Wanda had conjured to replace the torn one. Her hair was damp and pushed back loosely.
She looked… human again.
Just exhausted.
“You should eat something else,” Wanda said quietly.
Y/N shook her head. “I’m okay.”
That word again.
Wanda took her turn in the shower, letting hot water beat against her shoulders longer than she intended. The tension in her muscles didn’t vanish—but it dulled.
When she stepped back into the room, toweling her hair dry—
Y/N was already asleep.
Not resting.
Gone.
She’d barely reached the bed before collapsing sideways across it, one arm draped loosely over her stomach, breathing deep and heavy. Completely unconscious.
Wanda paused in the doorway.
Y/N had pushed herself too far—running on instinct and adrenaline for too long.
She crossed the room quietly and sat on the edge of the bed. Up close, the exhaustion was obvious: faint bruises along her ribs, a shallow cut near her collarbone, tension still faintly etched into her brow even in sleep.
Wanda brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead.
“You liar,” she murmured softly.
I’m fine.
She shook her head faintly.
Carefully, Wanda slid under the covers beside her—not too close at first. But Y/N reacted even in sleep. Her body shifted instinctively toward the warmth, one arm draped over Wanda’s waist, breathing steady, grounded.
Wanda lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
They were fugitives now.
Separated from the team.
Hunted by someone organized enough to ambush Avengers.
She turned her head slightly to look at Y/N.
But right now—
They were safe.
---
At Night
Darkness filled the motel room again. Thin curtains barely blocked the neon glow of the vacancy sign outside, its red pulses washing faintly across the ceiling.
Wanda was warm. Too warm. An arm lay heavy across her waist, steady breath against her shoulder. For a moment she forgot everything. Then—A faint crackle. Static. A low, distorted tone.
Y/N’s eyes opened instantly. She didn’t move at first—just listened. There. Another faint burst of interference. Her head turned slowly toward the small table near the door. The comm unit. Wanda had set it there before showering. Y/N blinked away the last layer of sleep and nudged Wanda lightly. “Wanda,” she murmured, voice thick but alert.
Wanda stirred. “What—?”
“The comm.”
Another crackle—clearer this time. Wanda shot upright, heart racing. The signal was faint but unmistakable, pushing through interference. She scrambled off the bed and grabbed the device.
“Hello?” she said quickly, keeping her voice low.
Static. Then— “…da?”
Wanda’s breath caught. “Nat?”
The line buzzed, then steadied slightly. “About time,” Nat’s voice came through, strained but alive. “You two took a scenic route.”
Relief hit Wanda so hard her knees nearly buckled. “We’re okay,” she said quickly. “Are you?”
“Alive. Steve and Bucky too.”
Wanda closed her eyes briefly. Thank God.
“Quinjet’s gone,” Nat continued. “Warehouse was scrubbed. Professional job.”
“Who?” Wanda asked.
“Still working on that.”
Y/N had risen from the bed, standing close enough to hear every word.
“Are you safe?” Wanda pressed.
“For now. We scattered. Low profile. No Avengers signatures. No Stark tech. No obvious magic.”
“Same here,” Wanda said.
A small pause. Then Nat’s voice lowered. “They wanted you separated.”
Wanda’s eyes flicked to Y/N. “We figured.”
Another burst of static. “We’ll regroup,” Nat said. “But not yet. Lay low. Switch locations every twenty-four hours. Use public networks sparingly.”
Wanda nodded instinctively, even though Nat couldn’t see her. “Copy.”
Nat’s tone shifted slightly.
“And Wanda?”
“Yeah?”
“You two good?”
Wanda hesitated, glancing at Y/N. Y/N stood steady beside her—alert, protective, present. “We’re okay,” Wanda said quietly.
A beat.
“Good,” Nat replied. “We’ll ping again when it’s safe.” The line went dead.
The room fell silent except for the low hum of the air conditioner. Wanda lowered the comm slowly. “They’re alive,” she said.
Y/N exhaled, tension leaving her shoulders for the first time since the ambush. “Good.”
Wanda looked up at her. “We’re not going back anytime soon.”
Y/N didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”
Outside, the neon sign flickered again. Inside the dim motel room, the two of them stood there—fugitives by circumstance, but no longer alone.
The silence after the comm went dead felt different. Not heavy. Not panicked. Focused. Wanda set the device back on the table and leaned against it, arms crossing loosely. “So,” she said quietly, “we rotate locations. No patterns. No powers in public unless absolutely necessary.”
Y/N nodded. “No shifting unless we’re clear.”
“No obvious cash trails.”
“No staying more than a night.”
They fell into planning easily—strategy, survival, contingencies. It felt strangely calm now that the immediate chaos had passed. “If they scrubbed the warehouse that fast,” Wanda said, pacing slowly, “this wasn’t some random mercenary group.”
“No,” Y/N agreed. “They had numbers. Coordination. Infrastructure.”
“And they knew about the backup intel.”
Y/N’s jaw tightened slightly. “Which means they knew we’d come.”
Wanda’s expression darkened. “Someone fed them the mission details.”
The thought hung in the room. Neither said it aloud. Inside job.
After a moment Wanda sighed and sat back on the edge of the bed. “Okay. We lay low. Maybe move further west tomorrow—smaller towns.”
Y/N leaned against the wall near the door, arms folded, thoughtful.
Her stomach growled. Loudly. The sound filled the quiet room with zero dignity.
Wanda blinked.
Y/N stiffened. It growled again.
Wanda tried—she really tried—not to laugh. A small sound escaped anyway.
Y/N looked personally betrayed by her own body. “It’s been hours,” she muttered defensively.
Wanda’s smile softened. “You carried me through a city and ran through a forest. You’re allowed to be hungry.”
Another rumble.
Y/N glanced down at her stomach like it had committed treason.
Wanda stood, still smiling, and stepped closer. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”
Y/N hesitated. “Public.”
“We’ll be careful.”
“I’m recognizable.”
Wanda tilted her head. “So am I.”
Y/N exhaled slowly. “That’s my point.”
Wanda lowered her voice. “Simple diner. Cash. Sit near the exit.”
Y/N still looked uncertain.
“And,” Wanda added, a spark returning to her tone, “we should buy supplies.”
Y/N’s posture shifted immediately to practical. “Like what?”
“Backpacks. First aid kit. Clothes that don’t scream ‘Avengers.’ Toiletries. Maybe a prepaid phone.”
Y/N nodded slowly. “Water purification tablets. Flashlights. Cash from different places.”
Y/N instinctively touched her dark hair. “You want to dye it?”
“Temporary,” Wanda said with a shrug. “Drugstore kit.”
Y/N studied her. “You’re enjoying this.”
Wanda tried to look innocent. “Maybe a little.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What color.”
Wanda stepped closer, examining her thoughtfully. “Blonde would be obvious. Mine is already red… not blue.”
Wanda laughed softly. “No. Not blue.”
She tilted her head, considering. “Maybe lighter brown. Or dark auburn.”
Y/N looked like she was mentally assessing the strategic threat of hair dye. “And you?”
Wanda shrugged. “I could go darker.”
Y/N studied her for a moment. “You don’t have to.”
Wanda’s smile softened. “I know.”
A quiet beat passed.
Then Y/N sighed. “Fine. We eat. We shop. We change our hair.”
Her stomach growled again on cue.
Wanda covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. “Dinner first,” she said gently.
And for the first time since the trapdoor—
This felt almost like an adventure instead of an escape.
---
Later that night they slipped back into Room 17 carrying plastic bags—cheap backpacks, basic toiletries, a prepaid phone, bottled water, and two small boxes of temporary hair dye.
The motel bathroom was barely big enough for both of them.
Yellow light. Cracked mirror. A faint hum from the vent overhead.
Wanda stood at the sink reading the instructions on the dye box while Y/N hovered awkwardly near the door.
She reached up and pulled her shirt over her head.
Wanda turned at the movement—
And froze.
Y/N was shirtless except for her sports bra. Lean muscle defined her frame, faint scars tracing along her ribs and shoulder—marks left by Hydra and everything she’d survived.
Wanda had seen her like this before.
Training.
Medical checks.
After missions.
But this felt different.
The cramped bathroom.
The quiet.
The proximity.
Her gaze drifted down Y/N’s torso before she could stop herself.
Heat pooled low in her stomach, sudden and sharp.
She blinked.
Shook her head slightly.
Get it together. She’s your friend!
“Everything okay?” Y/N asked, completely unaware, expression open and almost innocent.
Wanda swallowed. “Yeah. Fine.”
She focused very hard on the dye box in her hands.
“Sit,” she added, gesturing toward the closed toilet lid.
Y/N obeyed without question, turning her back and sitting down. Damp hair brushed the back of her neck.
Wanda slipped on the thin plastic gloves and mixed the dye carefully, hands steady again.
She stepped closer.
Very close.
Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Y/N’s skin.
“Lean forward a little,” Wanda murmured.
Y/N did.
Wanda began applying the dye to her short hair, working methodically, careful not to drip. The chemical scent filled the small space.
For a while neither spoke.
Wanda’s fingers brushed lightly over Y/N’s scalp as she worked.
Y/N’s shoulders relaxed a little more with every pass.
“…You’re very focused,” Y/N said quietly.
“I’m trying not to stain your face.”
A small huff of amusement.
Silence again.
Up close Wanda could see the faint tension in Y/N’s posture—even sitting down she held herself like someone ready to move at any moment.
“You can relax,” Wanda said softly.
“I am.”
Wanda smiled faintly behind her.
“You say that a lot.”
Y/N didn’t answer.
Wanda finished coating the last section of hair and stepped back.
“Okay,” she said. “We wait.”
Y/N looked up at her through the mirror.
Their eyes met.
For a second—
The small bathroom felt even smaller.
Wanda looked away first.
“My turn after this,” she said quickly.
Y/N nodded.
But the faint flush creeping up her neck wasn’t entirely from the heat.
---
The motel room was dim except for the glow of the TV, a late-night sitcom murmuring softly in the background.
Wanda sat cross-legged on the bed, watching without really seeing.
The bathroom door opened.
Steam drifted out first.
Then Y/N stepped into the room, towel in hand, drying her hair.
Wanda looked up—
And froze.
The new color caught the light differently—dark auburn now, richer and deeper, sharpening Y/N’s features. Damp strands fell over her forehead as she rubbed them with the towel.
She was still shirtless.
Sports bra. Sweatpants low on her hips. Bare feet.
And that hair—
Wanda’s breath hitched.
Heat pooled low in her stomach again, sharper this time. Her gaze dropped for half a second before she forced it back up.
Stop it.
We are just friends.
Why am I—
Y/N tilted her head. “Wanda?”
No response.
She stepped closer.
“Wanda?”
A hand waved slowly in front of her face.
Wanda blinked hard, dragged back to the moment.
“Sorry—what?”
“Are you okay?” Y/N asked, brows knitting slightly. “You were staring.”
Heat rushed to Wanda’s cheeks.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, sitting up straighter.
Y/N hesitated. Her hand drifted to her damp hair.
“…It looks bad, right?”
The uncertainty was genuine.
She thought Wanda had been staring because she didn’t like it.
Wanda looked at her again—this time deliberately.
The color suited her. Made her eyes warmer. Softer. Dangerous in a completely different way.
She rubbed the back of her head, still damp from the shower. And Wanda felt that warm flutter again—stronger now.
She inhaled sharply.
Oh no.
No, no, no.
This was ridiculous. They were stressed. On the run. Exhausted. That was all.
Right?
Y/N shifted her weight, unaware of the chaos she was causing.
Wanda’s pulse jumped.
“I—” she started, then abruptly stood from the bed.
Too fast.
“Bathroom,” she blurted.
Y/N blinked. “What?”
“My turn,” Wanda added quickly, already moving past her.
Her arm brushed Y/N’s lightly as she passed. The contact sent another sharp spark through her. Wanda hissed softly under her breath.
Get it together.
Behind her, Y/N turned slightly.
“I can help—” she began.
But the bathroom door had already clicked shut.
Inside, Wanda leaned back against it and exhaled hard. Her heart was racing like she’d just sprinted. She pressed her palms to her cheeks.
“What is wrong with me?” she muttered.
This wasn’t supposed to feel like this.
Not now.
Not here.
Not with everything else happening.
She closed her eyes and focused on something simple—breathing, grounding, control.
Outside the door, Y/N stood there a moment longer, confused.
“…Okay,” she murmured to herself.
Then she stepped away, giving Wanda space.
Because that’s what she always did.
And somehow—
That only made it worse.
---
When Wanda finally stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind her, the room somehow felt smaller.
Her hair was darker now—deep brown, almost black under the dim motel lighting. It framed her face differently, making her eyes stand out sharper and brighter.
Y/N looked up from where she sat on the edge of the bed.
And froze.
For a moment she simply stared—not confused, not uncertain.
Just… stunned.
Wanda felt it instantly, the weight of that gaze settling over her. Her stomach tightened.
Y/N stood slowly. “You—” she started, then stopped.
Wanda’s heart began to pound.
“You look…” Y/N swallowed, then smiled softly. “Beautiful.”
The word landed gently. And hit hard. Heat rushed up Wanda’s neck.
She turned away too quickly. “Okay,” she said, already moving toward the bed. “We should sleep.”
She pulled back the covers and slid under them without another glance, turning so her back faced Y/N. “Big day tomorrow,” she added, her voice just slightly higher than normal.
Silence followed.
Y/N stood there, replaying the last ten seconds in her head.
You look beautiful.
That was good, right? That was… appropriate? Slowly she moved to the other side of the bed.
“Did I…” Y/N hesitated. “…say something wrong?”
Wanda stiffened beneath the covers. “No.”
“You left very fast.”
“I’m just tired.”
Y/N frowned faintly. She climbed into bed carefully, leaving a respectful space between them this time.
Too much space.
The room hummed quietly with the AC.
After a moment Y/N tried again. “If I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to.”
That did it.
Wanda rolled slightly onto her back, staring at the ceiling.
“You didn’t,” she said softly.
Y/N still looked unconvinced.
Wanda sighed, then lifted a hand and patted the bed beside her.
A simple gesture.
Y/N blinked.
“…Come here.”
The hesitation lasted only a second. Then Y/N shifted closer, still careful, leaving a small gap between them like she was afraid of crossing some invisible line.
Wanda turned onto her side to face her. The new color in Y/N’s hair caught the low red glow from the sign outside, softer now, almost copper. Wanda reached out slowly and brushed her fingers through it.
Y/N went completely still.
“It’s fine,” Wanda murmured. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”
Her fingers combed through the short strands, slow and soothing.
Y/N’s shoulders gradually relaxed.
“You can just… sleep,” Wanda added quietly.
Y/N swallowed and nodded, shifting a little closer until their knees brushed lightly beneath the covers.
Wanda kept running her fingers through her hair, thumb occasionally grazing her temple. The tension slowly left Y/N’s face.
Her breathing deepened.
“I meant when I said you look beautiful,” Y/N murmured sleepily, eyes already half-closed.
Wanda’s heart skipped.
This time she didn’t pull away. She simply kept stroking her hair.
“Go to sleep,” she whispered.
Within minutes Y/N’s breathing evened out.
Asleep.
Wanda stayed awake a little longer, fingers still resting lightly in her hair.
The motel room was dim, lit only by the faint red flicker from the sign outside. Every few seconds it cast shifting shadows across Y/N’s face, softening the sharp lines and catching in the auburn strands Wanda had helped color just hours ago.
Wanda’s hand stilled.
Get it together.
They were just friends.
Y/N had said it the way someone might say you look beautiful. It didn’t have to mean anything.
It didn’t have to mean—
Her stomach tightened again at the memory.
Stop.
This wasn’t the time to spiral. They were on the run. Possibly hunted. Separated from the team and still unsure who had betrayed them. Feelings could wait. Complications could wait.
Wanda gently slid her hand from Y/N’s hair and rested it on her own chest instead, grounding herself. She turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
Just friends.
Outside, a truck passed along the highway. The neon sign buzzed faintly.
Tomorrow they would leave this place. Change motels. Buy supplies. Stay invisible.
Hey! Just finished reading Crush part one, part two and Crush: Alt part 2. And I was wondering if you could maybe do an alternative, alternative part 2 🙏🏼🥹 just full on angst though.
Where Wanda and Nat stick to their decision of not wanting a third, they just want to be friends with reader, no attraction is developed for reader, no matter how many times they spend time with her, together or separately, they don't get jealous when reader goes on dates, and she does go out on dates, but she still pines for Wandanat, so the dates/relationships don't last. But she'd be content, not happy exactly, but content with just being their friend and team mate.
Thank you for your amazing stories 🩷
Crush: No Feelings Ending
ScarletWidow x Fem!Reader
Link to Part One [x], Part Two [x], Alt Part Two [x], Part Three [x] and Part Four [x]
[A/N] Guys I'm so excited, some of you may remember back in January I was meant to go watch 'The Hunger Games on Stage' but due to the snow we couldn't go. Luckily we had insurance so we've rebooked and we're going today yaaaaaay 🥳 Thanks so much for the request lovely, I'm glad you enjoyed the Crush series and I hope you enjoy this part ❤️
After Natasha and Wanda had rejected you, you’d been so humiliated you’d barely shown your face around the compound for the next week. You kept your head down at training, avoiding any areas where Natasha and Wanda were working. You didn’t join the other Avengers at mealtimes. If you weren’t in the gym, you were in your bedroom. Kate does her best to try and persuade you out but you’re too embarrassed.
“I bet they’re flattered that you like them,” Kate says. “It’s not the end of the world.”
“Yeah but they know now,” You say in a dejected tone. “Every time I look at them they’ll be thinking that I’m thinking… You know. About them.”
“Well what are you gonna do? Because you can’t stay in this room forever. And probably best to talk to them now, get it over with. If you leave it you might end up getting called on a mission with them and what are you gonna do? Avoid eye contact, not talk over comms the entire time?”
“I know I can’t avoid them forever but I’m so embarrassed. And still so helplessly in love with them that it hurts.”
Kate sighs, taking your hand in hers “Now that you know at least you can try and get over this. I’m proud of you. You were brave enough to put yourself out there.” She squeezes your hand. “Besides… They might develop feelings for you. You never know. They don’t know you that well yet and they’ve always just kind of been in their own bubble. Maybe now you’ve mentioned it they can… Mull it over.”
You think about that “So you think… Maybe I could win them over?”
Kate smiles kindly “Maybe. Just… Maybe start by being friends with them. Like you said a while ago, that’d be better than nothing, right?”
Her words make you feel a little better but you still don’t approach Natasha or Wanda immediately. Slowly but surely you do get back to normal – joining the other Avengers for dinner and spending time in common areas though you never deliberately seek either of them out. Your cheeks still heat up whenever you catch a glimpse of them. It’s pathetic really, you feel like a school child. The nerdy kid who has a crush on the popular girl. Except there’s two of them.
Eventually it’s Wanda who breaks the ice, inviting you to watch a movie with them one night. You consider saying no but she looks so sincere that you find you can’t reject her. At first it’s a little awkward. The two of them let you sit in the middle of them so you don’t feel left out though everyone’s careful to make sure your bodies don’t touch in any way. You feel stiff and on edge, unable to focus on the movie.
Luckily Wanda had chosen a horror so soon you and Wanda are squealing, practically leaping out of your skins every time there’s a jump scare. Natasha barely flinches the whole time but she laughs along with the two of you. The ice is finally broken and you relax, feeling like you’ve finally made friends with them both. It’s not even weird when your fingers brush against Natasha’s when you both reach for the popcorn bowl.
You still have feelings for them both. But maybe Kate’s right… Maybe you can be friends with them both. Maybe that will be enough.
It’s you who suggests your next outing – an escape room. You invite Kate and Yelena as well to make a proper girl’s trip out of it. That’s another perfect ice breaker. You’ve always found that in escape rooms you don’t have time to focus on anything other than the puzzles so there’s no time to feel any awkwardness with Natasha or Wanda. Having Kate and Yelena there is helpful too. You’re just a group of friends having fun. Nobody needs to feel awkward or left out.
Until a few weeks later when Kate excitedly tells you that Yelena has made the first move and asked her out. The five of you have been doing a lot of things together and you’re enjoying the dynamic. It’s not awkward at all – okay, Natasha and Wanda are a couple but they don’t act all lovey dovey anymore when you’re all out together. You’re happy for Kate of course you are… But you can’t help thinking that over the last few weeks Yelena has fallen for Kate whilst Natasha and Wanda haven’t developed any feelings for you at all.
Yelena and Kate dating completely changes the dynamic of the little group you’d established. You’re not even the third wheel, you’re the fifth wheel now and it’s awkward. Kate’s availability takes a big dip now that she’s dating Yelena and you find yourself alone with Natasha and Wanda regularly. It should be good – your opportunity to try and win them over but it’s not. You’re back to feeling shy and awkward around them.
You try to push through the awkwardness and stick to your original plan. You do everything that you can think of. Remembering that Wanda had said beef stew was one of Natasha’s comfort meals you’d looked up a recipe and had made it for them for dinner. You found out that Wanda likes old sitcoms so you dutifully sit with her every evening, watching old reruns of ‘The Brady Brunch’. You sit and clean weapons with Natasha. Anything you think they’re interested in you try and immerse yourself in too, hoping they’ll recognise your effort and fall for you.
“Have you thought about putting yourself out there?” Wanda asks you one day.
You glance at her “What do you mean?”
“Like, going on a date.”
Your cheeks flush “With who?”
Wanda smiles “I think I could find someone to set you up with.”
You feel your stomach twist – you don’t want to be set up with someone else. You want to be with them. Even after all these weeks, you’re still pining for them both, still hoping they’ll change their minds like Kate said. And now here’s Wanda trying to set you up with someone else. You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It feels like she’s trying to palm you off. Push you towards someone else so you’ll leave them alone. Maybe she’s not wrong though. Kate has Yelena. Wanda and Natasha aren’t interested. Perhaps it’s time to try and move on.
Eventually you nod, your voice tight and quiet “Yeah… Yeah, that’d be cool.”
Neither Wanda nor Natasha tells you who they’ve set you up with but they do help you get ready. You try to get swept up in their excitement as they go through your wardrobe, pulling out various outfits but you can’t help wishing it was Kate you were doing this with, and that you were getting ready for a date with Natasha and Wanda. Your cheeks light up whenever you think about it too much. You’re really quiet but neither of them notices in their excitement.
It turns out they’ve set you up with Maria, an ex-SHIELD agent that you’ve seen around the compound a few times but had never really spoken to. Maria is sweet and turns out to be good company, making you laugh. She takes you out bowling and then for food. It’s a nice date. No awkward moments, plenty of laughs. It turns out the two of you have quite a lot in common actually. You could have something with Maria…
If only you could stop thinking about Natasha and Wanda.
On the walk home Maria takes your hand and you sigh “I had a really good time,” You say quietly.
Maria smiles knowingly “But?”
“But… I have feelings for someone else.”
“Wanda and Natasha?”
“Oh… They told you, huh?”
“No, I saw the way you were looking at them when they were saying goodbye to us.”
That had been painful. Their bright faces as they’d wished you good luck. The way they looked genuinely happy for you. They wanted you to be happy, they wanted you to date someone – they just didn’t want it to be them.
They weren’t going to change their minds.
“I really did have a good time. I just don’t know if I’m in the frame of mind to date right now.”
“That is a shame because I had a good time too,” Maria squeezes your hand. “If you change your mind… Well you can always drop me a text.”
You swallow hard, feeling guilty. There’s nothing wrong with Maria. In fact, you could probably have something good with her if you could only let go of Natasha and Wanda. You give Maria a small smile “Thank you. I uh… I’ll bear that in mind.”
It’s a little strange saying good night to Maria. There’s definitely chemistry there and you’ve both had a good date so it’d make sense to kiss. Given the circumstances though it’s not really appropriate. Eventually Maria just shakes your hand and then you both laugh. Why couldn’t you have fallen for her? Why can’t you get past this stupid crush?
When you go into the compound you head straight to the common room to find Natasha and Wanda but the sight of them makes you pause in the doorway, your heart pounding in your chest. They’re both watching a movie, Wanda’s head against Natasha’s shoulder, Natasha’s arm around Wanda, her hand stroking up and down her back. It makes your heart hurt. They’re so in love with each other. It’s almost like nobody else in the world exists right now except for the two of them.
You turn away from the common room, your eyes filling with tears as you head to your own room. If you go in there they’ll ask you questions about your date, big smiles on their face, genuinely thrilled for you. And you’ll have to force a smile onto your own face, tell them it went well. Then they’ll ask when you’re going to see Maria again. What are you supposed to tell them? That you feel like you can’t because you’re still pining for them? That Maria had been amazing but you can’t give her your full energy whilst Wanda and Natasha are still at the forefront of your mind?
You’d thought being friends with them would fill the void. That that would be enough. But it’s not – it’s only making the hurt even more painful. And now you don’t even really have Kate anymore, she’s in her own happy bubble with Yelena. Everyone’s happy and in love. Except for you.
You curl up on your bed as you start to sob. This is pathetic. You know it’s pathetic. What you should do is pick up your phone and tell Maria that you want to make a proper go with her. Maybe with time you really could get over them. Right now though, you can’t entertain those thoughts. You can only cry as you replay that image of Natasha and Wanda cuddled up on the couch in your mind. So in love with each other.
But not with you.
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