Move, I'm GAY

A heat wave had pushed much of the university outdoors.

You would have loved to spend the day hanging out with the girls - especially your girlfriend - maybe wandering through the local market or just relaxing. But after months of living, theoretically, as guests, most of the Nexus crowd was eager to seize any opportunity to raise funds.

Mrs. Harkness seemed more willing to make deals lately. Wanda had explained that the pressure from investors - who also happened to be the fathers, mothers, and caretakers of many Nexus students - was mounting. They were unhappy with the delays in fixing the building’s plumbing. Though Mrs. Harkness had grown somewhat flexible, accepting alternative fundraising methods, she still insisted that everything had to happen on school grounds. She justified that direct private donations from families would be inappropriate and inadequate since the rest of the campus wouldn’t benefit.

So it was decided: the students would raise the extra money needed to keep the Fraternity’s work going - and that’s how you found yourself dragged to a car wash on a scorching Saturday morning.

Technically, you didn’t have to work. But it was kind of fun to be around your gorgeous girlfriend - someone you were genuinely happy to have close by. Wanda seemed to enjoy showing you off to all her former Nexus colleagues, her pride making you blush more than once.

Adding to the surrealness was the fact that the young people supervising your work - like your former supervisor, Lena Luthor - were basically Wanda’s rich, well-connected friends.

“It’s nice your brother decided to help out, Lena,” Wanda commented beside you as the two of you filled bucket after bucket with water to carry back to the makeshift warehouse.

The university parking lot was packed with students and cars, while a few professors who were supposed to supervise lingered instead by cold drinks and barbecues. At least three speakers blasted music across the area. Wanda had just handed you another bucket and nodded toward a nearby group where Lex Luthor was busy changing a tire.

Lena - the youngest of the Luthor siblings, her hair pulled back into a bun that made her delicate collarbone more visible and had once made Kara Danvers stumble over her words - didn’t smile as she replied, “He was more like… compelled to be here. Mom told him to keep an eye on me, you know? As if I’m some child.”

“God, I know that feeling. My dad does the same,” Wanda grumbled, and surprisingly, that sparked a bond between her and Lena. They launched into a long, conspiratorial conversation about controlling parents, leaving you to excuse yourself to haul more buckets - full ones back in, empty ones out.

While Wanda was busy venting with Lena, you helped Kate and Maria wash cars. It was actually fun - until you spotted the driver of a sleek sports car heading toward your station.

Vision gave you a polite nod as he parked, but the boys with him weren’t so friendly. One of them, with shoulder-length black hair, pushed it back behind his glasses and snapped his fingers at you like you were a dog.

“Hey, cutie, how’re you?” His tone made it clear he wasn’t asking. He jumped out of the car with the door still closed behind him, clearly not caring about your answer. “Take good care of my friend’s car, yeah? Not like you could afford to fix it if you scratch it.” His taunt earned laughter from the others.

Steve, who was helping at your station, grimaced and stepped forward with a rag - but the boy blocked him with a smirk.

“Hey, let the girls do their work,” Steve said evenly. “Nobody wants a bunch of shirtless wet guys strutting around here. By the way, Vis, where’s your girl? Maximoff and those legs are worth the price of the wash - and then some.”

Maybe Steve sensed you were two seconds away from throwing the bucket in the guy’s face. Maybe that’s why he stepped in first.

“The ticket’s for a car wash, not a license to harass people, asshole,” he said, jaw tight.

The guy - shoulder-length hair, smug attitude, and glasses he probably wore for style - chuckled and gave Steve a slow once-over. Then, likely realizing the size difference between his head and Steve Rogers’ bicep, he took a step back.

“Relax, man. We’re just messing around.” He raised both hands in mock surrender. “I’m Victor Von Doom, by the way. You’re Steve Rogers, right? Captain of the football team?”

“The very same,” Steve replied with no warmth at all. “And this is - ”

“Oh, we know exactly who she is,” Victor interrupted, eyes sliding back to you with a smirk. “Now that you’ve got the girl, Murdock, what’s next? Gonna steal his car, too? Hide your keys, Vis.”

That earned more laughter from the group. Steve sighed and glanced at you, clearly giving you silent permission to throw hands if you wanted. Honestly, he looked like he’d back you up.

But instead, you smiled - tight and fake - and turned to pass your bucket to the next person in line.

“I’m taking a break, Rogers. Can you finish up here?”

“Yeah,” he said immediately, tone making it clear he supported your exit strategy.

You walked off without another word, heading back inside where Wanda was now helping at the cashier’s table. She lit up when she saw you.

“Hey, detka, lunch in twenty?” she asked.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you stepped behind her chair, placed your hand gently on the backrest, and leaned down - then kissed her full on the mouth.

Wanda gasped as your tongue found hers - a kiss far more heated than she expected in public, much less at a school fundraiser. Her hand flew up to grab your collar, but before she could pull you closer, you were already pulling away.

She was left panting, flushed, blinking up at you with wide eyes.

“Lunch sounds perfect,” you said casually, flashing her a wink as you stood straight again. “See you in twenty.”

You strolled off with the confidence of someone who had just set a record for boldest PDA on campus. Wanda, still catching her breath, didn’t even notice the shocked expressions across the courtyard from Vis and his friend - or the way Steve Rogers tipped his head at you in amused, almost impressed acknowledgment.

-&-

Generally, Wanda had nothing against public displays of affection. In fact, she used to enjoy the attention - loved showing off. Back then, everything was about appearances. It mattered that people saw how wealthy and charming Vision was, how perfect he made her life seem. Even if it wasn’t true.

She used to smile through his distant hugs, nod along when he spoke over her, pretend she was happy in his cold, calculated orbit - until she finally learned why it all felt wrong.

Now, there was you.

And you were warmth, and ease, and sincerity. Wanda didn’t feel the need to prove anything anymore. If she could, she’d keep you all to herself - hide you from the world like her most precious secret. There was also the physical part: the attraction she felt for you hit her like nothing ever had. It made her dizzy. It made her crave.

She loved the way you touched her when you were alone, but when you got handsy in public - like now - Wanda completely lost her ability to focus. You weren’t usually this clingy, especially in front of others, but in the past thirty minutes, you hadn’t left her side once. And your hands? Constant.

Not that she was complaining. It was just... hard to count change when your hand was on her thigh, squeezing softly.

Wanda fumbled the cash for the fourth time in a row. The man she handed it to walked away looking far too pleased with himself.

“Wanda,” Jean called out, exasperated. “For the love of God - did you even charge that guy?”

Wanda jumped slightly, cheeks flushed. Your hand had just moved up two inches.

“Um... I - no idea,” she muttered, voice unsteady, trying not to breathe too deeply.

Jean rolled her eyes. “That’s it. You two are officially banned from the cashier. Back to the wash.” She pointed a pen at you, all authority.

You laughed beside Wanda and raised both hands in surrender. “Yes, boss.”

You stood, still grinning, but didn’t leave until Wanda got up, too. She tried to ask for another break, hopeful, but Jean shot her down immediately.

“You just had one. Keep this up and the fundraiser’s not happening until next year.”

Defeated but smiling, Wanda followed you back to the wash area.

You seemed dead set on turning her into a puddle. Whispering flirtatious nonsense in her ear, spinning her playfully under the sun, pressing your body to hers at every opportunity. Wanda tried to resist, but there was only so much a girl could take. She kissed you back like you were the only thing holding her together.

“Please,” Natasha called as she walked by, deadpan, “no making out on top of the client’s car.”

You didn’t stop. If anything, the kiss deepened.

Natasha rolled her eyes and raised the hose.

A second later, you both shrieked, laughing as water sprayed your backs. Wanda ducked behind you, using your body as a shield, and you twisted away to grab the nearest hose. In seconds, it was a full-blown war. The fundraiser was forgotten. Everyone was wet and howling with laughter.

At some point, you caught Wanda’s hand and tugged her inside, away from the chaos. Her laughter was still bubbling when you kissed her again - deep, slow, all heat. She sighed, clutching your shoulders to steady herself, heart pounding.

The music was loud. The water war raged on. But all Wanda could think about was how your lips moved down her jaw and onto her neck.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress a noise, just in case some teacher or nosy student walked by. The thrill of maybe being caught only made it worse - more intense.

Between kisses, you whispered near her ear, voice low and breathy, “I have a confession to make.”

Wanda could only hum, eyes still shut, dizzy with the feel of you.

Your lips brushed behind her ear, and she shivered. But when you pulled back to look at her, your expression had softened. The teasing grin remained - but beneath it, something tender bloomed.

“I saw your ex outside,” you said, voice calm but unexpected enough to make Wanda frown, confusion flickering in her eyes. Before she could respond, you reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, letting your fingers linger there for a beat.

“He was being a jerk, as usual,” you added honestly. “And... I got super jealous.”

The admission surprised her - not because of what you said, but because of how vulnerable you sounded. There was no bitterness in your voice, just honesty.

You sighed, your lips curling into a faint, almost sheepish smile. “It was silly, I know. I wanted to show him how happy I make you. But the truth is, I don’t care what he thinks. Or anyone else, really. Only you matter to me.”

Your smile grew a little more playful as you added, “And seeing the top student in Statistics fumble the change just because I’m touching her? That’s all the reassurance I need.”

Wanda giggled despite herself, then gave you a light nudge in the ribs, her smile matching yours - even if her cheeks were a little pink.

"You're lucky I lo-like you… so much," Wanda murmured, stumbling over the word and blushing furiously beneath your gaze. Her breath hitched as she let the words settle between you.

You smiled - soft, sure, completely unfazed by the stumble. She didn’t have to say it. You already knew.

“Oh, lucky me indeed,” you teased back, voice low and flirtatious, your lips just a breath from hers. You leaned in, close enough that Wanda leaned forward instinctively… waiting for the kiss that didn’t come.

Her anticipation built with every second, her pulse fluttering as your fingers trailed down, sneaking under the hem of her skirt with practiced ease. When your hand brushed over her panties, she gasped, her lips brushing yours in a near-kiss.

“What made you this wet, babe?” you whispered against her mouth, your tone playful and dark. “Was it the game... or was it me?”

Wanda didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Instead, she surged forward and kissed you - hungry, impatient, and commanding, as if to remind you exactly who had her like this.

You grunt softly into her mouth, deepening the kiss just as your fingers slip past the fabric and sink into her warmth. Wanda melts against you, a moan spilling from her lips as her hands clutch your shoulders for balance, her body already threatening to collapse from the intensity of it all.

The kiss becomes a tangle of tongues and soft, desperate sounds. The slick echo of her arousal fills the small space around you, heightening the heat between every breath.

She’s close - too quickly, too easily - and part of her wants to be embarrassed. But the pink flush dusting her cheeks only makes your grin grow. You can feel her walls fluttering around your fingers already, her thighs trembling. Wanda pants against your lips, struggling to keep up, and you can’t help but sigh softly at how undone she looks… and you’ve barely begun.

"You're close, aren't you, babe?" you murmur, planting a kiss on her cheek as your hand steadies her by the waist. She shudders in response, knees buckling, and can only manage a breathy moan.

With a flick of your wrist, your thumb finds her clit - still untouched, still aching - and you press against it just right. Her head drops instantly, forehead landing in the crook of your neck as her nails dig into your skin. Her moans change - higher, needier, almost pleading. She’s bracing herself for you to pull back, to tease her as you’ve done before.

But you don’t.

You quicken your pace, fingers moving in a rhythm that’s both skilled and merciless. Wanda gasps, and then she’s gone - her pleasure spilling onto your wrist, her body convulsing as she cries out your name in a voice that’s nearly primal.

"Yes, yes, yes!"

When it finally hits her, it's breathtaking. The sound that escapes Wanda is raw and unrestrained - almost feral - and it reverberates through you like a strike to the core. For a moment, you’re left speechless, utterly captivated by the way she trembles in your arms, every part of her unraveling under your touch.

She lets out a breathless laugh, the sound dazed and delighted. Her pupils are blown wide, consuming every trace of green in her eyes until they’re nearly black.

“Hi,” she whispers, dreamy and half-drunk on pleasure.

Your heart stutters. There are three words burning at the tip of your tongue, aching to be spoken, but you swallow them down for now. Instead, you grin softly and echo, “Hi.”

Your fingers slip from her slowly, deliberately, and the quiet sigh that escapes her doesn't go unnoticed. Her slick clings to your skin, and you wipe it gently on her inner thighs, stealing a quick glance at her flushed face as you lick your lips. You're trying - failing - not to be so affected.

A quiet stillness settles between you. The world narrows to the space you share, to the gentle weight of her gaze and the things neither of you are quite ready to say aloud.

You exhale shakily and lean forward, resting your forehead against hers. The silence speaks for you both. And then - it’s Wanda who closes the distance, lips brushing yours with the tenderness of something real.

There’s a clumsy tangle of hands and clothes as the kiss deepens again, heat flaring back to life between you. Wanda’s fingers are just beginning to wander, sliding lower with unmistakable intent - 

But then footsteps echo nearby.

And a familiar, mocking voice cuts through the haze:

"You two better not be using break time to make out!"

The sudden interruption makes both you and Wanda break into startled laughter, the intimacy shattered in an instant. Your hidden alcove - just barely secluded enough to pass as private - offers no real cover now that Jean’s found you. She stands a few feet away, arms crossed and an exaggerated look of disbelief on her face.

"We’re short-staffed, you know. Get decent and get back to work," she groans, clearly unimpressed but not entirely surprised.

You're the first to peel yourself off the wall, still catching your breath, and flash Jean a cheeky smile.

"I'm decent, jerk."

Jean raises an eyebrow.

You gesture toward Wanda, who's still catching her composure. "But I don’t think Wand’s feeling so well. Maybe we should go home, for… recovery purposes?" you add with faux sincerity, barely suppressing your grin.

Still hidden from Jean’s view, Wanda bites her lip, stifling a sigh as your hand wanders teasingly beneath her blouse.

Jean rolls her eyes with theatrical impatience. “Nice try. Get back to work before the dean gets an anonymous tip about your favorite hook-up spot,” she warns before turning on her heel.

You burst into laughter. “You’re a menace, Jean Grey!” you call after her, only to be answered by a casually raised middle finger as she walks away.

Your attention shifts back to Wanda, who's quietly giggling at the exchange, though her flushed cheeks betray her lingering fluster.

“We really do have to get back to work, dear,” you murmur, noses brushing in a soft, affectionate nuzzle.

Wanda cups your face, pulling you into a kiss - gentle, slow, the kind that says everything without a single word. You smile against her lips.

Best car wash ever.

-&-

The news that the Nexus building repairs were nearing completion shouldn’t have surprised you. Between the constant complaints from students longing for their luxurious rooms and wild, unsupervised parties, the pressure from wealthy families demanding the return of exclusivity, and the relentless fundraisers, it was inevitable that the renovation would happen sooner or later. Still, the announcement didn’t land with the excitement the College Council had clearly expected.

Wanda - and the rest of the sorority staff - had adapted to the roommate routine so seamlessly that the thought of returning to the old building felt less like a celebration and more like the end of something quietly special.

In just a few weeks, Wanda would move back into the gleaming, renovated sorority house. And you… you'd return to your single room.

Once, that would’ve been the best possible outcome. Months ago, before you fell in love with her.

Now, it felt like stepping into an entirely different reality.

And you weren’t the only one who felt that way. Wanda hadn’t smiled at the news either.

"Obviously, Lucky is coming to live with me," Kate declared, making a dramatic gesture from the middle of the room. She was facing Yelena, who raised an eyebrow in pure disbelief.

"He's our dog," Yelena corrected firmly. "Just like Fanny. They're family, Kate! You can’t just split them up!"

From the couch, Natasha let out a long, weary sigh. The “division of assets” conversation had now entered its sixth day, ever since the announcement that the Nexus building’s plumbing would be repaired. As far as Nat and Maria were concerned, everything had already been settled rationally and peacefully. Hill would take most of the records, DVDs, and knick-knacks back to Nexus, since the equipment there was better and the rooms were larger. No drama.

But Kate and Yelena were a different story. Every shared item - down to spare dog toys - became the center of a full-blown debate. It was clear to everyone that the bickering wasn’t really about the stuff. They just didn’t want to part ways. That much was obvious. Still, it wasn’t anyone’s place to interfere. So watching the two argue had become its own kind of entertainment.

While Nat’s patience wore thin, you and Wanda - who was curled up in your lap as you casually braided her hair, couldn’t stop laughing.

"For God’s sake, I’m not splitting them up!" Kate exclaimed, just as indignantly as Yelena. "I’m literally staying on the same campus!"

Yelena crossed her arms. "I’m not subjecting my dogs to the trauma of divorce, Kate Bishop. I’m afraid you can’t take any of them."

“Yelena, for God’s sake - ”

Eventually, Natasha stepped in and separated them, assigning each to a different side of the apartment to pack moving boxes or - honestly, you’d stopped paying attention by then. You were too caught up in a quiet conversation with Wanda.

She had just mentioned wanting to have lunch with you, and though she didn’t say it outright, the subtext was clear: you needed to talk about the move. As soon as you finished braiding a loose strand of her hair, the two of you slipped out of the living room.

Seeking a little privacy, you brought your lunch to the sunlit balcony table. While you arranged the plates, Wanda slid the door closed behind you, muffling the sounds of the chaos still unfolding inside.

“This reminds me of our first date,” she said suddenly, settling into the chair across from you.

You smiled at the thought. “Sometimes it feels surreal how far we’ve come.”

Wanda giggled softly, a fond sparkle in her eyes. “It was surreal how much we fought. I still can’t believe you kissed me after stealing my mug.”

You laughed, the memory warm and clear. “I didn’t steal anything! I borrowed it - without asking.”

Lunch stretches on like this for minutes - filled with laughter and nostalgic jokes. The day is perfect: sunny but pleasantly mild. The closed glass door muffles the noise from inside, where you can faintly hear Kate and Yelena tussling on the carpet over band T-shirts they’d bought together at the last concert. You and Wanda exchange quiet giggles at the scene, until a soft sigh escapes you.

“Damn, I’m really going to miss those girls,” you say.

Wanda bites her lip thoughtfully, her gaze locking on yours. “What about me, darling? Will you miss me?” she teases.

You hum, pretending to ponder. “Well… I’ll finally have my room back...” you begin.

Wanda snorts, feigning offense, and reaches out to pinch your ribs, making you burst into laughter. Before she can pull away, you catch her hand and weave your fingers through hers in your lap.

“Of course I’m going to miss you, princess. You’re right here now, and I already think you’re too far away.”

A soft blush colors her cheeks, and Wanda holds onto your hand as she rises. “Well, let’s fix that,” she whispers, sliding onto your lap. Her hands find their way around your shoulders as your arm wraps around her waist.

“Hi,” she murmurs.

“Hello, you,” you reply.

She looks down at you, a storm of emotions hidden in her eyes. You swallow the tension and smile gently, offering silent reassurance.

“We’ll be fine, Wanda,” you assure her softly. “You’ll be just half a campus away. Nothing’s really going to change.”

But you both know the truth - this move pulls Wanda back into a world you’re no longer part of. Still, for now, she chooses to believe your words. She smiles gently, resting her forehead against yours, savoring the closeness in that quiet moment.

She’s about to say something that’s been weighing on her heart for a while when a sharp knock on the glass makes her startle softly.

“Hey, lovebirds, we need some help here,” Maria calls from inside. Apparently, Yelena had bolted from the apartment clutching a record signed by Don McLean that belonged to Kate.

You and Wanda share a confused laugh.

This had to be the most embarrassing moment of her life.

Caught having sex with her girlfriend by the one man she wasn’t yet comfortable discussing any kind of sexuality with  -  on what should have been a perfect weekend. Wanda and her damn luck.

Despite everything, you seemed to handle it better than she was. Or maybe you were just better at faking it, skillfully distracting yourself with packing and preparing an afternoon snack to avoid the awkward scene. Wanda wanted to tell you she’d feel better if you stayed by her side, but her attention was pulled instead by the bigger question: What the hell was her father doing here?

“No need to keep that face. I’m not mad or anything.”

Erik’s voice was calm, accompanied by a small chuckle as he leaned casually against the porch railing.

He had excused himself shortly after a brief, polite introduction: a few exchanged words about names, professions, studies. Then he said he had to make a phone call, leaving you in the kitchen.

Wanda had wanted to follow but caught your warning glance - “I can run away because he’s not my dad, but you shouldn’t.” Resigned, she turned away and headed outside.

With a sigh, she approached him. “What did you come here for anyway?”

Erik laughed again softly. “This house is mine, Wanda.”

She rolled her eyes impatiently. “Dad.”

Instead of responding right away, Erik sighed and turned to look out over the landscape, his elbows resting on the railing. Wanda mirrored him in silence.

“Charles and I are taking a break.”

The words hit Wanda like a punch. She stared, stunned. Erik didn’t meet her eyes, a faint, sad smile playing on his lips.

“I haven’t said anything to you or your brother because it’s not children’s business.”

“We’re not - ”

“I know,” he cut in gently. “But to me, you will always be.”

Wanda exhaled softly at her father’s weary posture and didn’t press further.

After a long pause, Erik spoke again, as if gathering courage. “It’s only for a while, dear. Retirement forced us back into a closeness we weren’t used to. Old conflicts resurfaced. Charles and I decided some time apart would be best - but that’s our business. I didn’t want to burden you or Pietro unnecessarily.”

Wanda bit her cheek, steeling herself. “You can tell me what’s bothering you, Papa. You don’t have to keep everything inside.”

Erik chuckled briefly, nodding as he turned toward her.

“I know. But that’s funny coming from you, don’t you think, young lady?” His eyebrow rose. “For example, you never mentioned you’d be bringing girls here. Especially here, Wanda.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her how easily her father could deflate tender moments - they always ended like this - but still, Wanda huffed in irritation.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

Erik shrugged and glanced inside the house as if checking if you were still nearby. Then he leaned in, voice dropping.

“She’s a pretty girl, sure. And your brother likes to impress his flirts too. But here, Wanda? This was your mother’s house. A place we respect because it’s special.”

“She’s special, Dad.” Wanda cut in indignantly. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Erik’s chuckle was soft, surprised. “Oh, girlfriend? Really, Wanda?”

She crossed her arms defensively, trying to hold back her frustration. “Yes. Girlfriend. Do you have a problem with that? I’d say it’d be pretty hypocritical of you, considering you’ve been married to a man for ten years.”

Erik rolled his eyes, the laugh that escaped feeling anything but genuine.

“Obviously, I’m not homophobic, Wanda. Don’t be ridiculous.” Erik’s tone sharpened, irritation barely contained. “It just caught me off guard, considering the last relationship news you cared to share with your father was your breakup with Vision.”

“Yeah, when he cheated on me - if you remember.” Wanda’s voice dripped with irony.

Erik rolled his eyes again, unimpressed.

“You’re all too young. The boy made a mistake, but we’ve been over this. Vision comes from a good family, with a solid future ahead…” He spoke over her indignant snort. “And you’re about to graduate, Wanda. You need someone who can offer financial stability, a good life. Before you throw accusations, I had the same talk with Pietro. I don’t mind his college adventures; we all had those, but choosing someone worthy to be by his side, be it a boy or a girl, is what matters.”

“My god, do you even hear yourself?” Wanda snapped, voice sharp enough to startle him. He was more used to commanding respect than facing this kind of defiance.

“Doesn’t it matter how much Vision hurt me? Is it just about the money his family has? What the fuck is your problem?”

“Wanda, watch your tone. I’m your father- ”

“A father who only wants to control my life and never cares how I feel!” she cut him off, tears suddenly glistening in her eyes, raw with anger and pain. “I couldn’t breathe around him! He crushed my wishes, my dreams! Made me feel worthless! And I wish you’d stood up for me, taken my side. But all you did was defend a stranger instead of your own daughter! It’s because of you we don’t talk anymore, Dad. I don’t trust you at all!”

Erik’s posture softened, his usual sharpness fading as he absorbed her words in stunned silence. Wanda wiped her eyes quickly and let out a short, bitter laugh.

“Honey, I…” he began, but trailed off with a frustrated sigh. Wanda nodded, understanding. You can’t force an apology from someone who doesn’t believe they’re wrong.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She said firmly. “I’m going back to Uni - with my girlfriend, probably the best person I’ve ever been with, and you have no idea. Until you can apologize, you won’t know anything about me or my life again.”

Erik clenched his jaw, eyes flicking away. “I’m entitled to my opinions. You’re young and privileged, and you don’t understand how the real world works. But if you want to make mistakes, go ahead. Learn from the pain. Let’s see how long this crush lasts when reality hits.”

“That’s none of your business anymore,” Wanda said coldly before turning her back and leaving the balcony.

Inside, you were still in the kitchen, coffee ready on a tray.

She swallowed the emotion and forced a smile when your eyes met hers.

“We’re leaving.” She told you quietly, satisfied with your understanding nod, before heading upstairs to gather her bags.

But your mind didn’t ease when Erik appeared at the doorway. You swallowed nervously, unsure how to break the silence.

He sighed, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Lighting one, he said quietly, “I just want you to know - I have nothing personal against you, Miss Murdock.” He says. “I’m a practical man. I’ve made many sacrifices so my children could have opportunities I didn’t have at their age.”

You nod slowly, sliding your hands into your pockets.

“I really care about your daughter, sir. I have no intention of hurting her in any way.”

Erik chuckles shortly, taking a slow drag from his cigarette.

“Intentions don’t mean much over time, you’ll see. Feelings fade once the bills start coming in.”

You clear your throat, nervously scratching the back of your neck.

“I know I don’t have your family’s wealth, but I work hard. More than that, I care about Wanda’s well-being - more than anything.”

Erik’s eyes narrow slightly, voice hardening with a trace of defiance.

“And to be well, you need what, child? Money, of course. Do you think this incredible house - with the pool, the food - all of it was a gift? No, it’s paid for, and it’s expensive. But Wanda and Pietro? They’ve been shielded from that reality. They think it just fell from the sky.”

He sighs, shaking his head bitterly.

“That’s Natalya’s doing. Their mother. I would have had them working for the company from the start, but she wanted them to be comfortable. And now? Look at how ‘grateful’ they are - running around with the nobodies they meet…”

Erik clears his throat when he notices your eyes drop in embarrassment, then exhales deeply.

“Again, it’s nothing personal.”

You bite your lip, voice low and steady.

“I think you’ve said enough, sir.”

Erik opens his mouth, but Wanda’s footsteps interrupt him as she reappears.

Her gaze immediately lands on you, tension in your posture, and then zeroes in on her father with a deadly glare.

“I better not find out you were harassing my girlfriend. Or I swear, we are done for good.”

You step forward quickly, placing a hand gently on Wanda’s arm before Erik can reply.

“He was just saying goodbye, Wanda.” You lie again, the familiarity of the excuse gnawing at you.

She looks at you, uncertainty and concern flickering in her eyes, but you offer a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine.” Another lie. “Let’s just go.”

Wanda doesn’t pull away when you take her hand, and together you step outside, leaving the tension inside the house behind.

-&-

Wanda couldn’t shake the feeling that Erik had said something deeply wrong to you, but she only became certain as days passed and you didn’t return to your usual self.

On paper, nothing had changed. You still shared the apartment, were still dating, and you still hugged her at night until she fell asleep.

But you were quieter. Distant. Busier than ever. Working overtime to avoid her was something she accepted - until every mention of the weekend made you tense, irritable, and closed off.

Wanda held on for two whole weeks before she hit her limit and issued an ultimatum.

The first real fight as a couple knocked her off balance.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“Because you’re not talking - you’re screaming!”

“Yeah, well, I’m angry and tired of being ignored!” Wanda shouted back. “What crime is it to show any emotion to the person I’m with?!”

Pressed against the door of Maria’s room, four girls tried to give the arguing couple some privacy. But as the voices grew louder and more intense, they couldn’t resist listening in.

“I’m afraid we’re going back to square one,” Yelena muttered, drawing a collective sigh of frustration from the others.

“Don’t be so pessimistic. Couples fight,” Kate tried to reason.

Natasha, leaning on her sister’s shoulder, raised a finger. “Shush, I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.”

The room fell silent, and then your voice came first - lower, firmer.

“Wanda, I’m working late. Please step away from the door.”

“You always have to work! When was the last time we spent any time together?”

“Yeah, I have to work. That might be a difficult concept for someone like you, but it’s the reality for most people.” The sting in your words shut Wanda up immediately, and the girls exchanged uneasy glances. After a pause, you sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that - ”

“Just go.” Wanda’s voice was cold, final. “Don’t waste your valuable time on some futile rich girl.”

“Wanda, for heaven’s sake, I didn’t mean that - ”

A heavy slam echoed as the door shut, and the girls assumed Wanda had stormed off to her room. A moment later, another door slammed shut, and silence fell. It was clear you hadn’t followed her.

Kate broke the quiet. “I can’t believe Y/N said that.”

Natasha shrugged, unfazed by the others’ shocked looks. “I love Wanda, but Y/N wasn’t lying.”

Kate frowned, uncertain.

Natasha met her gaze evenly. “Kate, we love you too, but our realities are different. Sometimes you and Wanda say things that come from a place of privilege without realizing it. Even before Nexus crashed, when I went to those parties, it was insane to watch kids like Stark spend a whole year’s tuition on one weekend.”

Yelena nodded. “Yeah, and when we go shopping with you guys, it feels like a totally different world.”

Kate shifted awkwardly. “Shit, I didn’t mean to make this an embarrassing situation. It’s not my fault I’m rich.”

The girls giggled, and Yelena patted her shoulder. “We know. Just like it’s not our fault we aren’t.”

Natasha nodded, adding, “It’s not about blaming anyone. It’s just the difference between our lives. We’re all adults here; fighting over that would be pointless. But Y/N and Wanda are in a relationship, which is different. They’re going to get deeply involved in each other’s lives, and they have to talk about these things. Like, what does Wanda plan to do after graduation? Have they even discussed where they’ll live? Whether Y/N’s comfortable living somewhere paid for by her girlfriend? What life together really looks like.”

Maria snorted. “That’s why we told them to have a proper conversation before dating. I don’t want to switch rooms again.”

The girls laughed weakly until Kate spoke again.

“I hope they work it out soon. I don’t want to lose the friendships we’ve made here.”

“Let’s hope so,” Yelena said, but Natasha and Hill exchanged knowing glances.

“Or we could just lock them in a room tonight until they stop fighting,” Natasha joked, sending the group into laughter.

What started as a joke stuck with Natasha as the day wore on, filled with tense exchanges and passive-aggressive texts both in the apartment group and between the girls. By evening, she was seriously considering locking you and Wanda up until you worked it out.

To make matters worse, you didn’t join the group for dinner, and Wanda seemed determined to avoid any conflict by staying away altogether. She didn’t even return to the apartment - just said she was going to sleep over at Monica’s.

Natasha was about to plan an intervention when, the next morning, she woke up to find you asleep in the hallway.

“Hm, should I be worried?” she asked, stifling a grimace as she stumbled over your outstretched ankle on her way to the bathroom. You rubbed your eyes and adjusted the blanket draped over you.

“No,” you murmured. “I’m waiting for Wanda to open the door.”

Natasha sighed, sympathy softening her voice. “Honey, she didn’t sleep here.”

“She said she was staying at Monica’s,” she explained, but you frowned.

“Monica’s not at uni,” you replied, grimacing. “She went to her mother’s for the holiday. Won’t be back until next weekend.”

Natasha scratched the back of her neck, thinking. “Maybe she’s with her brother?”

You were already pushing yourself up, pulling your phone out of your pocket and tossing the blanket onto an armchair as you took a determined step toward the living room.

The redhead watched quietly as you dialed Wanda’s number again and again, each time getting that same frustrated expression when the call went unanswered.

Clearing her throat, she caught up with you. “I don’t mean to pry, Y/N, but for the sake of our coexistence as roommates, make things right.”

You let out a dry chuckle without looking up from your phone. “Thanks for assuming everything’s my fault.”

Natasha sighed. “I don’t care whose fault it is.” Her tone grew firmer, undeterred by your continued dialing and likely sharp texts to Wanda. “What matters is that you’re my best friend, and you’re the one I talk to first. I warned you to be careful, to think before starting a relationship with the girl you share an apartment with. You listened more to your hormones than to me, so just... please fix this. And no more sleeping in the hallway, okay? Besides catching pneumonia, you could’ve tripped someone.”

She used your hesitation to slip away toward the kitchen to start coffee.

You tucked your phone away and followed her a moment later.

“You know you’re wrong, don’t you, Nat?” you said softly. She shot you a warning glance but didn’t reply, focusing on the coffee. You found courage, sitting on the empty countertop. “You talk like it’s just sex. Like Wanda and I are teenagers who can’t keep our pants on. But I...”

You sighed, shutting yourself up. Natasha glanced over her shoulder, waiting. After a deep breath, you finally admitted, “I think I love her.”

Natasha turned away, a teasing smile lighting up her face. “You think?”

You looked down, and she smiled wider.

“I know I do,” you muttered shyly. “But I don’t know how to do this.”

Amused, Natasha left the coffee on the sink, crossed her arms, and gave you a pointed look. “Hm, don’t you know how to love someone? It’s easy. It’s like riding a bike - starts with friendship...”

You cut her off with an awkward laugh. “Shut up.”

She grinned at you, and you settled more comfortably on the countertop.

“Hey. What’s all this then? You find out you love her and now you’re fighting her?” Natasha asked gently, concerned in her voice. “Is this some kind of intimacy crisis?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, no, that’s not it. It has nothing to do with my feelings.” Despite your shyness, you sounded determined to set the record straight. “The weekend started out amazing, you know? I think I’ve known what I was feeling for a while, and spending some time alone with her just made me sure. Then her father showed up and started saying things - things that shouldn’t bother me but somehow brought up insecurities I didn’t even know I had.”

Natasha’s posture stiffened immediately. “What the hell did he say to you?”

You sighed, defeated. “It was nothing,” you muttered, avoiding her insistent gaze. “Just stupid stuff. Elitist talk, okay? Nothing... nothing that should bother someone who’s been studying political science since forever.” Your laugh was hollow, not reaching your eyes.

Natasha’s expression turned worried. You exhaled heavily. “Wanda’s father just wants the best for his kids. He had to work so damn hard for everything he has. And sure, it’s a whole long conversation about privilege and opportunity, but that’s what matters to him. I think I’ve heard my parents stress enough about jobs and money crises to get where he’s coming from.”

Natasha stepped closer, uncrossing her arms.

“Wait, are you seriously telling me Mr. Lehnsherr thinks you can’t date Wanda because you’re not rich like her?” she said, incredulous. “Y/N, that’s absurd. It’s so old-fashioned and petty.”

You gave a sad smile and shrugged. “Yeah, but he has a point, doesn’t he?” you admitted, frustrated. “Wanda’s used to a princess lifestyle. We even joke about it. But what happens in the future? Here at uni, it’s easy to ignore the differences between our lives. But if I want a future with her, I have to face the fact that there are things I won’t be able to keep up with.”

Natasha sighed thoughtfully but didn’t seem fully convinced. “I get what you mean, but at the same time, Wanda has enough money for both of you.”

You laughed shortly and nodded. “She does, but I could never depend on her. Not that there’s anything wrong with that for people who don’t mind, but it’s just not me. I’d always feel like I was taking advantage of her... and I know she’d hear cruel things from others, and I’d feel even worse. Just like Mr. Lehnsherr fears, reality would hit us hard, and we’d end up resenting each other. I don’t want that to ever happen.”

Natasha twitched her nose softly. “Well, in a way, it’ll be like going back to the beginning...” she teased lightly. But when you laughed, it was the kind of laugh that felt like it might break into tears.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to hold yourself together. “I’m trying really hard right now, Nat,” you said quietly. “I’m exhausted. I took this job because of some silly insecurity. I thought I’d work short hours and have time with my girlfriend, but what that idiot said got to me. I jumped on the first project that looked like it might change the world, hoping to get rich overnight, to be enough for Wanda... but I’m just so tired.”

“Oh, honey, come here,” Natasha said softly, moving around the countertop to wrap you in a warm hug. You buried your face in her sweatshirt, clutching her tightly. As you massaged her arms, Natasha sighed. “You need to be honest with Wanda, Y/N. Or you two are going to get hurt. And by all that’s sacred, get some sleep.”

You laughed through your tears, nodding.

Eventually, you left the kitchen to sleep while Natasha stayed behind to review some lessons and finish her coffee. The apartment filled and emptied with the coming and going of the girls and boys - everyone treating the place like their own home. Mugs gave way to soda glasses at lunch and afternoon snacks.

Wanda didn’t come back until evening.

An exchange of encouraging glances passes between Natasha and you - now in the living room - while Yelena and Kate share looks filled with doubt and uncertainty, unsure whether to leave or stay and witness the inevitable confrontation.

Natasha finally clears her throat, deciding to break the silence, while Wanda takes much longer than necessary to remove her jacket and hang it by the door.

“There’s some chicken in the oven, Wands. If you’re hungry,” Natasha offers from her seat at the table, laptop open in front of her.

Wanda feels your gaze burning into her back but keeps her attention fixed on the stubborn zipper. Her hands tremble too much to manage it smoothly.

“I’ve already eaten, thank you,” she replies quietly, finally slipping out of the jacket.

Natasha hums understandingly and returns to her studies, while Yelena shoots a quick glance at you, her best friend.

“Where were you all day anyway, Maximoff? Your literature teacher asked about you earlier,” the blonde comments casually.

You whip your head around, remote control forgotten in your hand.

“You skipped Munroe’s class? You? It’s literally your favorite class.” Your surprise and indignation only seem to make Wanda tense even more.

She inhales deeply, drops her purse by the door, and turns to leave the room without so much as a glance your way. You snort incredulously.

“Wanda, really? Silent treatment? How old are you, five?” you squawk, jumping to your feet. The remote lands on the couch as you follow her, ignoring the girls’ watching eyes.

“Yeah, so I’m a rich snob and a child. Great combo you got there,” she retorts wryly, attempting to close the door in your face, but your hand stops it.

“I’m pretty sure I said you were privileged, not a snob,” you snap, stepping inside and shutting the door with your ankle despite her annoyed grunt. “But seriously, where the hell were you all day?”

“None of your business - ”

“Wanda.”

“Get out of my room.”

“It’s our room.”

“I swear to God - ”

Before you can continue, a knock interrupts. You sigh, staring at Wanda, then turn and open the door - bumping into Maria in pajamas.

“We’re all studying for exams,” she says quietly, “Could you please keep the volume down? Or maybe take the fight outside?”

Wanda huffs behind you and immediately sits on the bed to angrily pull off her shoes. You offer Maria a corner smile - feeling better now that you’ve slept properly.

“I promise we’ll keep it down, Miss Hill,” you say with a teasing grin that makes Maria roll her eyes and chuckle. She raises a finger in warning before heading back to the table where the girls study together.

Closing the door, you turn to find Wanda barefoot, staring ahead, unfocused.

“Hey... can we talk about this?” you ask, much softer and quieter, hands slipping into your pockets.

Wanda exhales shakily, eyes shimmering with tears she clearly refuses to let fall. Her jaw tightens as she looks away, like she’s holding herself together by force alone.

“I feel horrible,” she chokes out.

You stay still, watching her closely, afraid that even the smallest movement might shatter whatever fragile balance she’s clinging to. She swallows, then covers her face with her hands for a moment, fingers pressing against her temples as if the feeling is too much to contain.

“What are you doing to me?” she whispers, voice breaking. “It feels like I’m going to die, and all we’ve done is fight about something that feels so vague now.”

You let out a quiet sigh  -  not in frustration, but in recognition. Slowly, carefully, you sit beside her on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, the space between you closing but still tentative, like neither of you is sure what’s allowed yet.

“It was our first fight as a couple,” you say softly. “It’s expected to feel awful.”

You manage a small, crooked smile. Wanda lets out a weak, breathy laugh in response, but it dissolves almost immediately. She sniffs, swiping hurriedly at the tears that escape before she can stop them, still avoiding your gaze.

“Wanda, I’m sorry,” you say, your voice low and sincere. “I never meant to hurt you.”

She shakes her head gently, curls brushing her cheeks.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she murmurs. “We just argued. That’s what couples do.” A pause. “And you didn’t lie.”

“But I was mean,” you admit. “And distant. I’ve been pushing you away since the weekend.” You hesitate before sliding your hand over her thigh, slow enough that she has time to pull back if she wants to. She doesn’t. “I want to apologize for all of that.”

Wanda releases a quiet breath and places her hand over yours. For a split second, you think she might retreat  -  her fingers tense, uncertain  -  but then they curl around yours, lacing together like muscle memory.

“I want to apologize too,” she says. Her voice is so small it makes your chest ache. “I thought my father said something terrible to you… and knowing him, he probably did.” She exhales through her nose, eyes shining again. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. Or acted like it didn’t matter. You were clearly upset.”

She swallows, gathering herself.

“So… I’m sorry. For whatever it was.” Her thumb rubs against your knuckles in slow, nervous strokes. “Because the moments we’ve shared  -  alone, and all the others over the past few months  -  they’ve been the best of my life.”

“Wanda - ”

She keeps going, afraid you might stop her.

“And I’ll understand if I’m too much. If my family is too much. If you’re tired of dealing with all of it.” Her voice trembles. “But I needed you to know I’ve never felt like this with anyone else, and - ”

“Wanda.”

You tighten your grip just enough to ground her, gently guiding her attention back to you.

She falls silent, breathing unevenly, eyes wet and searching. Your free hand rises to her cheek. The warmth of her skin seeps into your palm, and you smile softly when she leans into your touch without hesitation, like she’s been waiting for permission.

“I’m not tired of you, sweetheart,” you murmur. “You’re not too much.”

Your thumb brushes slowly over her cheekbone.

“And I’ve never felt this way before either. We understand each other in ways no one else ever has.” Your voice grows steadier the longer you speak. “Every silly fight, every misunderstanding  -  it’s only brought us closer. To a place of trust and intimacy I didn’t even know was possible.”

You huff a quiet laugh.

“Every little thing about you  -  your poetry, the way you set half a dozen alarms and still snooze all of them  -  I’ve come to love.”

Wanda lets out a shy chuckle, shoulders relaxing just a little. Your heart stutters painfully in your chest. There’s something you want to say, hovering right at the edge of your tongue, heavy and terrifying.

“That’s why I - ” you start.

She looks at you with bright, expectant eyes.

You swallow, courage failing at the last second. The words stay lodged in your throat.

Wanda’s lips curve into a knowing smile. You don’t say anything  -  and somehow, she understands anyway. She nods faintly, closing the distance to press her lips to yours. The kiss is slow and intense, careful but full, like a promise held between breaths.

You sigh when she pulls back, eyes still closed.

“Whenever you’re ready, babe,” she whispers. “We have all the time in the world.”

You open your eyes to her, to the green irises you adore  -  the ones you love so much it almost scares you.

Swallowing hard, you trace her cheek with your fingertip.

Then, softly:

“Now tell me… where have you been all day?”

Wanda groans and buries her face in your neck, curls brushing against your skin. You chuckle, a little breathless, curiosity flaring.

“It’s stupid,” she murmurs against you.

For a moment, the conversation nearly slips away entirely as her hands trail down your torso, sliding beneath your blouse. Your breath hitches, all you manage is a quiet hum to show you’re listening. You shiver as her fingers move to your belt, deft and familiar.

“Jean used to hang out with this guy, Logan,” she continues, voice muffled against your skin. “He was also kind of her dealer.”

Her nails scrape lightly down your sides, sending sparks up your spine and making it very hard to focus on anything she’s saying.

“He’s a pain in the ass to be around,” she continues, words tumbling over each other, “but he has the best weed. And I was so stressed, and I just wanted to forget we were fighting, so I texted him.” She groans softly, forehead dropping against yours. “He thought it was about Jean.”

You snort, unable to help yourself.

“And I spent almost the entire afternoon,” Wanda presses on, clearly mortified now, “listening to his plans to win her back over a damn reefer.”

You laugh, the sound easing some of the leftover tension in your chest. Your hand slides to the one she’s already used to unzip your pants, gently stopping her before she can reach further. You lace your fingers together instead, grounding the moment as you lift your gaze to meet hers.

“So,” you say, amusement dancing in your eyes, “you’re telling me you’re high right now?”

You don’t really need an answer. Now that you’re paying attention, it’s obvious  -  the softness to her focus, the extra looseness in her limbs, the way she sways just slightly where she’s kneeling between you.

Wanda pouts.

“No, it’s… wearing off,” she insists, lips pushing forward in a way she knows you can’t resist. Then she giggles when you narrow your eyes at her. “I’m fine. I am fine.”

She shrugs sheepishly.

“He sold me one joint and talked for, like, four fucking hours,” she adds, rolling her eyes. “I’m good enough for some… reconciliation making out.”

She leans in to kiss you, but you laugh and turn your face, wrapping your arms around her instead. You pull her with you as you fall back onto the bed, the mattress creaking softly beneath your weight. Her indignant pout doesn’t last long  -  she groans in contentment as she sinks onto your lap, and you adjust her easily, hands sliding over her back in slow, reassuring strokes.

The room settles around you  -  dim light, rumpled sheets, the quiet hum of the city outside. For a moment, it’s just you and Wanda, tangled together, breathing in sync.

Then you feel her tense.

The shift is subtle, but unmistakable. Your stomach tightens.

“I think my father said something very bad to you that day,” she murmurs. It’s not an accusation  -  it’s careful, aching curiosity. “Didn’t he?”

You exhale slowly, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer might be written there. Wanda doesn’t look away from you, waiting patiently, hand resting over your heart.

You sigh once. Then again.

And you tell her.

You tell her how the day had started perfect  -  laughter, warmth, the promise of something lasting  -  and how it all cracked apart the moment her father arrived. You repeat his words without embellishment, without drama, just the raw truth of them. When you finish, your chest feels hollow, exposed.

Wanda’s eyes glisten, her lips parting as if she might cry  -  but you don’t want tears. You shift, sitting up abruptly, already half-considering retreat. The living room couch sounds tempting, distant, safe.

She moves with you immediately, following your motion like gravity.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I shouldn’t have left you alone with him. Or been so wrapped up in the internship. I’m so sorry  -  I had no idea - ”

“Wanda, it’s okay,” you interrupt, heat creeping up your neck. “Please, just let it go. It happened.” You give a weak smile. “You don’t have to pity me. I’m a big girl.”

She shakes her head, curls bouncing, then searches blindly for your hands until she finds them and forces you to meet her eyes.

“I’m not pitying you,” she says firmly. “I’m furious. Furious at my father  -  and at myself for letting it get this far.” Her brows knit. “And honestly? I’m a little mad at you for not telling me why you’ve been working yourself to death lately.”

You let out a soft, humorless laugh, gaze dropping to your intertwined fingers.

“I’m going to talk to Dr. Octavius about shorter hours,” you admit. “I really missed spending time with you.”

Her expression melts. Wanda smiles gently, nodding.

“We need to stop letting other people mess with us,” she says.

You smile back, lifting your hands between you in an exaggerated, solemn gesture that makes her chuckle.

“Pinky promise?” you whisper, lacing your fingers with hers and lifting them near her face. “That nothing and no one will tear us apart.”

“Promise,” she breathes. Her accent thickens, voice low and emotional.

This time, you’re the one who leans in first. She kisses you back immediately, smiling into it, soft and warm. You’re just beginning to let yourself melt into it  -  just barely letting your tongue brush against hers  -  when a sudden tugging noise at the door startles you both.

You break apart with matching gasps.

You exchange a knowing look with Wanda before scrambling toward the door. When you open it, you’re greeted not by silence, but by a tangled pile of limbs on the floor. Apparently, Kate lost her balance  -  and took everyone else down with her.

You cross your arms, trying very hard to look stern.

Behind you, Wanda presses a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking as she struggles not to laugh.

From the floor, Kate lifts her hand and gives you an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“I need your car this weekend,” Wanda announced, her tone deliberately casual, though the tension in her shoulders betrayed her.

Across from her, Pietro let out a short, dry laugh as he stabbed a piece of breaded chicken with his fork. “And I’m guessing I’m not supposed to tell Dad where it’s going?”

Wanda didn’t look up. She continued to swirl her lunch around with mechanical focus, pushing the fusilli through the tomato sauce like it hadn’t already been stirred three times.

Pietro’s smirk faded as he leaned slightly forward, elbow resting on the table, eyebrows arching with a teasing lift. “So, I’m an accomplice now?”

Her eyes flicked up briefly, unamused. “Don’t be dramatic.”

He chuckled again, leaning back and letting his chair creak beneath him. “It’ll cost you.”

Wanda narrowed her gaze, already expecting that answer. “What do you want?”

He shrugged, that same annoying, vague gesture he always used when he was still thinking of ways to be difficult. “I’ll think about it. But no scratches. And absolutely no strangers driving my baby.”

Wanda scoffed and mirrored his shrug with theatrical exaggeration. “Y/N is not a stranger. Weren’t you the one calling her your best friend like, three days ago?”

Another shrug, but this time he grinned around a mouthful of pasta. Wanda rolled her eyes hard enough to see the inside of her skull.

Still, she nodded, lips twitching as she pulled out her phone beneath the table and typed a quick message: All set for the weekend. I can't wait.

Almost immediately, your reply lit up her screen - a picture of your sneakers, nervously bouncing against the linoleum floor of Oscorp’s waiting room. Wanda smiled, soft and brief, her thumb lingering over the screen. She could practically hear the jingle of the receptionist’s desk bell and smell the too-strong industrial cleaner from the image alone. 

“Where are you running off to with your girlfriend anyway, Juliet?” Pietro quipped a moment later, mocking the nickname with theatrical flair.

Wanda didn’t even lift her head. “Please, don’t start with this nickname,” she muttered, stuffing a bite of pasta in her mouth before continuing. “Dad’s cabin. Hudson River Valley.”

Pietro gave a low whistle. “Isolated. Woodsy. A+ for ‘romantic hideaway vibes.’ Also a solid place to scream into the void... or into a pillow.”

Wanda gave him a sharp look, cheeks beginning to pink. “You’re disgusting.”

He only laughed harder, leaning into her discomfort like a cat in a sunbeam. “C’mon, don’t act innocent. I bet - ” His teasing halted as he studied her face more closely. Her brows had pulled together subtly, and her fork now sat idle in her hand. “Oh my god,” he said, slowly grinning wider. “You actually like her.”

Wanda’s eyes darted away. Her hand clenched around her napkin. “What are you even talking about, idiot?”

Pietro tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Your face. You’re blushing. And sweating. At the thought of being alone with her for 48 hours.”

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I hate you.”

His laughter quieted slightly, though the smile remained. He reached across the table and gently tapped her wrist. “Relax, little sister. I’m just messing with you. But if it helps, I bet Y/N’s just as nervous.”

Wanda didn’t answer. She couldn’t - her mouth was suddenly dry, her fingers twitching near the edge of her phone.

“And judging by that reaction and all my knowledge of your life,” Pietro added, tilting his head with mock thoughtfulness, “it is your first time with a chick.”

She jerked her hand away like he’d burned her. “We don’t need to talk about that.”

He only shrugged. “Just saying. Use protection. Or sage. Whatever girls on girls do.”

She groaned again, louder this time, grabbing her tray. “I’m going to class.”

“Have fun with your existential crisis!” he called after her, watching her storm off with theatrical amusement.

But for all the noise she made on her way out, Wanda was quieter than ever when she sat down again in the locker room, gym bag hanging off one shoulder, water bottle pressed against her lips like it might cool the heat in her chest.

And then she missed the ball. Again.

By the third time she botched a pass, Coach Wilson called for a water break with a concerned frown, and Wanda collapsed onto the bench beside Monica, cheeks still flushed, not from exertion.

“You’re a little off today, Wands. Is everything okay?” Monica asked, crouching slightly in front of her, brows knitting together.

Wanda hesitated for one long sip, then pulled the bottle from her lips and stared at the floor tiles like they might have an answer. “Do you think I seem like someone who’s... good in bed?”

There was a beat of silence.

Jean, seated nearby, gasped audibly. Monica blinked. “I’m sorry. What?”

Wanda sighed again, dragging her hands down her face as if trying to physically pull the right words out of herself. “I mean…” Her fingers laced together nervously in her lap. “Do you think I give off... confidence? Or, like... general sexiness?”

Jean blinked, then broke into a grin. “If you’re asking if we think you’re hot, then yes.”

Monica laughed under her breath, nudging Jean. “No hesitation.”

Wanda gave a breathy chuckle, but it was tight, restless. Jean leaned closer, her tone softening. “You’re beautiful, Wanda. Seriously. Total girlfriend material. Is this a crisis of self-confidence or…?”

“No, it’s not that,” Wanda interrupted quickly, grateful for their words, but still agitated. She fidgeted with the strap of her water bottle, twisting it until her knuckles turned white. “I just - ugh, I invited Y/N to spend the weekend with me at my dad’s cabin in Hudson. And we’ve never... done anything yet. I mean, not that. And the only person I’ve ever been with is Vision - a guy. So I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Monica’s brows lifted slowly in understanding.

Wanda continued, her voice dropping. “Y/N is so confident in her sexuality. She’s been with girls before. She's... experienced. And I’m just... me.” Her throat tightened around the last words like they embarrassed her to say.

Jean and Monica exchanged a look - part surprise, part amusement, part sisterly concern.

“Wanda,” Jean said gently, scooting closer on the bench. “You’re overthinking. Seriously. Being with girls isn’t some secret club with a manual. You already know what feels good. Just bring that energy.”

Monica bit back a smile at Wanda’s deer-in-the-headlights expression. “And talk to her,” she added helpfully. “Communication is kind of... vital.”

Jean smirked. “Or porn.”

“Oh my god,” Monica groaned, laughing. “Don’t send her to that mess. It’s all fake and weird.”

Wanda groaned into her hands, her voice muffled. “This is not helping.”

“Okay, okay,” Jean said, raising both palms. “Joking aside - just relax. If something happens, it happens. If not, it doesn’t mean anything’s wrong. Sex isn’t some mandatory checkpoint.”

Wanda huffed, her cheeks flushed. “Yeah, but... I want to. I really want to have sex with her.”

Monica snorted. “Well then, do it.”

Jean grinned. “Now that’s the spirit.”

Monica gave her shoulder a squeeze, speaking more earnestly now. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re sexy, Wanda. You carry it without even trying. I bet Y/N assumes you totally know what you’re doing. And honestly? She’d probably think your freak-out right now is adorable.”

Wanda opened her mouth to retort but froze as Monica suddenly turned her by the shoulders, forcing her to face the gym entrance.

“Also, look who just walked in.”

Wanda blinked, heart stalling. You had just entered, hands tucked into your jacket pockets, eyes scanning the gym. When they found her, your entire face lit up. You raised your hand in a wave.

Her heart did a cartwheel.

She waved back before the whistle blew, signaling the end of break. A sigh escaped her lips, but she was already reaching for her pom-poms with new energy.

Practice resumed - and this time, Wanda barely missed a beat. She moved sharper, landed firmer, smiled wider. You were watching, and that changed everything.

The second Coach dismissed them, she didn’t even wait for the squad to fully disband. She practically sprinted toward the bleachers where you stood. You opened your arms just in time as she launched into your embrace, nearly knocking you backward with the force of her hug.

You laughed, flustered but delighted, your hands settling instinctively around her waist.

And then she kissed you.

Fast and hungry, like she couldn’t help it. Her fingers curled in your collar as your lips met, and you kissed her back just as urgently - soft, then slower. Around you, the squad’s hooting and teasing echoed in the background, but it might as well have been static.

When she finally pulled back, breathless and grinning, her eyes sparkled under the gym lights. “Hi,” she whispered, forehead resting against yours.

“Hi, you,” you murmured, brushing your nose against hers and stealing another quick kiss. Her smile deepened.

“How was your interview?” she asked, her arm slinging over your shoulder with easy affection as you began to walk together.

You shrugged, a little dazed by how close she was. “I think it went okay. If I get the job, I’ll start next week.”

Wanda pouted. “Does this mean you’re going to be busy all the time?”

You nodded. She sighed dramatically. “I hate that your lack of money keeps you away from me.”

You burst into laughter, your forehead dropping to her shoulder. “Wanda!”

She chuckled too, biting back a grin as she felt your arms tighten around her waist. The way you held her - it wasn’t even sexual. It was tender. And it made her feel so seen, so wanted, it was almost unbearable.

After a beat, she asked softly, “You okay?”

You looked up again, your expression thoughtful. Something unspoken lingered behind your eyes, but then you smiled, warm and real, and gave her a slow nod.

“I am now.”

“Do you have a class now?” Wanda asked, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face with the back of her fingers.

You shook your head. “No, but I arranged with Maria to review some papers for Economics. Why?”

She hesitated, eyes lingering on you like she didn’t want to blink. “I just wanted to spend some time together,” she admitted quietly, her voice soft with something almost bashful beneath it. Your heart flipped at her sincerity. “Can I join you two? I have some delayed papers from Mr. Pym’s class.”

Instead of answering, you leaned in and kissed her. The kind of kiss that spoke instead of her, that said of course you can, that said I want you near me always. She smiled into it, already used to how often you used your lips to say what words couldn’t. But your breath hitched as her teeth gently caught your lower lip - pulling, teasing, claiming.

You let out a shaky exhale as you pulled back just enough to look at you with that wicked glint in her eyes. “You don’t even have to ask, darling” you murmured, voice sultry and affectionate all at once.

A full-body shiver ran through her. The pet name. The way you said it. The way it felt.

Her cheeks burned as she whispered, “O-okay,” barely able to keep her voice steady.

You grinned, then pressed your lips to hers again, slower this time, with a tenderness that lingered.

-&-

Wanda didn’t mind that you weren’t a morning person - on the contrary, she secretly adored it. The way your body naturally leaned toward the passenger-side window, limbs soft and face slack with sleep, gave her time to simply watch you. Each red light on the scenic drive through winding country roads became an excuse to glance at you with affection too tender to show while you were awake.

You’d both left campus earlier than planned on Saturday, skipping the usual weekend chaos for the serenity of Hudson. Wanda had told herself to believe Jean and Monica, to trust that she didn’t need to plan every second, to not obsess over what might or might not happen. But with each passing mile, the weight in her chest only grew. You, meanwhile, had promptly fallen asleep halfway through your iced coffee and hadn't stirred since. Quite the pair indeed.

The car slowed again - this time for a turn - and Wanda smiled at the tiny grunt you made, your brows twitching before your eyes fluttered open, sleepy and unfocused.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she greeted, her voice light with affection. She glanced sideways at you before turning back to the narrow gravel road ahead. “We’re almost there.”

You yawned deeply, stretching with the lazy grace of a cat and rubbing your eyes with the heel of your palm. “Sorry for sleeping on you,” you mumbled, voice still hoarse from sleep. Your hand landed on her thigh - absent, casual, grounding. You squeezed gently and didn't even notice the way Wanda's breath hitched.

She bit the inside of her cheek, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. It wasn’t like you meant anything by it. But that didn’t stop her brain from momentarily short-circuiting, hyper-aware of the warmth of your fingers on her bare skin.

You remained completely oblivious, chattering lightly about the changing scenery and how the houses were spaced out like something out of a movie. Wanda nodded along, eyes flicking between you and the road, lips pulled into a tight smile that didn’t match her hammering heart.

When the Victorian house came into view - its dark brick walls nestled at the end of a gravel path surrounded by lush greenery - you sat up straighter in your seat, breath catching.

“Holy shit, Wands, I’m gonna start believing you’re actually royalty.”

Wanda laughed, the sound of it light and a little relieved. “Please, it’s just old money and some renovations.”

You were already halfway out of the car, grabbing your bag before she could reach it. “Let me. You paid for this whole trip, remember? I’m carrying everything.”

She tried to argue, but you were already spinning on your heel toward the porch, calling over your shoulder that she’d better hurry up if she wanted pancakes.

Inside, the house was the perfect balance of classic architecture and modern luxury - elegant moldings and original hardwood floors mixed with massive TVs and a surround sound system. The living room opened into a lake-view den with wall-to-wall windows, and your eyes lit up as you spun in place.

“I’m marrying you,” you declared playfully. “This place has a game room.”

Wanda only rolled her eyes fondly and made her way to the kitchen, where she placed the keys on the polished marble counter and relieved you of a few bags. “Are you hungry, detka?” she asked, glancing at the sunlit windows. The lake sparkled in the distance, framed by budding trees in full spring bloom.

“Hm, a little,” you admitted, distracted as you explored.

“I told the housekeeper to stock the cupboards. Make yourself at home.”

Wanda left to take the bags to the bedroom and sent a quick text to Pietro and the apartment group chat letting them know you’d arrived. She ignored the flood of replies - mostly crass jokes from Pietro - and shut off her phone before she could be tempted to respond.

When she returned to the kitchen, she froze in the doorway.

There you were, barefoot and humming, your back to her as you rummaged through the cabinets. You moved with domestic ease, pulling out ingredients with quiet purpose. Wanda felt something in her chest tighten - something warm and dangerous and overwhelming all at once. You looked like you belonged there. Like you belonged with her.

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around your waist from behind, chin resting lightly on your shoulder.

“Hey,” you murmured, glancing back at her with a soft smile. “I’m making your favorite.”

Wanda let go so you could keep working, but her gaze lingered. “You’re my favorite.”

You chuckled. “Such a flirt.”

“I’m serious,” she said, more quietly now. Her eyes scanned the curve of your jaw, the way your hair fell slightly messier than usual. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here.”

You glanced at her over your shoulder, soft affection in your eyes. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

Wanda hopped onto the counter and let her legs swing slightly, content to just watch you for a few minutes - how you moved around her space like you were used to it, how your humming drifted lazily through the air, blending with the soft breeze from the open kitchen window. Outside, birds chirped and the trees swayed gently.

She found herself thinking that she didn’t need a perfect plan for the weekend. Maybe just this would be enough. Maybe it already was.

You broke the silence a moment later, glancing at her as you stirred batter into a bowl. “What do you wanna do later? Besides the obvious ‘beat you at Mario Kart’ thing.”

Wanda laughed, her eyes twinkling. “We’ll see who wins. But I was thinking we could go down to the lake before dinner. There’s a little trail through the woods.”

You nodded with a smile. “That sounds perfect.”

You exchange casual comments in the warm lull of late afternoon, your voices mingling with the soft hum of cicadas outside and the faint clatter of utensils behind you. Wanda’s fingers trace idle shapes on the kitchen counter as she watches you move with easy confidence  -  barefoot on the tiled floor, sleeves pushed up, the smell of something sweet and comforting rising from the bowl in your hands.

“We could go for a swim later,” she offers, her voice light but edged with a certain wistfulness. Her teeth catch on the inside of her cheek when you turn to look at her, presenting the finished batter with a quiet pride. She watches as you swipe a finger through the mix, then suck it into your mouth  -  lazy, thoughtless  -  but it knocks the air from her lungs anyway.

Her imagination trips.

“We can’t,” you reply, soft amusement tugging at your lips as you set the bowl beside the stove and make your way toward her.

Wanda's brows lift slightly, a question perched on them even before she speaks. “Hm? Why not?”

You're already stepping between her parted legs, palms warm on the outside of her thighs where the hem of her shorts rides up. The worn wood of the bar stool creaks under her as she shifts, letting you closer.

“Because I don’t know how to swim. The confession slips out, quieter than your earlier words  -  almost shy.

Wanda blinks at you in surprise before a grin blossoms across her face, wide and disbelieving. “What? But you’re practically a doctor,” she teases, laughter caught in her throat, tangled in her affection for you. Her hands reach for your arms, thumbs rubbing slow circles over your sleeves. She’s trying  -  and barely managing  -  to keep things light.

“I’ll teach you,” she murmurs. “We have a pool.”

“Oh, of course you do,” you reply, tone full of mock exasperation, your grin mirroring hers. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

You don’t give her time to respond. Instead, you close the space between you and press your lips to hers.

It starts slow. A lingering, exploratory kiss that carries more weight than the playful words that came before. Wanda’s breath catches, fingers curling around the edge of the counter behind her like she needs something to hold onto  -  like you aren’t already pulling her under. Her chest rises in a shallow rhythm, mouth parting against yours with a soft, involuntary noise that betrays just how affected she is.

The house is still  -  all sun-filtered light and lazy shadows  -  and the silence only makes the tension louder, thicker. You pull back a breath’s width to look at her, eyes darker now, your thumb absently stroking the inside of her thigh.

“Weren’t we eating?” she asks, voice low, hoarse with the weight of want.

You don’t answer. Not with words.

You grab her waist and pull her back in, the kiss losing any pretense of patience. It’s teeth and tongue and need. 

She swallows the sound you make, deep in your throat, as her legs hook around your hips and draw you closer  -  hips meeting in a slow, shuddering grind that tears a gasp from both of you.

Your hands brace beneath her, fingers digging into the backs of her thighs like you’re afraid she’ll slip away. Wanda’s moan vibrates against your lips, and everything else  -  the cooling batter on the counter, the golden sky outside the window, the quiet world beyond the walls  -  disappears into the heat between your bodies.

She’s the one who grabs your blouse, yanking it open with a swift pull  -  buttons clattering across the kitchen tiles like startled beads of rain. You gasp, more surprised than alarmed, but it melts into a sigh the moment her hands find your bare skin. Her touch is hungry, nails raking softly down your stomach before sliding around to your back. She squeezes your ass with both hands, pulling you flush against her body, her kiss deepening as your hips press together.

Your groan vibrates into her mouth, hands already slipping under the hem of her skirt. She gasps into the kiss  -  caught off guard  -  when your fingers find the edge of her panties and play idly with the fabric, not quite giving her what she wants.

“You can take them off,” she whispers between shallow breaths, her voice uneven with need.

You smile against her lips but don’t obey right away. Instead, your hands retreat, and your kisses grow softer until you finally pull back to meet her gaze. You're breathless, pupils blown wide, and yet your tone is nothing but calm affection.

“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” you murmur, brushing your thumbs gently over her thighs. There’s a softness in your voice that disarms her more than anything else. “We’ve got the whole weekend. And we haven’t even had breakfast.”

Wanda lets out a quiet, frustrated breath through her nose and leans back on her elbows against the counter. The angle tilts her hips toward you, and the subtle shift exposes the darkened patch on her silk panties  -  undeniable evidence of how ready she is. You catch it instantly.

“I know something you can eat,” she whispers with a smirk, watching your breath hitch and your eyes darken as they trail down her body.

You chuckle, low and full of heat, and lift her skirt slowly  -  like unwrapping something precious. The fabric pools at her hips, and you pause just to take in the view, hunger sharpening your features.

“God, Wanda...” you whisper, reverent, fingers curling at the waistband of her panties. You glance up for permission, and when she nods, you hook your thumbs into the red silk and slide them down with care.

She swallows hard as cool air grazes her exposed skin. Her legs part with quiet urgency  -  a silent plea  -  and it pulls a sound from deep in your throat.

You start slow, fingertips drawing lazy patterns along the insides of her thighs, deliberately avoiding where she wants you most. Every flick of your touch sends a new tremor through her, and Wanda has to bite her lip to keep from begging. Her breath grows ragged.

You grin  -  just slightly  -  as you continue teasing her with featherlight strokes, trailing closer, until she lets out a choked moan and meets your eyes, pleading without a word.

Still, you take your time. You press your fingers to her slick heat, parting her gently, tracing slow, deliberate circles. She lets out a broken sigh, head tipping back with the sensation.

“P-please,” she moans, voice thin, “stop teasing…”

But all you do is lean in, brushing your lips over her cheek, your voice a quiet tease against her skin. “I thought this would happen in a bed,” you say, fingers still working with infuriating gentleness. “Who would’ve guessed you’d be so needy, huh?”

Your words melt into a soft groan as you finally slip two fingers inside her, slow and steady. Wanda arches into the touch, her fists clenching at the edge of the counter, a moan spilling from her lips as her body opens around you.

You push your hair back with one hand and lean in, your face close to hers. “Hey, baby,” you whisper, your breath warm on her cheek, “eyes on me… or I’ll stop.”

She forces her eyes open, pupils glassy, jaw slack as she watches you through half-lidded lashes. You reward her with a gentle thrust, your fingers finding a rhythm that makes her legs tremble against the stool.

You’re in no rush. The way she squirms beneath your touch, the way her breath catches in her throat with every pass of your thumb  -  it’s all the answer you need.

“Has anyone ever…” you begin, voice dipped in heat, “…eaten you out before?”

She manages a nod, but it’s weak  -  distracted  -  her body strung tight like a wire.

“And did they do it right?” you ask, a little softer.

Her head gives a small shake, cheeks flushed not just with desire but something more vulnerable. A kind of doubt. As if she’d done something wrong by not being satisfied.

You lean in, kiss her temple, and comb your fingers tenderly through her hair even as your other hand continues its slow, focused rhythm inside her. “Oh, poor needy girl,” you murmur, “you deserved better. Let me show you.”

The words fall over her like silk, and whatever tension she held onto breaks  -  her sounds grow louder, body trembling under the rising pressure you build so carefully, patiently, like she’s something sacred in your hands.

You lean in to kiss her softly, and that’s when Wanda first comes undone  -  trembling against your fingers as your tongues dance together, your mouth gently claiming hers. Her body stiffens all at once, gripping your shoulders as waves of an intense orgasm ripple through her. You whisper tender, hushed words into her ear, a soothing murmur meant to steady her racing breath. Wanda feels something deeper stirring in her chest  -  a heat that goes beyond mere desire.

Aware the precarious position on the kitchen countertop isn’t comfortable for either of you, she wraps her arms around your neck and murmurs, “Detka, let’s go to bed.” Her voice is soft but urgent, and she closes her eyes briefly as you slide free from her still-pulsing heat.

You manage to navigate to the bedroom without stumbling  -  a small victory considering Wanda’s half-naked weight pressed against you, her hands tracing slow circles over your belly, the lingering proof of her pleasure glistening between you. Once settled on your lap, she kisses you again  -  hungry, teasing, and full of promise.

In bed, your touches grow slower, more deliberate. Your mouths explore each other between breathless kisses, fingers tugging lightly at clothing as impatience simmers beneath the surface. Wanda is the first to shed every last barrier, leaving you free to discover her skin inch by inch  -  hands and lips marking every curve, every soft plane.

By the time she wrestles your belt free, she’s already left a fresh, damp stain on the thigh you’ve nestled between her legs.

Your jeans and remaining shirt come off in one swift motion. The bare skin pressed to bare skin is electric, and Wanda lets out a soft mew beneath you, knowing full well that the next brush of your thigh against hers could send her spiraling over the edge again.

“Detka,” she breathes  -  a warning and an invitation all at once.

You lower yourself, lips tracing a slow path from the valley between her breasts down to the flat plane of her stomach, teasing her skin until you reach the place where she burns for you most. Wanda’s sudden shyness flickers as she tries to close her legs, but you catch them, fingers curling around her thighs with a look of hunger that makes her shiver.

“Never hide from me,” you murmur before diving in.

The house is quiet, secluded  -  the perfect sanctuary for the sounds she can no longer contain. Wanda’s hands find whatever they can grasp  -  the comforter, the edge of the headboard  -  until one latches onto your hair, pulling you closer.

Your breath hitches against her, savoring the taste of her as she whimpers beneath your attentive tongue, on the brink of surrender. You’ve teased her long enough; it isn’t long before you guide her to a second, even more powerful release. This time, you only pull away to praise her.

“God, you’re perfect,” you whisper, kissing and sliding your tongue through her folds, spreading the wetness of her climax. It’s overwhelming, almost too much  -  yet never enough. Wanda tries to retreat from the intensity, but you hold her close, returning eagerly to your ministrations until she collapses back against the mattress, spent.

Your breathless praises are muffled against her as you continue, mixing sucking, licking, and fingers to coax her over and over again.

She doesn’t notice when the room dims around her, but she knows her legs have gone numb when she wakes  -  only the gentle, chaste kisses on her jaw reminding her you’re still there.

You pause as soon as she stops making sounds, and when Wanda turns to look at you  -  cheeks flushed and eyes heavy with exhaustion  -  you break into a breathless giggle.

“Hello, you,” you greet her with a smile. It takes her a moment to register, and when she does, she lets out a shy grunt and buries her face in the pillow.

“I can’t believe I passed out… Fuck, that’s so embarrassing,” she murmurs, voice still thick with sleep and satisfaction.

You cup her cheeks and tilt her head to meet your gaze. “Don’t be silly. I think it’s a fantastic ego boost,” you tease, coaxing a soft giggle from her before kissing her again. This time, the kiss is slower, calmer, but no less charged  -  igniting a fresh wave of warmth when she tastes herself on your tongue.

Just as she moves to deepen the kiss, her hands reaching to pull back the sheet, you pull away with a gentle smile.

“Easy there, tigress,” you murmur, amused by her small grunt of protest. “Loss of consciousness requires a break  -  for food. And water.”

“But - ”

“No buts,” you interrupt with a quick kiss and slip free of her grasp. Wanda bites her lip as you stand, fully aware that her body aches pleasantly from the intensity of your time together, and admiring the marks you left on her skin  -  the hickeys and scratches that speak of your passion.

“I’m going to make us some coffee now. Though it’s more like lunch...” you murmur, scanning the room for loose clothes while Wanda watches, bold and brazen.

“When we’ve eaten, we can pick up where we left off,” you add with a knowing smile.

Wanda chuckles, nodding. “Oh, we will,” she promises mischievously, enjoying the rosy flush coloring your cheeks.

You offer her one last smile before leaving the room, and Wanda sighs dreamily, sinking back into the mattress.

She feels completely at peace  -  fulfilled, joyful, and safe. When was the last time she’d felt this way? If ever.

Biting back a silly, love-struck smile, she contemplates getting dressed or maybe preparing a bath for the two of you. But first, she needs to text the girls  -  tell them she was foolish to worry. This was more incredible than she ever could have imagined.

-

“I’ve never been with a girl before.”

The confession slipped out low and hoarse, hours later  -  after you and Wanda lay tangled and utterly spent in the king-size bed. Lunch had been forgotten, half-eaten in a corner of the room, while the afternoon light shifted gently around you.

You paused your hand’s caress on her back, surprised, and looked down at the girl resting her head against your chest.

“What?” you murmured.

Wanda lifted her chin, resting it softly on the hand perched at your collarbone. A shy smile tugged at her lips, and your legs twined together beneath the sheets.

“You were my first, detka,” she whispered, eyes dreamy as if replaying the moments that had just passed.

Your fingers found her cheek, tracing the softness there, matching her small smile.

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve been more… I don’t know, less rushed,” you said awkwardly, drawing a gentle giggle from Wanda that made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

She looked stunning now  -  tousled hair, pupils dilated, the effortless curve of her smile lighting the room. Wanda shifted slightly to brush her lips against yours again, and you both smiled at the tender exchange.

Hovering just above you, she spoke with quiet sincerity. “It was perfect. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before.”

Her words settled deep inside you as she kissed you again softly. You sighed into her mouth, feeling her settle against your hip, skin warm against your own, and your hands slipped down to rest on her thighs.

“I’m glad to be doing a good job,” you teased between kisses, savoring the smile she pressed against your lips.

Neither of you was ready to start again  -  too tired, and after everything you’d shared, you knew Wanda needed rest before things could become overwhelming. But that didn’t stop her from kissing you with that intoxicating hunger, the slow, sensual dance of your tongues sending shivers from head to toe.

When you finally parted, both breathless and flushed, Wanda’s fingers had tangled in your hair, and the look she gave you made three words hover on the tip of your tongue  -  too real, too soon to say.

So instead, you smiled at the girl in your arms and swallowed the stirring emotions as she nestled closer against your chest.

Part of you hoped she could feel the meaning behind your gentle touches, even if you didn’t speak it aloud.

The weekend passed faster than either of you wanted  -  entirely because of the effortless joy you found together.

You cooked meals side by side, played board games sprawled in the living room, and explored the vast house while Wanda told stories of past vacations there. And, of course, you learned how to swim.

Wanda was a relentless tease, never letting go of your body, keeping herself close enough for you to kiss her pretty face every few seconds. She explained the strokes carefully, but your attention was drawn irresistibly to her lips moving.

At least on Sunday, when you tried the heated pool, you managed to float. Wanda stayed beside you, beaming with pride, and you lingered in that moment, weightless and content.

Diving in and racing against each other was more fun, though  -  the pool echoed with your giggles as you splashed and chased.

At one point, you dove in together, facing each other underwater, eyes wide, breath held, laughter bubbling between you even beneath the surface.

And there, beneath the water, you tell her the words you’ve barely dared to admit to yourself: I love you. Wanda’s face crumples into a confused expression - she can’t quite understand, and so she breaks the surface, blinking up at you.

You surface a moment later, chuckling softly at the way she questions what you just said.

“I said I was cold,” you lie casually, though there’s a brief hesitation in your voice that Wanda catches, her eyes narrowing for just a second. But you don’t notice. Turning away, you leave the pool.

Wanda pushes aside her own uncertainty and follows you toward the towels.

Your heart races still as you return inside. The silence between you is heavy - meant to be comfortable, but it isn’t. Wanda’s mind replays your last few moments together, searching for what she might have done wrong to make you suddenly so quiet. Meanwhile, you swallow down the overwhelming urge to scream the truth of what you’re feeling.

It’s too soon. Too soon. Too - 

Wanda interrupts your spiraling thoughts. As you cross the yard back to the living room, she slides one hand into yours, the gentle tug an invitation - no, a demand - for your lips to meet hers again.

For a moment, the words you meant to say vanish, replaced by the certainty of how you feel.

She sucks your tongue into her mouth, and you nearly let out a moan. Her hands toy with the straps of your bikini, sending fire coursing through your body as you’re pressed against the hallway wall.

Wanda’s mouth distracts you completely, kissing you with a fierce intensity that makes you gasp in pleasure - as her fingers slip inside your panties.

Her smile against your lips is wicked, teasing before she slips inside you all at once, nearly buckling your knees.

You try to return her kiss, but her mastery leaves you powerless. You melt against her, gripping her shoulders, grateful for the wall keeping you upright.

Her eyes watch you adoringly as her free hand brushes your hair back from your face.

“You feel so warm, moya lyubov,” she whispers, feeling your fingers tighten around hers.

“Let it go for me, I’ve got you, detka.”

Almost like a mantra, you obey, and Wanda swallows the moan that escapes you.

She strokes you gently beyond the edge of your orgasm, but you raise your hand to stop her, signaling you need a moment.

A mischievous glint flashes in her eyes, as if she’s ready to turn you into a mess right there in the hallway - until the sharp clatter of something falling shatters the moment.

Wanda releases you instantly, but only to cover your body with hers protectively.

“Shit.” She gasps, eyes wide. “H-hey, Dad.”

You glance over her shoulder at the figure frozen in the hallway entrance. A suitcase lies overturned at his feet, and the man looks strikingly like both the twins - especially Pietro. He recovers from his surprise with more grace than you could manage.

“Oh, Wanda? I saw Pietro’s car, so I thought... well, never mind what I thought,” Erik says, clearing his throat and avoiding her eyes. “I’ll give you and your friend a moment to get dressed, then come meet me in the living room.”

The house rules were clear: no loud (sex) noises during social time;  Natasha had added that during exam week, everyone should keep it down at night.

So Wanda’s Spotify shuffled softly in the background, muffling every sigh she let slip each time your tongue traced hers.

Right now, you were tangled up in her bed in the room that was becoming impossible to say who it really belonged to anymore. Technically, you still shared the room with Maria, but since you and Wanda had officially started dating, there were more of your clothes scattered across Wanda’s floor than your own. And truthfully, you’d been crashing here almost every night.

Your hands slid down, squeezing the curve of her ass pressed against you, and Wanda moaned low against your mouth  -  a sound that sent delicious shivers rippling through your body. Your kisses deepened, more urgent now, and you slid your hands beneath the soft fabric of her pajamas, fingers tracing warm skin that grew hotter under your touch. Wanda’s hips moved against yours, matching the rhythm of your lips with a slow, sultry dance.

Then suddenly, you pulled back, laughing as the unmistakable melody of Cbat filled the room.

Wanda gasped, part lust, part confusion. “W-what?”

Trying to stifle your laughter, you explained, “It’s the Reddit Story song!”

She turned her flushed face toward her phone, frowning as she remembered the meme that had just crashed the hottest make-out session of her life. With a frustrated sigh, she reached to silence the music.

“Sorry... must’ve saved that one by mistake,” she muttered, embarrassed.

You grinned, clearly entertained. “I won’t judge if Vision was into stuff like that, Wands. Honestly, I’ll just feel sorry for you.”

Her sharp retort was a raised middle finger, which only made you laugh harder.

Distracted by her phone, Wanda gave you the perfect opening to settle back onto the bed and start smoothing out the tousled mess she’d made of your hair.

“Don’t be mad. Come back here,” you coaxed, holding out your hand. She didn’t resist your gentle tug on her shorts, but she clutched her phone tight.

“Sorry, detka,” she warned with a playful smile, “cheer practice.”

You wrapped your arms around her waist, burying your face in the soft fabric of her shirt, lips trailing teasing kisses along her skin. Wanda giggled, the sound pure delight.

“Your charm won’t work this time. I’ve already missed two practices. If the coach doesn’t kill me, maybe Monica or Jean will...” Her voice softened as your mouth found her chest, gentle yet insistent kisses across her skin. “Oh... that feels nice.”

She shuddered against you, phone forgotten in her hand. Her free hand found support on your shoulder as her knees trembled just as your tongue circled her nipple, teasing and sucking.

But the position grew uncomfortable for you, so you stepped back, ready to pull her into your lap again  -  only for Wanda to slip away with a shaky breath and a playful warning finger raised.

“I really have to go. No more kissing,” she teased, grinning at your disappointed pout before dashing off to the bathroom.

You settled back into the bed, heart pounding, trying to slow your breath.

Minutes later, Wanda returned, dressed in her cheer uniform. You fought every urge to pull her back under the covers, mesmerized by her exposed legs and the barely-there curve of her ass hugged by that ridiculously tight skirt. As she reached up for a hair clip, your eyes tracked every sway of her hips, your breath catching in your throat.

“Don’t you have class today, honey?” Wanda asked, a hair tie looped around her wrist, a bit of makeup in her hands. You blinked, still distracted.

“Not until later,” you muttered. “I’m going to stay out here. So lonely.”

Wanda chuckled softly at your little dramatics, dabbing some gloss on her lips before teasing,

“I was going to suggest you come watch my practice… but I don’t want you to die of boredom.”

You chuckled through your nose. “Since when does your company bore me, Maximoff?”

She hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek, then shrugged.

“It’s just that… Vision used to hate it. I thought - ”

Her voice trailed off when you sighed deeply, swallowing hard at the seriousness in your eyes.

“I’m not Vision, Wands.”

She looked up at you, earnest.

“Of course not. That’s not what I mean.”

“Still, you always find a way to bring him back into the conversation,” you muttered, a hint of frustration slipping through. Wanda lowered her gaze, shame flickering across her face.

“I just…” She took a slow, steadying breath. “I’m sorry.”

You softened instantly, the tension melting away when you saw how small she suddenly looked.

“He really hurt me, Y/N. It’s hard to forget what was and trust it won’t happen again.”

You nodded slowly, understanding. Rising from the bed, you took a step toward her, standing in front of her chair. She leaned in, tilting her face up to meet your hand resting gently on her cheek.

“You need to give me a chance to do things right, darling,” you said quietly, “but it has to be without fear, without holding on to the past. We can take it slow. We have all the time in the world.”

Her cheeks flushed as she smiled and nodded, her eyes shimmering with hope. You leaned in, but she pressed a hand firmly against your chest, stopping you just before your lips could meet.

“Just a peck. Promise. I’m already late,” she said, her tone playful.

You smiled, leaning closer to brush your lips softly against hers. Wanda sighed, eyes closing instinctively.

“Just a peck, you say?” You pressed your lips a little firmer, lingering just enough to coax a needy sigh from her. She opened her mouth, ready to deepen the kiss - but you pulled back with a teasing grin.

“I’m a person of my word.”

She grunted in frustration, rolling her eyes at your playful wink.

“I’ll meet you at the gym, pretty girl.”

And with that, you left the room, the echo of her smile following you out the door.

-

You only truly understood the hype around cheerleaders in uniform skirts after spending the last thirty minutes drooling over your girlfriend at practice.

Because god, Wanda Maximoff in that skirt - dancing, giggling, looking like a vision straight from heaven - was something else entirely.

As if it wasn’t enough that she was objectively the most beautiful girl there, she clearly knew the effect she had on you. Half her moves seemed deliberately slower, sharper, or extra bouncy whenever she caught your gaze. Jean and Monica exchanged knowing looks, shaking their heads with barely concealed laughter as they subtly tried to block the coach’s view every time Wanda leaned just a little too far in your direction.

It didn’t take long before you were sure the heat wasn’t just from the weather. Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you became achingly aware of the wetness soaking your underwear. God help you, because Wanda was ruining you without even touching you.

When practice finally ended, you barely let her say goodbye. Fingers wrapping around her wrist, you ignored her startled expression as you dragged her toward the far end of the gym, ducking behind the bleachers where the shadows offered some privacy.

“Darling, what-?” Her question dissolved into a gasp as you pinned her gently but firmly against the metal frame, capturing her mouth with a kiss that was hungry. Wanda melted instantly, sighing against your lips, hands fumbling for your waist as her knees threatened to buckle under her. Her training bag hit the floor with a dull thud, forgotten.

If she’d known kissing you would feel this good, the two of you wouldn’t have wasted so much time bickering - you’d have spent it doing exactly this.

You broke the kiss just long enough for both of you to catch a shaky breath, and Wanda instinctively tilted her chin, granting you open access to her throat. You didn’t hesitate, lips finding her pulse point, nipping and sucking until her fingers twisted in your shirt.

“D-Don’t… leave a mark,” she gasped, breath hitching as her back arched into you. “The uniform’s short - the girls will never let me live it down...”

You hummed in mock consideration, only to nip beneath her ear - the sensitive spot that made her tremble. “Hmm… can’t make any promises.”

Wanda choked on a moan, hands clutching at your shoulders as your thigh slipped between hers, pressing up where she was already hot and aching. Her hips jerked involuntarily, grinding down on you.

“Fuck.” The curse left her lips as a gasp and it shot straight to your core.

You kissed her again, slower but no less intense, tongues sliding together in a rhythm that left you both breathless. Her hands slid under your shirt, yours wandered beneath hers, fingertips grazing heated skin and the entire world narrowed to the feel of her grinding against you, the sound of her broken whimpers in your mouth.

For a second, you were sure this was it - that you’d lose yourselves completely, right here behind the bleachers. But laughter echoed from the other side of the gym, jolting you both back to reality.

Reluctantly, your hands stilled, the kiss tapering off into something softer but still breathless. You pressed your forehead against hers, both of you gasping quietly, trying to slow down hearts that were racing like they’d never stop.

“Hey,” you murmured, brushing your nose against hers.

“Hey,” Wanda whispered back, smiling despite how dazed she looked.

You pulled back just enough to help her steady herself - and grimaced at the very noticeable damp patch she’d left on your jeans. Both your cheeks were burning now. “Uh… sorry for the rush. I didn’t mean to, you know… jump you.”

She laughed softly, brushing her tousled hair behind her ear. “Don’t apologize for that.” Her fingers gently wiped at the smudged lipstick staining your face. “Especially since... I probably would’ve jumped you first if you hadn’t.”

Your gaze darkened again, leaning in like a magnet drawn back to her. But before your lips could meet - 

The bell rang.

Both of you groaned in unison, heads tipping back in sheer frustration. The kiss you landed on her was far more chaste than intended.

“I. Have. Class. Now.” Wanda reminded you between soft, teasing pecks, though her grin betrayed how reluctant she was to pull away.

“See you later?” you asked, already missing her warmth.

“I’d hope so.” She was still smiling, still a little breathless.

“I’m taking you to dinner.”

She giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Baby, it’s a weekday…”

“Then I’ll make you dinner.”

Her laughter was softer now, sweeter. “Is that a threat or a date?”

“Definitely a date.” You grabbed her by the waist, pulling her in for one last kiss, deep enough to steal her breath all over again before she pushed you back with a helpless giggle.

“Dinner, Maximoff. You and me. Tonight. Don’t be late.”

She rolled her eyes fondly as she backed away toward her classroom, biting back a smile. You stood there watching her go, grinning like a fool.

And honestly? You both spent the rest of the day grinning like idiots.

-

Focusing on class that afternoon was a losing battle. Every time Wanda forced herself to stare at her laptop, the memory of your mouth on hers flooded right back - along with the ghost of your hands sliding beneath her blouse, fingertips scraping up her ribs, cupping her breasts - 

“Are you listening to me?”

Wanda jumped, heat rushing to her cheeks as her twin nudged her elbow. Pietro was grinning like he’d caught her in a crime. “God. Judging by that look on your face, I don’t even have to guess what you were daydreaming about.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, dragging her eyes back to her screen.

Pietro chuckled. “No, really. I think it’s time we had the talk. You know...the classic protective brother routine.”

Wanda groaned, scrubbing a hand over her face as if it might somehow clear both her thoughts and her brother. She half-heartedly pretended to skim the summary on her laptop, though her brain was miles away.

It was honestly unfair. The one person she wanted to spend the afternoon with wasn’t even in any of her classes today. Instead, she was stuck with Pietro - and his endless commentary - for two entire periods.

The classroom was chaotic in slow motion: the teacher sat grading papers at the back while students spread out in lazy rows, pretending to work. Half were napping, the other half were glued to their phones. No one was fooling anyone.

“Psst.” Pietro poked her with his pen. Then again. When that didn’t work, a balled-up scrap of paper bounced off her desk.

“Stop.” She glared.

“Just saying,” he sing-songed, leaning back casually, “you are gonna have to tell Dad eventually.”

Wanda rolled her eyes - so hard it nearly hurt. Her stomach, however, did a mortifying little flip at the mention of it. “I don’t have to tell anyone anything, Pietro. I’m an adult. In case you forgot.”

“Sure, sure,” he smirked, slinging an arm over the back of her chair. “But, come on. We don’t hide stuff from Dad.”

“Speak for yourself.” She let out a sharp laugh. “Or wait - you can’t. Because he doesn’t know about your tattoo. Or the time you crashed the car. Or - ”

“Okay, okay, point taken.” He laughed, throwing his hands up. “But you know it’s not the same, right? I leave out a few minor things to, you know, maintain my rep. But this...” His voice softened a notch. “This is different. If Y/N means something to you - ”

“Pietro.” Wanda cut him off, quieter now, but firm. She turned her head to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about it. Okay?”

He frowned. “But - ”

“No. This is my business.” Her voice stayed gentle but steady. “And you know as well as I do that Dad treats your stuff pretty different from how he treats mine.” Her fingers drummed anxiously against her notebook. “Y/N and I...we’re just starting. I haven’t even figured out what this is yet. I don’t want to spiral over how to bring Dad into it, or whether he’s going to freak out, or how to explain it all. That’s...a problem for future me.” She inhaled sharply. “Right now, I just want to enjoy my girlfriend. Without the stress.”

Pietro sighed, but nodded. Wanda softened, reaching over to pinch his cheek. “Good boy.” She patted him, grinning as he swatted her hand away. “Now get off me, you clingy little parasite.”

He laughed, leaning away. “Rude.”

When the bell finally rang, Wanda didn’t even try to hide how fast she bolted. The History teacher blinked after her in visible confusion, but Wanda was already pulling out her phone, fingers flying as she texted you.

“Finally free.”

Your reply was a single thumbs-up emoji.

Wanda stared at it, biting back a smile that was fond, yet exasperated. Oh, so you were going to keep her in suspense, huh?

-

Wanda’s anxiety spiked the second she reached the apartment; right as the girls were heading out, two excitable dogs tugged at their leashes.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Juliet,” Yelena drawled, tugging her leather jacket into place. Everyone looked freshly dressed - suspiciously freshly dressed. “You’ll owe us too, by the way - ”

“Shut up,” Natasha cut her off, smacking the back of her sister’s head. To Wanda’s confused stare, Nat simply smiled, all teeth and mischief. “Enjoy date night, you two. We’ll be gone ‘til midnight, Cinderella.” She winked on her way past, the others trailing after her with matching grins.

Biting the inside of her cheek to suppress her grin - and failing - Wanda unlocked the door.

She didn’t need to turn on the lights. The glow from the open balcony door was enough. A small table was set outside, flickering candles dotting the surface like stars.

The only light inside came from the kitchen. From where she stood, she could see you moving quickly, back turned, focused on something sizzling on the stove that smelled... incredible.

The soft click of the door caught your attention. You turned over your shoulder, startled, then grinned. “Oh - hey. You’re here already!”

Wanda walked in, smiling like an idiot. “Maybe I ran,” she mumbled, dropping her backpack by the counter and circling it to get to you. Her hands found your shoulders before she pulled you into a soft, lingering kiss.

When you broke apart, both of you were smiling.

“You really... went all out, huh?” Wanda tried to make it sound teasing, but her voice betrayed her - too full of awe, too fond. Her cheeks burned when you grinned, obviously pleased with yourself.

Noses brushing, you whispered, “Only the best for my favorite girl.”

She bit back a shy laugh, lifting an eyebrow. “Oh, and a charmer too? Who knew.” Her teasing only made you chuckle as you stole another kiss - firmer this time, but not nearly as reckless as the one from earlier at training. You were both doing a remarkable job of pretending to have some self-control.

“The lamb’s gonna take a while,” you murmured between kisses, “long enough for you to take a shower...”

Wanda gasped playfully. “Are you saying I stink?”

You grinned. “Let’s check.” Leaning in, you buried your face in her neck, inhaling dramatically.

Her breath hitched. The proximity made her head swim, her fingers tightening slightly against your arms.

You pulled back with a crooked grin. “Hm. Not even a little, princess.”

Wanda scrunched her nose at the nickname, warmth crawling up her neck. “And let me guess... you just happened to have lamb in your freezer?”

You shrugged, suddenly looking a little bashful despite the smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe... I’ve been planning this for a while. Y’know - snuck out, bought lamb, wine, candles...the whole thing.”

Her smile softened into something more dangerous - slow, knowing. “Hmm. Thoughtful.” Her lips ghosted over yours, teasing, never quite closing the gap.

When her back brushed against the counter, you moved fast - both hands planting on either side of her, caging her in.

Wanda forgot how to breathe.

“If we start making out now...” Your voice dropped, rough and low in her ear, “...I’m gonna burn dinner.”

She bit her lip, head tipping slightly as you pressed your mouth to her neck, just shy of a kiss. “Later, darling,” you promised. “As much as we want.”

Wanda let out a shaky breath, smiling like her face might split in two. “Okay,” she managed, cheeks blazing.

You pulled back, kissed her cheek like it was nothing - and like it was everything - before straightening.

“Shower, Miss Maximoff.” You nodded toward the bathroom with a grin. “I’ve got the food.”

Wanda nodded dumbly, legs barely remembering how to work as she walked away.

Yeah... cold shower it is.

-

Wanda’s flustered state was contagious. Watching her giggle shyly at every small, instinctive gesture of care you offered made your heart trip over itself. You weren’t trying to be impressive; it was just... natural. The least she deserved. But the way she reacted - as though no one had ever treated her like this before - made you both nervous and unbearably fond.

She’d dressed up for the occasion - a soft, floral dress that swayed just a little when she moved. You’d told her how beautiful she looked the moment you saw her, and the pink on her cheeks deepened until it nearly matched the fading sunset.

The table was ready outside, candles flickering, glasses full. You pulled her chair out like the menace you were, pretending not to notice how flustered it left her.

At first, there was that familiar tension - the fragile awkwardness of two people wildly in love, desperate for the night to go perfectly. But it only took a few breaths, a few shared smiles, and the reminder that... it was just the two of you. Like always. Like every quiet dinner you’d shared before - only dressed up in candlelight and soft excuses to flirt harder.

Conversation flowed easily. The laughter came quicker. Wanda relaxed, even though the blush in her cheeks deepened anytime your gaze lingered a little too long, or when a joke tipped just slightly suggestive. And God, was it fun to watch her squirm and smile through it.

You talked about everything and nothing - wandering from childhood stories to bad puns and back again. Wanda learned about your parents’ divorce, how you’d spent entire summers at the Romanoff house growing up. She giggled over the fact that you’d once owned a basset hound named Bats - “That’s the worst name for a dog I’ve ever heard,” she laughed - and softened when you admitted that losing him was why you’d resisted getting attached to Kate and Yelena’s pets.

You told her how your parents had hoped you’d go into law like they had, but they’d ultimately respected your choice to follow a career in Biologics - “following in my second cousin’s footsteps, kind of,” you’d explained.

Wanda, in turn, shared bits of Sokovia before her mother passed, and how her father remarried Charles a few years later. “We were officially a fully queer household after that,” she joked, grinning over her wine glass. She offered up embarrassing high school stories, and you traded her yours, laughing until your faces hurt.

By the time dessert was finished, your cheeks ached from how much you’d smiled.

But somewhere between the last bite and the last sip of wine, the air shifted, lighter and heavier all at once. The laughter softened into something slower... something warmer.

Wanda reached for her wine glass, trailing her fingers along the stem. She brought it to her lips without breaking eye contact, and you felt your throat dry instantly.

“That was... nice,” you managed, voice cracking just a little.

Wanda’s lips curved. “Mhm.” Her hum was sweet, but her gaze had darkened, making it hard to breathe.

Fidgeting, you tugged at the collar of your blouse, suddenly too warm under her stare. “We should... uh. Do this more often.”

She didn’t answer. Not verbally, anyway. The corner of her mouth twitched like she was fighting back a smirk, but her eyes... God, her eyes weren’t even pretending to play innocent anymore.

You opened your mouth to say something else - anything - but then something brushed against your ankle.

You jumped.

Her foot trailed a lazy, deliberate line up your calf.

Your stomach dipped so fast it left you breathless.

Wanda sipped her wine again, entirely unbothered by how you squirmed in your seat. “Don’t you think...” Her voice was velvet, just shy of mocking. “...our little date should end somewhere a little more... comfortable, babe?”

Her foot climbed higher, finding your thigh, pressing - teasing.

“Y-Yeah.” The answer tumbled out embarrassingly fast, your brain short-circuiting as Wanda pushed her chair back with feline grace.

You shot up too - far less graceful, earning a soft laugh from her as she slid her hand into yours and started toward the balcony door.

But just as she stepped inside - 

Click. The front door opened.

A wave of voices crashed in - Yelena, Kate, and America, loud and laughing, returning exactly fifteen minutes past midnight.

Wanda caught a glimpse of the clock, barely had time to register it, before - 

“Nope.”

A firm tug spun her back - right into you.

She gasped, but her protest died instantly beneath your mouth. You kissed her like the world was ending - like if you let go now, the moment would shatter. Her back hit the balcony wall, your free hand slamming the sliding door shut behind her, muffling the chaos from inside.

The girls’ teasing giggles slipped through the glass anyway - no doubt catching something before disappearing to their rooms. Neither of you cared.

All Wanda could feel was you - your mouth devouring hers, your hands gripping her waist like a lifeline, the way your tongue curled against hers, hot and desperate. Her knees gave out entirely. She clung to your shoulders, moaning into your mouth like it was the only air she needed.

You slowed, barely, just enough to murmur against her lips wrecked:

“I can’t - God, Wanda, I can’t keep getting interrupted.” Your hands slid down, gripping her hips hard. “I need to feel you.”

She moaned softly, nodding with her eyes squeezed shut, completely at the mercy of your mouth against her skin. You trailed down to her neck, lips finding that sensitive spot, and the whine she let out as you sucked a bruise into her flesh made you dizzy.

But the sharp bite of the night air crept in, along with the reality of where you were.

“W-we can’t do it here, babe,” she managed, breathless but still sane enough to glance around. Anyone on campus could look up and see the two of you tangled like this - desperate, shameless, barely holding it together.

You groaned, forehead falling against hers. “I know… I know,” you mumbled, though you didn’t stop kissing her - couldn’t. How were you supposed to stop when Wanda Maximoff tasted this good, when she felt this good in your hands?

It took every ounce of her self-control to nudge your shoulders back, even gently. But then her eyes met yours - dark, wild, lips kiss-swollen - and her brain nearly short-circuited. You must’ve looked just as wrecked.

“Travel with me,” she blurted, voice trembling but certain.

You blinked, dazed. “...What?”

Wanda giggled, half breathless, half giddy, smoothing her hands down your shoulders like it would ground her. “I - my family has a summer house. By the coast. We could spend the weekend. Just us. A big house... no interruptions...”

A crooked grin pulled at your lips. “Oh my God. For a second, I forgot you’re filthy rich.”

Her laughter slipped out, bright and sweet, dissolving into a sigh when you surged forward to kiss her again - deep, slow, leaving her trembling against you. Your fingers dug into her waist as you whispered between kisses, voice wrecked and sincere, “I’ll go wherever you want, babe.”

She smiled against your lips like it was the easiest promise in the world. “It’s a date, then.”

Her hands slid up to cradle your jaw, ready to kiss you again - 

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Both your heads whipped toward the balcony door where two small, expectant faces pressed against the glass, paws tapping impatiently.

You broke first, bursting into laughter. “Now do you understand why I don’t like dogs?” you teased, grinning as Wanda groaned but couldn’t stop smiling, swatting your shoulder playfully as she pulled away to open the door for Lucky and Fanny.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered with a fond eye-roll, scooping Fanny into her arms as Lucky trotted between your legs. “Get in line. You’re not the only one obsessed with me tonight.”