Wanda Maximoff's Wife

She had been with her aunt when the Blacks landed, spending most of her days with the Dowager Queen in the wake of her own daughter’s death. She did not mind, knowing herself to be Alicent’s greatest comfort in that period, as well as the fact that she had also gone without the gentle touch of a mother since she was a child. Jaehaera often joined them, blissfully unaware to the fact that her mother had died months earlier, These prayer and tea times that they spent together were sacred to each of them, until, of course, they turned their gaze to the window, where Syrax’s golden scales glittered in the sunlight as she landed in the courtyard with grace.

Aegon had been in no position to defend his crown. He was dragonless and crippled, both at the hand of his younger brother, and Daeron was still leagues away from the capitol with his own dragon Tessarion. As Rhaenyra’s mount snarled and snapped at the white cloaks around her, they were quick to surrender as they took in the sight of the five other dragons circling in the clouds above; there was no way out. 

Those loyal to Rhaenyra were quick to storm the castle, keeping everyone inside until she could discover exactly who her enemies were and who were simply complicit. She had swiftly had Aegon executed, as well as Otto Hightower and the rest of the Small Council, save for Alicent. She’d been far too close with the Dowager Queen to have her publicly humiliated and put to death, and considering that she had admitted to making such a grave mistake in regards to the succession, she instead had her locked in a tower until further notice. Her only request was that she would be joined by her niece and granddaughter until Rhaenyra made other arrangements for them, which Rhaenyra was merciful enough to oblige. She was not a tyrant, and felt no desire to punish the innocent for the crimes of men. 

Nine days they were locked in the tower with no word from Rhaenyra. The white cloaks guarding their door were curt when asked, and only opened the door for their meals and the bare necessities to be delivered to them. It was a tight space, one that was likely intended to be a luxurious cell for one, though luckily Jaehaera took up little to no space at all as she was usually physically attached to either her cousin or grandmother. Both women made an effort to keep the young princess comfortable and entertained in some way, whether it be by telling her stories, singing with her, creating makeshift games for them to play together…they both understood that she was just about that age where everything could suddenly begin making sense, and they wanted to delay her realisation of the situation as much as possible. They spent their nights huddled together for warmth, being so high up in the castle as winter came upon the realm made for some very cold nights, and they were all eager when a handmaiden arrived in the morning with a jug of warm water for them to clean up with. 

Finally, on the tenth day, Alicent had decided she had had enough. She had woken the two younger females up with her banging and yelling at the door, demanding to see the queen. Jaehaera clung to her cousin in fright while Y/n watched in anticipation as the door swung open, one of the guards stepping forward to confront the Hightower woman. 

“It’s been ten days,” she hissed, straightening her back in an attempt to reclaim any authority that she may have left, “I demand to see the queen. Not for myself, but for the sake of my niece and granddaughter, who are being punished for crimes they are wholly innocent of.”

The white cloak rolled his eyes, “You demand? Just as you have for the last ten days? The queen is busy, she has a realm to recover from the war you caused. Now, be quiet, your concerns will be brought to the queen and, no doubt, be dismissed, just as all of your others have.”

The door rattled with the force that he closed it with, leaving Alicent to slouch and huff in disbelief. How had her life turned out this way? How had she fallen so far from her position as queen to become nothing more than a prisoner and a nuisance to her guards? Her shoulders began to tremble as a sob tore its way from her throat, though no tears escaped her watery eyes. This was not sadness or anger that she was feeling, nor was it grief for the loss of each of her children, having received word of Daeron’s death in battle only days earlier. No, this was complete and utter defeat; everything she had ever worked towards gone and abandoned beneath the rubble of utter destruction. Her family and legacy, destroyed because of a simple misunderstanding on her part, because the lords of the realm would see the world in flames before a queen sat the Iron Throne. 

Alicent sank into the embrace of her niece and granddaughter as they gathered around her. She stroked each of their hair, absorbing the last ounces of love that she would be offered in this world. 

“Don’t cry,” she whispered, her thumb caressing Jaehaera’s soft cheek and wiping away the tear that slid down her flesh. In that instant, she was transported back, staring down at her sweet Helaena; what she wouldn’t give to have only a few moments more with her, to have been able to be there and wipe away her tears and stop her from throwing herself to her own demise. “Everything is alright, my little dragon. And you, my sweet niece, you are both going to be alright.”

A few hours later, the three were stirred awake as their guards banged on the door, announcing their oncoming entrance. Alicent bounced to her feet, placing herself between the door and the two younger girls. 

The knight stepped inside the room, his face as stern as ever, “Queen Rhaenyra has decided to be merciful, and meet your demands. Come at once, or not at all.”

The Dowager Queen was quick to motion the other two to follow, taking each of them by the hand as she rushed after the knight. She would not waste the one opportunity to help what was left of her kin as much as she could, even if it meant that she would face a long and desolate future all on her own. 

They finally reached the throne room, and of course Rhaenyra would only agree to meet the remaining members of her enemy’s family in front of the entire court. Y/n noticed immediately how empty the room appeared, numbers dwindling quickly within the Red Keep and leaving only those who bent the knee behind. Some were blindly faithful to the Hightowers, even to their graves, which brought the girl some comfort, but very little considering that it meant that she too would need to abandon every value she’d been taught since she was able to walk. 

The remaining courtiers leered at them, no doubt having the most offensive swears and curses on their tongues, only holding back out of fear of the new queen. Regardless of the fact that they had bent the knee, more than half of these lords were undoubtedly hating the fact that a woman had ascended the throne and only surrendered out of fear. Y/n hoped that Rhaenyra might have some mercy for Jaehaera at least, if not for herself. Of course, she mourned the deaths of her father, grandfather, and cousins; she had once accepted a betrothal to Jason Lannister’s eldest son on behalf of her family’s cause, so there was some evidence against her own odds. The young child, however, could not be blamed for the work of her father by anyone with half a mind, though she has heard that Rhaenyra has grown mad since the death of her son Lucerys, so half a mind may have been too much to ask for. 

Rhaenyra herself looked nothing short of regal as she sat upon the Iron Throne, the crown placed neatly upon her tight nest of braids previously belonging to her father, and her great grandfather before him. Her violet stare was piercing as they grew closer, but her eyes were trained entirely on Alicent as she tucked her niece and granddaughter behind her, jaw shifting back and forth, signalling that she had been grinding her teeth in anticipation. 

Beside her stood her two remaining children, Aegon and Viserys, both seeming far too young to truly understand what sort of position they were currently in, how much power they wielded over the rest of the souls in this room. They were both toddlers when the war began, and Aegon did not appear to be any older than six or seven.

One of her queensguard stepped forward, his booming voice echoing around the partially empty chamber, “You stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. You come before her as traitors for conspiring with the pretender and usurper Aegon the Weak. How do you answer these claims?”

Alicent let out a shuddered breath, “Yo-your Grace. I–we come before you to humbly ask–”

Rhaenyra let out a pitiful laugh, one that held nothing but malice behind it, “Humbly? You come before me humbly?”

The court let out a unanimous, nervous chuckle, all anticipating the queen’s next words.

Alicent’s face drained of colour, “You-your Grace?”

“Your niece and granddaughter who you hide away from me, they may come to me to ask for mercy, humbly, as you say. They are innocent in all of this, only the pawns of a greater game.” The queen grinned, “A game that all began with you.”

Alicent scoffed, quickly wiping the single tear that fell down her cheek, “Your Grace, last time we spoke face-to-face, we seemed on the same page. Forgive me for my confusion at your animosity.”

“Animosity?” Rhaenyra leaned forward, fingers gripping the arms of her throne in rage, “When we last spoke face-to-face, you swore to me that your usurper of a son had agreed to abdicate, that he was too crippled to even sit his own throne. Then, I come to learn that none of this was true, and that he had instead taken advantage of my lack of preparedness and had instead invaded the territory of my own allies. So explain to me exactly how my anger at your lies and betrayal to be displaced animosity.”

“Rhaenyr–”

“You will address the queen with respect to her title, traitor.” The same member of the queensguard spoke with an edge to his voice.

Alicent sighed, “Your Grace, I come to you, humbly, as a woman of the Faith, as you well know.”

“Faithful enough to take a lover before my father’s corpse was even cold,” She laughed, eyes looking out at the members of her court, who all seemed in shock at the admittance, “The words came from your own lips when we last spoke face-to-face, do not deny it to me now.”

Y/n frowned, tears pooling along her waterline as she tucked Jaehaera into her side. As if to protect her from these slanderous words, although she did not doubt any truth behind them. Her aunt had always been a faithful woman, so chaste it was almost impossible to believe, so it did not surprise her to find the woman who had once been her closest confidant airing out her darkest truths before the court. She did not blame her, despite the fact that she had drilled into her head the importance of virtue and chastity as a woman, but in truth, her aunt was the strongest woman she had ever known; she was forced into a marriage with a man who was more than double her age, taking on the role of queen at sixteen and consequently losing her best friend; she was the mother of four mentally unwell children, one unable to keep his wits about him, one who was tragically more in tune with the world than anyone gave her credit for, one who was maniacally vengeful, and another who grew up away from her protection. Perhaps Daeron had been the luckiest of them, considering how his siblings had fared, but Y/n knew that he had experienced his own ailments that had been kept well concealed on behalf of her great-uncle, the Lord of Oldtown, and she also knew exactly how the lack of a maternal figure affected a child.

Her father had done his best, but often admitted that he wished his sister had been there to help him guide her to womanhood. The septas could only do so much, though they taught her more self hatred than anything. Her great-aunt was a stern woman, and had no patience for her questions or girlish dreams, and pushed her away as much as humanly possible. 

“Your Grace,” her voice carried through the hall before she could even think, all eyes turning to the meek figure hiding behind her aunt and standing before the queen as a traitor. Rhaenyra herself seemed surprised to hear from her, violet eyes staring down at her curiously, “Forgive us. Forgive us for our crimes against your reign. My lady aunt speaks the truth when she tells you that we come to you humbly, three women guilty of nothing but being under the control of the wrong men. You, yourself, have experienced this cruelty, as has every other lady in this room.”

The queen seemed taken by her words, sitting back against her throne thoughtfully, “You mean to appeal to my mercy based on our shared experiences? On our mutual sex? Do you truly consider the three of you completely innocent of any crimes?”

“Innocent?” Y/n asked, “I–”

“Step forward,” the queen commanded, “You muster enough courage to speak before me. Speak to me plainly and speak to me truthfully.” 

Y/n’s gaze fluttered to the ground, then to her aunt, whose eyes were wide and glossy with fear. She shook her head, pleading with her not to speak any further. She inhaled deeply, sliding her palm over the crown of sweet Jaehaera’s head before she finally stepped around her aunt and stood directly before the queen.

“We do not have all day,” the queen smirked.

She clenched her jaw, growing angry with how much the woman seemed to be enjoying their humiliation, “My aunt admitted to her mistake, and yes, she is partially responsible for this war and her lapse in judgement is one that cannot be so easily forgiven or forgotten.”

“There we agree.”

Y/n swallowed harshly, “But you must not forget, that the plan to…usurp your throne existed from the moment that Aegon was born. You better than anyone must know that. While your father lived, you were protected, but he was the only man in this world who has ever wanted you to succeed.”

Rhaenyra gulped, “You speak as if you know me. As if you know my life, or the people in it.”

“I do not mean to offend Your Grace, I only wish you to understand,” a stray tear trickled down her face. “I accepted a betrothal made for me on behalf of my grandsire, a man who you executed for his crimes. I have never met the man I was meant to marry, nor was I ever going to prior to our marriage. I was nothing short of a game piece. My sweet cousin, Jaehaera, barely old enough to understand the fate of her own mother, or her brother before her,” Rhaenyra’s face paled at the mere mention of little Jaehaerys, “I have no doubt that my grandsire had similar plans for her in the coming years. As for my aunt, she has made mistakes, yes, many of which she will never be able to repent for, but she was victim of only the same treatment as I, only she was given to a gentle man rather than one who is known for nothing but his ability to hunt, as I was. If you cannot find the forgiveness to spare myself or my aunt, I beseech you to take your niece into your care, for she is the only one of us completely innocent.”

Rhaenyra averted her gaze, silent for a moment before she finally waved her hand dismissively, “I’ve heard enough. Take them away.”

Y/n kept her eyes steady on the queen as the guards dragged her away. She wanted nothing more than to climb those stairs and weep directly at her feet, to beg for mercy, whether it be through a quick death or a pardon, but instead she held her stare firmly, forcing the queen to stare into her eyes as long as she could before the guards dragged her into the corridor, and back up to the tower.

A day passed before they heard anything more about or from the queen. Servants came and went with their meals and the guards ignored Alicent’s insistent yelling, until the door finally opened and a white cloak stepped inside the small room. 

“The queen has summoned you.”

Alicent stood from the small writing desk near the window, wringing her fingers as she took a nervous step forward. 

“Not you,” his voice stopped her, his gloved finger extending to point at the younger woman who cradled the child on the bed, “Her.”

“Her?” Alicent barked, “No, she is innocent. What could the queen possibly have to speak to her about?”

“That isn’t any of your concern, traitor,” he scowled at her, “She can come with me peacefully, or we can do this the hard way. I have no preference.”

Y/n shared a glance with her aunt, slowly moving to slide Jaehaera out of her lap. The child clung to her, small hands grabbing her tightly as she wept in resistance. 

“Jaehaera, please,” her voice cracked at this rare burst of emotions from her cousin. The girl had been through so much in such a short amount of time, and she didn’t even truly know it. “It will be alright. I will return.”

Alicent peeled the child away from her, cradling the child as she screamed while her niece was grabbed by the arm and roughly led out into the hallway. 

Y/n was shocked when the guards led her away from the throne room and up into the palace where the royal bedchambers were kept. 

“Where are we going?” She asked the guard. 

He ignored her, finally stopping before the largest door in the corridor, a room she had once known as Aegon’s chambers, but were now Rhaenyra’s. A shiver worked its way up her spine as the guard knocked, roughly forcing her through the door when the queen called out for them to enter. 

The queen sat in a large chair before the roaring fireplace, far too close to such heat for anyone but the blood of the dragon. Her eyes were pulled to the door, a small curve appearing on her lips at the sight of the woman in front of her. 

“My lady,” she nodded her head, “You may leave us, Ser Rychard.” 

The guard gave her a slight shove forward out of the way of the door as he closed it behind them, leaving the two women almost alone, save for the handmaidens that scurried around the room around them. 

“Your Grace,” she lowered into a curtsy, “I must ask–”

“Save the pleasantries,” the queen hummed, turning her gaze back to the fire, “You were bold enough earlier. Do not tell me it was all for show.”

“I apologise if I overstepped earlier. I believe that you, of all people, can understand my desperation to preserve my cousin’s innocence.”

“I can,” the queen reached for the cup of wine at her side, taking a slow drink, “I have no intentions of harming a hair on Jaehaera’s head.”

“You mean it?” a weight was lifted from her shoulders, “What will you do with her?”

“I will keep her as my ward. Regardless of her parentage, she is a Targaryen princess and will be raised as such. She will know her histories, and she will have the finest things.”

“And will she know of her mother?”

Rhaenyra paused, “Helaena, for better or worse, is involved in such histories. I want the child to know not only of this war and the losses she has faced, but why they occurred and what we could learn from them.”

Y/n tilted her head and frowned, “No.”

“No?” the queen gasped, disbelief clear in her voice, “Tell me then, what would you have me do.”

“For better or for worse,” the younger woman scoffed, “For better or for worse, Helaena was nothing short of a victim. I understand that you had little relations with your siblings, for reasons I cannot fault you for. But in this war, for better or for worse, there were innocent lives lost on both sides.”

“Helaena took her own life.”

“Out of grief!” Y/n paused after her voice rose in volume, collecting herself before the queen, “Perhaps you had no part in the butchering of her son, as you say, but her death was nothing short of a casualty, I’m sure you can agree.”

Rhaenyra stood from her chair, crossing the room at a frightening speed, “You dare question my involvement in such…such…”

“Senselessness?”

The queen paused, staring at her with that same curious stare she had worn the day before in front of the court. 

“I believe you when you say that you had no part in this, Your Grace,” the young lady diverted her gaze to the floor, “But regardless, the order came from your late husband. The job was done in your name. Jaehaerys was not the first victim of this war, but the pain that this caused Helaena is one that you can almost understand yourself.”

“Do not speak of it.”

“This war has caused nothing but loss and heartache. Do not teach Jaehaera that her brother was butchered with purpose, or that her mother was a tyrant who chose to leave her.” her eyes had glossed over, and her grief had overcome the strength in her voice, “Helaena was special, she mattered, and for better or for worse, she was forced to watch as her son was brutally slain in his own bed, forced to submit to their will in order to not only save her own life, but Jaehaera’s as well. Teach her of her mother, and who she truly was. Do not paint her as a villain or a coward for her choice to leave this world.”

Rhaenyra stared at her for a moment, a rare glimmer of understanding appearing in her violet gaze before she lunged forward, taking the younger woman in her arms. Only then did the Hightower woman allow herself to weep for the first time since her imprisonment. 

The queen soothed her and brushed a hand over her hair. She held her close, allowing the younger woman to nuzzle into her neck as close as she needed. After a few moments, she pulled away, wiping her cheeks dry as she attempted to compose herself.

“My apologies, my queen. I do not know what has overcome me.”

She shook her head, hand coming up to brush her thumb across her cheekbone, “Do not apologise. You are right, I know just as well as anyone that you and Princess Jaehaera are innocent of any crime beyond being born a woman. I understand your grief. The princess will learn of her mother as she was, not as she will be remembered. She will know her brother and she will understand that I had no hand in his death. She will know her father, who, beyond his many faults, I am told, was as attentive a father as he could. When she is older, I will propose a marriage between her and my own son Aegon, so that she may carry on her mother’s legacy as queen consort and finally end this feud.”

“Only if she agrees,” Y/n whispered, “You claim yourself to be different from men like my grandsire. Do not force her into an unwanted marriage.”

Rhaenyra scoffed out a laugh, “You are a demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

The younger lady let out a small giggle of her own, glossy eyes staring into those of the queen. Neither of them took any notice of the curious stares of the servants around them as their foreheads came together, noses brushing as Rhaenyra teased her lips against the younger lady’s. She smiled at the surprise on her face, testing the waters once more before finally pressing their lips firmly together. 

Y/n was still, unsure of how to react. She had not been so intimate with anyone before, let alone another woman. She had been raised as a woman of the Faith, which warned against the dangers of such temptations, but there was something so alluring about the silver-haired woman that made her not want to pull away.

The kisses shared were soft at first, but slowly grew in passion as Rhaenyra took a handful of the younger woman’s hair in her hand, guiding her mouth along with her own. 

One of the servants cleared their throat, clearly uncomfortable with the display. Rhaenyra pulled away just enough to turn her head.

“Your Grace, your bath is ready.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, “leave us.”

The handmaidens made quick work of fleeing the queen’s chambers, no doubt eager to spread such gossip through the staff of the Red Keep. Once they were gone and the door was closed behind her, Rhaenyra turned her attention back to the starry-eyed girl in front of her.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Your Grace?”

“You heard me. I imagine you have been longing for a proper bath after days in confinement. Take off your clothes, and get in the tub.” The girl stared at her for a moment, causing some concern to appear  in Rhaenyra’s eyes, “Forgive me. You may leave if you wish. I will send some servants to your quarters for you to bathe in private if you so choose. However, I would like you to stay.”

At a loss for words, she mumbled out her most pressing concern, “What of the servants? Word will spread quickly, especially among suitors.”

“Suitors,” the queen snorted, “you complain of betrothals one minute, and demand one the next.”

The lady shook her head, “Not for me. Forgive me, Your Grace, but I had assumed you would wish to remarry once the throne was secured.”

“I have no desire to remarry. I have been widowed twice over, and not a single one of my lovers outlived this war. I do not wish for more children, or for company offered to me by any man. I cannot deny that we would face ridicule, but if you were to become my lover, I can protect you from unwanted betrothals and you will never face hardship again in your lifetime so long as I can protect you. Regardless of your answer, you are more than welcome at my court, and I encourage you to speak to the princess of her family, for no one could do her mother justice as I know you could.”

Y/n was stunned at the sudden change in demeanour. The woman who had called them before the court to interrogate and humiliate them for their parentage was now offering her a place in her bed. The woman who had only just gotten cross with her was here offering her a permanent position not only in her court as a subject, but also as an equal within these rooms.

“Say the word,” Rhaenyra breathed into her flesh, dragging the bump of her nose down the column of her throat, “And you will be free of me. I shall never ask you of this again. Or, take off your clothes, and you may have everything you could ever want.”

Y/n inhaled sharply before a nervous smile appeared on her lips, “Help me with my laces?”

Rhaenyra smirked, pressing one more kiss to her lips as she took her by the hand, leading her further into her bedchambers to where the large wooden tub had been prepared. She forced her to turn, making quick work of the laces at the back of her gown and helping her strip. Luckily, the gown was rather plain, simple blue cotton over her shift, and she was bare before the queen within moments. 

Rhaenyra’s eyes scanned up and down her figure, a satisfied smile rising to her lips, “Your beauty exceeds my expectations, my love.”

The shift from enemy to lover was swift, so quick that Y/n felt like her head would begin to spin. She felt heat rise to her cheeks as she gingerly allowed the queen to take her by the hand, guiding her to step into the steaming water and sink into the warmth. She sighed at the feeling, having only had access to a small basin of lukewarm water between the three of them for the past fortnight. 

“Would you like some wine?” Rhaenyra asked her, already beginning to pour her a cup before she answered.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Y/n answered bashfully, accepting the cup and taking a long sip from it before allowing Rhaenyra to set it aside. 

Rhaenyra allowed Y/n to bathe in silence, sitting at her side and helping to scrub the oils away from her scalp with tender hands, manicured nails massaging the gentle skin and causing the girl to tip her head back and let out a small noise of contentment.

After she was cleaner than she had ever felt in her life, Rhaenyra’s hands moved down the back of her neck, softly massaging the tense muscle until she reached her shoulders. They then pushed down her back as far as she could reach before her flesh met the side of the tub, and began crawling around her front. Her nails tickled the flesh over her ribs, settling just beneath the slouched underside of her breasts, but made no effort to crawl any higher. Her soft pink lips ghosted up the side of her neck, inhaling the fresh scent of the oils in the tub. 

“Tell me to stop,” the queen whispered, “And we will never speak of this again.”

The younger woman exhaled shakily, slowly turning her head to come face-to-face with the queen. Their noses brushed one another for a moment as Rhaenyra waited with bated breath as she waited for her answer.

“Do not stop.”

The words were out of her mouth no more than a second before Rhaenyra’s lips descended on her own, fingers crawling up and firmly cupping her breasts in her palms. The younger woman gasped in surprise, but quickly relaxed into the queen’s touch as she rolled her already pebbled nipples between her fingers, completely disregarding the fact that the long sleeves of her gown were now doused in the water. One hand began to descend further into the water, tracing across her ribs, the soft pudge of her belly, and just barely reaching the thatch of curls that just barely protected her modesty. 

She pulled away with a gasp, “Wha-what are you doing?”

Recognition appeared in Rhaenyra’s eyes, her features softening, “You are a maiden?”

The girl shook her head, “My great-aunt once told me that if I was not chaste until my wedding night, I would be damning not only myself, but my entire house as well.” 

“If that were true, I can promise you that many of these great houses would be damned, my own included,” Rhaenyra scoffed, “With a man, it can be painful, but nice. I admit, I am not quite as experienced with my own sex as I am the opposite, but I find it just as if not even more enjoyable. Women are more…in-tune with one another.”

She stared at the queen inquisitively, “What do you mean?”

“You would understand what feels nice to you based on your personal explorations, just as I do.”

“Explorations?”

A small chuckle escaped Rhaenyra’s throat as she pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, “My sweet, you are truly so innocent, aren’t you. Do not tell me you have never pleasured yourself.”

The girl shook her head, brows furrowed. Pleasure? What could she mean? Everyone had told her that coupling with her lord husband would be unpleasant for the first while, but may begin to feel nice after some time, but no one had ever mentioned anything of her own pleasure. 

“Then I would humbly request that I be the first to show you,” Rhaenyra smirked at her, “just say the word.”

Her nimble fingers played with the hair between her legs, tracing over it playfully and laughing to herself at the jump of the younger woman’s hips under the slightest of touches. Her thighs clamped together, this familiar feeling pooling between her thighs becoming more overwhelming than ever; she would normally wait this out, clean the wetness away and carry on, but she did not think that the queen was going to allow her to this time.

“Yes,” she uttered out, mouth feeling impossibly dry, “yes, please, Your Grace.”

The title sent a shiver down Rhaenyra’s spine, perhaps something to be reused at another time when she did not need to be so gentle with her. 

“In here, we are equals, my love. You may call me Rhaenyra, or whatever you wish.”

The queen’s name rolled off her tongue fluidly, and Rhaenyra revelled in the sound. She finally pulled away, standing to her full height and extending a hand to the woman and carefully helping her step out of the cooling water and onto the stone flooring. She led her back to where the fire continued to roar within its hearth, and turned her back to her. 

“Help me?” She called over her shoulder, moving her long braid to the side as the younger woman eagerly helped her undress.

The young Hightower woman stared in awe at the sight of her queen, appearing like a goddess before her as the firelight flickered off of her milky-white flesh. Rhaenyra was nothing short of beautiful, if that word was even suitable for a woman so divine. Y/n felt an overwhelming urge to bend to her every whim and desire.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” she whispered as Rhaenyra turned back to face her, chests brushing against one another with every heaving breath. 

“Have you seen many women in such a state, my lady?” Rhaenyra teased, an easy smile appearing on her lips.

The younger woman looked down bashfully, “I have not. But I doubt any other could rival you.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, kissing her so slowly it felt more like heavy breaths falling from their lips than anything else, “But you do, my sweet.”

Rhaenyra pulled her impossibly closer, deepening their kiss until her tongue was able to familiarise itself with the interior of her mouth. Y/n’s gentle fingers found their place on the queen’s jaw, holding her close as Rhaenyra reached around her, one hand gliding up and down her back while the other shamelessly grasped at her bottom, softly massaging one cheek in her grasp and smirking at the squeak of surprise it drew from her new lover. 

“Lay down,” she breathed into her, guiding the younger woman down to lay flat on the luxurious white fur rug in front of the hearth, wasting no time in dropping down to lay on her side next to her. “I need you to relax, I have nothing but pleasure in store for you, my sweet.”

Her pink lips traced down the length of Y/n’s throat, quickly descending further down to engulf her pert nipple between her lips, tugging and nipping at it as gasps and whimpers began escaping her lover. She moved to the other breast, taking her time in worshipping the flesh and nipples alike.

“How does this feel?” She asked between kisses pressed to her sternum, “I wish to hear you always, my love.”

“G-good. I cannot–I cannot explain it, but…”

“I understand, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra kissed her lips again this time, the hand that had once been resting on Y/n belly had slid further down to rest between her thighs once more, fingers tracing delicate patterns on the skin, “Will you allow me to feel you?”

The younger woman hesitantly nodded, breath hitching as Rhaenyra parted her thighs and finally breached the curls with her fingertips, a soft sigh falling from her lips as she felt the wetness pooling at her core.

“Feel this?” She asked, moving her fingers around to collect some of her slick before drawing small circles on her sensitive pearl, “feel how much you desire me? Nothing could stop me from having you, my sweet.”

For a split second, that same dark glint appeared in Rhaenyra’s eyes, the one she had the day prior in the Throne Room. For better or for worse, Rhaenyra was a Targaryen, all bound to have some darkness within them. If she were not so disposed at the moment, Y/n may have felt a sense of fear, but instead it only furthered her desire.

“Oh,” she jolted at Rhaenyra’s movement, legs widening at the warming sensation that appeared in the pit of her tummy, “my love,” Rhaenyra grinned at the name, “I feel…”

“Good?” Rhaenyra asked.

The girl nodded enthusiastically, tilting her head back into the plush rug as Rhaenyra dared to breach her entrance with her fingertips. Rhaenyra watched her face for any discomfort as her finger easily sank into her sweet heat, glad to find none even as she inserted another.

Y/n let out a cry of protest as Rhaenyra removed her fingers entirely, bringing them up to her lips and sucking every drop of her juices off of her digits. Y/n watched in awe, her kiss-swollen lips parted in surprise at the vulgarity of it all. 

“You taste divine,” Rhaenyra cooed, moving to kneel between her parted thighs, “and look how beautiful,” the girl let out a whimper as she traced her finger around the entirety of her cunt, “I fear I may perish if I do not taste you this instant.”

She left no room for questioning or protest as she settled on her belly, back arched with her ass high in the air behind her. Y/n only wished she could step out of her body for a moment to admire the sight from behind, but was quickly brought out of her thoughts as Rhaenyra dragged her tongue slowly up the entirety of her core, from taint to clitoris. 

She pushed herself up on her elbows in surprise, thighs clamping shut around Rhaenyra’s head as she began to alternate between licking around her entrance and suckling on her sweet, swollen pearl of nerves. The first true moan of pleasure was dragged from her throat as the queen sucked her clit, tugging at it with her lips for a moment before letting it slip back beneath its hood with a soft gushing noise. Rhaenyra chuckled, taking great pleasure in noticing how wet and responsive the young lady was to her touch, finally conceding and nuzzling her face into her wetness and focusing on bringing her to the brink.

She was not far off, having never felt such pleasure before in her life. She supported herself with one hand behind her, back arching into her touch as the other hand planted itself on the back of Rhaenyra’s head. Her eyes suddenly widened in shock, the feeling in the pit of her stomach far too strong to fight off any longer.

“Oh, oh,” she panted, “Your G–Rhaenyra, you must stop. I think I am going to–oh!”

Her face burned with embarrassment, thighs closing together as Rhaenyra pulled away. She could not believe that she had just…the feeling had been so similar to that of when she needed to use the chamber pot. Had she truly just peed on the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?

But Rhaenyra was dry as she returned to her side, save for the wetness smeared from her chin to her nose and across both cheeks. She was quick to press an eager kiss to her lips, allowing the girl to taste herself on her tongue as she smoothed her hand over her soft belly comfortingly. 

“You are so lovely,” the queen mused, “every part of you. Now, let me clean you–”

“No,” the lady protested, “let me…I wish to return the…”

Rhaenyra grinned shamelessly, “You wish to pleasure me?”

She nodded bashfully, feeling so vulnerable yet so connected at the same time as she came down from her own orgasm. Rhaenyra nodded, shifting herself across the rug once more until she was facing the opposite direction, stroking her lover’s hair gently.

“Tap my leg if this is too much. Just lay back, and allow me to take my pleasure from you.”

Rhaenyra quickly swung her leg over the girl’s head, straddling her face as she slowly lowered herself. 

“Stick out your tongue, my love. Remember what you liked, kisses and licks, remember?”

Y/n nodded, brushing her own hair away from her sweaty cheeks and following her instructions as the queen lowered herself onto her face, a low moan rumbling from her jaw as her dripping cunt settled onto Y/n’s awaiting tongue. 

Rhaenyra gripped her hair, slowly beginning to grind her hips down against her as the girl lapped eagerly at her core, moaning at the musky taste of the queen’s most intimate centre. She did her best to follow the movements that Rhaenyra had administered on her own core, licking and kissing until she was eventually engulfing the entirety of her cunt in her hot mouth, slurping and sucking at her juices. Rhaenyra laughed in surprise at this, grinding her hips harder.

“I had no idea you could be so greedy, my love,” she chuckled, rolling her head back in pleasure, “Oh, yes, yes.”

The girl was spurred on by the praise, testing the barrier of her clenching hole with her tongue as Rhaenyra rocked her hips harder and harder, forcing her clit down on the girl’s nose. Her words of praise became slurred as her movements sped up, loud yells of pleasure leaving her, no doubt revealing to the guards outside her chambers exactly what was happening between the queen and her prisoner.

Rhaenyra, having gone without touch since long before she invaded the capitol, was almost as quick to finish as her sweet maiden had been, moaning in pleasure as thick drips of white fluid oozed from her tight hole, covering the entire lower half of the younger woman’s face. 

The queen was pleased to find a grin on her lover’s face as she climbed off of her, quick to greet her with a kiss of dying passion, tiredness overtaking each of them as they laid together, hands wandering across naked skin. 

“Stay with me tonight,” the queen murmured, “and I will bring you so much pleasure you will not even remember your own name.”

Realisation dawned on the Hightower maiden, remembering Jaehaera and Alicent locked in that tower while she could sleep in the queen’s own bed that very night. Guilt gnawed at her conscience, though she would never find it within herself to regret any of what had transpired between them that night. 

“I cannot,” she frowned, “Jaehaera, she wept when I was escorted away. I promised her I would be back.”

A soft smile appeared on her face, “You care for her as your own. I admire that.”

Y/n shrugged, “As I have said, she is innocent in all of this. She does not even understand why she does not see her mother anymore.”

Rhaenyra pursed her lips, “You and the princess will be given proper chambers on the morrow, just allow me some time to arrange it. I would not dream of sending her back to that nursery, so she may stay in the rooms near my own children out of convenience for the maids. You, however, my love, will have the queen’s chambers.”

Her eyes bugged out of her head, “The–Rhaenyra I cannot–”

“You can, and you will.” She pressed, “as I have told you, I have no desire to remarry or take another man to bed. You are the closest I will ever have to another spouse, I swear it to you now. If I could take you to wife and make you consort at my side, I would.”

The Hightower woman felt warmth spread across her cheeks, but a gnawing question tugged at her, unable to deny herself of seeking the answer. 

“And my aunt, the Queen Dowager?”

Rhaenyra’s face hardened, “I shared a love with Alicent as a child, one that I have never been able to replace. For that, and for your sake and Jaehaera’s, I swear to be merciful to her. However, she began this war, and plotted against me from the moment my sweet Jace took his first breath. For that, I cannot forgive. She will be treated well, but she will remain in confinement for the rest of her days, as she has requested in exchange for your own freedom.”

Y/n was silent for a moment, knowing that this truly was the best outcome possible for her aunt at this point, “Will we be allowed to visit her? I knew Helaena enough, but Jaehaera would benefit most from Alicent, who knew her better than anyone.”

She pondered for a moment before coming up with her response, “So long as she bends the knee and accepts her fate, I will grant you visitation once a week, and you may pray together if you must.”

Y/n nodded, leaning in and trailing her own sweet kisses up Rhaenyra’s jaw and to her lips, “Thank you, my love.”

She jumped in surprise as Rhaenyra’s hand enclosed around her throat, applying no pressure except for the slight press of her thumb on her jugular as she pulled her in to meet her kiss once more, this one slower and lazier than the others as their lips dragged across one another’s softly. 

Madam Sylvi discreetly pressed the letter into your hand before moving about her business. You had heard the stirrings, the whispers in the streets of the Black Queen calling those to aid her with the promise of claiming a dragon. Bastards of dragon blood. Dragonseeds. The ones who filled the streets of Flea Bottom, filled the pleasure houses in the Streek of Silk, or who simply blended in with the commonborn despite their silvery hair. Cursed by being born out of wedlock, yet now they were worthy of a bigger cause. One that not many would ever dream of.

The letter had come from Mysaria, a woman who had cared for you for most of your life. You knew who your father was, and his coin allowed Mysaria to keep you in comfort, or at the very least clothed and fed. You remember receiving a few fond pats on the head from time to time, and a few gifts here and there, but you knew you would never be his. He had left for Pentos shortly after taking Lady Laena Velaryon to wife, fathering two legitimate daughters. Something you would never be.

Coin arrived in a timely manner to help Mysaria clothe and feed you. She was generous when she did not need to be; she could have turned you out onto the street and kept his money. But she, too, knew what it was like to be burned by Daemon Targaryen and to be abandoned by a father. You lived with her in the brothels, and she kept her promise to protect you from that world for as long as she could, training you in the ways of dancing and letting you assist in weaving her web of spies. When she was ready to flee King's Landing, she left the brothel to you and Sylvi, trusting the two of you to look after things and each other, but you knew the day would soon come when you could no longer put off the inevitable. You would soon have to learn the art of spreading your legs to survive.

Mysaria, still wishing to spare you such a life, urged you to journey to Dragonstone and make the attempt.

The daughter of Daemon Targaryen deserves a dragon. Come and claim your inheritance. Serve the rightful heir.

You read her words thrice before tossing the parchments into the fire. Perhaps you would never fully win your father's love, attention, and respect, but perhaps you could find such in your queen and cousin. So the next day, you went to the shores of Blackwater Bay to board the small fishing boats taking people to Dragonstone. Your dark gray cloak billowed in the breeze as you stepped onto the rocking boat. Smoke clung around the isle, an almost foreboding feeling in the air. This was a place of magic; you could smell it. Ash, fire, and blood. All of you were given entrance into the castle, provided with food and drink before being escorted to the gantry, which led to the dragonmont.

Queen Rhaenyra descended the stairs, giving a rousing speech as she passed her gaze over those who had gathered. A sea of silver hair. Her gaze locked on you, head cocking curiously as she studied you. Did she see Daemon in your face? Would she recognize her own blood before her? She made her way through the bodies, silently gauging the bastards, and once again her gaze lingered on you. Her fingers twitched, something about you calling to her and she resisted the urge to touch you. She could not play favorites, for many would not survive this attempt.

"Naejot māzīs, Vermitos." You had heard your father speak this tongue before, charming the whores and his lickspittles.

You watched as the enormous bronze beast emerged from the purple smoky shadows. It was hard not to feel in awe as the ancient beast once ridden by King Jaehaerys stood there, plain as day. The beast snorted, gray wisps curling from his massive nostrils.

"Lykirī, Lykirī," Rhaenyra cooed, reaching to rest her hand on the dragon's giant muzzle. He calmed from her touch. "Dohaeras."

"Who among you will be first? I have nothing more to tell you; it must be the dragon who speaks."

As a young man stepped forward in an attempt, you heard a phantom song filling your head. Beckoning you, guiding you. You had never stepped foot here before, yet you seemed to know where to place them, following the path downward and further into the mont. Rhaenyra's ever observant amethyst eyes never left you, and she followed behind like a silent silver shadow. You didn't even notice as you made your way deeper into the volcano. The song grew louder the closer you came.

Māzīs ynot, Māzīs ynot (come to me, come to me)

Jumban syt aō (I am waiting for you)

Unsure of what awaited you. You found yourself in a cave, a thin stream of sun shining through, and it took a moment before you saw her. She blended in almost seamlessly with the rocks surrounding you. She was smaller and more slender compared to her counterpart looming overhead.

The breath the silver beast exhaled shook your body, and heat coated you. She lowered her elegant silver head, and tentatively, you reached out to press your hand to the dragon's muzzle, emulating Rhaenyra's movements just moments earlier.

"Hello," you smiled.

"You have found Silverwing." Rhaenyra's voice trailed behind you.

You whipped around to face her, giving a bow. "Your Grace. I…heard her singing to me."

"It seems she has chosen you; she has not been ridden since my great-grandmother," Rhaenyra said kindly as she stepped closer. Screams echoed through the caves. The smell of burnt flesh. "See if she will let you mount her."

Silverwing stepped closer, her claws dragging through the muck as she lowered her head once again to sniff you before letting out a soft bray. "Lykirī," you whispered, stroking her before she was in a position where you could attempt to get in her saddle. It took effort and strength, but soon you were situated in the saddle, hand gripping the pommel.

"If you wish to fly, Sōvēs is the command," Rhaenyra instructed.

"Sōvēs, Silverwing," you called out, voice wavering slightly.

You gasped, holding on tightly as she walked through the cave and slithered out the opening before taking to the skies. Even though your stomach lurched, you opened your eyes and let the wind whip through your hair. It was a powerful feeling, as if you could fly higher than the clouds and touch the Gods themselves. Silverwing was experienced, swift, and elegant as her wings sliced through the misty clouds. She did two laps around Dragonstone before swooping back toward the mont. The bronze beast had emerged with a male rider on its back. She landed next to him, tucking her head beneath Vermithor's jaw and nuzzling him.

"They are mates, I think," you called out to the man.

"So the stories go. I'm Hugh," he introduced, and you told him your name.

Suddenly, a pale mist of the dragon emerged from an opening, its rider letting out a loud whoop and hanging on for dear life.

"Did many die in there?" you asked Hugh, remembering the screams from earlier.

"It was quite vicious," Hugh admitted. "Many were lost, but we were warned."

As the excitement settled down, the dragonkeepers came to help guide the dragons back into the caves, and you and the others were shown to separate quarters in the castle. Fresh, clean black-and-red clothing was laid out for you, and a celebratory feast awaited. As you gathered around the table, your gaze fell on Lady Baela, your half sister. She was a true beauty with an air of confidence about her. Prince Jacaerys looked rather sour, and you learned of the other riders. Your fellow dragonseeds. Hugh the Hammer, you had met earlier, and there was Addam of Hull and Ulf the White. Queen Rhaenyra raised her cup in a toast to honor the four of you.

Ulf was delighted by the food, tearing into the quails and devouring them like the man had never eaten a meal before. You took your time savoring every bite, especially the fresh oysters, and each sip of rich red wine. You learned that Seasmoke had chased Addam down in Spicetown, Hugh's bravery as he stood eye to eye with The Bronze Fury, and the shy, allusive dragon who crawled out from deep within the mountain to bond with his boisterous rider. As the evening wound down, people excused themselves for bed.

"It is good to have another woman riding for our cause," Baela smiled at you, gently touching your shoulder before departing.

"Might I have a private word?" Rhaenyra requested softly.

"Yes, Your Grace."

You followed her through flame lit halls, the flickering orange glow bathing the stones and you noticed the glyphs embedded in them. The guards followed behind, armor clanking until you reached what you assumed were her chambers. They took position outside her door.

"You look just like him," she mused, a smile tugging at her lips as she poured two glasses of wine.

"So I've been told, Your Grace," you replied. There was no use dancing around the truth.

She placed a cup in your hands. "It is almost eerie in a way. I wonder…if my daughter had lived, would she have looked like you, perhaps?" Her palm curved gently over your cheek.

"Prettier, I would think, Your Grace."

"Do not disparage your beauty. You caught my eye immediately."

"You flatter me, Your Grace," you said, taking a sip of the sweet red wine, reminding you of plums, which were your favorite.

"Merely speak the truth. I am glad you answered. Mysaria assured me that you would."

"She knows me better than anyone else. Still seeks to protect me."

"She is a clever woman, or so I am learning."

"She will serve you well, Your Grace, as will I," you assured her.

"Come, let me fix your hair. You will find it best to have it braided while flying." She motioned to the chair, and you sat.

"Surely, you have better things to do than tend to my hair, You Grace," you jested softly.

"At this moment, I do not," she chuckled before gently dragging the brush through your mussed curls.

It was comforting, a warm, fuzzy feeling that crept over you and slithered down your shoulders. She took her time braiding your hair.

"I hope I am not overstepping, but I would like you to train alongside Lady Baela. She is a skilled dragonrider with a crossbow. I wish for all my riders to have some combat training. You will be fitted for armor as well."

"I can work alongside Lady Baela with no issue, Your Grace, thank you."

"Sleep well, you will have long days ahead of you."

But you were ready to prove your worth.

The days were indeed long and filled with dragon riding, Valyrian lessons, and combat skills training. Mostly, you practiced alongside Baela, repeatedly hitting targets with crossbows. Addam, Hugh, and Ulf worked with the Master of Arms, learning the sword and mace.

"Seems unfair,' you mumbled.

"I agree," Baela grinned before taking aim and releasing the arrow. "Why can't we learn the sword as well?" You enjoyed being in her company, often growing exhausted by Ulf's constant oafishness. Hugh was kind enough, yet guarded. You found an ally in Addam, at least, as he too wished to prove himself and was eager to serve Rhaenyra. The two of you took the skies together on your respective mounts.

You gave her a soft smile. "I mean no offense, my lady."

"You find none with me," she assured you. "Fire and blood are in our veins. Did not Queen Visenya wield Dark Sister? The very sword my father now possesses."

Our father.

You supped alone in your chambers, muscles aching and in no mood for conversation. The doors parted, and Ser Lorant stepped in.

"Queen Rhaenyra," he announced, and you quickly stood to your feet.

She stepped inside, golden crown perched on her head, with her silver hair in three intricate braids all woven together. There was a brief glimpse of nervousness as she twisted the rings around her finger.

"I have a mission that I would like to send you on," she stated.

"What would the mission be, Your Grace?"

"I wish for you to fly over King's Landing in an attempt to lure the Prince Regent to Dragonstone so he may see the force we now hold," she explained. "Silverwing is swift, and you are skilled with her. I would send Addam to be close behind should danger unfold."

You nodded. "Yes, Your Grace." You were eager to fulfill this duty, even if the thought of Aemond chasing you on Vhagar nearly made you shit your breeches.

The time arrived, and you were dressed in your riding leathers, hair braided, and mounted on Silverwing. A kiss from your queen lingered on your cheek. Addam was on Seasmoke, and you both awaited Rhaenyra's command. Once it was given, you took off on Silverwing with Addam following five clicks behind. Having grown up in the Street of Silk, you knew the layout of the city well. You had even been brought in to dance for Prince Aegon once before. Silverwing glided with such ease, and you kept her low, away from the Scorpions. You maneuvered her by the window where Rhaenyra said the small council sat. The plan had worked, and Prince Aemond's attention was gained.

You lingered away from the Red Keep, needing him on your tail. Vhagar's roars shook through the city and you urged Silverwing forward. Vhagar was large, but not as fast. Addam flew just ahead on Seasmoke as the two of you made way to Dragonstone, where Rhaenyra waited with Syrax, Vermithor, and Grey-Ghost. A hot blast of dragonfire filled the air, and you dipped Silverwing toward Blackwater Bay, her wings skimming the water. Blood rushed to your head, whooshing in your ears and making you taste your pulse on your tongue. You hadn't realized that you'd been holding your breath until Silverwing landed next to Syrax, when you finally released it and gasped. Aemond did not venture closer, turning Vhagar around and heading back for King's Landing. Rhaenyra held a proud smirk on her face and reached up to stroke Syrax's muzzle.

"Well done," she told you and Addam. It was becoming clear she had a soft spot for the two of you.

The weeks passed, and Rhaenyra continued to draw you under her wing. The dragon queen, they began to call her. Thought you came to think of her as the mother of dragons. The tides began to turn further in her favor as the tensions of the starving smallfolk grew in King's Landing. You weren't completely naive; you understood that Rhaenyra played her own games to garner support. Highborn games, Mysaria had told you. She had given you some distance upon your arrival, allowing you the time to cultivate your talents and carve out a space, but you could feel her lingering in the shadows with her dark eyes always upon you.

"You have done very well, but I never doubted," she hummed one evening when you found her stowed away in your rooms. You were relieved to see a hot bath waiting for you. The heat had been almost agonizing today as the smog had lifted, allowing the bright, hot sun to permeate through. Rhaenyra had given you and Baela her support in expanding your combat skills, and since you were the only two females, you sparred with each other. Both of you were drenched in sweat by day's end.

"Thank you for writing to me," you said, peeling out of your sparring padding and the rest of your damp clothing.

"The queen needs to be surrounded by those who truly believe in her," Mysaria reasoned, extending a hand to help you into the bath. "I can see the adoration in your eyes."

"She is easy to love, easier than Aegon the Pretender, and certainly more so than Aemond. The smallfolk hate the Prince Regent," you sighed, sinking further into the steaming water. "King Viserys, for all his faults, never starved them and never dragged them into needless wars." The commonborn cared not who sat on the throne; it mattered not whether it was Aegon or Rhaenyra; they would live through many kings and queens, but they preferred those who did not bring further hardship upon them. Even better if they were allowed to thrive.

"You are learning well," Mysaria smiled, sitting and helping to wash your back and hair.

"I see you have earned a spot beside her," you commented, sliding a wooden pick under your nails to clean them. Dirt never matted much to you before, but now that you served under the Dragon Queen, you wished to be more presentable.

"So long as we continue to prove our worth, we both will be." A lesson you remembered well. So long as you were valuable, your life remained safe.

You wrapped up in a red robe and sat to comb out your hair when a Queensguard entered.

"Queen Rhaenyra has requested your presence for dinner. I am to escort you once you're ready," he said.

"Best not keep her waiting," Mysaria said and helped you to dress. It was a simple black frock, and she twisted your wet hair into an updo, securing it with pearl pins.

You followed the guard to Rhaenyra's chambers, and he announced your presence before you entered.

"Your Grace," you smiled, lowering into a small curtsey. You felt rather plain in her presence as she was swathed in crimson silk, golden rings, and rubies glittering on her ears, complete with the golden crown. Though she wore her hair loose, cascading in soft waves down her shoulders. She was utterly breathtaking, and you yearned to drink her silvery beauty until you were sick.

"I thought you might be hungry after your training session today. I must admit how impressed I am by you and Baela," Rhaenyra smiled, motioning for you to sit.

"You should join us, Your Grace. I'm certain you could wield a sword expertly."

"You flatter me," Rhaenyra chuckled as a servant poured wine while another served the overflowing dishes of food.

"I only speak the truth. You should not hold yourself back."

"I will consider your words."

You tried not to rip through the duck like a famished beast, instead forcing yourself to take small bites and savor it. The food was delicious, filling your belly pleasantly, and the wine was equally divine. That amethyst gaze was upon you once again.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but you stare at me quite a bit."

A flush colored her cheeks. "I do," she admitted.

"May I ask why? Is it because I look so much like him?"

"Mayhaps, or mayhaps there is a simple allure about you which captivates me."

"An allure? From me?" You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head.

"Is that so unbelievable?"

"Considering I'm but a mere dragonseed, yes. I find it a bit hard to believe."

"Dragonseeds still have Targaryen blood," she pointed out.

"Yes, if only we were born from a true union and not left sullied as bastards," you scoffed, and she fixed you with a stern look. "Apologies, Your Grace, I overstepped.

"Tis alright. It has become clear that a dragon cares not for the nobility of birth, and I am grateful to the dragonseeds who answered my call."

"I'm very happy to be here and to serve you. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

"Go on, but carefully."

"You sent the ships with food to the smallfolk in King's Landing, yet Prince Aemond has stopped that. You might garner more favor by letting a ship through the blockade, but make it known it was your doing. A bit of mercy goes a long way, and I know we are but common born, but peace with the smallfolk should be a goal in mind."

Rhaenyra sat back in her chair, taking a deep drink of her wine. "I will discuss the matter with my small council. I do not wish my subjects to starve. They never did when my father was king."

"He was beloved by the smallfolk simply for letting them live in peace and with their bellies fed. He was also wise to make his council perform the dirty work. They never had much love for Otto Hightower."

Rhaenyra laughed. "You are truly Mysaria's protégé."

"She taught me well and looked out for me even if she did not have to. I'm very grateful to her."

"She is special, but I see something equally as special in you."

"I suppose that is the Targaryen blood," you said cheekily.

You spent most of the night talking with her and drinking wine. You loved how her mouth stretched when she laughed, and the little crinkles around her eyes. It was nice to see a more relaxed side of her. A glimpse of the girl they once called the Realm's Delight. She taught you a tile game and a few more words in High Valyrian.

"You are quite good at this," she said, sliding the tiles across the table.

"Learned to play in the brothels, I would hide pieces up my sleeve, Your Grace."

"Ah, devious."

"I preferred it to the fan dancing or the warming of laps."

"I cannot fault you for that night."

"I should leave, Your Grace, get some sleep," you murmured before draining the remnants of your wine.

"Of course, it was a long day for you. I thank you again for your service; you are proving quite invaluable to me."

"'Tis my pleasure, Your Grace." You stood, and she moved alongside you to the door.

Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the way the silvery moonlight caressed the contours of her face, or perhaps it was the adrenaline still pulsing through your system from training. It mattered not. The only truth was that your lips pressed against hers, feeling their rose petal softness and craving more. Yearning to run your fingers through her silver hair, to draw a peaked nipple between your lips, and to discover what she tasted like. She did not pull away, but closer, sliding her arms around your waist. The kiss deepened, your tongue sliding into the warm cavern of her mouth and tangled with hers. You sensed her hesitation before her commanding nature took over. Pink bloomed over her cheeks, mouth swollen and rosy, and those amethyst eyes seemed to glow. Perhaps in that moment, she saw more of Daemon in you than you had wished. You wanted her to see you.

"Is that what you wish for?" she breathed, sliding her fingers down your neck while giving you ample opportunity to decide. To give the choice to leave. She had no desire to force you.

"Please, Your Grace."

"Rhaenyra. You may call me Rhaenyra in my chambers."

The two of you moved in a languid dance, shedding clothing along the way. Your toes slipped across the smooth stones as you circled around her before pressing your mouth to her shoulder, hands skimming her hips. She let forth a throaty moan as she pressed against your body. You wondered if it was Silverwing you felt in the moment as your teeth yearned to sink into her tender, milky flesh. The dragonkeepers told you the bond could be strong and overwhelming at times. Rhaenyra seemed to sense your desire.

"Go on," she purred, and your teeth sank into her flesh, tasting salt and sweetness while your hands cupped her full breasts. Heat boiled through you.

With her hands in yours, you drew her close to the bed, pulling her down with you in a mess of tangled limbs. She was soft, smooth, smelling of roses and smoke. Her skin like heated embers, drawing you in. Across her belly and hips were elongated pink and white marks, ones that all mothers bore. Her arms and thighs were strong, no doubt from all the dragon riding. Sparse silvery curls clung between her thighs, and your fingertips slid through the downy hair before running further down her cunt. While Mysaria had kept you from whoring, you were not inexperienced. The other women liked to practice on each other, and there were moments you volunteered, savoring their touch and the skill they possessed.

You continued to stroke her while suckling on her nipples, while her fingers had loosened your damp hair and were now tangled in it. One finger slipped inside her, feeling her muscles flutter around you. A second soon followed, and you set a steady pace with them. There was a powerful feeling in making the queen crumble beneath your ministrations. The way her face twisted with pleasure, the delicious O of her parted lips, and the rose petal stain on her high, carved cheekbones. Sweat glistened over her collarbone, a few droplets beading over her forehead, and a lone one rolling down the slope of that perfect aquiline nose. It pooled over her upper lip while your thumb grazed over her swollen pearl. She mewled with delight before soaking your fingers. You loomed over her, watching her completely fall apart with pleasure.

"I thought you were but a dancer," she panted, flushed chest heaving as the perspiration gave her body an ethereal shimmer.

"I indulged in pleasures, but not for pay," you whispered in her ear.

"Hmm," she hummed before pouncing and pinning you beneath you.

You grinned, letting her ravage your throat and the apex of your shoulder. Her thumb pressed against your chin, gazing down at you and closing her eyes briefly. That look on your face was far too familiar. Perhaps that was part of your allure. Dragon blood always managed to find each other. Some hidden attraction woven in the DNA. Her silken mouth moved over your breasts, down your stomach, before her head disappeared between your thighs. You spread your legs wider, getting a glimpse of her pink tongue burying in your cunt. Perspiration clung to your shoulders while your fingers moved through her moonlit hair. A queen worshipping between your thighs.

Her fingers soon filled you while her mouth wrapped around your swollen pearl. The neediest whimper escaped, and your stomach clenched. A precise curl, a gentle trace of her tongue, soon had you spilling into a sweet release. Tears dribbled down your cheeks, glistening like glass.

"I shall take these as a compliment," Rhaenyra grinned, your aftermath glistening on her mouth as she leaned down to kiss you. The taste of you dancing on your tongue. After the fervid kiss, she lapped each glassy tear away before pressing her forehead against yours. "My little dragonseed."

And you were hers from that very night forth. Tucked beneath her wing, nurtured and made to grow. Private Valyrian lessons and flights with her on Syrax and you on Silverwing. Burst of gold and silver against the misty, purple skies. Your flourished. Vines springing from the seed, wrapping tightly around you until you emerged with dragon scales of your own.

You rubbed off on her as well. With the support of her small council, Lord Corlys allowed two ships through the blockade and paid them to fly Rhaenya's banners. She did not hold the Iron Throne, yet she tended to the smallfolk. There were small riots, and the Greens were secluded in the Red Keep. You suspected Aemond wished to burn them all with Vhagar, but that would do no good and paint him a monster. One afternoon, she joined you and Baela in training, and she looked enigmatic with a sword in her hand.

Upon Daemon's return from Harrenhal, Rhaenyra had him knight her dragonseeds. His lilac eyes passed over you, ready to sheath his sword. You wondered if he recognized you.

"Her as well, Daemon," Rhaenyra instructed, and Addam gave you a small smile.

"She may have the title, but she cannot take the oath. None would recognize her," he replied nonchalantly.

"I wish for her to have the title," Rhaenyra stated evenly.

"She has earned it, Your Grace," Hugh volunteered respectfully.

"Aye, she's full of fire this one. Brave too," Ulf piped up, giving you a wink.

"Your Grace," Daemon reminded him tersely.

"Your Grace," Ulf quipped, giving an almost comical bow.

"If he will not, Your Grace, I will do so. I believe that is a power bestowed on knights? Any knight can make a knight," Addam said, addressing Rhaenyra directly.

"Indeed, it is," Rhaenyra smiled.

Your cheeks flushed, feeling pride as your fellow dragonseeds defended you. Even Ulf had grown on you. There was an unbreakable bond between the four of you now.

An amused look crossed Daemon's face as he lifted Dark Sister into the air. "Kneel."

You knelt in your chainmail as the flat edge of the sword landed on your right shoulder and then your left.

"Arise." It was hard to ignore the disinterest in his voice, but it mattered not. You no longer yearned for the approval of a father who abandoned you to the Street of Silk for his paramour to raise. You had the approval of the queen and the friendship of your fellow dragonseeds. She promised all four of you legitimation once she held King's Landing. No longer a dragonseed, no longer a Waters; you would be a Targaryen. Victory tasted delicious in your mouth. How far you had climbed out of the Street of Silk. Clawed from the bottom of Rhaenys's Hill to become a dragon.

You felt lost.

Alone.

There was nothing for you—no one.

The name carved into your wrist would disagree as you traced the letters. It was still here. How could it? You had searched everywhere to no avail.

The universe had to be mocking you, playing a time game and laughing in your face. But you had time. Nobody could take that from you.

“Excuse me, Ms.” You lazily looked up, smacking your lips in the process as you knew what was coming. “Would you mind company?” The man flashed you a smirk, his body leaning against the bar.

You hated this. It started becoming harder with each time not to just roll your eyes at every single walking suit that tried to shoot his shot—by buying you one.

You’d thought the 1940s would have been better than earlier times. Well, you were quite disappointed.

Spreading your lips in a thin smile, you squinted your eyes at him. “Sure.” His eyebrow twitched, a small breath was sucked in through his teeth like he expected this reply. “As long as the company is your friend from over there.”

You grabbed your drink, raising it to your lips and nursing on it after pointing to a brunette woman with wavy hair. Her red lips wrapped around a straw as she sipped on her cocktail.

You hid a cocky smile behind the glass when the man’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion, staring at the woman.

“I—Well—” He stuttered, a breathy chuckle escaped his mouth as he looked down at the bartop, anxiously drumming his fingers against it.

You almost wanted to laugh at how he started sweating from the realization that you played for the same team as him.

You had no interest in men. Yet, in every time period you had visited—which was all of them—they’d never let you be.

Your clothing did not seem to give them enough of a hint either. There was nothing about dresses and skirts that could entice you to wear them.

It had caused you to be blatant from the get-go. As much as you could manipulate time however you wanted, you did not want to lose it on pointless conversations.

“Good talk.” You tapped his shoulder while getting up, taking steps toward where his companion was sitting.

His baffled face followed after you as he stood frozen in his place.

She looked gorgeous.

You had seen multiple pretty women in your life. Different time periods, different countries and cultures, different types of beauty.

But this one caught your attention for longer than just a passing glance.

The hope sparked in your chest at the possibility.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” Sliding into the chair next to her, you flashed her a confident smile as she moved her eyes to you.

And were they beautiful.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight, completely missing the eyebrow that quirked at you.

“Attempting to be a hypewoman.” She answered, her fingers delicately held the straw as she mixed her drink with it. “Unsuccessfully, as it seems.”

Her eyes wandered over her shoulder and to the man you had left alone at the bar. Her hand waved at him slightly before she moved her gaze back to you with a pointed look.

Her personality was pulling you in more and more, making you yearn to find out every little detail about who she was.

Your laugh spread around the table, making the corner of her mouth twitch up as she took a sip again. Her eyes glued to you as a deep breath left your mouth.

“Apologies, my dear—”

“Peggy.” She quickly corrected you, casually introducing herself. Her back leaning on the chair. “I’m not your dear yet.”

Your head tilted in intrigue at the choice of her words. It was going the good way as it seemed—good for you.

“Peggy.” You repeated, bowing your head and raising your hands in a defensive manner. “I just happen to have eyes for—more feminine figures.” The way your gaze dropped lower her chin only added to your words as sparks started igniting in them.

Her brown irises turned almost black from how her pupils dilated. They skimmed over your body, making you feel like there was little to no clothing covering it.

It was exciting.

Very different from the way your life had been through most of it.

“Is that so?” Her voice turned sultry as she turned her body, crossing her legs, and leaning more toward you. You nodded in confirmation, making the woman place her finger under your chin as she ran her tongue over her upper teeth. “In that case.” Her face inched closer to yours, lips ghosting over each other. “I’d love you to take a look at mine .”

A wide smirk appeared on your face at the words.

You could not wait to see where this would take you.

It had taken you farther than you thought. But not as far as you would’ve liked to.

It had been the greatest three years of your life with Peggy. Everything had been perfect, from the way things seemed simpler with her around to how you could easily understand each other without words.

You’d never thought it would’ve been possible to love someone that was not destined to be yours. Neither had she. Somehow, you’d found a half in a different shape, but one that fit quite well.

Unfortunately, it’d had to end. The excitement, joy, love—it all had been there. But you both had felt the unavoidable void.

It’d hurt. She knew you like nobody else. Every detail of your life. You had even confided in her about your powers.

Still, the time to go your separate ways had come when she’d confessed her soulmate mark had glowed upon the new recruits’ arrival.

It hadn't been the reason for your breakup, however. You both had been aware of the huge elephant in the room that neither of you had wanted to talk about.

It’d been so good, so comfortable, so content.

As much as the love you’d shared had been great and unconditional, it’d been very hard to get rid of the feeling that something had been missing.

So, you had ended it on good terms and had promised to visit her in whatever time period you would’ve gone to next.

You’d seen her as a married mother in the 1960s, coming to find out that her soulmate had died quickly after you’d left.

Your heart had shattered at the news. She hadn’t gotten to live with the unbreakable bond for longer than two years. But her attitude had seemed to be good about it.

She’d shown you the organisation she’d built with a few other people. SHIELD was the name of it.

Or rather an acronym you had proposed upon hearing the long name you almost had gotten a headache from.

You’d been proud and impressed—and she’d taken it as an invitation to make you into an agent.

According to her, you’d already had the skills and the time-manipulating power would’ve come in handy. You couldn’t resist when she had looked at you with those doe eyes.

She even had given you a bracelet with the logo—her initials with yours embraced in a heart had been engraved on the inside, melting your heart at the sight.

You’d also found out she had married a fellow agent from SHIELD and had had a family and her happy ending. Her only regret had been not having more time with you—at least as a friend.

But she’d understood why you couldn’t have stayed. She herself had chosen to follow the bond when her wrist had glowed all those years ago.

She couldn’t have been mad at you for trying to find the same.

But you’d stayed with her for a few years, not being able to refuse your first ever love just as she couldn’t have let hers go easily.

Next time you’d seen her had been in the 1980s. She’d been an older widow at that point and you had gotten to meet her niece, Sharon.

That’d been before you ended up here.

Year 2015.

You slowly adjusted.

It’d been a couple of weeks now, getting the hang of most things. There were challenges, but nothing you could not handle.

The drastic change in technology was the only thing that had kept you back for a bit, but eventually, you’d managed to figure it out as well.

Otherwise, your life was going pretty well.

It would be even better if you could finally find your soulmate. The name on your wrist was bugging you every day. The doubts of the person’s existence had started settling in your mind a bit ago.

There was a possibility she was dead. You were not sure how it would affect you or the bond—if the name would disappear or simply haunt you for the rest of your life.

It was torture to live with this uncertainty.

The hope of finding the woman started fizzling the longer you’d been in New York. All those years of traveling seemed pointless now. You hadn’t found her and it wasn’t looking like you would.

You tried not to let it get to you.

You had found out Peggy was still alive and you were coming back from visiting her, getting off the plane at the airport. You were in better spirits after talking to the woman.

There was not much left of her memory, but she had remembered you. She had remembered everything you two had had.

Taking planes and taxi rides gave you a sense of normalcy, but sometimes, you would speed up the time when you did not want to wait for too long.

During your walks, you’d slowed it down, however. People-watching became one thing that did not make you bored. There was always something interesting happening.

”Ladies and Gentlemen, flight DL3026 from New York to Los Angeles is delayed due to maintenance work.” The speaker said, voice booming loudly, but the words could be barely understood. “We apologize and thank you for your patience.”

Your eyes rolled at the poor souls who would have to wait. As much as your powers were a constant reminder of your goose chase after your soulmate, you were happy when they came in handy in situations like this.

The floor beneath you rumbled, causing you to stop while looking down. Everyone around seemed to be just as confused and concerned, staring at others like somebody would have an explanation.

They got it soon after when a giant piece of metal flew through the glass wall, crashing it to pieces.

Your eyes widened in horror, seeing the object flying right at you. Like in a puff, you found yourself away from it in a second, using your powers.

Time manipulation was more than just speeding up and slowing down time. After years of practice, you had found out teleportation had been one of the possibilities.

It came in handy, just like now.

Everyone around you erupted in screams, running to the escalators and stairs, trying to get to the exit.

The airport turned into chaos within a millisecond. People were pushing others, grabbing the hands of their loved ones to pull them into safety.

You were turning a full circle in shock. Your eyes skimmed over the place before falling on the metal object that had flown inside. It dug a line in the floor from the impact.

“That’s gonna be expensive.” You remarked to yourself, your eyebrow quirking quickly as you stared.

Your instincts kicked in when a screeching sound rang through the place. Your body automatically got into a fighting stance, observing how the object slowly moved a part of itself, then another.

Your head tilted with a confused look.

A robot?

It looked like one. When it finally stood on its feet, a head spun back and forth before sparks flew from it. It locked in place as your mouth hung open, taking it all in.

“Get out of here!” A male voice yelled out from the floor below, guiding people to safety as he tried to get to the escalators.

Your head whipped to him, his blue costume caught your attention as you watched how quickly he was getting through.

A metallic-like groan made you look at the robot again, seeing how it turned around, twisting its head before scanning the place.

His white eyes stopped on you, switching to red instantly. “Elimination in process.”

Huh?

You did not have more questions when its arm raised, aiming at you. A rocket flew out, coming your way and making your eyes go wide.

Teleporting again, you avoided being bombed in the head. Thankfully. This was not how you imagined your day to go.

This was much worse.

“Going in!” Another voice echoed in your ears before a red cloud flew past you, making your head snap in bewilderment.

What the hell was going on?

You would love to know when the man from before ran in, going straight for the robot. He had to be suicidal. That little shield would not help him take down this crazy machine.

Your mind changed quickly when you saw red tendrils wrap around the metal limbs. One by one were overtaken and twisted as you watched in shock.

This was insane. You’d never seen anything like this.

Just as the man was almost at the object, it ripped from the magic that had held it captive. The robot swung his metal arm, taking a step forward and smacking the blue-costumed guy.

His body arched inwards before slamming against a pillar, breaking it and causing it to crumble on him.

“Shit.” You breathed out, a bit terrified.

But it did not last long when you saw the monster fight the red magic again. Looking up, you saw a brunette with a scrunched face. Her arms were extended, red wisps flying all over her fingertips.

The dots finally connected in your head. She had powers. Just like you.

Her yell snapped you out. The robot’s arm turned into a sonic beam as he directed it right at the brunette. Her body fell to the ground, staying still to your horror.

You hoped she was still alive.

But you had no time when the machine took you as its target next. You did what you should’ve done the very second it had come flying in here.

You quickly teleported behind it before slowing down the time. You could take eternity finding the wire panel. But it was easy. Right under the back of his head.

You opened it quickly and pulled all the wires, causing sparks to fly at you as the time went back to its normal pace.

The machine malfunctioned, causing the metal body to convulse before shutting down—to your satisfaction.

Hopefully, it would not come back to life.

You were fast to run up to the woman, kneeling at her side. Her groans made you breathe out in relief. At least, she was alive.

“Are you okay?” Her head whipped to you, fear was swirling in her eyes as she stared at your face full of concern. She did not seem to care about it, however, when she quickly lifted her hand. “Wow!” You let out loudly, getting back on your feet and slowing down the red blast she threw at you.

Her eyes widened at the sight before it scrunched. Another blast came from her other hand, causing you to use your powers to stop it as well.

“We have an enhanced on the floor!” She yelled out hysterically, pushing fingers against her ear.

You looked at her confused. “Hey, I’m just trying to—” Your sentence could not be finished when she threw another blast, quickly getting up as you dodged it. “Damn!”

The attacks only got worse when she stood to her full height. Red tendrils wrapped around different items as she angrily stared at you.

Fuck me.

“In your dreams.” Your head tilted at her in puzzlement when she seethed out.

Two pillars were ripped out of the flooring and ceiling before she pulled them inside, trying to squish you.

She would have to put a bit more effort if extermination were her idea. You vanished from your spot, appearing to her right.

You cockily smiled to yourself upon seeing her eyes jump all over the place in an attempt to find you.

By any means, this was not how you wanted it to go. However, she clearly was not friendly—at least, not to you.

“Ugh!” A yelp sounded through your throat when a body collided with yours, arms going around you in a tight squeeze.

The landing was hard as your head hit the tiled floor, making you groan in pain. There was no time to think about it when the man in a blue suit shifted, straddling you before his fist was going at your face.

His clenched teeth were on display as he delivered a punch—which hurt like a bitch. Your jaw tensed in anger.

He was about to find out to what extent your powers could go.

His fist was coming back before it stopped. His eyes snapped to it in confusion as it began turning in his direction. It connected with his face a second later, knocking him off of you.

The action repeated, over and over again, letting you get up as you checked your face for blood. Fortunately, there was none, even though your nose still hurt.

“Wait!” You said, arms extending with palms facing the brunette whose hands raised at you.

But she did not listen, trying to blast you with magic again. Her eyes were jumping in panic between her hands when red tendrils halted right at her fingertips.

Desperately, she tried to let out more of them, but nothing was coming. Her arms were shaking as it did not stop her from trying.

“Who are you?” Her question made you stand to your full height, finally feeling safe.

“A magician.” You told her jokingly, but quickly switched the approach when her unamused eyes squinted at you. “I don’t mean harm.”

“You could’ve fooled me.” Her irritated eyes went to the man whose fist kept punching him in the face before looking at her hands.

She could not be serious about this.

A scoff left your mouth at the accusation.

“Oh, right, because you didn’t start this.” Her head tilted at you in annoyance, eyes squinting like she wished to punch you in the face.

“How was I—” The continuous groans made her lips press together as she closed her eyes for a second. “Can you stop this?” She gestured to the man in blue, staring at you angrily.

You debated it for a second. They clearly were here together. Who knew how many more they had with them.

But in the end, you would not get anywhere if you did not show cooperation. So, you stopped the loop on the man.

His nose was bloody by now, but a huge sigh of relief escaped his mouth when the self-assault came to an end.

“Thanks.” The brunette woman said, her voice barely appreciative.

“You!” The man limped to you, his anger had his teeth grinding.

You looked at him warily, eyes jumping all over him to see any possible signs of danger. But it went out of the window when your eyes fell on a logo on his uniform.

Your eyes scrunched in puzzlement just as his face took the same expression when he stared at your bracelet.

“Where did you get this?!” You both asked in unison, mouths falling agape before your gazes met.

How could he have it? Could it still exist? Did he know her?

So many questions were running through your head.

“Everything under control.” He said, pressing his fingers against his ear as he suddenly froze in his spot. You heard a voice on the other end, very muffled.

A burning sensation ran on your wrist, causing you to hiss as your eyes snapped to it.

It couldn’t be. The letters. A fade gold was sparkling on them.

But how?

A million thoughts were running through your head. You had to be close. She had to be near. Your gaze started jumping as gears kept turning, but you had no answers.

The voice stopped, but the man just kept staring at you. His chest was rising high from his breathing as you waited to see what he would do.

“Make room for one more.” Your eyebrow arched at him as the brunette’s head snapped in his direction at the words. “We will have company.”

“I asked about your name.” He seethed out angrily, his hands falling heavily on the table as he leaned on them. “Don’t make me ask again!”

The facade he was trying to put up did nothing to you. It’d been a while since this had started. And it was getting nowhere.

It was more than clear that his ego was getting bruised with the way your face stayed emotionless as you boredly switched your gaze from him and to the white table.

Everything in this room was white. You felt like they had brought you to some psychiatric facility. It wouldn’t be the first time someone considered you a freak. Especially, after what you had pulled back at the airport.

You never understood how your powers made others so hostile toward you. You had never used them to hurt anyone—unless in self-defense.

But it wouldn’t make sense for them to be like that. The brunette girl had some kind of magic as well.

“Did you lose your hearing?” The woman in question spoke up, pushing herself off a wall as her arms stayed crossed. “Answer the question.”

Their aggressiveness was not causing the effect they would like. It only made you less inclined to cooperate. Or answer questions in general.

Tilting your head, you huffed out a small laugh, irritating them both further.

“Are you guys new?” Your wrist was lying against the table as your finger pointed at them both. “It’s supposed to be a good cop and a bad cop.” Your eyes squinted as you puffed out a breath before smiling. “You both wanted the bad cop, huh?” Your voice sounded muffled as you spoke through your teeth, the corner of your mouth lifted before sucking in a breath.

“Listen, you—” The blonde man yelled out as he grabbed you by the collar, lifting you off the chair and pushing against the wall.

“Ah, ah.” You let out, wiggling your finger at him. “First of all, this is an abuse of power.” Your smart-ass comment made spit fly out from between his clenched teeth as he seethed at you. “Second of all, if you don’t want the airport flashback to get realistic, I suggest you take your dirty hands off of me.”

Your head lowered as you stared right into his eyes. He was around your height, making it very easy for him to see the shift in your blue irises before they flashed green at him.

His stance faltered, but he quickly fisted your shirt again before letting go and turning away.

“Huffing and puffing will get you nowhere, boy.”

His head whipped quickly to you in fury. “Don’t you call me a boy.” It was fun to taunt him, he was very easy to rile up.

Normally, you would try to be as friendly as possible in this situation, but that had flown out of the window as soon as they had attempted to turn you into a pile of dust.

The blindfolded airplane ride—or whatever that machine was—had not been very hospitable either.

If they wanted to be tough and mysterious, you could play that game with them.

“Hard not to when you’re acting like one.”

You were surprised his jaw was still intact from how much he clenched it upon hearing your words.

“You—” He took a step, his arm swinging behind him, making his intentions clear.

You were ready. He knew very well how it would end.

But before it could escalate, the door slammed open.

“Rogers!” A loud, female voice stopped him immediately, his arm freezing in the air as he stared at you with rage. “Is that how we interrogate?”

You could not help the cocky smirk that spread on your lips as you lazily moved your head, looking right back into his eyes.

“Is it?” You whispered, wanting to see how much he would be willing to break their rules.

You had no idea what they were, but judging by the lady’s words, his methods were not very acceptable.

But he did not move an inch—besides lowering his arm back to his side as he exhaled slowly.

Your eyebrow quirked quickly at the reaction.

“If you need a five—” A blonde lady came into your view when he turned to look at her as she spoke.

But her voice cut off when your eyes connected with her blue ones. Your head tilted as your eyebrows pulled together. Something about her seemed familiar.

The hair, the face.

Like you had seen her before.

“Oh my God.” Her voice wavered as she said. “Riley?” Your confusion only deepened when your name fell out of her mouth.

How did she—

“Sharon?” Your wide eyes went all over her, trying to understand how possible this could be and not some trick they were playing on you.

She exhaled loudly before a grin spread on her face, taking fast steps toward you with open arms.

This could not be. Could it? What were the odds?

But your mouth opened as a happy sigh left it. You spread your arms, going toward her. But any thoughts you had were knocked out of you when your back slammed against the wall harshly.

You grunted in pain, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Maximoff?!” Sharon’s bewildered voice reached your ringing ears before you saw her wide eyes snapping to the brunette in anger.

“She’s dangerous.” The woman replied sternly, her hand directed at you as she gave you a stinky eye.

An unamused, maniac-like laugh passed your lips as you tilted your head back. Everyone’s eyes jumped to you, looking at you like you were crazy.

Maybe you were.

Or maybe you were done with always being the only one labeled as a threat.

Your sigh was exaggerated when you moved your gaze to the brunette.

“That would make two of us, darling.” The cocky smile that spread on your lips made her jaw clench.

It was a second later when her face scrunched in rage, her hands raising as red appeared at their fingertips.

But before the blast could even began flying, she cried out in pain as your eyes turned green. Her hands hung loosely as she stared at them.

Your teeth gritted, feeling a spark of guilt in your chest at what you just did. But her attitude started getting on your nerves.

“What did you?!” She yelled out to you, hints of tears appearing in her eyes as she stared into yours, her fingers burning red like fire.

“Made your little magic go back where it was coming from.” You told her pointedly, face void of emotion. “Without reducing its strength.”

You could manipulate anything. That was how great your powers were. After all, you’d had years and years of practice. Anything that belonged to time belonged also to you.

Her magic existed in time. Therefore, you could mess with it however you wanted to.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Sharon’s shocked face as she stared at you. Your throat tightened, feeling like you just disappointed your own child.

She was the closest thing you had to family besides Peggy. Even though you hadn’t seen each other for years, she was all you had. Maybe all you would ever have.

Your head lowered in shame as you could not bear looking into her puzzled eyes.

“Wanda!” A new female voice sounded through the room, making you look up just to see a redheaded woman run up to the brunette.

Her face was full of concern as she embraced the brunette with one arm, looking over her face.

And you could not look away from the redhead’s. The feeling was enticing. Strong. Electric. Everything in you was buzzing, screaming for touch.

It felt like life was injected in you for the very first time.

“Ah.” Your body squirmed, causing your eyebrows to pull as you breathed in through your teeth, grabbing your wrist that stung you like a hundred heated-up needles would poke it.

But anything you could possibly think of was gone in a split second when you saw your mark glow under the sleeve of your long shirt.

Impossible.

Could it finally be?

Your eyes snapped up to the women who stood together, focusing on the shorter one like on a prey. You could not help yourself. She was pulling you in.

They were too occupied to notice anything as they talked, the features on the redhead’s face slowly changed from concern to anger.

The fire in her eyes burned deeply, making them turn almost red from rage. Your stance faltered when it was directed at you, making your eyes finally blink.

“Lock that bastard right now!” Her finger pointed at you angrily, her jaw almost popping from how hard she was clenching it.

“We’re not locking anybody—”

“She hurt Wanda!” The redhead’s fury switched to Sharon, sparking frustration within you.

“And Wanda hurt her.” But the blonde was handling herself well without your help as she replied pointedly.

A proud smile almost broke out on your face as you watched them interact. Your interference would not bring anything good anyway.

They saw you as a threat. An enemy.

“I’m gonna throw her into Hulk’s cage myself then.” Her lips pressed into a thin line as her angry eyes stared at you again.

But your head dismissed everything she said besides the word Hulk, making your eyebrows scrunch. What the hell was a Hulk?

“You’re gonna do no such thing, Romanoff.” A male voice spoke from the door, making everyone’s gaze snap in that direction.

A tall, black man with an eye patch was slowly making his way in. A long, black coat was covering his body as he threw it back.

All four people became instantly quiet, their gazes lowering in obedience as you gave Sharon a questioning look.

You wished you could know what the hell was going on.

“We don’t throw our teammates into cages.” Well, that seemed to peak everyone’s interest back in as each person, besides Sharon, started arguing.

You could only stare in shock as you tried to figure out what the hell this strange man was saying.

He quickly silenced all of them with one louder word, both women and the blonde man looking at each other in anger, their jaws clenching and teeth gritting.

The man’s eyes—only one really—looked right into yours as the corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk.

“I’m Nicholas Fury.” He decided to introduce himself as his chin raised. You had no idea what was about to hit you. “How would you feel about working for me?”

You had been at your new job for a month now. A SHIELD agent. When Fury had told you what organisation he’d been leading, you couldn’t have believed how the universe had brought you back to Peggy—her legacy.

You’d wanted to agree right away upon hearing the name, but it’d been unclear how much had changed since your past lover had stepped down.

Fury had seemed very determined to get you on his team, especially, after he’d found your old files from being teammates with no one else than one of the founders—Sharon had been right behind him, pulling every possible trick to make you stay.

And it’d worked. You’d agreed, gotten your own room, and a badge.

You had come to find out a group called the Avengers had existed a few years ago, but it had been disassembled due to several governments’ doubts about it.

Every member had become a SHIELD agent instead. They even had separate quarters in the facility’s building. Your bedroom was located there—along with all ex-Avengers—as you had been assigned specifically to the ‘special force’ team.

To you, it just sounded like a rebrand of the Avengers—a bit more legal one.

Your qualifications were high enough to be on level 8, but Fury’s precautions had made him put you at level 6. He hadn’t been sure how much he could trust you for now.

But you did not complain.

You only agreed because of Peggy and Sharon.

If you ever went back in time again, you would tell Peggy how much of an asshole her soulmate was. The blonde man, Steve Rogers, was her soulmate.

He had been found frozen in the middle of nowhere after nearly 70 years. You did not like him. If he had been anything like this around Peggy, you were not surprised anymore she hadn’t told you much about him.

But there was also another reason why you joined.

The fact that the person you’d been looking for your whole life was here.

Hating you.

“I’m using this.” The redhead’s small body swiftly turned around as she took a seat at one of the machines at the facility’s gym.

Just as you were seconds away from doing your workout on it.

“I was literally about to—”

“Well, you’re not anymore.” Her eyes squinted at you as she tried to find a comfortable spot.

You stared at her with a clenched jaw before rolling your eyes, sighing. You could only pick up your water bottle and find something else to do as her arms spread and quickly pressed against the pads before she started pulling them inwards.

“I hope you pull a muscle, you asshole.” Your mumble was quiet but loud enough for her to hear.

Her irritated features quickly changed as a smirk appeared on her lips.

“On your settings? I don’t think a squirrel would pull one.”

This would go nowhere, so you decided to go somewhere else. You did not have time to argue with her. Not again.

Her girlfriend—as you had come to find out quickly after joining the institution—had not been much better.

“Excuse me.” The brunette said, pushing you against the kitchen cupboards in the common area.

Her body had no reason to collide that harshly with yours—or at all—since there was plenty of space.

But she wouldn’t have had you spill your coffee on your shirt if she had walked like a normal human.

Your mouth froze slightly open before your entire face tensed in anger. Pressing your lips tightly together, you threw a deadly glare to your right where she stopped to get tea.

Hiding words in your thoughts would be pointless since you had been told she could read minds.

“Are you blind?” The annoyance was clear in your voice.

It increased even more when she took a bite of a sweet bun, looking at you innocently.

“Hm?” Her eyebrow raised at you in fake puzzlement like she didn't know what she just did. Your entire hand was pointing to a huge stain on your white t-shirt that was now clinging to your body. “Oh.” She giggled, covering her mouth. “No, I just don’t like you.” She batted her eyelashes at you with a sweet smile as she tilted her head to the side.

She grabbed another bun before waving at you only with her fingers, turning on her heel, and leaving you with the mess she had caused, making your eyes roll.

“Likewise!” You couldn't see her reaction, but just yelling it out helped your soul.

It didn’t bother you greatly on normal days. Sure, it was annoying, but nothing that could make it too much of an inconvenience to live with.

It became a problem when this behavior continued during meetings, missions, and briefings.

You felt like you were fighting two wars at the same time.

“You were supposed to cover me!” Your loud voice could not be missed as the brunette was standing right next to you.

It was getting out of control. You could look past a lot of things, but this? No.

Her hip was jutted out as she stared at her nails in boredom, eyes rolling at your words.

“And I did.”

Your jaw dropped before you clenched it, your face turning red from rage that started spreading through your body.

“Are you kidding me?!” She had to be. “You left me alone in the building!”

She had been nowhere in sight when enemy forces had come out of nowhere, swarming the hallways.

You’d had to fend for yourself to survive. Fury had forbidden you from using your powers on several missions, wanting you to practice defending yourself in a human way.

So, it had been hell of a time getting out of that place.

“Don’t yell at her because you can barely save your own ass.” Natasha’s voice cut through to you, making your head whip in her direction.

Sometimes, it was hard to listen to her insults. Other times, you simply could not stand her, but your head would not shut up about wanting to be close.

“Oh, if it’s not the troll defender.” Your lips formed into a tight-lipped smile, having had enough for today already.

You did not need both of them to piss you off more. Wanda was doing great on her own.

The redhead’s eyes squinted at you at the name. “Can you mind your words?” She was not asking despite what it might have seemed like.

But you didn’t care.

“Can you mind your business?” You bit back quickly, giving her a raised eyebrow. You already knew the answer and did not bother to wait for her response as you turned around to walk away. “Let’s see how Fury likes to hear about this.”

He hadn’t liked hearing about it. They both had gotten a warning—and a threat of being put on desk duty.

But that had been a month ago. They’d gotten better during missions, but nothing had changed in your day-to-day life.

Besides the fact that the bond had been making you more and more impatient. It had become harder to stay away from the redhead.

You had no idea there would be any side effects to this. Well, you were finding out in real time every time she would give you a death glare, throw an insult at you, or avoid being anywhere near you.

It made you feel like a werewolf who wanted to claim their mate. You just wanted her to be yours—like the universe intended.

Keeping it a secret was eating you alive. You knew she hated you—and frankly, you hated her too for how cruel she was sometimes—but not saying anything was taking a toll on you.

You’d been looking for her your whole life. Now, she was within arm’s reach.

You were tapping your fingers against the table in Tony’s tinkering lab, your eyes focused on a random object.

“You’re gonna lose all teeth from clenching them so hard, kid.” The man with a goatee said, snapping you out of your trance and feeling the tension in your jaw for the first time. “You okay?” His eyebrow raised.

Were you? Of course, not. You felt like shit.

It’d been only two months, but you felt comfortable with him. However, you could not tell him about the soulmate bond. Not now.

Your fingers started tapping harder as your entire body tensed when you came to a decision.

“I gotta go.” You quickly got off the chair and almost ran out of the lab, not giving the man a chance to say anything else.

You’d had enough of this. You couldn’t keep it away from her—and yourself—any longer. Maybe all this stupid rivalry and insults would stop if you told her.

You were not full of hope, knowing the nature of your relationship. But what could happen? She would understand you were not an enemy.

It could take some time to get to a good place, but you were sure that the bond would change her approach. At least a little bit.

At least to the point you could finally start liking her as a human and stop despising yourself for hating your soulmate.

“Natasha.” You called out, seeing her at the kitchen island in the common area going through some papers.

Fortunately, no one was around.

The redhead did not care to even acknowledge you, but you knew she heard your voice.

“Natasha.” You repeated, coming up to her as she flipped a page. “We need to talk.”

Her eyebrow raised as her gaze remained on the document. “I don’t do charity work.” It was so hard not to just walk away and drop it all.

But you were aware that doing it would be equally as hard.

“I’m serious, it’s important.” Her behavior was aggravating. She did not care about what you had to say.

“Yeah?” She chuckled out, sparing you a glance. “What? Are you a fairy now? You have a secret lover you are dying to let me know about—” Her mocking was irritating you as she was laughing in your face.

“You’re my soulmate!” You finally burst, wanting her to shut up.

And that she did. Very quickly. Her wide, green eyes stared at you in bewilderment. She could not believe what she was hearing—and you could not believe that you finally said it.

It was freeing. You could finally breathe with your lungs’ full capacity, not feeling like you were choking on words anymore.

They were out in the world.

But your face dropped when she erupted in laughter again. “That’s a good one, you almost had me.” Her dismissal made your eyebrows pull together.

She went back to the papers as you stood confused. She didn’t care? She thought it was a joke?

“Can you not take anything seriously?” Your face leaned closer to her in irritation. Why did she have to be like this even now?

“Oh, I can.” She said, taking a bite of her snack before turning to you. “Just not you.” Her face scrunched up in a cute way like she did not just slap you with an insult right across the face.

“What’s going on here?” Great, exactly what you needed. One more of them to mock you.

“Riley’s delusions are worsening.” The redhead laughed out to Wanda as the brunette came to a stop at her side.

Her confused eyes squeezed slightly as she spread her lips in an unsure smile.

“You are my soulmate!” You could not hold it in any more and screamed, wanting her to finally hear you.

But it might not have been the best idea when her head whipped to you with rage all over her face.

You could not tell if it was because of your tone or your insistence on the bond.

“Whatever meds you’re taking, you probably should stop.” Her eyes squinted at you as she spoke, crossing her arms over her chest.

You could not believe her ignorance and dismissiveness. All those years of searching just to get this.

Your jaw clenched hard like never before. She would not diminish the bond you two had. She could insult you however much she wanted, but you would not let her take this away from you.

“Then look.” Your sleeve went up your arm as you harshly tugged on it.

The glowing mark was revealed with letters spelling the redhead’s name. Your angry and determined eyes stared at her face as she spared the mark only a short glance.

Her teeth gritted, her features tensed as she looked angry and in disbelief. Wanda, on the other hand, seemed to have her eyes frozen on the glowing letters.

You felt like she was tracing them with her gaze before her eyelids faltered.

“Can’t you see that you are my soulmate?”

“And Wanda is my soulmate!” The redhead screamed out in your face, getting up from her chair. “Not some useless, time-traveling weirdo who is so unwanted—

“Nat.” Wanda breathed out with wide eyes, trying to stop her girlfriend as she finally snapped out of her trance.

But she continued, staring right into your eyes. “—that she has to lie about her mark for someone to pay attention to her.” She took a step closer to you, her head tilting up as she made sure you would not look away. “I bet you scribbled it on there with some fucking highlighter.”

“Natasha!” Wanda’s voice almost yelled out as she stared at the redhead in disbelief.

Her words were laced with malice, pure hatred sipping from them as she directed it solely at you. You physically stopped your mouth from twitching, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you—of getting anything out of you.

It was all in her eyes, clear as day, getting more and more vivid the longer you kept staring.

“I could never be your soulmate.” She seethed out at you.

You were not sure how it was possible, but it felt like her words physically hurt you.

Poking out your tongue, you wet your lips before smacking them. Your head nodded slowly as you stared into her eyes.

“Understood.”

Your heart was breaking as you turned around to take your leave. The ringing in your ears started becoming unbearable. Your head got dizzy as you fought the tears that tried to come out of your eyes, blurring your vision.

That was it.

She hated you. She hated you enough to reject the bond. Because that was what she had just done, right? She refused you.

And you could not help but refuse to believe it.

You had gone out of your way to avoid both women since the conversation—if you could even call it that.

It didn’t seem to bother the redhead. The insults still would be thrown your way whenever you would find yourself in the same room.

But you made sure to leave as quickly as possible.

You could also see others giving each other questioning looks after two weeks of you barely saying a word to Natasha and Wanda.

Lately, you hadn’t felt physically well which was a great excuse. Frequent headaches and dizziness accompanied you almost every day.

They had been getting gradually worse with a few better days here and there. But the intensity could be unbearable at times.

You tried to focus on something else than the pain.

“Do you want to spar?” A ringing noise was traveling through your head like a damn bell as you held it in your hands. “Riley?”

Your head shot up from looking at the floor, mouth agape as you stared at the man in front of you.

“Huh?” Your eyes squinted as you lifted the corners of your mouth. The light seemed to be extra blinding to your eyes today. “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”

Your palms went to your forehead before you slid your fingers over your eyes, trying to get rid of the stinging feeling.

“I asked if you wanted to spar.” Sam’s voice barely reached your ears as you tried to fight the high-pitched sound in your head.

“I uh—” You determined the risk of him completely beating you up due to the state you were in today. “Sure, one round.” And the answer was that it would do you no harm in the end.

Maybe he could get rid of that stupid sound with a good punch.

You quickly got up from the bench and followed him to the mat before getting into a fighting stance.

He seemed a bit blurry, but you blamed it on the sunlight coming through the window.

“You ready?” His cheerful voice made you snort as a smile broke out on your face for the first time in the last few weeks.

Your fists raised lazily as Sam’s body distorted, splitting in two.

“Bring it on, grandpa.” Your fingers made a wave motion as you felt your legs give out.

“Riley!” Sam’s tilted, running form was the last thing you saw before everything went black.

“Ugh.” Your eyes could barely open as multiple groans of displeasure kept leaving your mouth. “Where am I?” Your raspy voice let out while you tried to rub your forehead as cables dangled in front of your face.

Everything was blurry, slowly getting into place the more awake you were getting.

Your head was banging, causing you to hiss when you lifted yourself up the bed. Looking down, you realized it was a hospital bed.

Your gaze started jumping all over the place, noticing the machine on your left that kept beeping and the cupboard with medicine and injections.

“Slow down.” Sam raised from the chair with extended arms as he tried to calm you down. “You are in medical.” He gently grabbed your arm before helping you up to sit more comfortably on the bed. “Doctor Cho said there was nothing wrong in the scans and you can go, but you should come for a check-up in a few weeks.”

Medical?

Scans?

Check-up?

Your eyes squeezed shut before blinking rapidly.

“What happened?” You finally started asking good questions.

It would be good to know what the hell was going on.

“Your ass knocked itself out before I could.” Sam said amusedly, getting a deep chuckle out of you. It quickly turned into a coughing fit that made the man get back up in horror. “You good?”

His concerned voice was completely different from his terrified face which caused you to laugh again.

“I’m fine.” His eyebrow quirked as you laid your head back down and tilted it to him. “I get to see your ugly face again.”

His face dropped at your words as he pouted. He was your closest friend here. You hadn’t known each other for long, but it was safe to say you did not trust anyone else more than him—besides Sharon.

“I will take my leave now, thank you.” His head shook at you in a sassy way before he got up from the chair.

“Don’t be a baby.” You could use some more help. Especially, with reaching your room.

His laugh erupted in the room as his arms hung loosely at his sides. “I’m just gonna get you some clothes for a change. I’ll be right back.” He tapped you on the shoulder before leaving the medbay, making you stay alone with your thoughts.

They did not waste time swarming your head again like hornets.

You had passed out. Maybe those headaches had been more serious than you'd thought. But there was nothing in the scans. You hadn’t suffered any head injury.

It did not make sense.

But one thing was sure, you needed rest. Exhaling loudly, you let your eyes fall closed.

Whatever was happening, it would figure itself out. You had worse problems—one called Natasha.

You had way too much free time at hands. Fury had heard about the gym incident and immediately had put you off any upcoming missions for the next two weeks.

That quickly had changed into a month when you’d tried to argue with him. You’d hoped Sharon would’ve helped you with convincing Nick, but she’d been worse than him, not wanting to even listen to your great ideas and excuses.

Her stance had been clear and firm, no budging possible. As much as it’d made you annoyed, you couldn’t have helped the smile on your face at how much she’d reminded you of Peggy.

You were proud of her. And she was making sure you would stay away from danger while sick.

So, you decided to drink your ‘sickness’ away at the common area’s bar. Tony would have to restock everything since bottle after bottle kept going empty in your hands.

You were not sure why you were doing this to yourself. Alcohol did not have much effect on you. Your powers altered your DNA to the point that things like aging and getting drunk were irrelevant—different.

Maybe it was the taste that made you keep going. Or maybe the tiny spark of hope that—at one point—it would start working.

“Hey.” Your head turned to the voice, ready to greet whoever was coming before you saw the person’s face.

A grunt passed your lips before the bottle connected with them again as you looked straight at the bar, the liquor pouring down your throat when you tilted your head back.

“You might want to slow down.” The brunette chuckled out upon seeing all the empty bottles, but you sensed the nervousness in the tone as she took steps toward you.

Her words were not appreciated, making you give her a side eye before taking another sip.

She quickly cleared her throat as her fingers fiddled anxiously. “I heard that uh—” Her voice cut off as she swallowed. “—you were rushed to the medbay.”

She sounded cautious, unsure, like she did not know what was okay to say and what would make your anger unleash on her.

Your head slowly turned to her, raising an eyebrow as the bottle clinked against the marble bartop.

“I don’t need your pity.” Your eyes squinted at her. “You can go back to not giving a shit for all I care.” Your bored voice was muffled by the glass pressing against your mouth as you took another gulp of alcohol.

She could save herself—and you—time by leaving you alone. You hadn’t needed her company before and did not need it now.

Her stance faltered, gaze dropping to the floor as she pulled on her sleeve. You could see how her mouth dropped open, her tongue pressing against her bottom teeth before she clicked it.

You stopped yourself from reacting, but it surprised you when she slowly took a seat next to you. Her fingers held the sleeves as she put her hands on the bartop.

“Do you have one more?” Her voice sounded small, like she was scared to say anything to you, pointing at the bottle in your hand.

Your eyes studied her for a second as she stared at you. It was different. No usual malice behind them. You sucked in your cheeks before reaching over the bar and grabbing a bottle.

You handed it to her without a word, her hand wrapping around the item gently.

Despite the silence, you did not feel awkward. But frankly, you had enough of feeling out of place for no other reason than somebody disliking you.

“How do you feel—”

“What do you want, Wanda?” You did not have time for whatever game she wanted to play this time.

You were tired, annoyed—and pretty hopeless. Your life had been in shambles for the last few weeks. It was not necessary to add more to it.

As much as you kept repeating that it was Natasha’s choice, it hurt. The pain felt like never before. If you counted all the headaches and whatnots, it’d been quite miserable.

Her finger tapped against the glass as she stared at it. “I want to say I’m sorry.” Her eyes moved to you as her lips formed into a tight-lipped pout. “I was horrible to you and had started all of this—animosity.” Her jaw popped as she clenched it.

It genuinely surprised you. You did not expect her to apologize or take accountability—to do anything really.

The look on her face seemed like she tried to hold herself together while she stared blankly ahead.

“If I hadn’t attacked you at the airport, it could’ve gone differently.” She nodded, but more to herself than you. “What Nat said was unacceptable.”

Your throat tightened before you swallowed harshly. “I don’t really want to—”

“I’m sorry for that.” She quickly cut you off as her voice wavered. You looked at her confused with a tilted head.

“It’s not your apology to make.” The corners of your mouth tugged up before falling as your eyes blinked quickly. “And I don’t care anymore anyway.”

Your dismissal was followed by the bottle of alcohol pressing against your mouth as you took a long swing.

“That’s not true.” Her voice was gentle, but the words ticked you off, making your features switch quickly.

“And how can you know how I feel?” You almost seethed out at her, letting the anger get the best of you.

You could not help it. This topic was not your favorite and continuing it only made you more frustrated.

“Because I don’t know if I would survive if she did that to me.” Her fingers curled around the sleeve before she pulled it up, revealing her mark.

The words were glowing, letters spelling the same name as on your wrist.

You stared in shock. This whole time, you had thought their relationship was of convenience. That Natasha had lied just to get rid of you.

“I—” Your gaping was so intense it could be considered impolite at this point. “But—” You quickly rolled up your sleeve, seeing the same name.

The glow was still there but dimmer than before.

“I don’t know how it’s possible.” The brunette let out, sounding like she tried not to cry. “It’s the only thing I could think about for the last few weeks, but I have no answers.” Her shoulders shrugged as she smiled sadly at you before letting out a dry chuckle.

It did not make any sense. Two people with the same bond, the same person. It went against everything you knew about the soulmate bond—which was not much—but you did not expect this out of all things.

“I want you to know that I am really sorry for everything I’ve said and done.” Her eyes looked sincerely into yours as she spoke softly, her body turning to you on the barstool. “I would like to start over if you’ll have me.” It sounded almost like a whisper as she stared at you warily.

You were not sure what to say. Should you agree? Or was it better to stay away from her?

It was not very smart to have enemies on your team. She also seemed genuinely apologetic.

But what if she wanted a relationship now only because of the marks?

“Is it because of this?” You pointed at your wrist, then hers. It would not surprise you if that was her goal.

You were not sure what to trust anymore.

Her tongue poked out to wet her lips. “I would want to understand what and why it happened.” Ah, of course. “But it’s optional.” Your eyebrow raised in question as she raised her gaze to you. “I want to get to know you.” Her green eyes staring deeply into your blue ones. “Not the person I thought I knew you were.”

To say you were caught off guard was not enough. This entire day had been a surprise.

But this—this whole conversation—it was the biggest one.

You had a choice to make. You had to choose wisely. But you already knew the answer as you let a small smile break on your lips.

“You don’t do friendly fire, do you?” Her laughter erupted around the place as she threw her head back.

You stared at her scrunched up face as she kept smiling, finally feeling good for the first time in weeks as your grin widened.

It had been great three weeks since you had made amends with Wanda. She had been nicer and attentive. Her presence brought a smile to your face instead of anger now.

She would always greet you with a ‘good morning’ and save a gym session to have one with you.

It felt good. It felt better. It finally felt like you did not have to fight for your life every second of every day.

Minus the times you would come across the redhead. You noticed the tension between the two women. It was hard not to. You were positive everyone from the special forces team had noticed it by now.

Their conversations around the team were rare or only a few words would be exchanged. You hadn’t tried to press the topic with Wanda, deciding that she would tell you whenever she was ready and wanted to do so.

“You’re not coming?” The woman in question came up to you with a confused face.

Her eyebrows were scrunched as she loosely gestured to you with her hand.

“Nope.” You replied from your seat, holding a book as you stared up at her. “I’m on house arrest for one more week.” Your eyes widened with your eyebrows raising as your sassy tone made Sam and Bucky snort in the corner of the living area.

It had been a pain in your ass not to be able to go on any missions. You had felt useless, just wandering around the building, trying to get to recruits’ training sessions before Sharon would find you and kick you out.

She had let you help her with paperwork, saying over and over how much trouble she could’ve gotten into if Fury had noticed.

But it was only one more week now. You could do it.

“But—” Wanda struggled to find words—or more like excuses as she pouted. “Your powers would come in really handy on this one.”

“Don’t they always?” Your smirk made her eyes roll before she crossed her arms.

Your eyes slowly averted from her and back to the book when she did the scary head tilt you had come to find out was more serious than you had thought.

“I’ll see you later then.” Her fingers flicked your forehead before she turned around and started walking away.

“No friendly fire!” You shouted after her, reminding her of the conversation at the bar.

You heard her laughter as it slowly faded away in the hallway.

This was torture. Worse than staying at home. You were attacked from every side with blasting guns, but you were not allowed to use your powers.

Doctor Cho had recommended restraining yourself from doing it as much as possible—which to Fury meant no powers at all.

You wanted to bang your head against the nearest tree in frustration as another blast landed next to you.

“You assholes!” You yelled out, dragging out the word and unleashing bullets with clenched teeth like a maniac.

It did not last long when the clicking sound reached your ears, making you realize that the magazine was out.

You tried to quickly change it, but it would not budge, making you anxious as you saw enemy agents running in your direction.

You were in deep shit, making peace with the fact it would be your last seconds on this earth unless you broke Fury’s orders.

But when you saw red cloud surrounding each agent, lifting them up from the ground before they flew miles away from you, you knew there would be no need to break anything.

“Do you have a death wish?” Wanda landed next to you, looking at you like you were crazy.

“I can’t use my powers.” Your head leaned forward as you quickly gestured to yourself, still holding the gun. Your head was shaking as a grumpy look took over your features.

The brunette, however, stared at you blankly, not believing how stupid you sounded.

“Unless in danger, Riley, in danger like five seconds ago.” Her eyes rolled at you as she groaned to herself, but you caught a small smile creeping up on her face.

“Wow, now you work for two?” That was before both of your heads whipped to a familiar voice, causing Wanda’s happy expression to quickly disappear. “I didn’t know you liked to pick up slack.”

The redhead’s words cut through the air as she stared at her girlfriend before glancing at you with a tensed jaw.

Wanda’s body visibly went stiff as she stood straighter, gritting her teeth slightly.

The comment had to hit a nerve, had to be personal, judging by the brunette’s reaction.

“Only for the useless ones I guess.” She bit back, making your lips roll in as she jabbed at the redhead’s words from a few months ago during the argument you and Natasha had had.

You knew she did not mean to insult you. She did not think of you like that.

Wanda’s eyes did not leave the other woman as the brunette started walking, passing the redhead whose eyes were trained on you now.

“So kind.” She mumbled, her tongue poking out as it ran across her bottom lip.

You felt uncomfortable the longer she stared at you like at an animal. But a breath of relief escaped your mouth when she quickly turned around and followed after Wanda.

You just wanted to be back home and rest—far away from the drama.

The redhead’s mood had gotten even worse when you and Wanda had started spending more time together.

Daily walks full of anything-and-everything conversations had been the highlight of your day as you had both laughed more than ever.

Every week, you’d had a movie night together, popcorn and drinks necessary as Wanda threw it at the screen, booing whenever someone would do something dumb.

You’d helped her with cleaning it up after, causing a popcorn fight that would escalate to a pillow one.

It’d been going great.

For the most part.

“Riley!” Your body almost froze in place upon hearing the voice. This was a very bad moment for her to see you. “Where are you going?”

The brunette ran up to you quickly with a smile as you tried not to give away your nervousness.

“To uh—” Your mind was completely blank. There was nothing you could come up with. “I have to talk to Doctor Cho.” You decided to say the truth.

Or some of it.

“Oh.” Her face scrunched up cutely as the gears in her head were visibly turning. “I’ll go with you.”

Well, shit.

“I don’t wanna waste your time—”

“Nonsense.” You did not even have a second to react when she hooked her arm over yours before pulling you to the medbay. “I have all the time in the world with you.”

She laughed at her own joke, making you chuckle anxiously. You sounded stupid, causing you to clear your throat before smiling.

This could go either very well or very badly.

You hoped the first option would work. For your own good.

“Riley, hello.” Doctor Cho’s voice caused your head to turn. “How can I help?”

She gestured for you to sit on one of the beds as she pulled up a chair for herself. You followed the instructions as she put on gloves.

“I just wanted to uh—” Your eyes went to the brunette, causing them to connect with hers as she sent you a warm smile. “—to do the check-up from the last time.” You were choosing your words carefully due to Wanda’s presence.

There was something you did not tell her about. It was not that important—or so you had told yourself.

“Of course!” Doctor Cho grabbed your head, putting slight pressure in different spots. “Did you have any headaches or dizziness? Any other symptoms?”

She seemed focused on you. Just like Wanda. Maybe the witch was too focused when you glanced at her just to see her watching you like a hawk.

It made your anxiety spike as you swallowed thickly.

“Um, no?” You wanted to slap yourself for how it came out. Both women’s eyebrows raised in question. “Besides a small thing.” Doctor Cho stopped for a second as she looked into your eyes, waiting for you to continue. “Very tiny, actually.” Your anxious laughter did not make it better. “I had a nosebleed a few months ago.”

Your fast words were not fast enough for Wanda to miss them. You could tell that by the way her eyebrow raised to her hairline as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Huh.” Doctor Cho let out in thought while your eyes fell down just to see Wanda’s hip jut out. “The scans from the last two check-ups were fine.”

You only nodded, your eyes jumping from the brunette who was clearly unhappy with you to anything else in the room.

“Have you met your soulmate?” Doctor Cho suddenly asked, her expression serious.

“I did.” You said with a lowered gaze as you bit your bottom lip. “But I was kind of—dismissed if I can say so.”

“That could be the cause of your sickness.” Your confused face made the woman fix her glasses before folding her hands. “Any type of rejection of the bond can cause physical illness. It’s possible you are experiencing all these symptoms because your bond is weakening.” If that was true, somebody needed to make new rules. “Our bonds are tied to us, their strength determines our health.”

You were sick because somebody did not want you.

It definitely had to be the craziest news you’d ever heard.

You were still in quite a shock after leaving the medbay. You did not even remember getting to the living room area. Maybe because you could barely wrap your head around what you had just been told.

Or maybe because of the silence that surrounded you during the entire walk as Wanda hadn’t said a word to you.

“How could you not tell me?” Until now. “I thought we were friends, that we were good now.” She was pacing in front of you as you were sitting on the couch.

“We are—”

“Are we?” Her voice was laced with hurt as she looked at you upset, stopping her movements.

It made guilt spark in you. But it had happened shortly after the gym incident. You hadn’t been that close back then.

“Come here.” You gestured for her to take a seat next to you as your body tilted inward

Her grumpy expression almost made you chuckle before she took a seat next to you, her arms folding over her chest.

“I’m sorry for not telling you.” Your words were sincere as she sighed out exaggeratedly. “I promise it won’t happen again.” Her eyes connected with yours, jumping between them as her grumpiness started slowly fading away. “I will give you my medical history as a Christmas gift.”

Her scoff quickly changed into laughter as she looked away from you. Your mouth spread into an open-mouthed smile, watching her head being thrown back before turning back to you.

“You are so stupid.” She playfully smacked your arm as you chuckled louder. Pulling her leg up on the couch, she turned her body to you, leaning against the back. Her face turned grim quickly before she put her hand on yours as it rested on your lap. “I’m sorry she’s causing all of this.”

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion before the realization dawned on you. “Oh.” Your other arm landed on the back of the couch as your head leaned on your palm. “It’s—whatever.” You smiled at her lightly. “A small hiccup.”

Her lips pressed together as she pulled them in, giving your hand a small squeeze. Her green eyes were staring into yours in silence and you noticed how there was a hint of blue in them.

The dim light of the room lit up her face as the darkness was peaking through the windows. It was nice—content. Your lips were shaped into a warm smile as none of you said a word.

Her expression was soft when her lips parted, causing your eyes to drop to them without thinking. Your heartbeat picked up when her fingers curled, scratching your hand lightly.

Her breath shuddered, making you quickly look back up just to see her gaze directed lower than your line of sight.

You were frozen in place, not knowing what to do or what was happening. But it felt good—and wrong at the same time.

You did not even notice your heads had gotten closer until you could feel her breath on your face.

“Um.” You cleared your throat, quickly turning your head to the side as Wanda’s body immediately leaned back with her gaze snapping to the floor. “Do you want anything to drink?”

The seat felt hot, making you get up quickly as you went up to the bar.

“Uh—I—” You heard her stutter. But you were glad, it gave you time to cool down as you breathed quickly to calm down. “Sure, why not.” She finally said, making you grab two cans of soda.

This was wrong. She was with Natasha, her soulmate—your soulmate.

The thoughts started plaguing your mind as you sat back on the couch, putting some space between as you scootched into the corner.

She took the can with a smile, but avoided your eyes as she popped it open.

This time, the silence felt weird until she grabbed a remote and turned on the TV, surfing through the channels and stopping on a random movie.

You did not waste time getting indulged in it. Anything was better than facing what had just happened.

Everything had seemed to be slow, but you were not sure when the things escalated. Was it even a correct word? Did anything escalate?

Maybe it was only in your head. Maybe she had caught your gaze dropping to her lips. It could’ve made her uncomfortable.

It was wrong. You could not have this happen again. You did not want to ruin this friendship.

Not again.

It seemed the brunette wanted to make it even easier for you as she had barely talked to you in the next week or two.

You hadn’t been keeping track of time too much when Fury had started sending you on more missions.

But it’d been impossible not to notice that Wanda had been trying to get out of spending time with you.

You felt horrible. It only proved the voices in your head that you had fucked everything up by the small action.

Your eyes had done it on instinct. The movement had caught your attention. You hadn’t intended to make her uncomfortable.

It was too late for intentions now.

She’d been acting weird, still having small-talks with you, but the change was big enough for you to fall into the spiral of thoughts.

“Hi.” You said quietly, taking a spot next to Wanda as she stood at the countertop next to the dryer. You made sure to be cautious with the distance and movements, not wanting to scare her away.

Her body visibly tensed for a second before relaxing, sparing you a short glance as you put your clothing into the washing machine.

“Hey.” She replied shortly, letting the silence hang around you two as she kept folding her clothes.

The awkwardness could not be worse. You wanted to just leave, but you had to show her your actions were strictly friendly.

You didn’t want her to think you wanted to break up her relationship with Natasha. They had enough problems as it seemed.

“Do you want to grab coffee today?” Your eyes did not dare to go anywhere near the brunette’s face, focusing solely on the clothes before you closed the machine.

She halted her movements, finally looking at you for longer than five seconds. But she stayed quiet for even longer than that, making you suck in your lips as you pressed the buttons.

You should’ve left her alone—

“Sure.” The speed with which your eyes snapped to her in surprise could not be stopped.

You quickly composed yourself, feeling relief and joy at her agreement as she smiled at you warmly.

Maybe not everything was ruined.

After that day, it had gotten better—back to normal.

She was not trying to get away from you like you were a disease anymore.

Which was a huge plus. Your self-esteem had definitely gotten better again.

Now, you were just jamming to songs while sorting out your DVDs with movies in the common area. It had been such a nice and peaceful day.

The first one in a long time.

“Show me your wrist.” Your eyebrows scrunched in complete confusion as you stared at the tall bookshelf in front of you.

Were you hearing voices? What the hell was happening?

“Riley!” A hand connected with your shoulder, causing you to jump in fear.

“Oh, shit!” You let out, breathing heavily as your wide eyes stared at Wanda. “Don’t scare me like that.”

She did not seem to care as she stared at you with a serious face, her features were tensed.

“Show me your wrist.” Her request was puzzling to you.

Your wrist? She had seen your wrist a million times.

“For what?” The question made her nostrils flare as your head tilted.

She was being weird. Not like a few weeks ago, but still weird.

“Just show me.” Her impatience was showing as she stared at your forearm in anticipation.

Whatever was going on, you were not sure if you wanted to know.

“Fine, but why?” You said, rolling up your sleeve and revealing the name on your skin.

There was nothing new. Still the person who wanted to have nothing to do with you. The only difference was how dim the glow had become, barely visible at this point.

Like you would’ve never met your soulmate in the first place.

The brunette gaped at it, her eyes wide as she stood frozen in her spot. She wasn’t saying anything, she wasn’t doing anything—just staring.

“Wanda?” Something had to happen. Her features turned into anxiety as her breathing staggered.

“I gotta go!” And just like that, she turned around and scurried away.

“Wanda!” You called out, but she was gone in a second like a ghost, leaving you alone and confused.

She had been gone for the rest of the day. It was impossible to find her anywhere. Assuming she had probably left the building, you had gone back to your things and training.

You had visited Doctor Cho for one more check-up, stating that the dizziness and headaches had been pretty much gone by now.

There hadn’t been any other accidents as well.

She had cleared you and had assured you she would let Fury know you were now completely healthy and able to use your powers.

You were on the way to your room after receiving the good news, smiling broadly to yourself.

You could finally go back to doing all kinds of missions, not just stake-out ones.

Loud screaming snapped you out of your happy humming, your head raising in concern as you stared down the hall.

The voices were so muffled you had no idea who it could be. But it sounded serious. Your walk resumed, the yelling becoming louder until it was clear to you it was coming from Wanda and Natasha’s room.

“I’m done!” The door whipped open, causing you to stumble back as the redhead came into your view. Your wide eyes met her furious ones when she turned around to leave.

You were genuinely scared and flabbergasted when her features hardened at you, her finger raising and pointing at you angrily.

“You always have to fuck everything up, don’t you?!” Her words were laced with venom before she stormed off.

Your gaze froze in place, trying to understand what the hell just happened. Fuck everything up? What could you have possibly done to her? You’d been avoiding each other like fire for months.

Shaking your head, you took a cautious step forward, your fingers placed on the door as you pushed it to open fully.

“Wanda?” You saw the woman sitting on the bed, her head in her hands.

She jumped up upon hearing your voice, her face looked terrified as she stared wide-eyed at your bewildered face.

The room looked like a mess as your eyes slowly skimmed around it. You were convinced a hurricane had gone through it a couple of times.

When your gaze raised to the brunette, you caught how she quickly pulled on her sleeve, holding it in place, making your eyebrows scrunch even more than before.

“What is going on?” She stood quietly, sniffling to herself. “Come on, Wands, we’ve known each other for over half a year.” You didn’t want her to feel attacked, but you could not help without knowing what was happening.

She fiddled with the material of her clothing, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as anxiety colored her features.

Finally, she grabbed the sleeve before slowly moving it up.

Your eyes widened in shock when you realized what she was showing you. Immediately, you went up to the bed before taking a seat as you felt like your legs would give out at any moment.

You had expected everything but this. How was it possible? It could not be. The universe was messing with you—with your head.

It had to be a mistake.

But you could not stop staring at Wanda’s wrist, your name glowing brightly on it as she stood in front of you with a rolled-up sleeve.

Nothing made sense to you anymore. The soulmate could change? How would that even be possible, it was supposed to be the special bond between people.

Unchangeable, unbreakable.

But you knew better than anyone else now how the ‘unbreakable’ part worked. Your soulmate didn't want you.

“How—” You uttered out in disbelief, your hands pointing at the letters, but nothing else managed to come out of your mouth.

“I don’t know.” The brunette let out in a breath. Her tear-stained cheeks almost broke you when your gaze went up to hers.

She looked distraught, heartbroken, and tired. You could only assume how much of a toll the argument had taken on her. You did not have to guess what it was about.

Now, Natasha’s words made more sense than before. You could not blame her for being angry, but there was nothing you could’ve done to make the mark change.

You had no idea it could be done in the first place.

“Is this why—” Your thoughts went back to the interaction you had with the brunette earlier today. “—why you asked to see my wrist?”

She sniffled, nodding in confirmation. Her eyes were completely focused on her fiddling fingers.

“I thought maybe you had mine.” She said, wiping her nose as she looked up. “I needed an explanation, a reason.” She continued, her voice wavering as she tried to stop tears from coming out. “But when I saw it was the same, I just—” She paused, taking a deeper breath. “I didn’t know what to do.”

She quickly took a seat next to you. Her eyes were red as she covered them with her palms before sliding her hands to her head.

“She broke up with me.” The raspiness of her voice made the words that much sadder as breath caught in your throat in shock.

You felt terrible for Wanda. She was a great friend when she didn’t actively try to make your life miserable. Under all those layers of hatred she’d had for you was a sweet and helpful person.

You hated that this was happening to her.

But you could understand Natasha’s point of view. The amount of betrayal she probably felt right now was unimaginable.

Your arms went around the brunette, her body pressing to your front as she laid her head under your chin.

“Don’t worry.” Your hand rubbed her back as she shook in your arms, the silent cries spilled from her mouth again, making tears flood down her face. “We will figure it out.”

You hadn’t left her side since then. Two months had passed, full of you supporting and entertaining Wanda.

She had been miserable for the first two weeks, only crying into your shirt multiple times a day. Anything that had reminded her of Natasha made tears spill from her eyes like a waterfall.

The redhead had been like a ghost. You had barely seen her around, wondering how possible it would be for a person to be invisible like that.

It had become clearer when Sam had told you she had buried herself in missions, begging Fury to give her the longest ones.

You’d felt sorry for her, but you had noticed that the space Natasha had put between her and Wanda had worked well.

At the three-week mark, the brunette finally started smiling and replying to your jokes. You had almost forgotten how her laughter sounded until she had burst out one night when you’d watched sitcoms.

Her lit up face could not have looked cuter and better than in that moment.

After a month, she had wanted to go for walks again, get ice cream, or a pizza from your favorite place.

She was almost back to normal—or as normal as one could be after a break-up.

She had been more playful, more focused during training sessions, and bolder.

You had helped her the best you could without crossing a line. You wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable or scare her away.

So, you had kept your distance while being as supportive as possible. You knew she still loved Natasha. As much as she had tried to avoid the topic recently, it was clear she still had feelings for her.

She also stopped being anxious, finding peace as she indulged in reading again.

Just like right now.

A romance book was in her hands as she curled up in an armchair. A blanket thrown over her as her eyes skimmed over the words.

You were sitting in the same room, trying to figure out a good way to describe your last mission. Fury needed it for the debrief meeting that would be in two days.

The pen was banging against your head as it stayed empty, being unable to come up with anything good.

You despised this part of your job. It was stupid and useless—to you.

There were only so many ways you could talk about infiltrating enemy’s bases and bad guys attacking you.

Fury had always given you a look whenever the description had sounded too familiar. You would simply use the same one over and over again whenever it applied.

So, he had told you that this one would not be accepted if he saw anything similar to the previous ones.

You glanced at Wanda, hoping she would be finishing her romance story sometime soon and possibly help you with this nonsense.

But when you saw her focused expression, you could only sigh to yourself hopelessly.

The pen pressed against your lips before you started clicking it. There was nothing your brain could make up. Nothing new. The old versions were running through your head like a horse race.

It was the dumbest thing—

“Do you not like me?” Your body jumped in fear when the brunette harshly slammed her book closed.

Your wide eyes snapped to her in horror before you realized there was no danger. Not yet, at least.

“Uh, what?” You asked her, not hearing her words from how much you almost shat your pants at the sudden sound.

“Do you—” She repeated slowly, her eyes looking into yours in determination. “—not like me?”

The question almost made your eyes roll from how much it seemed to melt your brain. There was not a single thought in your head as you fell into a hole of confusion.

“Not like you?” You said again, making Wanda nod, as you hoped to understand her thinking process. “I do, we’re friends.” You spluttered out.

You had no idea whether the answer was correct or not. No matter how many times you repeated her words in your head, you could not understand what was the reason for her question.

Of course, you liked her. You would not spend your time with her if you did not consider her at least a friend.

“Ugh.” She groaned, her legs untangling as she pushed herself up from her seat, the blanket falling on the armchair. “That’s not what I meant.” Her mumble puzzled you even more as she walked to one of the shelves and put her book away.

It wasn’t?

Your eyebrows pulled together as you stared blankly ahead. Snapping out of the trance, you blinked rapidly as your eyes focused on the woman.

“W-well, then.” You got up from your seat. “What did you mean?” You hoped she would just tell you instead of having you figure it out.

You already guessed once and it was incorrect.

“Do you not like me?” Her body whipped around, facing you as you saw signs of frustration on her features. “Like me?”

Like her?

She sounded so confusing and weird.

Why wouldn’t you like—

Oh.

Oh.

“Why do you care if I do or not?” You asked from pure curiosity, your lips turning into an open-mouthed smile. But you were not happy. You were anxious.

The flashback from that moment on the couch came back to you, remembering how she had been acting right after, making you gulp.

“Because!” She groaned, throwing her arms up. “Is it something about me?” Her hand pressed between her breasts as she pointed at herself, making your eyes lower there involuntarily before you swallowed thickly. “Is it because of what I’d done at the beginning?”

You almost got whiplash from how your head shook at the sudden question. “What? No.” The words ran out of your mouth.

“Then what? Am I too ugly for you?” Her voice sounded like she was about to get offended, her eyebrow raising at you in challenge.

“No!”

“Too short? Too skinny?” She kept questioning, trying very hard to find out the reason. “Is it because of my powers?”

“No, Wanda.” You denied again, your palms pressing against your forehead as you rubbed your eyebrows while she kept throwing her arms around.

“Then what?” She took a step forward, her features hardening, but it was only a mask. You could see the uncertainty, the doubt, and the nervousness. “Because you keep saying no, and you keep doing nothing while I’m losing my mind for you—” Your eyes widened. She was what? “—getting your freaking name on my wrist from—” She was gradually getting more frustrated as her voice sounded stern and grounded at the same time. “—all the thoughts about how it would feel to have your lips on mine, but they never—”

You finally managed to shut her up, doing exactly what she wanted. Your lips almost smashed into hers, causing her body to tense for a second before you felt it relax.

Your mouth moved slowly against hers as you lifted your hand to her face. Gently cupping her jaw, you moved her face closer as she fisted the front of your shirt.

It was soft, delicate—perfect. You took your time kissing her and she did not seem to mind when both her hands went to your sides, lightly grasping at your clothing.

Both of your hands held her face as you both kept going, her sighs being swallowed by you as she tilted her head a bit.

You never felt anything like this before. It was strong despite how gentle you both were. You did not want to stop. It was consuming you, your head screaming for more.

You could keep her lips on yours forever.

You loved—

“Sss.” You hissed, causing the kiss to break as your face scrunched in pain. “What the—” Your eyes dropped to your wrist where you felt the sharp stinging.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Wanda's frantic questions were not enough to tear your gaze away as you stared down in shock. “Riley?”

She asked again in confusion before dropping her eyes to your wrist. She became quiet as a gasp escaped her mouth.

Your wrist was glowing brightly like never before, the letters spelling her name where Natasha’s used to be.

“I—” She stuttered out in surprise, but nothing else managed to come out.

Your eyes went up to hers as a smile crept up on your lips.

“I’m a bit late to the party, but still attended.” Your joke made the brunette huff in amusement. “But—” Her happy face changed quickly at the word as you licked your lips. “We need to figure this out.” You looked at her seriously. “With Nat.”

Her mouth formed into a thin line as anxiety took over her again. But she nodded, letting a small smile appear on her face.

“With Nat.”

You and Wanda had decided to take things slow. You didn’t want to jump into it just because your wrists said so. You had no idea how stable the soulmate bonds actually were after witnessing the name-change first-hand.

Flinging it into Natasha’s face also wouldn’t be the nicest thing to do, so you kept everything private. It hadn’t gone further than stealing kisses here and there.

You both were adamant about finding out the cause of what had happened. Wanda’s guilt was making itself more and more known whenever Natasha’s name came up.

The brunette confessed she had feelings for you for a while. She did not want to admit them to herself, but after she had seen the way you’d looked at her lips, she could not help it anymore.

But she could not deny she still loved Natasha. Despite all the arguments and mysteries, she felt the redhead was still her soulmate—just like you.

It was clear to you Wanda was more than a friend to you ever since you had almost kissed her that night, but you hadn't wanted to get in between her and Nat.

But ever since the name on your wrist changed, you could not help but wonder if there still was a chance for the redhead to finally accept you.

You were done with insults, with avoiding each other. You wanted to be civil at least. At best, you hoped it would somehow work out for the three of you.

You finally got a chance to possibly start some progress when you caught the redhead sitting alone at night. She was in the secluded corner of the living room, separated by the wall.

One soft bench was placed against the wall as her face reflected in the window. Her eyes were blankly staring through it, knees up to her chin as she leaned her head on it.

She looked small.

Exhausted.

Lonely.

You debated for a second if disturbing her right now would be a good idea. Your gaze lowered to the ground as you licked your lips.

Letting out a deep breath, you took quiet steps in her direction, hoping with your whole heart she would not behead you.

“Hi.” Your quiet voice made her eyes look at you from their corner. She did not acknowledge you, staring back outside in silence.

But you noticed how her jaw tightened, her shoulders tensed, and her gaze hardened as she made sure not to look at you.

Without a word, you slowly came up to the bench and took a seat next to the redhead. Her arms circled her legs harder as she shifted in her spot.

“What do you want?” Her harsh tone did not make you falter or flinch. You expected that. “Did you come here to laugh in my face?” The bitterness made your lips twitch in sadness.

She still thought the same of you. But how could she not? All she knew about you was that you were her enemy.

“I came to talk.” You said softly.

Her scoff was followed by a dry laugh as she raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Cause our talks are so interesting.” Her head was shaking in amusement and irritation as she pressed her tongue against her bottom teeth.

You took a slow breath, trying not to let her negativity get in the way.

“They can be if you give me a chance.” Her eyes didn't budge until she turned her head to you. Her eyes were red, undoubtedly from crying and you felt your chest tighten at the thought. Your eyelids faltered as your mouth opened. “Please.”

She stared deeply into your eyes, her head started shaking as you saw the tremble of her chin. “You took everything from me.” She let out in a whisper. “You took her.” Her voice betraying her as a small cry slipped through.

Sniffling, she blinked quickly as her hands wiped her eyes. She was falling apart right in front of you, trying to hide it unsuccessfully.

The guilt started ripping through your heart as silence embraced both of you. She was right—to some extent—but you could not control someone else’s feelings. You could not control the bond.

Looking down, your eyes went to your covered wrist, calculating how badly it could go if she knew. Or if it would help her understand you were in an unknown territory just like she was.

“She has my name, yes.” The redhead huffed as another whimper attempted to rip through her throat. “But she had yours before.” Your fingers grasped at the sleeve, pulling it up slowly. “Just like I did.” Her face scrunched up in confusion before her gaze fell on your wrist.

She froze in place. Her breathing picked up as her wide eyes kept gaping at the letters on your skin.

She opened her mouth in shock. You could see the million questions running through her face that she wished to ask.

“I have no clue how it is possible.” You admitted to her, making her eyes jump to you. “Wanda and I have feelings for each other.” Her teeth clenched before she sucked in her cheeks as tears glossed over her eyes.

“But she still loves you.” Her mouth twitched. You were not certain if because she thought it was a lie or because she hoped it to be true. “And I’m sure we can find a way as well.” Your confidence was a long time coming. It had to be said. You wanted to believe that there was love for you two as well. That her name used to be engraved in your skin for a reason. “All I am asking is one chance.”

Her green, glossy eyes stared at your face, searching for something that only she knew. But you had nothing to hide, no reason to lie.

All you wanted was the truth. You wanted to show her the real you and for her to stop hiding behind a mask.

The way her facade faltered as she breathed in with a shudder made you look at her hopefully.

Her eyes softened before her chin scrunched as her shoulders shook, letting her tears flow down her cheeks.

She looked at you differently now. Very differently as she stood in front of you, ready to punch you right in the face.

“You’re just gonna stand like a grandma?” Her taunting made the side of your mouth raise for a second.

Your eye twitched before squinting. She really had a way with words.

It’d been an hour of this already. You had enough. You wanted to go eat.

“No.” You replied. “But you’re gonna be lying on the ground like one soon.” The smirk on your face made the redhead’s head tilt before she pounced on you.

Your forearms went up, shielding your body from an incoming hit. She swung her arm, trying to hit from the side, but you quickly blocked it before turning your body and grabbing her other arm.

Turning your back to her, you pulled her front flash against you before throwing her over your shoulder. She tried to slide from under you, but you were faster, blocking her legs while positioning yourself on top of her.

In the end, your strength was too much.

Your breathing was heavy as it finally gave you some rest.

“Seems like I won.” Your cocky tone made her scoff loudly.

Her raised head fell on the mat as you let go of her limbs, letting her arms lie flat above her.

“Whatever.” She tried to get up, but you didn’t let her, putting more of your body weight on her.

“Ah, ah.” You let out, looking at her with raised eyebrows. She was forgetting something. “I think you owe me a thing or two.”

Her eyes rolled at your stupid smile before a grin spread on her lips. You did not wait any longer before leaning down and connecting them with yours.

You would never get enough of this. They always felt so soft, no matter how roughly she kissed you.

Her arms went up to wrap around your neck as she pulled you closer, forcing you to put your hands on each side of her head to keep yourself up.

“Nat.” Your warning was met with a smirking face. “Not here.” Her hips did not stop moving against you, searching for friction.

“I thought you didn’t care where.” Your eyes rolled hard at her mocking tone, using your words from a few weeks ago against you now.

She had done it a lot in the last six months. It had taken time for you to get to a good spot, but once you had gotten there, it could not have been better.

The door to the gym opened with a gasp following immediately after.

“Are you guys trying to play without me?” Your entire head started rolling in exaggeration as the redhead laughed on the floor.

Sometimes, they could be a lot to handle. It did not mean you were unable to do it.

Standing up, you turned around to see offended Wanda as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her raised eyebrow and tilted head caused your playful plans to vanish instantly.

“She is.” You pointed at Natasha, throwing her under the bus faster than she could throw her knives.

A defensive sound came from her as she sat up on the floor, glaring at you playfully. “Count your days.”

“You would have to catch me first.” You looked over your shoulder as you walked to the door, sending her a cheeky smile. “Good luck with those short legs.”

Her gasp was so loud it bounced off the walls as Wanda laughed loudly.

The redhead did not waste time getting up before running at you and jumping on your back. You stumbled forward at the unexpected impact before grabbing her legs.

“Now, you have to carry me for being mean.” She declared, circling your neck with her arms as Wanda took the redhead’s water bottle.

The Sokovian came up to you as you sent her an amused smile that she returned, shaking her head at Natasha.

Your gaze drifted down to your exposed arms as you threw the redhead higher on your back.

A gentle grin spread on your lips as you stared at your wrists, both glowing brightly with the names of the women you had by your side.

Who would’ve known you could have two soulmates? You guessed that was what the second wrist was for. Because you were lucky like that.

All those travels, fights, tears, and struggles to get here.

The place where you belonged.

With your soulmates.

Wanda had looked at her with those green eyes, sharp and guarded, and Y/N had felt something tug deep inside her chest. Something familiar but unnameable. She’d tried to smile, offer her hand, but Wanda only gave a curt nod and turned away.

It didn’t matter. Y/N was hooked.

She couldn’t explain it — the strange, magnetic pull toward the Sokovian witch. She wasn’t the type to get caught up in fleeting crushes; she had control, discipline. But Wanda had made her heart pound in a way no one else had.

The only problem? Wanda wanted nothing to do with her.

Every time Y/N tried to ask her out — coffee, a walk, even just training together — Wanda turned her down. Sometimes with a clipped excuse, sometimes with barely concealed irritation. It was clear: Wanda didn’t like her. Or maybe she didn’t like Alphas at all.

Wanda was a Beta, so maybe that explained some of it. Most Betas resented how much the world revolved around Alphas and Omegas. Y/N couldn’t blame her. Still, it hurt more than she cared to admit.

But none of that mattered on the mission.

---

Today’s mission was supposed to be simple — infiltration, extraction, clean getaway. Of course, missions never went that smoothly. The Hydra base had more guards than intel predicted, and the team split up to cover more ground.

Y/N ended up partnered with Wanda, much to the witch’s dismay.

They were moving down a narrow corridor when a Hydra agent burst out from the shadows, weapon raised. Y/N reacted without thinking—her arm shooting out, shoving Wanda behind her as she drove her blade into the man’s chest before he could fire.

The body hit the floor with a heavy thud.

But before Y/N realized it, something else filled the air. A low, protective growl slipped from her throat, her alpha pheromones spilling into the space—dominant, warning, wrapping thickly around Wanda as if to shield her too.

Wanda froze, wide-eyed, then her jaw tightened. She shoved Y/N’s arm off her.

“You stay out of my way,” she hissed, her accent cutting sharp. “I don’t need you playing hero. I don’t need *you* at all.”

Y/N swallowed hard, pulling her pheromones back under control. She didn’t answer, just nodded and stepped aside, letting Wanda storm ahead.

She wasn’t here to fight with Wanda; she just wanted them both to get out alive.

For a while, everything went smoothly again. They moved through the halls in sync, Wanda’s scarlet energy crackling at her fingertips, Y/N covering their flank. But halfway through the mission, Y/N noticed Wanda slowing down.

Her breathing was heavier, her skin flushed.

“You okay?” Y/N whispered, scanning the shadows for movement.

“I’m fine,” Wanda snapped, brushing past her. But her steps faltered, and Y/N caught her elbow before she stumbled.

That was when Y/N smelled it.

It hit her like a punch — sweet, heady, intoxicating. Omega pheromones, thick and undeniable. Not just any pheromones either. Heat.

Y/N froze. Her entire body tensed, her Alpha instincts roaring awake. No. That couldn’t be right. Wanda was a Beta. She’d said so herself. Everyone believed it. But there was no mistaking this smell: Wanda was an Omega. And not just that — she was in the middle of a dangerous, overwhelming heat.

“Wanda…” Y/N murmured, her voice low, almost strangled. “You’re—”

“Shut up!” Wanda hissed, though her voice trembled. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare.”

But her legs gave out, and Y/N had no choice but to catch her before she hit the ground. Wanda writhed in her arms, her body hot, trembling with need she clearly despised.

Y/N’s instincts screamed at her to claim, to soothe, to sink into the Omega who smelled so maddeningly perfect in her arms. But she clenched her jaw, fighting it. This wasn’t about her. Wanda didn’t want this. She didn’t even want her.

“I have you,” Y/N whispered firmly, gathering Wanda up bridal-style. “I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

Wanda’s nails dug into her shoulder, her scarlet magic flickering uncontrollably around her. “Don’t—don’t touch me,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction, broken by a needy whimper.

“I don’t have a choice,” Y/N said, carrying her down the hall, scanning for exits. “You’re burning up, Wanda. You can’t fight like this. You’ll get hurt.”

Her Omega.

The thought seared through her mind unbidden, primal and raw.

Y/N shook her head. She needed to focus. She had to get Wanda out, away from danger, away from enemies who would smell her condition and know exactly how vulnerable she was.

They made it out of the base and into the forest, Y/N’s arms tight around Wanda as she followed the map in her comm to the nearest safe house. Wanda was half-conscious, panting, trembling against her. Every whimper nearly undid Y/N, every shift of her body against Y/N’s chest a brutal test of self-control.

Then Wanda shifted closer, her nose brushing the curve of Y/N’s neck. For a split second, Y/N thought it was an accident—until she felt the soft inhale, the shiver that ran through the Omega in her arms.

Wanda breathed her in, desperate, her lips parting against Y/N’s skin. A small, broken whimper escaped her throat, the sound laced with need.

Y/N froze, her Alpha instincts flaring violently. She wanted—needed—to answer that call, to soothe, to claim. But she clenched her jaw, forcing her body rigid as she kept moving through the trees.

“Easy,” Y/N murmured, her voice rough, betraying the storm inside her. “Just hold on. I’ve got you.”

Wanda’s fingers curled tighter in Y/N’s shirt, another needy sound catching in her throat as she pressed closer to that intoxicating Alpha scent, too far gone to fight the pull anymore.

Y/N’s boots thudded heavily against the wooden steps as she reached the cabin. She shifted Wanda in her arms just enough to reach for the door, shouldering it open with a force that rattled the frame.

Inside was dark and dusty, but it was safe — four walls, a roof, and most importantly, solitude.

She carried Wanda straight to the narrow bed in the corner and laid her down as gently as she could. But before she could pull away, Wanda immediately reached for her, slender fingers snagging the fabric of Y/N’s combat top. Her body arched subtly, like her heat wouldn’t let her tolerate even a moment without the Alpha she clung to.

“Wanda,” Y/N whispered, crouching beside the bed. Her own breath came harsh, shallow, as she tried to put space between her instincts and the woman she had fallen before her. “You need to rest. I’ll get water, I’ll make sure you’re okay—”

Wanda’s glassy eyes fluttered open, unfocused but locked on Y/N. She inhaled shakily, the sound almost a sob, before burying her face into the crook of Y/N’s neck again.

The rush of her Omega pheromones filled the small room, wrapping around Y/N like a suffocating embrace. Sweet, dizzying, primal. Y/N’s muscles tensed, her hands flexing against the urge to pull Wanda into her lap and have her way.

“Please,” Wanda whimpered, her voice muffled against Y/N’s throat. She wasn’t even fully aware of what she was asking, but her body knew. Her scent knew.

Y/N’s heart clenched painfully. She had wanted Wanda for so long — her laugh, her smile, her attention, anything she’d give. But not like this. Not when Wanda was vulnerable and suffering, when the choice wasn’t truly hers.

Y/N forced her voice low, steady, though her pulse hammered in her throat. “Wanda, listen to me—do you have an emergency suppressant? In your suit, your pocket, anywhere?”

Wanda only whimpered, shaking her head against her neck, fingers clawing weakly at Y/N’s shirt like a lifeline. Her body trembled, her Omega scent spiking hotter, sweeter, overwhelming.

“Damn it,” Y/N hissed under her breath, dragging in a sharp inhale through her nose and immediately regretting it. The pheromones were thick, suffocating, pressing against every inch of her restraint. Her cock strained against her pants, the ache unbearable.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. If she stayed, if she breathed Wanda in for another second, she was going to lose control. And the last thing she’d ever forgive herself for was hurting Wanda.

“Wanda,” she said harshly, voice rough with desperation. “I can’t— I can’t stay here. Not like this. If I don’t get out, I’ll—” She cut herself off, teeth gritting.

Wanda lifted her head then, eyes glazed, pupils blown wide, lips parted with shallow breaths. She looked utterly undone, caught in the throes of her heat, her instincts reaching for this Alpha. For her.

“No,” Wanda whispered, her accent thick, her hand fisting tighter into Y/N’s shirt. “Don’t go.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing down a groan that tore from her chest. “Wanda, you don’t understand—I might hurt you if I lose control. I can’t risk that.”

But Wanda’s heat had already swallowed her whole. She pressed closer, nuzzling into Y/N’s neck, her teeth grazing skin before a needy whine slipped from her throat. Her pheromones surged again, flooding the air until Y/N felt dizzy, drunk on her.

Every instinct in her screamed to claim, to soothe, to give Wanda what she was begging for without words. Her body shook with the effort of holding back.

Y/N’s breath came ragged, her voice breaking. “You’re killing me, Wanda…”

Y/N’s hands trembled as she shoved them into her own pockets, praying she’d been smart enough to carry an emergency alpha suppressant. Please, please… She patted down her vest, her belt, every compartment. Nothing.

Her chest tightened. “Shit.”

Wanda whimpered at the sound, clinging tighter. Her scent was practically liquid in the air now, coating Y/N’s lungs, seeping into her skin. The Alpha in her howled for release, for the Omega crying out against her chest.

Y/N gritted her teeth and forced herself to act. She hooked her hands gently but firmly under Wanda’s arms, pulling her away from her body. The moment her warmth left, Y/N felt the cold slam into her — relief and agony all at once.

“I can’t,” she rasped, pushing to her feet, every muscle rigid with restraint. “I need to get out of here before I hurt you. Before I—”

But before she could even take a step, Wanda’s hand shot out, desperate and uncoordinated, and caught her wrist. She pulled with surprising strength for how weak she looked, her body bowing toward Y/N again like a magnet to steel.

“Don’t go,” Wanda pleaded, her voice raw, her eyes glossy with heat. “Please… don’t.”

Y/N froze, chest heaving, staring down at the Omega who wouldn’t release her. Wanda’s nails dug into her wrist, trembling as she tried to drag Y/N closer. Her pheromones flared, thick and demanding, her entire being screaming for this Alpha. Her Alpha.

Y/N’s body shuddered with the effort it took not to give in. Her cock throbbed painfully in her pants, and every instinct urged her to turn around, to pin Wanda to the mattress, to sink into her until the need was gone.

But this wasn’t about instinct. This was Wanda.

Y/N’s throat worked around the words, broken and harsh. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Wanda’s fingers curled tighter into her shirt, her whole body trembling. She tilted her face up, glassy green eyes locking on Y/N’s with a desperation that made Y/N’s chest ache.

“I… I need you,” Wanda whispered, her accent thick, voice hoarse with heat. Her thighs rubbed together, clenching as another wave of fire rolled through her body. A broken whine escaped her lips, sharp with pain and want. “Please—make it stop.”

The sound gutted Y/N.

Her Omega was shaking, suffering, looking at her with helpless need. Not because she wanted Y/N, but because her body demanded it.

Y/N’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Her cock strained painfully against her pants, her Alpha instincts screaming take her, claim her, soothe her. But she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—cross that line, not unless Wanda chose her outside the haze of heat.

“Wanda…” Y/N’s voice cracked, raw with restraint. She gripped the edge of the mattress so hard the wood groaned, anchoring herself in place. “You don’t know what you’re asking me. If I give in, I won’t be able to stop.”

“I don’t care,” Wanda gasped, her nails digging into Y/N’s chest as she pressed closer, her body wracked with another needy tremor. Her legs squeezed together tightly, a low whimper slipping through her clenched teeth. “It hurts—please, Alpha…”

The word cut straight through Y/N. Wanda had never once addressed her like that — never even acknowledged her as an Alpha without disdain. Hearing it now, dripping with helpless need, only proved how far gone she was.

This wasn’t Wanda speaking. This was her heat, dragging her under.

Y/N’s mind raced. I have to get out, I have to—if I stay, I’ll break. I’ll hurt her. Her instincts screamed the opposite, urging her to give in, to soothe her Omega, to take what was offered.

Then movement drew her eyes back down.

Wanda’s trembling fingers fumbled at the hem of her own top, tugging it upward. She was shaking too hard to be precise, but determination drove every clumsy movement. Fabric rose, inch by inch, baring pale skin flushed pink from heat.

Y/N’s eyes widened, blood rushing hot to her face. “Wanda—!”

Before she saw more than she should, she spun around, her back rigid, fists clenching at her sides. Her ears burned, her throat dry, every nerve in her body alight with the effort it took to not look back.

Her cock strained painfully against her pants, the sight of Wanda undressing burned into her mind even though she hadn’t let herself see more than a glimpse.

“Stop,” Y/N choked out, voice rough and frantic. “Don’t—don’t do that. You’re not yourself right now.”

Behind her, Wanda let out a needy whimper, the soft rustle of fabric making Y/N’s chest tighten with panic.

She squeezed her eyes shut, muttering under her breath like a prayer. “God, I can’t stay in this room…”

Y/N forced herself to take one shaky step toward the door, her back still turned, heart hammering against her ribs. If I can just get out—just one breath of clean air—

But before she could reach the handle, Wanda’s arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

“Wanda—!”

Y/N barely had time to react before the Omega’s strength, fueled by need and desperation, yanked her backward. They tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, Y/N’s back hitting the mattress with a heavy thud.

The breath was knocked from her lungs, and then she realized the full weight straddling her hips.

Wanda.

Only in her bra and underwear now, flushed skin glowing in the dim light, her hair mussed, her thighs trembling as she pressed down onto Y/N. The sight stole every ounce of oxygen from Y/N’s chest.

Her blush flared so violently it felt like fire across her face. But when her gaze dropped — unwillingly, instinctively — she saw it.

The slick coating Wanda’s inner thighs, glistening as it smeared against her trembling skin.

Y/N’s entire body went rigid. Her fangs itched, sharp and aching, threatening to drop. Heat surged through her veins, primal and demanding.

A strangled groan tore out of her before she slapped a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut as though that could erase what she’d just seen, what her instincts screamed at her to take.

But Wanda, lost in her own heat, shifted slightly, lowering herself onto Y/N’s covered hardness. The friction hit like a shockwave.

A loud, desperate moan escaped Wanda’s lips, raw and unrestrained.

Y/N froze entirely, paralyzed. Her body refused to obey, every nerve on fire, every muscle trembling. Wanda’s pheromones enveloped her like a physical force, thick and heady, searing into her lungs, sinking into her blood.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t pull away. She couldn’t think. Her Alpha instincts roared, raw and relentless, whispering claim her, claim her, claim her.

Her hands shot to Wanda’s waist, gripping in a mix of panic and instinct, but even that was half-hearted; her body was teetering on the edge of losing control entirely.

“Wanda…” she gasped, voice trembling, barely a whisper. “I… I can’t… I really… can’t… You’ll hate me…”

Her words died in her throat, choked off by the overwhelming scent, the slick heat pressed against her, the needy moans of her Wanda. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying she could hold on, praying she could resist, but her body was screaming in rebellion.

Wanda whimpered, shifting again, almost instinctively pressing closer, completely lost in her own need. Every movement, every sigh, pushed Y/N closer to the edge she had fought so hard to resist.

Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides, teeth gritted, the struggle written across every trembling line of her body. She was on the verge of losing it—completely, utterly.

Wanda’s whimpering grew more frantic. She shifted desperately, pressing into Y/N again before suddenly freezing, her hands fumbling at the buckle of Y/N’s combat suit pants.

“Wanda—no!” Y/N gasped, her voice cracking as panic and arousal warred violently inside her. Her hands shot down instinctively, trying to stop Wanda, but her body was already trembling, every nerve alight from the overpowering pheromones.

Wanda’s green eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide with heat-driven need. She didn’t hesitate, her fingers working at the buckle, jerking at it with fumbling insistence. “Please… I need you…” she whimpered, voice raw and desperate, completely lost to her instincts.

Y/N’s chest heaved, sweat beading on her temple. She pressed her palms harder against Wanda’s shoulders, trying to push her back, but even that small movement was agony — every second of proximity burned hotter, every scent, every motion pulling her closer to the edge.

“I… can’t… You’ll hate me!” Y/N choked out, voice trembling, eyes squeezed shut. Her teeth clenched as her fangs itched uncontrollably, her cock straining painfully in her pants. She had to stop herself, had to get away, but Wanda wasn’t letting go.

Wanda whined again, pressing closer despite Y/N’s frantic struggle, letting her hands roam, utterly consumed by need. The room was thick with heat, scent, and tension — every second a battle Y/N might not survive.

Wanda didn’t pause. Every rational thought gone, every instinct overridden, she continued removing Y/N’s clothes with clumsy, desperate movements.

First the combat suit top — it went over Y/N’s shoulders, tearing slightly at the seams as Wanda’s hands fumbled with the fabric. Y/N groaned, pressing her eyes shut, trying to resist, trying to keep control as the scent of Wanda’s heat swirled around her.

Wanda’s eyes roam Y/N’s chest, seeing the black bra, but then her eyes caught the little patches under Y/N’s collarbones. Pheromone blockers. Two tiny pieces meant to keep Y/N’s Alpha scent contained, meant to protect both of them from this very scenario.

Wanda’s nose twitched, and before Y/N could even speak, she let out a low, throaty growl — a pure, omega growl, sweet and desperate, utterly lost in need.

Y/N’s heart jolted. Her cock throbbed painfully, fangs aching to sink. That tiny growl — so raw, so needy — did something unrelenting to her body. She could feel herself reacting, alpha instincts screaming, arousal flaring like wildfire.

“Wanda—stop, no!” Y/N gasped, tugging at her, voice broken, panicked. But Wanda didn’t care.

With trembling hands, slick with heat and desire, Wanda ripped the pheromone blockers from Y/N’s collarbones. The instant they came off, Y/N felt it — her Alpha pheromones bursting free, thick, heavy, alive, flooding the room.

The effect was immediate. Wanda moaned, a high, desperate sound, and trembled against Y/N, pressing down harder, her hips rocking slightly on instinct. Whimpers tumbled from her lips as her body reacted violently to the flood of Alpha scent, heat and need colliding in a heady, intoxicating storm.

Y/N’s hands shook, gripping Wanda’s waist, nails digging in as she fought to maintain control. Her own instincts were screaming, telling her this is yours, claim her, she’s yours, she needs you!

But Y/N’s mind still screamed louder. Not like this. Not while she’s lost to heat. Not until she can choose.

Wanda’s thighs squeezed tightly around her, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. “I… I need you… inside me… please… Alpha…”

The words were broken, pleading, dripping with heat-fueled desire. Every tremor of her body, every whimper, drove Y/N closer to the edge.

Y/N’s chest heaved. Her Alpha scent now rolling thick and heavy into the room, mixing with Wanda’s heat, making the air almost electric. She was trapped, every part of her body screaming in need, but her mind still fought — for Wanda, for control, for both of them.

Wanda pressed herself onto Y/N, her small body practically melting into the Alpha. Her nose brushed along Y/N’s neck, teeth grazing lightly in little nips, lips pressing soft, frantic kisses against the curve of Y/N’s jawline. Every touch was a plea.

“It hurts… it hurts so much,” Wanda whimpered, her voice ragged with need. Her hands clawed weakly at Y/N’s shoulders, desperate for grounding, for comfort, for anything.

Y/N gasped, body trembling violently. Every nerve was on fire, every instinct screaming to claim, to soothe, to answer her heat. Her hands shook, her mind spinning, and for a moment she thought she could fight it. She tried.

But the pleading in Wanda’s voice, the way she pressed into her, the way her pheromones engulfed Y/N, was too much. She couldn’t hold anymore. Not for a single second longer.

With a sharp inhale, Y/N shifted, carefully but decisively flipping them both so that Wanda was lying on the mattress. The moment Y/N’s body left her, Wanda’s legs spread instinctively, her inner heat desperate, exposed, calling for what she needed.

Y/N pressed a soft, apologetic kiss to Wanda’s cheek, murmuring, “I’m sorry… I can’t… I can’t help it anymore.”

Wanda let out a low, needy whine — and then, without hesitation, she pulled Y/N down into a heated, desperate kiss. Her lips crushed against Y/N’s with all the frustration, longing, and ache she had been holding back. Her hands tangled in Y/N’s hair, tugging gently, claiming.

Y/N groaned softly into the kiss, hands trembling over Wanda’s body, heart pounding as desire and restraint collided. The heat between them was electric, thick with pheromones and need, yet threaded with something else — care, apology, and something neither had dared admit until now.

The world outside the cabin ceased to exist. There was only heat, scent, and the frantic, desperate press of their bodies against each other.

As their lips met in a heated, desperate kiss, Y/N pressed a trembling hand to Wanda’s cheek, her voice low and rough against her lips.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Wanda,” she murmured, breathless. “I’ll make it stop. I… I can’t hold it anymore, but I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

Wanda’s only response was a whine, a tiny shake of her body pressing closer, needy hands clinging to Y/N as though letting go wasn’t an option.

Y/N’s hands moved with shaking precision, carefully sliding Wanda’s underwear down, exposing her heated, slick skin. Wanda’s legs spread wider again, hips wiggling instinctively against Y/N, silently begging for more.

Y/N swallowed hard, fumbling with the waistband of her own combat suit, pulling it and her boxers down in one motion. She froze for a moment, staring at the desperate, glistening heat before her, heart hammering, every Alpha instinct screaming. She couldn’t afford to lose control, not entirely. She had to be careful.

Sliding slowly forward, she positioned herself at Wanda’s entrance, pressing gently against her damp heat. Wanda’s hips moved instinctively, tiny whimpers escaping her lips as Y/N tried to take it slow, careful, resisting the urge to go faster, to sink deep and claim her the way her body demanded.

The moment Y/N slid inside, Wanda gasped, a long, loud moan that reverberated through the small room. The sound hit Y/N like a lightning bolt, every nerve screaming, and she pressed a shaky hand to Wanda’s hip to steady herself, to try to keep the pace gentle.

But Wanda didn’t want slow. Her arms shot around Y/N’s waist, pulling her down, urging her faster, her legs instinctively closing around Y/N’s hips to guide every movement. Her moans grew louder, desperate, tinged with frustration and pure, raw need.

Y/N groaned softly, apologizing again, even as Wanda’s walls clenched and rolled around her, forcing her deeper. “Wanda… I’m sorry… I—”

Wanda only pressed closer, grinding her hips against Y/N, lost in the intensity of the sensation, unable to wait. “More… faster… please…” she begged, voice broken, trembling as she arched up into every movement, chasing the overwhelming pleasure rolling through her.

Y/N’s body tensed, heart hammering, struggling to maintain that thin line between restraint and giving in completely. Every motion of Wanda’s hips, every tight, needy clench of her walls, threatened to push her over the edge. And yet, even as she lost a fraction of control, she kept sliding in slowly, softly, matching Wanda’s frantic rhythm as best she could, whispering apologies with every thrust.

The cabin was filled with the sound of desperate moans, their ragged breathing, and the slick, wet friction of two bodies moving together — a storm of pheromones, heat, and the first tentative surrender to a bond that neither had fully understood until now.

Y/N’s hands pressed against Wanda’s hips, holding her steady, trying desperately to maintain some control. Her movements were deliberate at first, slow and measured, coaxing Wanda gently, whispering soft apologies between ragged breaths.

But every thrust, every tight, rolling squeeze of Wanda’s walls, ignited something deep within her. Her body screamed, her Alpha instincts clawing at her mind. Claim her… claim her… The words repeated over and over like a mantra, echoing in her head, growing louder with every moan and whimper from the Omega beneath her.

Her hips began to betray her, moving gradually faster, deeper, more desperate, even as her mind fought. Each inch she sank into Wanda sent a thrill shooting through her veins, the friction against her tightening body almost unbearable. Y/N’s fangs itched, her breath came ragged, and yet she held onto the smallest threads of restraint, whispering apologies to the woman beneath her.

Wanda’s moans grew louder, higher-pitched, frantic with need. Her hips jerked, grinding against Y/N with abandon, each movement coaxing her Alpha closer to the edge.

“Wan… Wanda—” Y/N gasped, voice breaking, as Wanda’s walls clenched around her again.

And then it happened. Wanda’s second climax hit, her body shuddering violently, nails digging into Y/N’s shoulders, head thrown back, moaning like it was the only language she knew. The scent of her heat filled the small room, thick and intoxicating, almost too much to bear.

But even that wasn’t enough. Her body didn’t relax; her hips jerked, pleading for more, chasing another wave of pleasure. Y/N’s own heart thudded violently as she realized it — Wanda needed her more than her body could tell, more than any single release could satisfy.

Her walls clenched again around Y/N, teasing, desperate, and the raw, unrestrained heat pressed against every inch of her. She was lost, caught between restraint and desire, every instinct screaming claim her, claim her, claim her.

Y/N groaned, biting her lip as she buried herself deeper, sliding in harder, moving with her need, desperate to bring Wanda what she wanted — even if it pushed her closer to losing herself entirely.

The cabin echoed with the sounds of desperate pleasure, panting breaths, and the unstoppable pull of fated desire, the storm between them only growing more consuming with every passing second.

The pull inside Y/N only grew stronger, a roaring tide she could no longer ignore. The voice in her head — her Alpha instincts — was deafening now. Claim her. Claim her. Make her our Omega. Our Omega. My Omega.

She pressed herself against Wanda again, groaning and growling, lips crushing onto hers as she tasted her desperate need. Every nerve in her body was on fire, every motion stoking the heat between them. Wanda writhed beneath her, moaning and gasping, lost in the haze of her own heat and desire.

Before she even realized it, Y/N shifted positions, moving behind Wanda, positioning her butt up before slipping inside her in a deep, demanding thrust. One arm braced against the mattress to hold them both up, the other wrapping around Wanda, pulling her close.

Y/N’s lips found the nape of Wanda’s neck — a sensitive, intimate spot, the very place where an Alpha’s claim would bond an Omega forever. She licked and nipped repeatedly, feeling Wanda shiver and mewl under her, hips pressing harder, desperate for every touch. Every movement, every sensation screamed claim her in Y/N’s mind.

The voice in her head continued to scream, relentless, possessive.

Then, somewhere deep in the fog of sensation, Y/N realized what she was doing, and panic lanced through her. No… stop… Wanda already hates me… I can’t… not like this… please. she fought the voice desperately, as tears streaked her cheeks. Her Alpha instincts raged against her mind, her body betraying every word.

Her movements didn’t slow, her tongue didn’t stop, every thrust and lick carrying her closer to the edge. She could feel the knot starting to swell, thick and urgent as she continue to thrust into Wanda. Her fangs aching to claim, to mark, to bind Wanda to her forever.

In a flash of desperate clarity, she bit down hard on her own arm, tasting copper, drawing blood, anchoring herself just enough to ride out the flood of instinct without losing control entirely.

Wanda’s cries and moans surrounded her, pleading and needy, urging her on even as she tried to fight. But it was too late — the sensations, the pheromones, the overwhelming pull of fate and heat were unstoppable.

With a shuddering cry, Y/N climaxed, knot swelling and slipping fully inside Wanda, locking them together. Waves of pleasure tore through both of them as Wanda’s body convulsed beneath her, moaning loudly, pressing every inch of herself against Y/N, utterly lost in need and release.

Y/N collapsed against Wanda, trembling, her body shaking with the storm of sensations she had just survived. Soft sobs escaped her lips, muffled against her arm she was still biting. Every fiber of her Alpha instincts was still thrumming with need, guilt, and the residue of pleasure. She bit down harder on her arm, the sharp pain cutting through the haze and grounding her just enough to keep from losing herself further.

She wasn’t sure what would happen if she let go completely — if she released the tension in her body, would she lose control again? Would her instincts push her too far? The thought made her shiver, and she held herself together by clinging tightly to Wanda.

Wanda, finally sated for the moment, had gone limp beneath her. Her breathing was slow, even, and her heat, for now, was tempered. She was sound asleep, curled instinctively against Y/N, small whimpers escaping her lips from lingering pleasure and fatigue.

---

Next Morning

Wanda stirred, eyelids fluttering open. Her mind was sharp now, lucid, and for a brief moment she felt… nothing unusual. Somehow, the overwhelming pull of heat was gone. She blinked, trying to gather her thoughts.

Then her body betrayed her. A dull ache radiated from her core, sore and wet, muscles tight from tension and release. Her nakedness on the bed made her gasp softly, a mix of shock and embarrassment flooding her. Slowly, memories crept back — the mission, the sudden onset of heat, the way it had overwhelmed her, how she’d lost control.

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t supposed to happen… but it did. And Y/N… The picture of Y/N carrying her from Hydra’s base, soothing her, staying close as her body demanded, forced itself into her thoughts.

Wanda’s chest tightened. She had always hated Alphas. They claimed, they abused, they forced Omegas into submission and then blamed them for manipulating with pheromones. The very idea of being at their mercy made her stomach twist. And now, naked and sore, she remembered how completely she had been at Y/N’s mercy.

Panic rose in her throat. Her hand shot to the back of her neck — the sensitive nape where Alphas claimed Omegas, the mark that would bond them forever. Her fingers traced her skin, finding… nothing. No bite, no mark. Relief washed through her, quick and sharp, but confusion followed almost immediately.

And then she heard it. A wet, ragged sound behind her. Alarm flaring, she turned sharply, eyes wide.

Y/N was there. On the bed, writhing, fangs bared, biting fiercely into her own arm. Blood smeared across her skin and the sheets. Her body trembled violently, taut with tension, every muscle straining, lost somewhere between instinct and desperation.

Wanda froze, heart hammering. “Y/N?” she whispered, voice shaking.

Y/N’s head lifted slightly, eyes glazed, unfocused, and a low, guttural groan escaped her lips. She wasn’t aware of Wanda’s gaze, wasn’t seeing her — she was trapped in the raw storm of her Alpha instincts, trying to control herself, trying not to harm the woman she loved.

Wanda’s mind spun. Her core ached, sore and sensitive from the intensity of her heat, every muscle still trembling from the release she hadn’t fully expected. And now she was faced with Y/N — the Alpha she hated, yet couldn’t deny the pull toward.

The Alpha she had refused countless times, brushing her off, cold and distant. The Alpha she had believed embodied everything she despised: possessiveness, entitlement, and the dangerous instinct to take what she wanted.

And yet… here she was. Naked, vulnerable, writhing, and entirely human in front of Wanda. The Alpha who had carried her from Hydra’s base, soothed her, and — astonishingly — slept with her during her heat without claiming her. Without marking her.

Wanda’s chest tightened at the memory, confusion and a strange, reluctant admiration mingling with the lingering ache between her legs. She had been so sure of what Alphas were, what they did, and yet Y/N had… restrained herself. She had indulged her need, had given in to her Alpha instincts, yet she hadn’t taken Wanda by force.

Her hands tightened slightly on the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as she stared at Y/N, who was still lost in her own storm of instincts, biting her arm, fangs itching, trembling to keep control.

Part of Wanda wanted to flee, to retreat, to bury herself in self-protection and old hatred. But another part — a deeper, more confusing part — couldn’t look away. She couldn’t ignore the way her body still ached, the way it still craved the closeness, the lingering warmth of Y/N pressed against her during the heat. And then there was the strange, disarming comfort in seeing Y/N struggle so hard not to hurt her.

Her eyes widened as she noticed the crimson staining Y/N’s arm — the Alpha had been biting herself to fight her instincts, to hold back the primal need to claim her. Wanda’s breath hitched. Slowly, cautiously, she reached out, hands glowing faintly with red magic, and gently cupped Y/N’s face.

“Stop… stop hurting yourself,” she whispered softly, voice trembling with a mix of awe and worry.

Y/N froze for a moment, still trembling, and then let out a broken sob, lowering her head into Wanda’s hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she whispered, “I… I’m sorry… I… I couldn’t… I tried…” Her voice cracked, raw with guilt, shame, and the lingering pull of instincts she had fought to restrain.

Wanda blinked, stunned. She had always assumed that Y/N — just because she was an Alpha — was dangerous, forceful, impossible to control, someone who would take without thinking. And yet here she was, a woman trembling, crying, and apologizing for not being able to control her own instincts.

Her hands moved instinctively, glowing as she closed the shallow wound on Y/N’s arm, the magic knitting the skin together, easing the sting and the blood. Y/N flinched slightly at the touch but didn’t resist, allowing herself to be cared for, even as sobs continued to shake her body.

“You… you didn’t hurt me,” Wanda said softly, voice barely above a whisper, still trying to process what she was seeing.

Y/N wiped at her tears quickly, shifting back slightly, keeping a careful distance. “Are you… okay? I didn’t… I didn’t hurt you, did I? Did I—” Her voice trembled, emotion raw, as she pressed her hands together in front of her. “I swear I was trying… I just…”

Wanda shook her head slowly. “No… you didn’t…” she whispered, her voice soft but firm. “You… you didn’t hurt me at all.”

Y/N took a cautious breath, still keeping a small space between them. Her voice was quiet, tentative. “Your… heat… how… how come it’s over? I… I thought it lasts a week.”

Wanda blinked, still processing the situation herself. She shifted slightly on the bed, running a hand over her forehead as if trying to steady her thoughts. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, voice low, confused. “It… it wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. It felt… induced, sudden… maybe because of the mission, or… or being so close to you. I… I think it never fully developed.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, disbelief mingling with curiosity. “Induced…?” she echoed, her own instincts still twitching at the memory of Wanda’s scent, her pheromones, the way she had lost herself completely.

Wanda nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah… it… it was triggered, I guess… by… by you being there. But it wasn’t my full heat. That’s why it passed so quickly… I… I think.” Her voice faltered, uncertainty and fatigue threading through her words.

Y/N’s chest tightened, a mix of relief and lingering tension pressing down on her. “I… I didn’t know it could… stop like that,” she admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I… I thought it would last… longer… I…” She trailed off, swallowing hard, trying to reconcile the lingering pull of instincts with the reality of Wanda’s sudden calm.

“I… I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice heavy with emotion. She reached for one of the blankets draped over the bed, wrapping it quickly around her naked form. Every movement felt clumsy, still taut with residual Alpha tension, but necessary — she needed distance, needed to ground herself.

“I… I need… I need to shower,” Y/N said quietly, avoiding Wanda’s gaze. Her voice was small, hesitant, but firm enough to leave no room for argument. “I’ll… I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for a response, she stepped away from the bed, blanket clutched around her, and moved toward the small bathroom of the safe house. The warmth of the water, she hoped, would help wash away some of the intensity, some of the instincts still clawing at her mind.

Behind her, Wanda remained on the bed, naked and vulnerable, still processing the surreal aftermath of her heat and the shocking reality of Y/N’s restraint. She lay there quietly, watching the door close, feeling both confusion and a strange, reluctant sense of trust beginning to form toward the Alpha who had… not claimed her, despite everything.

The room was silent except for the faint sound of running water, and in that quiet, both of them had a moment to breathe, to begin untangling the chaos of heat, instinct, and unexpected connection.

---

After leaving the bathroom, Y/N finally contacted the team, her voice calm but firm over the comms. “We’re both okay,” she said. She deliberately lied about the situation, fabricating a sudden rut and claiming Wanda had used her powers to contain her in the safe house. She carefully avoided exposing Wanda’s true second gender, protecting her secret as always.

The team acknowledged the message, voices full of concern, and promised to debrief them once they returned. Y/N ended the call, taking a deep breath and steeling herself for the trip back.

When they arrived at the compound, Y/N led Wanda inside quietly. Once they were alone, she turned toward her, eyes full of remorse. “I… I’m sorry,” she whispered once more, voice heavy with everything left unsaid. “For… for all of it.”

Wanda nodded silently, still processing, her mind tangled with the memories of her heat, the sensations, and Y/N’s restraint. She opened her mouth to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Without another word, Y/N wrapped herself in a blanket, avoiding further closeness, and retreated to her own room, leaving Wanda on her own to gather her thoughts.

The following week, Y/N deliberately kept her distance. She didn’t approach Wanda, didn’t try to talk or touch, carefully giving space while her instincts simmered beneath the surface, waiting.

Wanda, meanwhile, was still processing. Her emotions were tangled and confusing — relief, lingering desire, admiration, fear, and the faint stirrings of something unfamiliar and unsettling. She replayed the moments over and over, the feel of Y/N’s body, the way she had restrained herself, the closeness she had offered without claiming her.

She didn’t know what to think, or how to feel. All she knew was that despite herself, her thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N, and she couldn’t deny that the memory of the Alpha who had cared for her so intensely left her… unsettled in a way she didn’t understand.

---

The team had realized almost immediately that something was off. Y/N, who had spent every spare moment chasing Wanda since the day she joined, had suddenly gone silent. No teasing, no persistent invitations, no casual touches or lingering glances. If anything, she seemed to be actively avoiding the witch.

Nat was the first to break the silence. She didn’t waste time with pleasantries. She barged into Wanda’s room, slamming the door behind her with a sharp clack. “Alright,” Nat said, crossing her arms, her tone firm. “Spill it. What the hell happened with Y/N?”

Wanda looked up, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I… what do you mean?”

Nat sighed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Wanda. Y/N told us she had a sudden… rut during the mission. You both didn’t come back for two days, and now… now it’s like you’re actively avoiding each other. Something happened, and I’m not letting it slide. Tell me.”

Wanda’s stomach tightened. The memories of the heat, the safe house, the way Y/N had restrained herself, all surged back. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, trying to form words that wouldn’t expose herself.

Nat’s sharp gaze didn’t waver. “Did she—? I mean, did Y/N force herself on you?” she asked, carefully but directly. Her voice was edged with concern, but there was also that hard, unyielding undertone that made it clear she wouldn’t accept vague answers.

Wanda’s eyes widened. Her chest tightened. She had been so confused herself about what had happened, about her own feelings and sensations… and now Nat was asking this. Panic surged.

“No,” Wanda said quickly, shaking her head. “She… she didn’t. She—” Her voice faltered, and she stopped, unsure how much to say. “She… she tried to… hold back. She didn’t… she didn’t force me. I… I don’t know how to explain it…”

Nat’s expression softened slightly, though the concern in her eyes remained sharp. She crossed the room and stood in front of Wanda, arms folded, a knowing look on her face. “Okay,” she said slowly, her voice calm but pointed. “But… you two *did it*, right?”

Wanda blinked, caught off guard. “I… what?”

Nat’s voice dropped, quiet but laced with steel. “Wanda… did she hurt you?”

Wanda’s breath hitched. The question slammed into her, tearing at the knot in her chest. Her mouth opened, but no sound came. How could she say it? That it wasn’t Y/N’s rut but her own heat? That she had been the one losing control, clinging to Y/N, begging her? That Y/N had been so careful, so patient, even when instincts were eating her alive?

Her silence stretched too long.

Nat’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening. “She did, didn’t she?” Her tone hardened, venom dripping with every word. “That bastard— I’ll kill her.”

“No!” Wanda shot up from the bed, panic surging through her as her eyes glowed faintly red. “No, Nat, stop—please!”

Nat froze, thrown off by the desperation in Wanda’s voice.

“It wasn’t like that,” Wanda rushed out, her words tumbling over each other. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her chest. “She didn’t hurt me, she… she helped me. I wasn’t—” She choked, swallowing hard, her face burning with shame. “I wasn’t in control. It wasn’t her rut, Nat. It was… it was my heat.”

Nat’s brows knit together, her head tilting slightly. “Heat? But you’re a… beta.”

The word stung, almost like an accusation. Wanda’s breath hitched, her pulse pounding in her ears. She lowered her eyes, shoulders curling inward as though the weight of the truth might crush her.

“I’m not,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m not a beta.”

Nat blinked, caught off guard. “Wanda…?”

Her lips trembled, the confession clawing its way out of her throat. “I lied. I’ve always lied. I had to. No one would’ve let me stay here, no one would’ve taken me seriously if they knew I was an Omega.” Her hands clenched against her knees, knuckles white. “But I am. And the suppressants— they just—” she shook her head, frustrated tears burning her eyes. “They stopped working when I met her.”

Nat’s face hardened, jaw tightening as the realization sank in. “So you’re telling me… you went into heat. And Y/N was there.” Her voice was sharp, clipped—dangerously controlled.

Wanda’s chest tightened. “Nat—”

“Did she mark you?” Nat cut in, her green eyes burning with fury. “Tell me right now if she forced a claim on you, Wanda, because I swear—”

“No!” Wanda blurted, panic lacing her voice. She grabbed Nat’s wrist before she could stand, holding her down with desperate strength. “She didn’t. She didn’t do anything like that.”

Nat’s nostrils flared, unconvinced. “You were in heat, Wanda. You were vulnerable. And she’s an Alpha. Don’t you dare protect her if—”

“I’m not protecting her,” Wanda interrupted, her eyes glassy with tears. “I’m telling you the truth. She didn’t force me. She could’ve, but she didn’t. She was careful, Nat. She helped me through it. She… she was good to me.”

Her voice cracked, shame and longing spilling out in the same breath. “She held me when I thought I was going to fall apart. She touched me like I mattered, not like I was just an Omega in heat. And now she won’t even look at me, and I—” She bit her lip hard, cutting off the words, but it was too late.

Nat froze, her fists still clenched, but the sound of Wanda’s voice cracking made something twist in her chest. She sat back slowly, watching Wanda with sharp, searching eyes.

“Wanda…” she said carefully, her tone quieter now. “You’re saying she didn’t take advantage of you?”

Wanda shook her head fiercely. “No. She… she was the only thing holding me together. She didn’t hurt me, Nat. She helped me.” Her voice wavered, and she added in a whisper, “And I hate that she’s avoiding me now. I hate it because I miss her. I miss everything.”

Nat inhaled slowly, trying to let the fury drain out, but her protective instincts weren’t so easily calmed. “Alright,” she said finally, voice steady again. “If that’s what happened, then I believe you. But…” her eyes narrowed, “…I thought you hated her.”

Wanda froze. Her breath caught in her chest, her lips parting but no sound coming out. She had spent months making sure everyone knew how much she despised Alphas—their arrogance, their entitlement, the way they looked at her like she was something to claim. And Y/N…

Her throat tightened. Y/N had asked her out more than once, always gently, always with a hopeful smile that Wanda crushed every single time. She remembered the way she’d scoffed, the way she’d rolled her eyes, the venom in her voice when she told Y/N she would never want someone like her.

So why was her heart aching now, days later, because Y/N wouldn’t look at her?

“I…” Wanda’s hands fisted in her lap, her eyes stinging. “I don’t know anymore.”

Nat tilted her head, studying her. “You don’t know if you hate her, or you don’t know if you like her?”

Wanda’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded so hard it drowned out the quiet hum of the room. Deep down, she knew. She’d known from the very first time she laid eyes on Y/N—that strange pull in her chest, the way her stomach fluttered when those Alpha pheromones brushed over her like an invisible hand.

Suppressants had always worked for her, even when she was surrounded by other Alphas. But with Y/N… the pills faltered. Her body burned for her. The ache in her bones, the warmth that coiled low in her belly whenever Y/N was too close—it all made sense now, even if Wanda didn’t want to accept it.

She hated Alphas. She’d told herself that over and over, built up her armor against them. But Y/N wasn’t like the rest. Y/N wasn’t arrogant, wasn’t entitled—she was kind, steady, respectful. And that only made it worse.

So she pushed Y/N away. Again and again. She used her cold words, her scoffs, her glares as a shield. Because every time Y/N smiled at her, every time she inhaled those intoxicating pheromones, her body betrayed her. It ached. It *wanted.* Sometimes, it even tipped her into heat like it had this time—unexpected, brutal, undeniable.

Wanda swallowed hard, blinking fast as if the motion could push the truth back down where she’d buried it. But Nat’s piercing gaze cut right through her defenses.

“I don’t hate her,” Wanda whispered finally, her voice trembling. “I never did. I was just… scared. Because whenever she’s near, it feels like I can’t fight it anymore.”

Nat’s eyes narrowed slightly, her sharp mind putting pieces together with alarming speed. Suppressants failing. Heats triggered by a single Alpha. The way Wanda’s voice cracked just speaking of Y/N.

“Wanda,” she said slowly, deliberately, “this isn’t just attraction. Not the casual kind. You know what this means, don’t you?”

Wanda froze, her breath caught in her throat.

Nat leaned forward, lowering her voice even though they were alone. “Your suppressants don’t just stop working for no reason. Heats don’t just spike like that around any Alpha. That only happens with one person. Your person.” Her eyes softened, even as her words struck like a blade. “Y/N is your mate.”

Wanda’s lips parted, but no words came. Her whole body went still, as if the truth had knocked the air right out of her lungs.

Mate.

The word rattled in her chest, terrifying and undeniable all at once. She wanted to argue, to deny it, but deep down—deep where no walls or excuses could reach—she knew Nat was right. Every moment, every ache, every stolen glance at Y/N had been building to this truth.

And now that it was spoken aloud, there was no taking it back.

---

After talking to Nat, Wanda felt overwhelmed. She thought about Y/N being her fated mate. Was it true? Were they fated. But she swore she wouldn’t end up with an alpha. She swore she would fight. And now she found her mate.

She stayed the whole day thinking about it. When she realized it was already midnight.

With a sigh Wanda stand up and go out of her bedroom, heading for the kitchen.

The kitchen was dim, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound. Wanda padded in, expecting silence, but stopped short when she saw Y/N leaning against the counter, a half-empty glass of water in her hand.

The Alpha looked worn down, shadows bruising beneath her eyes. The second her gaze flicked up and met Wanda’s, she startled—almost like she’d been caught doing something wrong.

“W—Wanda,” Y/N muttered quickly, setting the glass down with a clink. “I’m going already. Sorry.”

She moved fast, shoulders hunched, as if she could escape before Wanda’s presence unraveled her further. But Wanda’s hand shot out, catching her wrist before she could flee.

“Wait,” Wanda said, breathless. Her touch tightened instinctively, her heart hammering. “I want to talk.”

And then it happened. Without meaning to, without even realizing, Wanda’s control slipped. The subtle pulse of her Omega pheromones slipped free, sweet and heavy in the air.

Y/N froze. Her eyes widened, panic sparking instantly as the scent hit her like a wave.

“Wanda—don’t.” Y/N’s voice cracked with desperation as she tried to pull away, but Wanda’s grip held fast. “Please, you—you can’t—”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” Wanda whispered, realizing too late what was happening. Her body was betraying her again, answering to Y/N in ways she couldn’t stop.

The Alpha’s chest rose and fell sharply, like she was fighting for every breath. Her pulse thundered in her neck as she wrenched her wrist back, stumbling toward the hallway. “I need to go.”

But Wanda followed, her feet moving before her mind could catch up.

“Y/N, please!”

Y/N reached her room, slammed her palm against the door and tried to shut it, but the wood halted mid-swing, glowing faint red. Wanda’s magic held it open, trembling with the force of her own turmoil.

Y/N turned back, eyes dark and frantic. “Wanda—stop. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

But Wanda only took a step closer, her voice breaking as her eyes shone in the dim light. “Then tell me why it feels like I can’t breathe when you’re not here.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at Wanda’s words, the raw plea in her voice cutting straight through her. But instead of relief, instead of the hope she secretly craved, dread crashed over her like ice water.

Her hands trembled as she pressed harder against the door, trying to make it budge despite Wanda’s magic. “Don’t say that,” Y/N rasped, eyes locked on the floor, refusing to meet Wanda’s gaze.

Wanda blinked, stunned. “What?”

“You’re only saying that because of what happened,” Y/N forced out, voice low and ragged. “Because your heat—because I—” She stopped, swallowing hard, unable to finish the thought. Her throat burned with shame.

“That’s not true.” Wanda’s voice cracked, her fingers tightening on the wood as if she could hold her words in place the way her magic held the door.

Y/N shook her head fiercely. “You don’t mean it, Wanda. You think you do, but it’s just the bond messing with you. If I let myself believe it…” Her jaw clenched, her eyes finally lifting to Wanda’s, glistening with the weight of sleepless nights. “If I let myself believe you actually wanted me, and then I found out it was just pheromones—just your body tricking you—I wouldn’t survive that.”

The words landed like a blow. Wanda’s breath hitched, tears pricking her eyes. She didn’t let go of the door, didn’t let go of Y/N. Instead, she stepped closer, her voice trembling but fierce.

“Then make me prove it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, caught off guard.

“Let me prove that it’s not just my body,” Wanda whispered, her Omega pheromones pulsing heavier now, unable to be contained. “That it’s me. That it’s always been me.”

Y/N staggered back a step as if the force of it pushed her. “Wanda—”

But Wanda only moved forward, refusing to let her retreat again.

Y/N’s voice broke through the tension, bitter and trembling all at once.

“Then why did you always say no?” she asked, her eyes searching Wanda’s with an ache that made her stomach twist. “Every time I asked you out, every time I tried—you pushed me away. You even said…”

Her voice faltered. She looked down, jaw tight. “You even said you don’t like Alphas.”

Wanda’s lips parted, her throat tightening with guilt. “Y/N—”

Y/N’s voice cracked again, sharper this time. “So what changed, huh? Suddenly because your suppressants failed, because your body wants mine, now I’m good enough?”

The words burned as they left her, because even as she said them, her heart begged to believe otherwise.

Wanda flinched, tears welling at the edges of her eyes. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it, Wanda?” Y/N snapped, finally lifting her gaze to meet hers, raw and desperate. “Because I can’t—” Her voice wavered, broke. “I can’t be the mistake you regret in the morning. I can’t be something you hate yourself for.”

Wanda’s breath shook, and she took a trembling step forward. “I never hated you,” she whispered, her voice thick with guilt. “I hated what you made me feel. I hated that every time you were near, my chest ached, my skin burned, and no amount of pills could make it stop. I told myself I hated you because it was easier than admitting the truth.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, her whole body tense. “And what truth is that?”

“That you might be the one I’ve been running from my whole life,” Wanda admitted, tears sliding down her cheeks now. “That you’re the Alpha who can undo me with a single look.”

The silence that followed was crushing. Y/N stood frozen, caught between disbelief and the yearning that clawed at her chest.

“Please,” Wanda whispered, voice breaking. “Don’t make me keep pretending I don’t want you.”

Wanda’s chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her hands clenching at her sides. “I always hated Alphas,” she admitted, her voice raw, almost trembling. “Do you know why? Because they take whatever they want. And then they turn around and blame it on us—on Omegas. They say we tempted them, seduced them, like we’re nothing but… toys. Something to use when they can’t control themselves.”

Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out anyway. “I swore I would never let myself become that. Never let an Alpha decide who I was. So I hid. I took suppressants so strong they made me sick sometimes, but it was worth it. They hid my scent, they dulled my heat. They gave me control.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched, her chest aching as she listened, but she stayed rooted in place.

Wanda’s lips quivered as she continued, softer now, vulnerable in a way Y/N had never seen. “But since I met you, nothing works anymore. No matter how much I take, it’s like my body knows. The scent won’t stay buried. The heat keeps breaking through. And after… after that day in the cabin…” Her voice cracked, her eyes glistening. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About how it felt. I thought if I put enough distance, if I froze you out, it would fade. But it hasn’t. It’s only gotten worse. I miss you. I miss you so much it feels like it’s tearing me apart.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, pressing down on both of them.

Y/N finally exhaled, the sound shaky, almost broken. “You’re not the only one who felt it,” she whispered, her voice low but steady enough to make Wanda’s heart jolt.

Wanda’s breath caught.

“When I first met you, there was this… pull. Something I couldn’t explain. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. And it didn’t make sense because you were a Beta—at least, that’s what everyone thought. Alphas aren’t supposed to feel something like that toward Betas, but I didn’t care.” Y/N gave a weak laugh, though her eyes stayed fixed on the ground between them. “I thought I was losing my mind, being drawn to you like that.”

She lifted her gaze then, meeting Wanda’s trembling one.

“And when I finally smelled it—your pheromones, your real scent… god, Wanda. Do you know how hard it was to hold back at the cabin? To fight my own instincts in that tiny place, when all I could smell was you?”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, words scraping out like a confession she’d buried too long. “It felt like every part of me was screaming to take you, to claim you, and it terrified me. Because I didn’t want you to think I was just another Alpha—like the ones you despise. I didn’t want you to feel trapped. I wanted…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I wanted you to choose me, not be forced.”

Y/N’s voice cracked, the restraint in her tone raw. “So I fought it, even when my body was burning, even when it nearly broke me. Because the truth is, Wanda…” her lips parted, breath uneven, “…I’d rather destroy myself fighting those instincts than hurt you. Than become exactly what you’ve always feared.”

Wanda’s chest rose and fell too quickly, her eyes shimmering. She looked like she wanted to speak, but the words caught, tangled in her throat.

Y/N drew in a shaky breath, her voice low, almost breaking.

“I like you, Wanda. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.” Her eyes softened, even as her chest ached. “But I don’t want you to choose me because of… what happened. Because we lost control in that cabin. That wasn’t fair to you.”

Wanda’s brows knit, lips parting to protest, but Y/N pressed on.

“I didn’t claim you. I made sure of that. You still have a choice. You can walk away from me, and if you want to—” her voice faltered, throat tightening, “—you can mate with someone else. Someone you actually choose.”

The words hung in the air like poison. Wanda flinched as if they were physical blows. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.

“Someone else…” she whispered, the phrase tasting wrong, bitter, like ash in her mouth. Her stomach turned violently, nausea crawling up her throat at just the thought. The very idea of another Alpha touching her, of another scent binding to hers, made her feel sick, made her body recoil.

But across from her, Y/N wasn’t any better. The moment she let the possibility slip out loud, it was like she’d swallowed broken glass. Her gut twisted, her whole chest aching with the image of Wanda with anyone else. Her jaw clenched so hard it hurt, bile rising at the thought.

Both of them stood there, breath unsteady, their bodies betraying the truth their words refused to voice: the mere thought of belonging to anyone else was unbearable.

Wanda swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. “Nat… she told me something. She said… she said we might be—”

“Fated mates?” Y/N interrupted softly, her voice trembling. “I know. But even if that’s true, I… I won’t force you into anything. You have a choice. I’ll even—” She grimaced, pressing a hand to her mouth, “The thought makes me wanna puke but… if it makes you happy… ”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed, a flush rising to her cheeks. The sheer insistence, the self-denial—it irritated her more than she expected. “Y/N,” she said sharply, stepping closer, voice low but firm, “if you want a date with me… just shut up.”

Y/N blinked, startled by the intensity, her own body tightening with a mixture of fear, anticipation, and longing. “I—” she began, but Wanda cut her off with a frustrated groan, leaning closer, eyes locked on hers.

“I want you,” Wanda said, voice rough, desperate but controlled. “Not because of some heat or pheromones. Not because of anything else. Just… me. Only me. Understand?”

Y/N’s chest ached, the tension in her limbs fading just enough for her to breathe. She nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I… I understand.”

Wanda’s lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile, though her hands were still tight at her sides. “Good,” she murmured. “Then… maybe we can start with a date. And you can stop overthinking everything.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, shaky but genuine, and for the first time in days, the pull in her chest didn’t feel like torment—it felt like possibility.

Before Y/N could respond, Wanda stepped forward and threw her arms around her, pressing close. Her voice wavered, soft and desperate.

“Now… can you please… release your pheromones?” she whimpered against Y/N’s shoulder. “I’m… I’m going crazy.”

Y/N froze for a heartbeat, heart hammering in her chest. She could feel the subtle pulse of Wanda’s pheromones even through the embrace—an involuntary signal of need, of trust. Wanda’s body trembled against hers, shivering slightly as if her very nerves were raw and exposed.

Slowly, Y/N exhaled and let herself relax just enough, the tiny release of her Alpha scent washing over Wanda. Wanda’s grip tightened, letting out a soft sigh as her body visibly began to calm.

“You… you can breathe now,” Y/N murmured, voice gentle, careful. She rested her chin lightly on Wanda’s head, letting the subtle pheromone flow steady, protective. “I’ve got you.”

Wanda’s arms clung tighter, nuzzling into Y/N’s neck. “Don’t ever leave me like that again,” she whispered hoarsely, voice muffled against her shoulder. “I… I can’t handle it.”

Y/N hugged her back firmly, a small, reassuring smile brushing her lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised softly. “I’ll always be here. You just have to let me help.”

Wanda shivered again, but this time it was relief, not need or panic, as her breathing slowly evened out. For the first time in days, she felt safe—and like maybe, finally, she could trust someone completely.

Y/N hugged Wanda tighter, pressing her body gently against hers. She buried her nose in Wanda’s hair, inhaling the sweet, intoxicating scent of her Omega pheromones. A low groan slipped past her lips, the pull of her instincts undeniable even now.

“Dang it,” Y/N cursed under her breath, feeling her body betray her again, her cock stirring despite the calm between them.

Wanda pulled back just enough to look up at her, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Careful, Alpha,” she teased, the tension in her voice light and playful for the first time in weeks. “Don’t get too carried away before our date.”

Y/N couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her own lips, shaking her head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll try,” she muttered, though her hands lingered gently on Wanda’s back, reluctant to let go entirely.

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, a warmth spreading between them that had nothing to do with heat or pheromones—just trust, understanding, and the first flickers of something new and real.

Wanda tilted her head, resting her cheek against Y/N’s collarbone. “I think… I think I like this,” she murmured softly, eyes half-lidded, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

Y/N chuckled, tightening her hold once more. “Me too,” she admitted, voice low and full of affection. “Me too.”

And in that quiet kitchen, with only the hum of the refrigerator and their steady breaths around them, they found a fragile, hopeful beginning. A chance to explore what they felt without fear, without control, just two people learning to trust that the pull between them could be something beautiful, something worth holding onto.

For the first time, both of them allowed themselves to imagine a future together—one step at a time, with love and hope guiding the way.

---

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Running

The road spread out before her eyes, the morning sun touched the land with a bright gleaming golden light while the sweet aroma of salt and land engulfed her senses.

The sky above their heads was of a light blue, while the ocean seemed to be the darkest kind, there was not a single sound inside the rented car. Not even the thoughts of her companion could interrupt her contemplation of the country she would reside in for the next year. This was something she had always liked about Natasha, unless she were to force herself on the former spy, it was almost impossible to catch a thought she didn’t want out.

At the moment, Natasha was tyring to keep her guilt and sorry at bay. Wanda could tell there were traces of pity in there, pity for Wanda and what she had created.

They weren’t real, Wanda. I’m sorry but Vision is death and you…you’re not pregnant.

There was an oppression around her chest, her eyes burn with unshed tears at the memories o such words muttered cruelly while she freed Westview. They had been real, they had been so real Wanda could hear Vision still as well as feel her children…two salty drops rolled down her cheeks, she drawn in the memory of her life in Westview, of the nightmare she was made to life at the moment.

They were not real, Wanda, nothing in that godforsaken town was real but…but you enslaving innocent people.

Wanda shifted on the seat clenching her jaw, her eyes gleaming red and green for a moment. The sudden changed in mood didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha, the former spy furrowed her brows grabbing the wheel tightly driving down an empty road. She had been trying to be calm while keeping her thoughts at bay, but sometimes it was almost impossible to hide anything from Wanda.

Sorrow was growing inside her mind, as much as regret. Natasha knew they should had gone to Wanda the moment the battle was over, but everything had been so chaotic that everyone forgot about the young woman that had lost so much in such a short amount of time. What had happened on Westview was something that could have been prevented if they had paid attention, if they had been better to Wanda.

The red light on her phone made her teared her eyes from the road, the phone gleamed a mixture of colours just before IDGAF by Dua Lipa sound around the car. Wanda forgot about her pain and her plans as soon as she heard the song coming from the phone, she turned slowly to a flustered Natasha that was glaring daggers at the road.

Wanda lifted a single eyebrow, her lips twitching up while seeking an explanation from the other woman. Natasha cleared her throat turning sharp, deep green eyes to Wanda daring her to say something.

“I told Yelena to not mess with the phone, she never listens though.” It was a poor explanation, even if that was the truth, Wanda snorted turning her attention back to the road. 

"Yeah, right." She drawled with amusement, and for a brief moment the tension round them broke leaving space to the friendship they had shared before the Sokovian Accords, before Thanos, before Westview.

Natasha rolled her eyes smiling, her finger tapped on the screen to accept the call. It wasn’t that difficult for either woman to know Yelena knew what song had played when she called and that she was enjoying that greatly. Her accent was marked but traces of laughter. 

"I hope you are having a good time, Natasha.” There was a snort mixed up with laughter as Yelena continued, “are you there yet?” 

“I’m a couple of minutes away from the tunnel, why? Missing me already?” Natasha dared to look out of the corner of her eyes at Wanda, the young woman had a frown attached to her features hearing the conversation with some nostalgia.

“You’re too slow.” Yelena complained and while Wanda had no idea why the other woman was so interested in Natasha to get to their destination, Natasha knew the real reason of her sister’s impatience.

“Why the interest, Lena?” Natasha teased hearing the intake of breath coming from her sister.

"Don't call me that." Yelena grumbled; Natasha smirked at the obvious embarrassment she could sense in her voice.

"You don't have a problem with Y/N calling you that." There it was her revenge for Yelena messing up with her ringtone.

"Shut up." Yelena said through gritted teeth, Natasha could only laugh shaking her head.

"Are you embarrassed, Lena?" Natasha pressed even further; Wanda felt a tug on her heart at the sisterly banter.

"Fuck you." Yelena exclaimed grumbling around before speaking again, "I was just calling because I wanted you to tell her she owes me one of her finest wines, and I will take two for the emotional damage.”

Natasha was sure there must be a pout around those words, though this time around she said nothing. She knew how much Yelena wanted to come and see Y/N, but her duties prevented her to make the trip all the way to Italy.

“I will tell her that.” Natasha finally revealed, all this time noticing just how tensed Wanda was, she was pretty attentive of their conversation waiting, perhaps, to her a mention of herself, to gather some news form the States.

“Cool, then…Tell her, tell the witch I miss her.” That was as far as Yelena would go, Natasha smiled shaking her head.

“I will, Yelena. Take care and talk to you soon.”

“You too, take care.” Yelena finally said before hanging up.

 The mention of the word witch had alerted Wanda, and her concern soon turned into confusion when Yelena just sent a heartfelt greeting. They had met briefly when SWORD and the DODC had come in to try and get a sense of control of the situation, Wanda locked eyes with Natasha through the rear-view mirror.

“You have quite the sister, pretty weird.” Wanda commented softly, Natasha broke into an easy smile finding comfort in her relationship with Yelena and the fact Wanda seemed willing to talk again.

“She is special.” Natasha chuckled when all she heard from Wanda was hum of agreement she continued. “We have been trying to make up for the lost time, it has been hard.” 

Wanda smiled sadly, "you shouldn't have come then. You should be with your family."

It hadn’t been her intention, Natasha wanted to make some light conversation but she should know this kind of topics were still highly sensitive to the woman sitting at her right. And just like the atmosphere had changed a moment ago, it went back to the strange tension they had been feeling since the beginning of the trip.

“You are my family, Wanda.” Natasha finally said after a moment of silence, “you, Yelena, Clint, Tony…all of you. I know I haven’t done the best of jobs as of late, but I’m trying to make up for that waste time.”

There was nothing else to say, Wanda knew Natasha felt guilty. Everyone did. Clint and Natasha had been the first ones to try and make up for leaving her alone in her grief, then came Tony and Fury alongside Captain and Monica had tried to reach out to her with support and protection.

It was late, though.

It was always too late, and now Wanda was trapped in a nightmare wanting nothing else that to go back to her reality.

“I really want to be here for you.” Natasha finally said, her eyes flickered to the side only to see Wanda facing outside the window.

The young woman furrowed her brows, “you’re here because you need to make sure I don’t disappear again.”

Natasha slammed on the breaks turning sharply to Wanda, the other woman jerked startled by the action and soon she found facing the former spy with some confusion.

“I am here, Wanda, because I want to be. We failed you, and I wish there was more I could do…” Natasha saw as Wanda’s expression changed into one of cold anger, one anger she was already familiar with.

“Then, why took me away from them?” Wanda spat out; Natasha leaned back against the chair.

“It wasn’t real, Wanda.” She whispered knowing every time they reminded Wanda of this something inside the redhead broke deeply. “I couldn’t leave you there living a fantasy when there is still a world out there for you to live in.”

Wanda clenched her jaw, sparks of red flashing on her eyes before she settled back on the chair. The young woman turned to look out of the window, no one understood. Everyone thought they were doing Wanda a favour but, in reality, they were just stalling the inevitable.

“I know there are troubles back home, but we brought you here because you need to have a moment for you.” Natasha continued convincing Wanda and herself of the decision the team had come out with “This is a nice place, and perhaps, this is what you need.” 

It was highly doubtful this forced vacation was something she needed.

The memory of screaming voices filled her mind, the broken tones of those living in Westview against their will overwhelmed her mind and heart, the guiltiness building up all over again until she was reminded of the fear and hatred in their eyes.

Monster.

She needs to be controlled!

Get her away from me!

Please, let me go, I have family!

Her hands clenched tightly almost digging on the skin of her palm, the wrongness of what had happened in her life catching up to her. The overwhelming guilt and horror at what she had done was soothed over by the images of what she had lived in Westview, the images that at nights were more real…almost there, ready for the taken.

You had the power to do it…The Scarlet Witch.

Agatha had called her that. 

Wanda didn’t understand all that well what the other woman meant by it, but she hoped the book she found in her basement would give her the right answers. Already the book was showing her a path she didn’t knew she could walk in, the possibilities of getting what she wanted, what she needed it…what she really deserved.

It would take time, but the emptiness in her soul, the hole she felt in her heart and her own existence would soon be filled. She just needed to be patient. With a single tear rolling down her cheek, Wanda admired the blue of the sky mixing up with the ocean. 

The road stretched out before her, her future uncertain, and as she repeated these words inside her head and more tears rolled down her cheeks Wanda couldn’t help but feel as the hope slipped away from her hands.

Her life was a complete chaos. 

Without a single ounce of hope but a rest at the edge of the world. 

______________________________________________________________

The town of Vernazza was literally at the edge of the world.

Even before the Blip, the town had been of difficult access standing right at the edge of the Cinq Terre in the Italian Riviera. It was at the very end up a well-structured geographical location with mountains and hills and the ocean spreading right in front of it. It had been a touristic attraction once, now it was the last fishing village closed up to the world with only a few inhabitants here and there and a single place that received outsiders that went looking for peace.

The trip had been Clint’s idea. Natasha had loved it, Tony and Steve had agreed, and Yelena had been slightly annoyed as much as Wanda seemed to be reluctant of such an unexpected holiday.

Natasha still remembered her first encounter with Y/N.

It had been a coincidence, their paths crossed after a mission backfired and Natasha had to look for a place to hide. Y/N had extended her hand, no questions asked; it had been refreshing, and different and soon Natasha found herself coming back over and over again to the place where she was not a spy, a Widow, and Avenger. She was just Natasha, and Y/N was the only friend, beside Clint, that got a glimpse of Natasha the woman, the friend, the huma being.

When Thanos happened and half the population was wiped out, Natasha found a refugee in Vernazza whenever the weight of the world was too much to her.  With her past still haunting her from time to time, Natasha thought perhaps Wanda could find peace in here; the former spy really hoped so because the alternative was not a kind one, and it was something Wanda didn’t deserve.

The road changed all of a sudden, and soon the changes brought by time and abandonment were evident by the state of the road. The nature was already claiming this part of the world, Wanda fixed her position on the seat her eyes dancing around before settling themselves on Natasha who parked the car near the mountain’s slope.

“There used to be a direct road to take us to the city, but it disappeared, obviously.” Natasha offered a terse smile, “I have to move some branches and stuff, over there is a tunnel that would take us directly into the main road and the village.”

“You guys weren’t lying when you said this was in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Sometimes Natasha forgot how young Wanda really was, the former spy chuckled shrugging.

“Why would we lie about this? This is the place you go to whenever you want to get away from the world.”

Without waiting for an answer, Natasha exited the car taking a deep breath and enjoying the different scents brought by the nature. She stretched out making her way to where she new the entrance was located it.

For a couple of minutes Wanda observed as Natasha worked around some branches and rocks without so much of an effort, she knew everyone had made a great effort to give her this trip, this moment. Letting out a heavy sigh, Wanda got out of the car walking towards Natasha.

“Tell me what needs to be moved, we don’t have all day.” Wanda said crossing her arms trying to act uninterested about the whole situation, Natasha raised an eyebrow and stepped back pointing with her hands the rest of the road.

The red mist that was part of Wanda’s powers spread out with expertise from her hands, her eyes went red as the stuff blocking the road was removed until Wanda could see the entrance of a tunnel. Natasha narrowed her eyes; she noticed the black ink on the fingertips and the trembling coming from Wanda.

“I think that’s enough,” Natasha placed a hand on Wanda’s forearm. “It is big enough for the car to fit in, come on.”

Wanda let go of her magic, her breathing coming in uneven gasps. The redhead lowered her gaze to see her fingers going back to the normal skin colour, the screams of unknown children reaching out to her.

“Is it too far?” Wanda asked once they were back on the car.

“No, just a couple of more minutes and you will be in the best Airbnb in the world.” Natasha exclaimed offering a tiny smile, Wanda nodded returning to her sightseeing.

The ride through the tunnel didn’t last more than ten minutes, and by the time they exited the tunnel Wanda’s breath caught in her throat at the sight.

The first thing she saw was the deep blue of the ocean right in front of her, the sun glistening gold under the land and the waves bringing out the most vivid colours she had ever seen. The sight of white and light earthly colours coming from the village contrasted with the geography of the terrain and soon Wanda understood why Clint and Natasha seemed enamoured with this place.

It was like magic.

As soon as the crossed the tunnel there was just an aura of peace overwhelming her. She admired the sight from the security of the car, ignoring the fluttering of her heart, Natasha held back her smile watching as Wanda changed her posture and relaxed into the seat.

“This is beautiful.” Wanda mumbled before she could stop herself, Natasha hummed in agreement turning sharply to the right getting away from the main road. “How did you find out about this place?”

“A mission gone wrong,” Natasha explained curtly, “I messed up, and I needed a place to hide. I came upon a young woman, she just offered her place, no questions asked even though I was a mess at that point.”

The way Natasha spoke about the host told Wanda this was something different, there was a warm so uncharacteristic of the Black Widow that Wanda found herself surprised at this.

“You have been before then?” Wanda inquired eyeing the oncoming sight of two different houses build comfortable amongst the forest.

It was magnificent with earthy colours, and a small fountain by the main gate, the place was surrounded by olives and a couple of flowers Wanda did not recognize. Their car stopped right at the entrance; Natasha hesitated for a moment before turning to Wanda.

“Yes, as I said, this place was home when I needed it to be.” Natasha explained finally making sure Wanda could not look away from her. “I know things have not been easy, and that a lot of things had happened and you haven’t had a rest but…”

“…This is important for me; I need it and probably is what I need to start healing.” Wanda repeated with a robotic tone, she had heard the same arguments over and over again, it was getting tiring by this point.

Natasha pressed her lips together; Wanda rubbed her temple before speaking again.

“I know I messed up, Natasha.” Wanda whispered. “I know that this is as much for me as it is for everything to settle down back home. You don’t need to repeat the same empty words as everyone else.”

Natasha sighed shaking her head, Wanda said nothing else and she hoped Natasha wasn’t about to mention Vision, or Westview or anything at all because she didn’t think she could take it. Wanda was not ready to face the powers that she held within, or the hunger she felt to dig deeper into that magic. Wanda didn’t want to talk about her pain, about her loses…. about the futility that was to continue fighting for nothing.

“Y/N it’s a nice person.” Natasha said all of sudden, finally giving Wanda what she wanted it. “She is a good friend of mine, the only person aside from the team that I actually call my friend.”

This time around Natasha had Wanda undivided attention.

“If you need anything, and I mean, anything, she can help.” Natasha continued. “She is very discreet, and she is nice to be around.”

“How long have you known her?” The question rolled out of Wanda’s mouth accompanied by a frown.

Once again, she was left shocked at how little she really knew her friend, her team, her family. And yet, she couldn’t help but felt happy, honoured even having Natasha extended this piece of thrust in her.  

“As I said, we found it when we most needed it.” Natasha broke into an easy smile when a figure appeared right at the door. “She is really something else, special even. Come, let me introduce you.”

______________________________________________________________

Morning broke on the horizon by the time you were starting your early routine.

The muscles on your back hurt a little from all the work you had done the day before, getting the house adjacent to yours ready for your new guest had not been an easy task. After speaking with both, Natasha and Clint, you knew this new guest was not only a superhero but someone that was in a serious needed for a moment of peace and tranquillity.

The black coffee on your hand smelled heavenly, you smiled to yourself watching the ocean to the couple of fisher boats in the distance. It had been so nice to speak with Clint and his family, and to speak with Natasha and Yelena you had forgotten how much you liked them after having been in your piece of heaven ignorant of the battles being fought out there.

The call from Natasha had been a completed surprised, and her request had almost made you squirmed uncomfortably by the very nature of what she was asking.

A year.

She asked to rent your second house for over a year. It didn’t matter the cost, she had the money, Stark Industries would pay in full alongside a bonus for the inconvenience. It wasn’t about the money, Natasha knew that, but you didn’t say no and the money alongside your new guest was surely to come and make you richer and perhaps get to know a new person along the way.

The request had been strange, but you had learned a long time ago to not question your friends and trusted in them. Besides, having Clint on the phone along with the kids all of them begging you to say yes was more than enough to have you laughing and accepting in a single heartbeat. You had missed them, all of them.

Things had not been the same after the Blip.

Everyone had been affected one way or another. 

You took another sip from your coffee, your phone on your hand flickering the different options until you found the message you were looking for. Natasha had just gotten there and would be home by midday, you pursed your lips as soon as your eyes fell upon the lonely figure of one Wanda Maximoff. An Avenger.

Your eyes outline her features, those green eyes and the red hair contrasting beautifully against her skin and the sharp features of her face.

She looked sad. Defeated it.

The rumours about her seemed to be partially true, and Natasha had made sure you knew the whole story before you were to accept. Even as you observed the picture with care, you could tell behind that miserable stare was a dangerous individual, holding a power she barely got to control with so much loses and pain along the way you were surprised she hadn’t given in to darkness.

You furrowed your brows when you realized you had been watching at the picture more than what should be normal. Your phone closed with a snap and you tried to return your attention to the ocean.

Yes, Wanda Maximoff was beautiful, you wouldn’t deny that fact. But she was to be a guest, and you were doing this as a favour. And the money. The young woman was coming over because she was looking for peace, and perhaps a friend. That you could give.

The alarm on your watch rang three times, you finished your coffee stretching out all over again before setting up to work. You still needed to fix a couple of things before Natasha and the new guest were to come over, and you didn’t have the time to ramble about nonsense.

By the time midday arrived and you saw the car approaching the main gate, everything was ready. Including lunch.

For some reason, your felt anxious with your eyes seeking the form of the young woman beside Natasha. Then, an easy smile formed on your lips and you were making your way to Natasha who was coming at you with a smile of her own.

“Damn, Romanoff, whenever I get to see you you’re even more beautiful than before,” you teased flirtatiously, winking at the woman while grabbing her hand in yours kissing her knuckles. “When are you going to accept my proposal and come and live with me? You can live the American dream in the Italian Riviera, with the house, the hot wife and a life of luxury.”

Natasha seemed unfazed by this, though she broke into an easy laughter hugging you tightly.

“How about when hell freezes over, and Yelena doesn’t threaten to skin me alive for even daring to contemplate such an idea with you?” The woman replied making you laugh shaking your head.

“Lean is really a cutie when she wants to be,” you replied dryly, “making all my prospect wives running away from me.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at you, before taking a closer look at your appearance.

“Looking good, Y/N, what is it?” She asked already knowing the answer, you wink at her, your eyes drifting to the lone figure of Wanda that had been standing by the car watching intently at the interaction with her arms crossed and a confused frown upon her features.

“Haircut, Nat, I change my hair a little.” Then your face relaxed and for the very first time there was a soft, sincere smile on your lips. “It’s really good to finally see you, Tasha. How’s everything?”

Wanda was observing the whole scene from afar, she was really not fancying seeing someone drool all over Natasha as she had seen men and women do in the past. But soon, Wanda realized the light flirting was nothing more than a friendly banter than was more like a routine greeting between them than nothing else.

It was strange, and soon Wanda found herself admiring the young woman standing right beside Natasha. She was different, that was the only word Wanda could think of when trying to describe Y/N, with a nice hair colour that contrasted with the skin that had been kissed by the sun several times with eyes that gleamed with a light of their own and a set of white and gold tattoos adorning her arms. Certainly, Wanda had been pleasantly surprised by this development, perhaps this trip was not such a bad idea?

Wanda pursed her lips looking away with a blush adorning her cheeks, when for the second time your eyes found hers and this time around Wanda had been caught checking you out. With a curved on your lips, you finally decided you could not ignore the other woman far longer and decided to walk towards her with Natasha closed by.

“I have lunch ready for you guys, if you’re not opposed to the idea of course.” You commented lightly never once leaving those green eyes of Wanda. “I believe it’s time for us to meet formally, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your hand stretched out, after a couple of seconds Wanda finally grasped her hand around yours. A strange chill went right through your back, you tilted your head watching as those cheeks dust with a light pink and her eyes gleamed strangely at you.

“I’m Wanda.” It was all she could say the traces of her old sokovian accent sneaking inside her words. She chided herself, for such a slip that hadn’t happened in a long, long time.

You nodded and this time around you allowed an easy smile on your lips, “nice to finally meet you, Wanda. Then, what do you say? Lunch and a light conversation, I could show you guys around…”

Wanda offered a strained smile, her eyebrows coming up together when she realized you two were still holding hands. She let go rather fast, as if the mere touch had burned her, stepping back her eyes went to the second house before they went to Natasha and finally settled on yours.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m actually not hungry.” This time around her words came out cold, almost tired. “Natasha was kind enough to show me the pictures of the place, so I think I know my way around unless there is something you didn’t post on your profile?”

Natasha opened her eyes ready to intervene but you beat her to it. You never lose your smile thought your eyes did harden a little.

“No, everything is the same.” Then you put a set of keys from your pocket, grabbing a single blue one. “Here is your key, enjoy.”

Wanda hesitated for a moment, her hand stretching out to grab the keys and with a last glance to you she left to put her things out of the car. Natasha was about to go to her but the woman turned to you with an apologetic glance.

“I’m sorry about that, Wanda…well, she is…” Natasha didn’t know how to explain the situation, you just waved your hand away turning to back to the other woman.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” Then as an afterthought you smile at Natasha, grabbing her hand in yours. “But you my dear, Romanoff are not getting away from lunch, come let her …let her be for a while.”

The table had been set, you moved swiftly around your kitchen with Natasha telling you everything that had happened since the last time you two saw each other. You had always found it amazing how this woman that called herself the best spy of all times trusted you with such important pieces of information not everyone had access to. The life inside the Avengers was something not many would envy if they knew the price Earth’s Mightiest heroes had to pay for peace.

Food was almost over, and you were serving the fifth cup of wine while furrowing your brows at the story about Vision and Wanda.

“It was hard on her.” Natasha finished playing with the salad for a moment, “I guess we just forgot about it, we all have our own problems and just…didn’t think about her, or how hurt she must have been.”

“Hn, you can’t blame yourself for that, Nat.” You tilted your head pursing your lips. “In all honestly, life has not been easy for anyone after the Blip and the second Blip.”

You took another bite of your plate, your hand playing with the glass of wine before you emptied its contents.

“I understand your need to make things right, which is good, but definitely don’t blame yourself. It was something you couldn’t help.” You shrugged with something bothering you intently about the situation, you remembered the cold coming from Wanda’s hand, the dullness behind her green eyes.

You had sensed it.

Natasha lifted a single eyebrow at you, her lips curling in a knowing smile. There was another reason why the both of you trusted one another, and that was the fact Natasha had never said anything to anyone about your powers.

“What?” You asked but even as you did you knew why she was looking at you like this.

Natasha finished her food putting the plate away, she settled her eyes on you straightening herself up.

“What do you really think about her?” She finally asked, you seemed taken aback at the bluntness behind her question. You knew she was asking more than she leaned on.

"Can I serve the dessert first?” The glare sent by Natasha told you this conversation could not wait. You sighed, taking a long sip from your wine. 

“She is powerful.” That was your first impression of her, pictures didn’t tell you more than how beautiful she was. Touching her and actually having her in front of you let you sense the power behind her.

“She really is powerful, though I think she still needs training in the control of her magic.” You pursed your lips playing with the idea forming in your mind. “There was something I could detect in her…dark magic.”

At this Natasha straightened up with a frown on her face, you narrowed your eyes but Natasha waved her hand.

“Is it too bad? I mean, I told you about this Agatha and how she tied her to the town…” Natasha commented with a hint of concern in her voice.

“Well, it is not much but…it is not common. Dark magic can be addictive and she has been dwelling in it, well…” You shrugged not ready to get drag into this mess; you were just giving Natasha your impressions of Wanda nothing else. “You told me this woman called her the Scarlet Witch?”

You knew your voice sound doubtful, as if you were tasting the word seeking out recognition in it. Something was telling you, you should know the meaning of that name, but at the moment it scaped you completely.

"She is powerful, traces of dark magic in her… it's chaotic." You shrugged. "You told me the woman called her the Scarlet Witch?"

Natasha nodded but there was not a single flicker of recognition in your face. The former spy pursed her lips, you continued eating in silence until the plates were empty and you were to get dessert. 

“Yes, and you should have seen her, she was…I don’t know,” Natasha snorted taking another sip from her wine. “All of these magical and out of this world things are just new to me.”

“And yet, you look quite concern, Tasha.” You mused over this squinting your eyes at her. “Should I be worried??

You placed the Crème Brulé right in front of Natasha though the scowl on your face was still quite present. The former spy shook her head shrugging.

“I’m worried about her, this incident in Westview…her denial regarding that life being a fantasy, I just think she really needs a space to come to terms with…everything.”

You weren’t sure this was what Wanda needed it, but of course you couldn’t know much about the life of a superhero or the hardships of such a life. For all you knew, perhaps getting away from everything was what she needed it, you knew it saved you at some point. Perhaps, it was the same for her.

“I just think she needs to get away from the public eye and the life of a hero.” Natasha said mirroring your thoughts, you were about to mention this when the woman made a noise of pure pleasure at the first bite of her dessert.

“God, I love your cooking.” Natasha said in between bites, you chuckled watching as the woman eat another big spoonful of the crème. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me to New York?”

You made a face shaking your head, “Never! The time for me to accept such a proposal has already pass, Tasha. This is home, but I can always facetime with you and tell you how to do it.”

Natasha had always wondered why you were so averse to the idea of going outside. She knew many stories about you, but the answer to that particular question had always been the same, a bad experience, a search for happiness and peace. And yet, she thought there was more to the story. She never pressed though and waited simply for you to either make the trip or just stay where you were.

“I think life has not been kind to Wanda, and it’s not an excuse for her actions, but I think she deserves a rest.” Natasha finally clarifies. “She has always felt too much, she feels so strongly I think she just doesn’t know how to grief, how to…how to really feel.”

You served another glass of wine as Natasha told you the full story, what she had found out and what she had concluded after being with Wanda for more than ten years. 

"Westview was our breaking point, Damage and Control deemed her dangerous. SWORD wanted to use her…" Natasha snorted. "Not rest for the wicked witch of the east."

The silence filled the kitchen afterwards. You had been playing with the wine, musing over everything you didn't know when you accepted to rent the house. Your eyes flickered to Natasha then to the window leading to your backyard. The sun of the afternoon bathing the land with soft hues of yellow and orange. 

Natasha waited for a moment, she could tell there was something bothering you and the woman could guess what it was. 

"She won't be a problem, Y/N." 

“When I first got here, I was lost.” You started with a nostalgic tinge on your voice, your eyes flickered to meet those of Natasha that had heard the story before. At least, part of it. “I found something I was looking for, and that was peace. I made it my duty to make sure others could do the same. Enhanced individuals, villains, heroes, normal people, it didn’t matter.”

You offered a half smile to Natasha who could only nod at your words.

“But there was something I also promised myself and that was to not put these people in danger, and to never get involved.” This time around your eyes gleamed gold, and the air around Natasha felt heavier than before. “I know what it is like to run from your mistakes, to try and search for peace and happiness. And because of this, I am ready to extend my home and help."

For the former spy the tension was quite evident, though she knew this came out of your overzealous nature in regard to what you considered your safe place. It was something no one dare to disturb.

"But you also know how much I love my solitude and tranquillity."

"I know." Natasha replied seriously.

"For what you told me about the situation with Wanda and the others, I can tell there are still some serious issues that need sorting out.” You continued and your tone sent a chill down Natasha's spine. This was the very first time you spoke to her in such a way. "As long as her arrival doesn’t disturb my past or my present, you have my word that I will watch over here and make sure she is taken care of. But don’t mistake yourself, I won’t move a finger to intervene or protect her from any external threats…If I didn’t interfere before, I won’t do so now.”

You spoke with a finality Natasha had never heard before, and it was because of this and the sudden change around her that the former spy knew you were talking seriously about the situation. Natasha heard the story a couple of times before, and she knew your reasons were strong enough to create such a defence mechanism around you. Natasha respected that, and that was the reason she thought Wanda would be okay in this place.

“I know, Y/N, and that’s why I think this will be good for her.” Natasha let out a heavy sigh, she leaned back against the chair and for the first time you could see the tiredness of the last couple of weeks catching up to her. “You’re right, there were some unfinished businesses and some of them are looking for her. Nobody aside from the Team knows she is here.”

You frowned at this revelation, though you could guess this was the case after hearing the complete story. Natasha placed a hand on top of yours, her features softened slightly squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“No one, and I mean no one would find her here, I promise you this.” Natasha reassured you, you tilted your heads nodding curtly. “Whatever magic you have worked in this place, Y/N, it works. I can tell you that this place has bring some healing to me and Clint and even Yelena. I would never do anything to put you or this place in danger.”

Your features softened and the gold on your eyes left the same way it had come; you returned the squeezed on the hand holding yours.

“I didn’t work any magic,” you finally mumbled shrugging. “It’s this place, you know? It’s people and…I don’t know, I guess the beautiful sightings.”

Natasha offered a smile at you resting her cheek on her hand, “you may be right about that, I have always loved this place because of how calm it is. How beautiful it is.”

You relaxed into the conversation, your face softening slightly before your kind decided to bring back the haunted eyes of Wanda. How wrong she felt, with so much anger and sadness surrounding her…the darkness surrounding her eyes, her fingertips.

“I will keep an eye on her, and I will tell you how everything goes if necessary.” You finally stated.

“I know you will, thank you.” Natasha sighed in relief; she knew she could leave Italy knowing Wanda would be fine until she could come to her from time to time.

The tension brough on by the conversation soon broke when Natasha tilted her head with that small smile she used whenever she was about to talk about her family.

“By the way, I should tell you that Yelena says hi.” At the mention of the young Widow your face broke into a huge grin that Natasha soon was imitating. “She also made it pretty clear that you owe her two bottles of wine of your finest wine.”

"Of course, I owed her two bottles of wine, what was her excuse this time?" You asked chuckling, Natasha smirked tilting her head. 

"Emotional damage."

Your laughter filled the room, and soon you found yourself reminiscing the times you had shared with Natasha and Yelena. After the final closing of the Red Room, you had extended your help with the rescue Widows that needed a place to crash for a couple of days, in all that time you got to know Yelena and forged a friendship with the blond-hired woman. You didn’t ignore the obvious crush she developed for you, but you never encourage nothing more than a friendly, sisterly even, banter.

You really had missed this part of your life. Natasha had always been a good friend, interesting and a great source of news and stories that kept you post with the real happening of the world outside. It was something you had always felt curious about but didn’t dare to find on your own.

By the time night had arrived, Natasha had refused your invitation to stay getting ready to say good-bye and go back to her busy life.

"They are coming from me, though I will be picked up on the highway in the middle of nowhere.”

"You will abandon the car?" You asked leaning against the threshold. 

Natasha scrunched up her nose shooting you what could only be described as an attempt at a puppy dog stare. 

"I was hoping you could drop me there and then take the car."

"I just told you I don't want to leave my house and you go around asking that?" But you were smiling at her, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "Go say goodbye and I wait for you."

************************************************************************

It had become a habit of hers to just sat there watching into nothing with a myriad of thoughts crossing her mind.

She had chosen the room facing the ocean, at some point she thought this could be a good spot to try and reach some semblance of happiness but the memories, and the grief inside her heart made it impossible for her to focus on anything.

By the time she realized she had done nothing, it was late a couple of tears falling down her cheeks and the sound of footsteps breaking the silence in the house. Wanda wiped out the tears on her face, standing up on shaking legs she approached the door of her room just in time to see Natasha standing at the end of the hall.

"You're leaving." Wanda wrapped her arms around herself shivering under the coldness brought by her own sadness. Her statement was followed by a single scowl, Natasha nodded curtly glancing around the place before settling her eyes on Wanda.

"Yes, I am." The place was homey, comfortable though it didn’t look as if Wanda had toured around the place since they arrived. Her stuff was still sprawl around the living room. 

"I will stop by Clint's before going away on a mission." Natasha commented lightly. "There is food in the kitchen." 

"You didn't have to." Wanda didn't dare to look at Natasha, she didn't want to find pity or understanding. 

"We are family, Wanda. Even if sometimes we forget about it." Natasha then offered an honest smile. "You know where to find me, behave and I'll come as soon as I can."

Natasha waited for a moment but Wanda remained silent, with a sigh she turned around ready to leave when Wanda called out to her.

"Bring Clint and his family next time," Wanda tried to smile but it came like a grimace. "Thank you, Natasha. For everything.”

There was something in the way Wanda said her thank you, in the way she was speaking and gesturing at the moment that told Natasha there was something off about it. About Wanda. Natasha wished there was something else she could do, that she could offer a better way to reassure Wanda, to help her heal…

Natasha dropped her shoulders down; she knew there was nothing she could do unless Wanda was ready for it. Nd it was still too early, the memories and the pain were still there and Wanda needed to take this first step alone, it must be her decision…her healing was a path she would need to start alone.

“I’ll be here whenever you need it, Wanda.” Natasha whispered. “Please, take care of yourself and…call me. Doesn’t matter the time.”

Wanda didn’t answer, and Natasha didn’t wait for the answer.

Darkness had already fallen, the lights of the house to the left were enough to let her see the form of Natasha and Y/N getting ready to leave.

Wanda stood by the darkened window of the living room, her eyes following the form of the silver car driving away from the same road she had come to. Soon, she was left alone and in complete darkness.

Her mind went back to replay those moments of happiness she had lived for a short period of time. Her shared life with Vision, her wedding, their home and works, and the news about their growing family; all the reality that had crumbled after Agatha and SWORD had interfered. Her life had been stolen in the cruellest of ways leaving her empty and completely and utterly alone, no one really understood what she was feeling. What she was experiencing.

The night covered the land, her hand placed itself on her abdomen. Tears rolled down her cheeks, the memory of childish laughter, of babbling and brotherly banter. She had seen them. Her family. Her children.

“I’m pregnant!” Wanda said in disbelief, her lips curling in a happy smile as she looked over at Vision. Vision stood dumbfounded for a moment, his mouth opening and closing.

“Y-you’re what?!” He exclaimed while Wanda came to him placing his hand on her abdomen.

“I’m pregnant! We’re going to be parents!”

It never happened.

She never got…

Wanda whimpered putting her arms around herself, kneeling down in front of the window crying for everything she had lost. Right behind her a soft red mist turning into an intense crimson, with a single figure standing there. A projection of herself, the Scarlet Witch and the book she had stolen before leaving Westview.

She would get her life back.

You've been friends with Wanda for a little over three years now.

When she officially joined the Avengers, you were still elbow-deep in the impossible task of recruiting more witches for what was not-quite-yet a coven. Agatha refused to call it that - “a nosy vampire and three witches who had one joint spell session does not a coven make,” she'd scoffed.

She had a point. The so-called group was mostly chaos: Agatha and the girls argued every other day, Jen technically wasn’t doing magic anymore, and Lilia had a rather violent aversion to the concept of community, possibly because of the whole plague situation. Still, you were trying. Someone had to.

So when the new Avengers were announced and vampire networks started buzzing about humans playing gods again, it wasn’t just politics or prophecy that drew your attention. It was the unmistakable pulse of magic laced in Wanda’s powers, bright and wild and untrained.

The others warned you against mingling with the superhero crowd, especially dragging magic into mortal affairs. But as usual, you ignored them. You knocked on the Tower’s door anyway - literally - and extended an invitation to the witch who didn’t yet know she was one.

Wanda had resisted the label as much as your group had resisted hers. But something softened over time. Bit by bit, routine rooted itself in the quiet moments: delivering spellbooks to the Avengers Tower every week, practicing basics on quiet Sunday mornings, sharing rituals and stories passed down through your centuries-long memory.

You grew close. Agatha would tease - “maybe too close,” always with that knowing lilt - but you both pretended not to hear her.

Which is how you found yourself, for the fourth time this week, sprawled across Wanda’s bed like you belonged there, magical books open in a circle around you. One hand flipped a page absently while the other nursed a stolen blood bag (donation room, New York Hospital - nobody missed it).

You looked up just as the door creaked open. Wanda entered slowly, flushed from her last training session of the day. Hair tousled, breath caught halfway between a sigh and a laugh, she offered you a soft, worn-out smile.

“I guess you don’t do doors anymore, huh?” she asked, voice light but teasing.

You paused mid-drink, fangs still out, mouth curved in a guilty little grin that made her look away too fast. She found sudden interest in the dirt on her sneakers.

“Portals are more efficient,” you said with a lazy blink.

Wanda smiled despite herself, that warm kind of smile she tried to hide. “Make yourself at home,” she muttered, already peeling her hoodie off, adding over her shoulder as she headed to the bathroom, “As usual.”

You mumbled something back - half smirk, half acknowledgment - but your attention had already started to slip.

The blood was sweet, warm enough to relax every taut line in your shoulders. You let your head tip back, fangs still buried in plastic, arm tucked under your neck, legs crossed at the ankles in the middle of her bed like you lived there.

Maybe you did, in a way.

You didn’t mean to listen. You didn’t try to notice the way her footsteps padded across the carpet, or the soft rustle of clothing falling to the floor. You didn’t mean to hear the sigh she let out as the hot water hit her back - or the way the scent of soap slowly replaced sweat, steam curling through the air like incense.

But you noticed anyway.

It wasn’t the first time you found yourself a little too aware of Wanda. Of the way her energy shifted when she entered a room. Of how the scent of her skin after a shower made your brain short-circuit for reasons you refused to unpack.

You blamed the blood. It was easier.

You discarded the empty bag in the container she’d sweetly labeled for you months ago - “blood trash 🩸🗑️ only” - and made a valiant effort to gather the books. Your limbs felt too relaxed to cooperate. Your brain, fogged with warmth and the remnants of adrenaline, wandered somewhere it shouldn’t.

She could skip tonight’s lesson. You weren’t really in a teaching mood, anyway. A movie under the covers sounded more tempting by the second.

By the time Wanda stepped back into the room, towel around her neck and damp hair dripping onto her collarbone, you’d transformed the bed into a cozy nest. Pillows fluffed, blankets piled just right, snacks from the Tower kitchen arranged with near reverence on a tray between the two of you.

Wanda’s gaze softened instantly.

“You spoil me, you know that?” she murmured, walking past you with bare feet and warm skin. One hand ruffled her damp hair, while the other reached out to give your shoulder a playful squeeze. The casual intimacy of it sent a flutter through your chest you definitely ignored.

She climbed into bed with a tired sigh, half-buried herself under the covers, and smiled at the little altar of treats you’d made for her.

“Although I love it… if I keep skipping our lessons like this, I’ll only learn the fundamentals by the time I’m thirty.”

You smile at her, the corners of your mouth twitching with playful softness as you click your tongue.

“We can do a whole day of studying tomorrow,” you say, voice low and warm as your fingers move to the buttons of your shirt. “Tonight, I can sense the exhaustion in your skin, sweetheart. You deserve a break.”

There’s the faintest blush on her cheeks at the nickname - she pretends to focus on drying her hair, but you catch the way her eyes flick toward your hands.  Your shirt is halfway unbuttoned now, revealing a smooth stretch of skin.

Wanda’s brow furrows almost instantly.

“What are you doing?” she asks, eyes narrowing as if trying to read your intentions.

You shrug, lips twitching upward in mock innocence. “Getting more comfortable for bed?”

She lets out a breath of a laugh, light but incredulous, her gaze trailing, just for a second, along the exposed line of your collarbone before she catches herself and lifts a finger in warning.

“I know you came here straight from one of your vampire errands. There is no way you’re sleeping in my bed with whatever blood-slicked demon germs you picked up tonight.”

“But I was already in there - ”

Her look is sharp. Final. You sigh, dramatic and defiant, arms dropping to your sides.

“Fine,” you mutter, letting your shirt fall open completely as you pad toward the bathroom. She calls after you, “Towels are in the bottom drawer!” - with a grin in her voice that only deepens when you growl back, “I know where the goddamn towels are.”

Wanda’s still chuckling softly to herself when her eyes catch a glimpse of your silhouette in the ajar door.

She was not expecting the sound of the shower to affect her the way it does - soft splashes, the shift of your body behind thin walls, steam curling like lazy magic through the cracks. Her mouth goes dry. She tells herself to focus on the screen. Instead, she finds herself watching the way your shadow moves behind the glass.

By the time you return, the scent of her shampoo lingers on your skin, mingling with the heat of the shower in a way that’s almost intimate. Familiar. Her breath catches when she glances up - and then immediately flicks her gaze away again.

You step into the room like it’s yours, skin still damp, droplets trailing down your collarbone and disappearing beneath the towel slung low around your waist. You hum under your breath, hair dripping onto your shoulders, leaving little wet marks on her floor.

Wanda makes the mistake of looking again - just a peek - and nearly chokes on her own breath.

You don’t seem to notice. Or maybe you do. It’s hard to tell with you.

A low chuckle slips from your throat as you move toward her dresser, digging through drawers like you’ve done a hundred times. “What the hell are you watching, Maximoff?”

Her eyes go wide, a guilty flush creeping up her neck. She thinks you caught her - thinks the heat in her chest must be visible somehow. But you add, casual as ever, “Your heart just skipped. Don’t tell me you’re scaring yourself with horror movies again.”

Lucky. Very lucky.

Wanda exhales, relief blooming like smoke. “Guilty,” she says quickly, flashing a nervous smile as she gestures to the screen. It’s some old monster flick - practical effects, over-the-top gore, and all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Something Natasha lent her as a joke.

You glance over your shoulder and laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s what got you riled up? Weak.”

She’s about to retort, something equally sarcastic on the tip of her tongue, when you let the towel drop.

Wanda stops breathing.

There’s nothing between her and the sight of your bare back, the elegant lines of muscle, the quiet strength carved into your form like poetry.

She’s seen you naked before. You were once a maid, then a pirate after your transformation - sharing cramped quarters with others became second nature, which explains your complete lack of modesty when it comes to nudity. But for Wanda, lately, it’s felt less like a habit and more like a divine trial of restraint.

You don’t seem bothered. Not at all. You stretch, slow and cat-like, and turn just enough for her to see the faint veins beneath your skin beginning to darken, the glow in your eyes blooming red for a heartbeat.

“Honestly,” you say, voice lower now, more playful, “I don’t know why you’re impressed. You’ve seen me transform a hundred times. Real-life horror movie, free show just for you.”

To prove your point, you flash her a half-formed vampiric grin - sharp fangs, darkened veins webbing lightly across your cheeks, just enough to make her pulse stutter.

Wanda groans, her thighs pressing together under the blankets as she throws herself dramatically onto the pillows. “Don’t do that,” she mutters, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re gonna give me nightmares.”

You laugh again, completely unbothered.

What she doesn’t see - what she misses, because she’s too busy pretending she’s annoyed and not aroused - is the way your eyes linger on her just a second longer than necessary. The way your smile softens when she hides her face in the pillows. The way your hands move a little slower now, as if savoring the comfort of being here, in her space, like it’s something sacred.

Wanda makes the mistake of not noticing where your hands are searching now. She’s too distracted by her own thoughts - by the fire licking at her skin, the way her body is betraying her with every heartbeat.

You find a shirt that’s comfortably oversized - definitely Wanda’s - and pull it over your head. As you fold a few other pieces and rummage through the drawer for something else to borrow, your fingers close around something far too structured to be clothing.

You freeze for a second. Then a slow, wicked grin curls your lips.

You’ve shared a house with Agatha Harkness for more than a century - there are very few enchanted accessories you haven’t seen. And besides, you lived through the entire pro-discovery, post-puritan, human-rights-to-sexuality era, so your fingers wrap around the leather strap with practiced curiosity rather than shock.

But enchanted magical straps? Those are always tethered to the witch who conjured them.

So when your hand tightens around it and lifts it ever so slightly from the drawer, you don’t miss the snap of Wanda’s head in your direction - eyes wide, mouth parting slightly in panic, cheeks already flushed a deep rose.

“Well, well,” you begin, voice dripping amusement, “what do we have here - ”

Before you can finish the sentence, the item yanks itself from your hand with a rush of scarlet magic and flies back into the drawer, which slams shut with finality.

You burst into laughter, fully delighted.

“Oh my god, Wanda. You don’t have to panic like that!”

“Shut up,” she hisses, crossing the room fast - but her voice is trembling and her face is practically glowing red. “Not a word about this!”

“Too late,” you grin, teasing mercilessly. “I love that you’re getting creative with your magic. Really taking your spellwork into… practical territory.”

She groans, turning away from you, face buried in her hands for a moment.

“I knew Agatha would be a terrible influence when I brought you into the coven,” you continue, folding your arms, expression mock-thoughtful.

Wanda wheels around, cheeks still pink. “Agatha has actually been… very mature about this. Extremely helpful.” She points at you, flustered but trying to sound stern. “You’re the one being insufferable.”

Your grin only widens as her hands press to your shoulders, gently but insistently trying to steer you away from the closet. You’re still laughing, still half-dressed, still entirely enjoying yourself.

But then you cheat.

Vampire speed kicks in, and in a blur, you’ve crossed the room, the object once again dangling from your fingers. Wanda’s horrified gasp echoes off the walls.

“Y/N!”

You hold it up between two fingers, smile cocky, eyes glittering with mischief. “You do know Agatha invented this spell, right? I’m just curious - did she teach you all the tricks, or just the basics?”

Wanda groans in frustration. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

But she doesn’t use her magic to pin you down, not yet. She’s chasing you the mortal way, half-hearted, half-laughing through her mortification, her fingers swiping at the air just inches from your hand every time you dodge.

“Come on,” you tease, voice lilting. “We’re all adults here. Sex is natural. Magic-enhanced sex? Even better.”

“You’re the absolute worst. Worse than Agatha.”

You laugh harder, and that’s when she finally has enough - her magic tugs sharply at your wrist, yanking your arm down and finally letting her seize the toy. But as her fingers close over it, so do yours. Neither of you lets go.

Your eyes meet.

There’s a sudden shift - like the breath is sucked from the room. The laughter lingers on your lips, but something deeper pulses underneath. You tilt your head slightly, tone dropping lower, velvety.

“As your mentor, Wanda… It’s only natural I keep up with the kinds of spells you’ve been exploring.” Your voice is a caress now, the teasing thick with heat. “I just want to make sure you’re reaching your full potential.”

Her breath hitches - she feels the pulse of magic through the toy, the heat it responds to like a heartbeat. Her heartbeat.

You step a little closer, gaze locked to hers. “I could’ve helped you, you know. If you’d told me about this. We could’ve crafted something together. Something designed just for you.”

Her fingers tremble where they hold the object. She tries to speak, but it comes out as a half-broken, “I - I…”

You let go of the strap and take her wrist instead, the shift in contact gentle but commanding. Your other hand rises slowly, carefully, to cup her cheek, and she leans into the touch before she can stop herself.

Your thumb strokes her jaw, and when you speak again, your voice is barely a whisper, warm with sincerity beneath the sultry lilt.

“It’s no problem, really. I still know a few tricks… and I’d be more than happy to teach you. If you want me to.”

There’s a question in your eyes - no pressure, no assumption, just quiet patience. Wanda stares at you, breath shallow, caught between the rhythm of her own desire and the weight of her affection for you. You’re looking at her like she hung the stars, like you’d follow her anywhere if she only asked.

Her voice fails her again. So she nods, slowly.

And the way your smile shifts - softer, sweeter, reverent - makes her stomach flip.

“Oh, Wanda,” you murmur, voice like a promise. “The things I’d do for you... If you only asked.”

Her heart skips.

The hand you still have around her wrist begins to guide hers lower, slowly, deliberately - until it rests just above your waist. Wanda’s breath catches, her lungs refusing to function properly under the pressure of what that might mean. Her mind is racing ahead, heart in her throat, and nothing - nothing - prepares her for what you do instead.

“We’ll have time for you to lead another night,” you murmur, your voice raspy, grounding, commanding in the softest way. “Right now, I’m the one in charge.”

It’s only then that Wanda looks down to where her hand connects with yours, and the sight stops her breath entirely.

The strap, deep crimson and laced with faint magical etchings, is no longer simply something she was holding. It’s now fastened snugly to your body, the enchanted harness shimmering with scarlet runes, secured perfectly around your hips like it belonged there all along. Magic. Old, tailored magic. Magic that listens to arousal.

Her fingers twitch, then squeeze instinctively - and your body jolts forward slightly with a soft, fractured groan.

Wanda’s mouth falls open.

“I bet she didn’t teach you this trick,” you manage through your teeth, your smile strained by the pleasure that flashes visibly across your features.

Wanda doesn’t reply right away. She just releases the strap, palms sliding up to your shoulders instead - firm, grounding, trembling with adrenaline and something deeper. Her eyes lock with yours, voice low but resolute.

“Please stop talking about other people.”

And you’d agree to anything she asked in that moment.

The kiss she gives you is tentative at first, almost uncertain - like she’s afraid you’ll pull away, even though she’s the one fully dressed and you’re still barefoot and mostly naked in her bedroom. Her lips brush yours gently, a silent question.

But when she pulls back, cheeks flushed, eyes searching your face for any flicker of hesitation, you only stare at her like she’s the answer to a question you’ve been afraid to ask for centuries. You don’t need telepathy to know what she’s thinking: Am I crossing a line?

You don’t let her linger in that doubt. Your hands are already cupping her face, guiding her back to you. This time, the kiss is deeper, hungry in the way repressed feelings always are, tender in the way confessions often feel.

It’s the kind of kiss that anchors you. That rewrites the air in the room.

You lose yourselves in it for a while, long minutes of breath shared, lips parting slowly, tongues moving with lazy, reverent rhythm. Wanda's fingers twist into your hair, nails grazing your scalp in ways that make your knees threaten betrayal. And yet it’s the way her hips start pressing forward, restless and seeking friction, that truly tests your restraint.

She’s beautiful like this - messy and warm and open. Lips swollen from your mouth, skin flushed from the weight of wanting. Her whole body hums against yours.

When you finally pull back, it’s only to bury your face in the slope of her neck, placing slow, burning kisses along her collarbone, each one landing with weight. She shudders, fingers tightening around your arms. You feel her lean into you, legs weakening.

Then your fang grazes her skin - barely, a passing scrape - but Wanda’s response is immediate: a high, needy whimper that stokes something primal in you.

“You can feed,” she whispers, breath hot in your ear as she tilts her neck for you. “I don’t mind.”

You close your eyes, inhaling slowly as your grip on her waist tightens. The scent of her skin, still laced with soap and arousal, clouds your thoughts.

“I already have,” you murmur against her throat, voice hushed with restraint. “I don’t really need more tonight.”

Your tongue replaces the fang, a slow, wet stroke against her pulse point - soothing. Grounding.

But Wanda doesn’t want you grounded.

She reaches down suddenly, hand wrapping firmly around the base of the strap between you. The pressure is immediate - blinding - and the groan that rips from your chest is not subtle.

Her voice drops an octave. Confident now. Taunting even.

“I’m offering,” she says, eyes gleaming. “Don’t be rude.”

The enchantment responds at once, feeding off her arousal and yours, sending waves of stimulation back into your body. Your knees nearly buckle at the sensation, and your fingers dig into her hips just to stay steady.

The room spins slightly, heat swirling around you like smoke, thick with magic and want. You swallow hard, regaining your footing - but your fangs have already dropped, lips parting as you hover at her neck again.

There’s something sacred about the way she leans in, baring her throat to you like it’s instinct.

And something dangerous about how much you want her.

She whines sharply and low,  the sound of it vibrating in your throat like a tether pulled too tight. Her back arches into you, desperate for friction, and just as your fangs sink into her neck with controlled precision, her fingers move again - this time teasing the very tip of the strap.

It’s too much. Too much.

A sharp jolt runs through you, spine tightening, and you lose your rhythm in feeding as your hips press forward on instinct. Wanda gasps, not from pain but from impact, because the two of you stumble across the room, limbs clumsy and tangled, until her back hits the wall with a dull thud.

You try. You try to keep your fangs in her skin, your lips at her throat, to hold your body in check and drink without falling apart - but she’s a natural at destruction. Her grip on the toy doesn’t loosen. She keeps moving her hand with shameless precision, masturbating you through the strap like she knows exactly what she’s doing. And maybe she does.

You’re panting against her throat now, ragged and struggling, blood thick on your tongue and arousal hotter than anything you’ve felt in decades. Her power sings under your skin, and it’s not magic, it’s her. Wanda.

She giggles - soft but wicked - and the sound is a spark to dry kindling.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” she purrs in your ear, voice molten. “Let go.”

Your fangs scrape her skin again, unintentionally, because your whole body is shaking from how tightly you’re holding the knot low in your belly.

“I want to see the big, bad vampire break for me.”

Then her tongue flicks your earlobe, her breath warm and wet. Her hand tightens once, twice - and it’s done.

You come undone in her hand with a raw, guttural groan. Your body convulses, the force of it dragging a cry from deep in your chest. One of your hands slams against the wall for balance, the strength behind it splintering the paint, your fingers flexing as your release pulses through you hard and hot. You’re left shaking, panting, head bowed against her shoulder, clinging to her waist like she’s the only thing keeping you from burning alive.

Wanda giggles again, and it’s unfair how pleased she sounds - mischief and something softer curled around her smile. Her hand finally goes still, slick with your cum, and when she lifts her palm to look at it, her expression flickers with something curious.

“I wasn’t sure that would happen,” she says, a little breathless, a little stunned. “But I’m definitely not disappointed.”

It takes a moment for your brain to connect the dots. She's not talking about the sex. Not exactly.

Her eyes flick back to yours, questioning but hesitant. “Is it…?”

She doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t have to.

Still catching your breath, you manage a nod and a rough, low reply.

“Mine. Real. Yes.” Your voice is hoarse, but steady now. “Functions like the traditional kind… if you want it to. Witches have very creative, non-male methods for building families.”

You kiss her quickly, nothing but warmth, grounding yourself, then pull back, fingers pried from the wall with effort. Cracked drywall and bruised pride. But worth it.

Wanda’s biting her lip, the implications of your words flickering behind her eyes. It makes her look so devastatingly her -  intellect and feelings always working together. You use that second of distraction to inhale, gathering some of the control she just stole from you.

Not because you mind her leading. You don’t. You love it. But you're not about to let yourself lose control of your strength - not in this space. Not with her. She deserves better than unbridled force. She deserves intention.

You let the back of your knees find the bed, falling into a seated position, legs spread, arms behind you for balance.

The enchanted strap is still vibrating faintly between your thighs - hard and slick, pulsing in tune with the magic it fed off. A bit of your cum leaks down your thigh, gleaming in the soft lamplight.

You look up at her.

“Take off your clothes, darling.”

The flush that blooms over her cheeks spreads down her neck. Still, she doesn’t look away. Her hands move to the waistband of her pajama bottoms, fumbling slightly, awkward in a way that makes your stomach ache with affection.

You sigh, all heat and hunger.

“If you take too long,” you warn, “I’ll rip them off you.”

That gets her.

Wanda swallows hard, visibly trembling. She lets go, magic sparking in the air around her, and in one motion she’s out of her shorts. But her panties are still clinging to her hips when your patience runs out completely.

Your hand reaches up, fast, closing gently but firmly around her wrist. In one motion, you pull her down into your lap, chest to chest.

Centuries old. You've fought monsters, conquered cities, danced with death, and kissed gods. But nothing - nothing - compares to the feeling of Wanda Maximoff grinding into you, panting into your mouth, whispering your name like it’s holy and begging to be fucked.

Your grip on her waist tightens, enough to bruise if you weren't careful, but you’ve never been anything but careful with her. It’s hard when she’s like this, moving her hips in frantic circles, riding the enchanted strap nestled between your legs like her life depends on it.

You manage a breath, a brief second of stillness, just enough to let your mouth travel down her body. Open-mouthed kisses trace along her collarbones, then lower, tongue teasing one nipple, then the other. You suck her tits until she's trembling above you, grinding halted, too overwhelmed to do anything but shake and whimper under the weight of your mouth. Her hands dig into your hair, and her chest heaves, breaths ragged. You didn’t expect her to be this close already.

But because the strap is magically connected to her arousal, her orgasm takes you out of orbit. You don't come physically - but you feel it, the echo of it, the way the spell is designed to drag you along with her, the throbbing ache of your own desire flaring bright. Your hips jolt. You groan into her chest.

She whines, too, writhing, overwhelmed, and pretty sure she's going to combust if you don’t fuck her now.

“I need- ” she pants, trying to pull away just enough to yank off her panties, still in the way because you were too impatient before. But you grab her hips and hold her against the strap, grinding her down onto it. “I’m just - just trying to-”

You rip the fabric with a single swipe of your hand.

“Really?” she protests, glaring for a second. “Those were nice.”

But you’ve already flipped her onto her back, pinning her against the pillows. “I’ll buy you new ones,” you promise, eyes flicking down as your hands part her thighs. “I’ll buy you everything. The whole damn world if you want it.”

Wanda laughs, cheeks flushed. “God, you’re such a sweet talker.”

Scarlet sparks hum around her fingers as they tug your shirt away. Her hands hover nervously at her sides, the way they always do when she’s trying not to tremble.

“I’m not,” you murmur, gaze locked between her legs. You’re barely listening, distracted by the sight of her - dripping, swollen, aching for you. “I’m cranky. Suspicious. You just bring out the version of me worth loving.”

Her expression softens, and she reaches for you, not for a kiss, not for your hand.

No, she’s guiding you. Down, between her legs, until your fingers find her heat and sink inside with an obscene wet sound. She moans, breath hitching.

You take your time with this, one finger, slow and deliberate. Then two. Twisting, curling, finding the spot that makes her clench around you with a cry.

“I want- ”

“I know, baby.” You hush her, your voice thick. “Just stretching you first. You’ll take me easily like this.”

She mewls, hips stuttering, her hands clenching the sheets. And just as you're adjusting, the strap between your legs pulses hard - your body jerks, gasping. Wanda came again.

It’s fast, sharp - her body is too sensitive now - but it still rocks through her like a wave. Her cunt flutters around your fingers, and you don’t know how much longer you can wait.

“Please,” she begs, voice high and thin. “Please, I can’t-”

“I know, shh,” you murmur, soothing her while you line up the strap with her soaked entrance. You press the tip against her, barely nudging inside, dragging it through her slickness just to hear her whine. “You’re so ready for me. You’ve been ready.”

You try to keep teasing her, only because you can. Because centuries have taught you patience in the face of primal hunger.

But then-

Scarlet sparks push at your back, a rough shove that drives your hips forward. You sink in, deep, with a single sharp thrust.

Both of you cry out.

The strap fills her completely, pulsing with her magic, thick and hard and vibrating just enough to keep you both panting. Her heat wraps around you, squeezing like her body’s trying to keep you there forever. And you're a goner.

The bed creaks violently with each thrust. Your hips snap forward, steady and punishing. Wanda claws at your back - literal blood under her nails - but you barely feel it. She's shaking, gasping, her legs wrapped around your waist so tightly there's no air between your bodies.

You don’t relent.

Your pace is ruthless, fucking her deep, fucking her through it. The room smells like sex and magic and sweat, and your hand finds her clit mid-thrust. She sobs at the contact.

"Fuck-!" Her whole body jerks, her fourth orgasm slamming into her so hard the lights above flicker.

You falter, nearly losing rhythm, groaning against her throat. “Wanda-fuck-where should I-?”

“W-What?” she gasps, dazed.

“Should I pull out?” you manage. “Or - ”

“What?” she says again, this time angry. Offended. “Don’t you dare fucking stop, Y/N.”

Her ankles lock around you.

You don't argue. You can’t.

You slam into her, thrusting hard as your orgasm rushes through your whole body. You bury your face in her neck, a long, drawn-out groan leaving you as your hips roll forward, grinding deep inside.

The strap pulses, spilling your cum into her in thick, slow waves that make you both tremble.

Her cunt is a soaked mess around the toy, slick and clenching, and when your hips roll again just to stay grounded in her warmth, the wet noise that follows is so obscenely loud it makes her eyes roll back.

And still, she doesn’t let go of you. Doesn’t let you pull away. Her legs hold you in place, her magic curling around your spine.

You're both still struggling to breathe, lungs heavy with the weight of satisfaction, limbs warm and slack after the intensity of climax. But you fight the sleepiness clawing at your body - fight it hard - because Wanda lets out a soft, desperate whine when you try to pull away.

“I gotta pull out, sweetheart,” you murmur, biting back a groan when she clenches around the strap, undeniably on purpose. You push gently against her hips, trying to ease out of her hold.

“I don’t want you to,” she breathes, less demanding now, her voice languid and soaked in exhaustion. Her ankles have slipped from behind your back, but the longing in her tone still tugs at something primal inside you.

You laugh, quiet, honey-sweet and it makes her blush. So does the tender kiss you press just beneath her ear.

“Oh, I know you don’t, baby,” you whisper, adjusting slightly. The enchanted toy slides out of her, and you both sigh at the loss, overstimulated nerves fluttering. Your voice drops, playful but rough with restraint. “But this kind of magic runs on intention. And I’m having all sorts of unholy thoughts right now. I’d rather not knock you up by accident.”

Wanda chuckles breathily at that, but doesn’t protest further. Her body, well-fucked and trembling, is already past its limit. Even your gentlest touch now makes her flinch more than melt.

You slip the strap off with the same ease you'd show removing a coat, as though tonight - the spellbound lust, the raw confessions, the whole fucking-your-best-friend-into-the-mattress thing - was just another Thursday.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, Maximoff,” you tease, catching her eyelids fluttering. Her tired smile is pure surrender. She tries to respond, but her body’s already slipping. “We made a mess, sweetheart,” you murmur, brushing her sweat-damp hair back from her face. “Don’t you want me to-”

Scarlet sparks answer you before she does, pulling you back down and holding you there, face resting on your chest, her magic clinging to your skin like a second blanket. That’s all the answer you get.

And honestly? It’s more than enough.

You settle in with her, bodies tangled, her breath steadying into your collarbone. She’s asleep within seconds.

It doesn’t take long for you to follow.

-

It isn’t the warmth of the sun that wakes Wanda  -  it’s the absence of yours.

The chill that slips into the sheets in your place is subtle but unmistakable. Still tangled in sleep, her hand stretches across the linen instinctively, searching for your body. When she finds only the faint impression of your form on the mattress, her brows knit together in a drowsy frown.

Footsteps shuffle across the wooden floor. The sound is light, familiar. The rustle of fabric follows  -  and something in Wanda's sleepy brain registers it as you.

"It's too damn early, Y/N," she rasps, voice rough with sleep, eyes only half-open. But she doesn’t flinch from the light bleeding through the window  -  because even as her voice breaks the silence, she sees you standing there, reaching up to draw the heavy curtains closed.

"I know, sweetie. That's exactly why I got up," you reply gently, not looking over your shoulder, too focused on shielding the room. "We forgot to close the curtains last night."

It takes a second  -  two, maybe  -  before her still-sleep-fogged mind catches up to the words. Vampire best friend. Sunlight. Her eyes snap fully open.

“Sorry,” she mutters, suddenly wide awake, guilt flooding her features as she tries to sit up.

But you're already crossing the now-dim room, waving off her concern with a shake of your head. “It’s alright. Didn’t get me,” you reassure her with a soft smile, and she breathes out, easing back into the pillows just as you crawl up onto the bed  -  and settle on her waist.

It’s a position that feels far too natural for something so new. And Wanda feels her cheeks bloom red at the thought  -  at how much she wants you to stay exactly like that.

"I know I promised you a day of studying," you murmur, eyes drinking her in like you haven’t seen her in years, “but I was thinking… maybe I could take you on a date instead? What do you say?”

Her answer doesn’t come in words  -  it comes in the small sound she makes when your lips press against hers, hungry and warm and deeply familiar. It steals her breath. She only manages a weak, dazed nod as you pull back with a teasing laugh.

You lean closer to press another kiss to her cheek, but your gaze lingers, catching sight of the scattered constellation of hickeys and bite marks blooming across her collarbone. It makes you pause, and your voice drops as you murmur, “I’ll be gentler next time. I promise.”

Wanda immediately frowns. “Don’t you dare,” she counters, and you snort at the conviction in her sleepy voice.

"Very kinky of you." You grin, and she rolls her eyes, sticking her tongue out at you like a defiant schoolgirl  -  except her fingers are already curling around your hips, pulling you down against her again.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” she says, gaze sharp despite the blush on her cheeks. “I know how much you like leaving your mark, Miss Vampire. The thought of showing me off must drive you crazy.”

You raise an eyebrow at her smugness, and the glint in your eye is all the warning she gets before you strike  -  fast, fluid, effortlessly dominant.

You pin her wrists above her head, your palms encasing her wrists like cuffs of silk and fire. She gasps, startled, and then gasps again as your hips grind into hers with calculated force.

“Oh?” you purr, low and dangerous, “You’ve been reading my mind, you naughty witch?”

She flushes, caught between embarrassment and arousal, unable  -  or unwilling  -  to deny it. Her thighs shift beneath yours, trying to find friction, but you don’t let her.

You adjust your position, sliding your thigh between hers. The slow, deliberate pressure makes Wanda moan  -  long and breathless  -  as her hips press down against you.

“Just practicing what you taught me,” she whispers, voice trembling, eyes wide with want.

“Let me teach you more, then,” you say, tone dipped in velvet, watching as she tries again to grind against you  -  only for you to shift back just enough to make her whimper.

“This,” you say, voice thick and sinfully sweet, “is called edging.”

Wanda's breath hitches. She opens her mouth to ask  -  what it is, why you’re doing it, maybe even to protest  -  but your lips are already back on hers, and your next words are spoken against her mouth like a spell: