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.”

Avoiding you was childish and nearly impossible, considering you lived together  -  but here Wanda was, leaving the apartment an hour earlier than usual just to avoid bumping into you.

She'd come to the brilliant conclusion  -  somewhere between crying into her pillow and convincing herself she was the world’s biggest idiot  -  that this was obviously a cosmic warning. A giant, flashing sign from her ancestors, guardian angels, and every higher power looking out for broken hearts, written in ornate, cruel letters: “Run before it’s too late.”

And maybe... maybe she should listen this time. She wouldn’t survive going through another Vision situation.

Luckily, exam season was right around the corner, which meant stacked classes, endless study sessions, and the perfect excuse to be anywhere but the apartment. She knew your schedule by now, anyway. She was safe.

...Until you walked right into her classroom.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Every head turned. Wanda stiffened. Her pen slipped from her hand. Jean barely contained her gasp, and Monica let out a scandalized little laugh.

Professor Munroe paused mid-sentence, arching a brow. “Can I help you?”

Hand still gripping the doorknob, you replied easily, “I need to talk to Wanda Maximoff.”

The room broke into a wave of murmurs, everyone suddenly more interested in this than anything on the board. Wanda felt heat flood her face as Jean and Monica not-so-subtly elbowed her, whispering a chorus of “Oh my god” and “Get up, go!”

“I’m in the middle of a lesson, Miss...?” Munroe asked, folding her arms.

“Y/N Murdock,” you answered with that charming, infuriating smile that made Wanda want to slam her head into her desk.

Professor Munroe’s expression shifted, brows lifting. “Murdock? Any relation to Matthew Murdock, by chance?”

Your grin softened. “Yeah. He’s my dad.”

“Well, what a delightful coincidence.” Ororo’s lips curved in genuine amusement as she glanced at the class. “He was one of my brightest students years ago. Went into law, didn’t he?”

“Still practicing.” You nodded, but your gaze drifted  -  right to Wanda, whose glare promised violence.

“So... about that talk with Wanda?” you pressed. “It’ll be quick, promise.”

Munroe hesitated, gesturing toward the blackboard. “As you can see, Miss Murdock, we are reviewing assessment material...”

“Oh, no worries about Wanda,” you cut in, waving it off. “She’s practically an expert in lyrical genres. Writes poetry all the time, actually. Some of it’s... pretty stunning, not that she’d admit it.”

Wanda’s face burned. “I swear to God - ” she muttered, slamming her notebook shut and standing so fast her chair screeched against the floor. “Excuse me, Professor.”

Ororo gestured, amused. “Go on, Maximoff. Best resolve... whatever this is.”

Wanda grabbed your wrist, yanking you out of the room.

You followed, half-laughing, as she practically dragged you down the hall. The second you hit the lockers, she shoved your hand away and spun on her heel, fuming.

“I cannot believe you just did that.”

You leaned casually against the locker beside hers, hands deep in your pockets. “Did what?”

“Seriously?” she snapped, spinning her lock aggressively, as if sheer rage could make it cooperate.

“Wanda.” Your voice softened slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Gee, I wonder why.” She cursed under her breath when the padlock jammed.

“Very cruel of you.” You asked. “I was starting to think you didn’t miss me.”

“Don’t - don’t start.” She yanked at the lock again. “I’m not the one kissing other girls.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “So the silent treatment’s because you’re jealous?”

“I am not - ” Her voice pitched too high. A teacher rounded the corner, casting a suspicious glance at the two of you. Wanda bit her tongue, squeezing her eyes shut, visibly forcing herself to breathe. “I’m not jealous.”

“Right,” you drawled, “you just look like you’re about to commit a felony for fun.”

“God, why won’t this stupid thing open - ” she muttered, rattling the stubborn lock like it personally betrayed her.

You clear your throat. Wanda glances at you  -  begrudgingly, like it physically pains her to acknowledge you.

When you tilt your head slightly toward the locker beside hers, her frown deepens  -  until her eyes flick down and catch the name tag. Her name. On the other locker.

A sharp sigh escapes her. Wordless, she sidesteps, punches the correct code, and the locker pops open without resistance.

You stay put, watching as she starts throwing her books inside with more force than necessary.

“I’ve been trying to apologize to you all week,” you say, voice quieter now, almost careful. “But, honestly… I don’t even know why.”

Wanda lets out a bitter laugh  -  one of those hollow, dangerous ones  -  slamming her laptop case inside like it offended her.

“Can you - can you at least look at me?” you ask.

“I don’t want to talk - ”

You reach out, palm flat, and push the locker door shut. The clang echoes down the hallway.

Wanda stiffens. She tries  -  tries  -  to pretend the proximity doesn’t mess with her, but her crossed arms and raised chin give her away.

“Carol and I…” You search her eyes, voice steady but low. “There’s nothing between us.”

Wanda’s jaw clenches. Her eyes glisten, but her arms cross tighter, chin tilting defiantly, like the posture alone might hold her together. “Sure.”

“No - ” You shake your head. “Nothing. I swear. Wanda, you didn’t even give me a chance to explain. You just… you assumed. You got mad at me for something that wasn’t even - ”

“Oh, right.” Her laugh is sharp, mean, and a little broken. “Because I just imagined the past few weeks, huh? You hanging out at her place, the games, the bars, the study sessions…”

You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. “Wanda… you and I… we didn’t even have anything back then.”

The second the words are out, you regret them.

Her entire body stiffens. Something flashes across her face  -  hurt, betrayal, disbelief  -  and then it hardens into ice.

“Yeah,” she says coldly, yanking the locker shut. “Well. We don’t have anything now, either.”

Her voice cracks just enough on the last word to make your stomach knot.

“Not now. Not ever.”

She turns on her heel. Walks.

You watch her go, frozen, throat tight, stomach sinking, because you don’t believe her. Not for a second.

-

In a twist of irony, now it was you who seemed to be avoiding Wanda.

She hated it. Hated how being ignored stung twice as much after realizing she’d secretly loved how you used to chase after her. But maybe this… this radio silence was better than fighting. Safer. Even if her body was starting to miss the chaos of it  -  the tension, the unresolved electricity, the sound of your voice aimed at her.

Still, life went on. And mortifying as it was, she had no choice but to return to Ororo’s class the next day.

She’d rehearsed an apology in her head;  something about how sorry she was for the scene you caused. But it turned out to be unnecessary.

Ororo was delighted. Overly delighted, actually, to discover that Wanda was apparently hanging around the daughter of her former star student, Matt Murdock. She’d even asked about you over in the science building earlier that morning, and spent a full five minutes complimenting your achievements.

Wanda tried  -  really tried  -  to escape it. With a weak laugh and a wave of her hand, she muttered, “Yeah, well, doesn’t matter how many internships she has if she still leaves her towel on the bed. Or uses my coffee mug every damn morning.”

But Ororo just chuckled, entirely charmed. “Oh, that’s adorable.”

Worse still, Ororo’s smile softened, shifting subjects in a way that made Wanda’s stomach twist. “And your poetry, Miss Maximoff.”

Wanda blinked. “My - what?”

“You know… the work you’ve been quietly hiding for the past few years.” The older woman’s tone was gentle but firm, the kind that made it impossible to lie. “I would love to read it sometime. You’ve been one of my best students since day one, but you’ve only ever let me read your academic papers. If you’re writing creatively  -  whether for yourself or anything more  -  it would be an honor to read it.”

The air rushed out of Wanda’s lungs.

“Oh. Uh… I… I don’t know. Maybe? Another time. I… don’t really have anything… on me right now,” she stammered, folding in on herself.

Ororo just smiled, warm and patient. “Anytime, Miss Maximoff.”

A part of Wanda  -  the brave, reckless part  -  wanted to sprint home, grab her best drafts, and drop them on Ororo’s desk. She wanted someone to look at her words and say, “This isn’t silly. This isn’t nothing. You’re allowed to want this.”

But the other part  -  the louder one  -  remembered too well how it felt when her father dismissed her poetry as a hobby, not a future. That voice whispered that maybe it was better if literature stayed an elective, and politics remained the real career.

She swallowed it down. Smiled and nodded. 

Then she left.

Normally  -  ever since the incident with the pipe that threw her into this friend group  -  Wanda would invite the girls to lunch after cheer practice. Usually, it meant swinging by the dorm and eating with everyone, including you.

But not this week. Knowing that you still shared your midday table with Nat and Yelena was enough of an excuse to avoid it entirely.

By Friday, after a brutal training session that drained every ounce of her energy, Wanda didn’t even have the strength to argue when Vision invited himself to join her lunch with Monica and Jean.

It was… awkward. Painfully so.

He stuck to her like a shadow, hovering by the bench at the outside tables like they were still something.

Wanda was seconds from losing her patience when it happened.

“Here, dear, let me…” Vision reached for her chin with a napkin, aiming to wipe away a smudge of lemon cream  -  the gesture automatic, overly familiar.

Wanda recoiled, snatching the napkin from his hand. “I can do it myself. Thank you.” Her voice was sharper than intended  -  brittle, biting.

It startled all three of them. Even Monica and Jean paused mid-conversation, glancing at each other.

Vision cleared his throat, blinking. “Oh. Well. I - ”

Wanda sighed, pressing her fingers to her temple. “I’m sorry. I’m just… tired.”

He laughed it off, slipping his arm behind her shoulders to squeeze her gently. Wanda had to summon every ounce of self-control not to shove him off the bench for all the uninvited touching.

Jean and Monica tried to steer the conversation back to Vision’s new job  -  a Computer Aide at the Uni Lab since last summer  -  but Wanda’s mind wasn’t even remotely there.

She couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was infuriating.

The outdoor tables were set in the open courtyard, facing the bleachers. Wanda was already planning her escape  -  maybe fake a headache, bolt back to the apartment, and spend the rest of the day under the covers watching sitcoms until her brain stopped spiraling.

That plan dissolved the second she noticed a familiar group on the other side of the stadium.

Her throat tightened. She swallowed dryly, pretending to be invested in whatever Jean was saying, but she doubted Vision would pick up on anything  -  too busy bragging about the highly competitive job he’d landed.

With every step the group took toward their table, Wanda’s pulse kicked harder. She was genuinely impressed she hadn’t passed out by the time you finally stopped in front of them.

Natasha, Yelena, Kate, and Maria acted like this was the most casual thing in the world  -  offering cheek kisses and quick handshakes, squeezing in wherever there was space. The others shuffled around to make room, pretending this wasn’t incredibly awkward.

But you didn’t bother with any of that. You stood right in front of her, hands in your pockets, gaze sharp.

“Can I talk to you alone, Maximoff?”

Tension crackled like static around the table. Everyone exchanged loaded glances  -  except Vision, oblivious, who didn’t know you personally.

Wanda cleared her throat, pushing her hair behind her shoulder, playing it cool. “I’m busy.”

“It’ll take a minute.”

“Not interested.”

You bit your lip, that familiar spark already threatening to catch fire  -  the one that always lit up when you were bickering with her.

“I insist.”

Wanda let out a dry chuckle, but before she could reply, Vision cleared his throat, ever the polite one, and offered you his hand. “Sorry, I don’t know what this is about, but I don’t think we’ve met. I’m - ”

“The ex. I know.” You cut him off, deadpan, hands still buried in your pockets. Amusement danced in your eyes when Wanda’s jaw tightened. “Maximoff. A word.”

“I said I’m busy,” Wanda snapped, tone clipped. She even leaned closer to Vision  -  just to watch your eye twitch. It was petty. And it worked.

The group collectively shifted, shoulders tense, pretending to look at anything but the brewing storm in front of them.

You let out a humorless laugh, gaze flicking away. “Fine. Let’s do it your way, then.”

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked off. Disappeared behind the bleachers before Wanda could convince herself to… to what? Call you back? Demand you stay? Kiss you? Scream at you? All of the above?

Her hands trembled as she picked up her fork again, pretending to eat. Pretending.

That illusion shattered the second the loudspeakers crackled to life.

A shrill feedback beep. Then the familiar voice of the school announcer, awkward and deeply uncomfortable:

“Uh… Wanda Maximoff? Your… uh… your presence is being requested by… your girlfriend. Please, Miss Wanda Django Maximoff, your girlfriend wishes to apologize for you two being… what? No, Y/N, I’m not reading that on the loudspeaker! The dean’s gonna kill me - ”

A scuffle. Muffled arguing. A loud thud.

Then your voice  -  crisp, raw, unfiltered  -  boomed over the speakers for the entire campus to hear.

“I’m tired of fighting with you, princess. You’re as stubborn as I am. And yeah, you look ridiculously hot when you’re mad at me, but I just -  I miss you. I miss you so much it’s driving me insane. I don’t wanna lose what we didn’t even get a real chance to figure out. Please… give me a second chance.”

A beat. Silence. Then the courtyard absolutely erupted.

Wanda was mortified. She could feel her face burning  -  redder than Natasha’s hair  -  as every pair of eyes within earshot turned to look at her.

Natasha was smiling. Actually smiling. So were the others. Encouraging really. Wanda groaned under her breath, ready to sink through the floor. But the second she stood up, a hand caught her wrist.

“Wanda.”

Vision. His gaze was pleading. And it made her stomach twist.

“How come she gets a second chance… and I don’t?” he asked softly.

Her mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

“Please,” he pressed, standing now, desperation creeping into his voice. “I know I made mistakes, but I deserve to be heard too - ”

“Vision.” Her tone dropped sharp, warning. “Don’t.”

“I still love you! I - ”

“Get away from me.” Her voice trembled  -  with rage, embarrassment, everything. “Get away from me or I swear to god you’re gonna lose my friendship too.”

Vision froze, jaw clenched, but didn’t move closer.

Wanda didn’t wait. She bolted out from the stands, breathing ragged, feeling like her entire chest might cave in from sheer overwhelm.

You appeared back at the table minutes later, scanning for her, visibly frustrated not to find her. Your fingers fidgeted at the hem of your jacket, torn between wanting to vanish from the sheer awkwardness… and wanting to scream into the void.

“She was going to come after you,” Jean said, quick to intercept you before you could spiral. “But Vision ruined the whole moment.”

You grimaced. “Seriously?”

The others nodded. Yelena sighed dramatically. “Total buzzkill.”

Jean gave you a nudge to the shoulder. “Don’t give up on her. We’ve been listening to her talk about you for weeks. You don’t do that for someone you don’t care about. It means something.”

You laughed  -  weak, nervous, but grateful. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Alright.” You inhaled, steadying yourself. “I’ll find her.”

A pause. Then, smirking just a little, “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” the girls chimed in unison.

Natasha raised her soda in a mock toast. “You’re gonna need it.”

-

She’d come running. That much was obvious.

Her boots were kicked off haphazardly by the door, her backpack tossed halfway across the floor like it had personally offended her. You barely had to step inside to read the chaos of her mood splattered across the room.

The place was nearly dead silent  -  the usual midday lull when most residents were either in class or out for lunch. It made every step you took echo a little louder than you liked as you wandered further in, pausing outside the one closed door in the apartment.

You hovered there, mentally scrambling for the right words  -  anything that wouldn’t make this worse. You’d barely raised your knuckles to knock when the door yanked open from the inside.

And there she was.

Wanda stood frozen for a split second, like she hadn’t expected you to be on the other side either. Her hair was messy, makeup smeared from dried tears, and the familiar comfort clothes had replaced her cheer uniform. She blinked at you  -  wide-eyed, startled  -  but whatever reaction she’d had vanished as quickly as it came.

With a sigh, she sidestepped you without a word and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Confused  -  and honestly a little alarmed  -  you followed.

She was rummaging through cabinets with a singular mission in mind. Glass clinking. Cupboard doors slamming.

“Are… you okay?” you ventured, careful.

“Do you know where Nat keeps the rum?” she shot back, dead serious, not even sparing you a glance.

You cleared your throat, shifting awkwardly. “Uh… yeah. Bottom left shelf.”

“Thanks,” Wanda mumbled, crouching to grab the bottle. She placed it on the counter with a soft, triumphant hum.

You hovered nearby, fingers tracing the edge of the countertop. “Wands… seriously. Are you okay?”

“Perfect,” she replied flatly, busy scanning the shelves again. “I’m making a drink.”

You glanced at the clock. “It’s… not even two.”

“Yep.” She popped the ‘p’ and kept going, gathering ingredients with surgical focus.

For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. You just leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her assemble some complicated cocktail with a level of precision that felt borderline concerning.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened?” you finally asked, careful not to sound like you were pushing  -  but god, you were dying inside.

Wanda laughed. Not a happy sound. It was sharp and hollow.

“Oh, which part, detka?” she snapped, spinning around, wiping her hands on a towel. “When you humiliated me in front of our entire class and outed my private life to everyone? Or was it when you did it again, but this time to the entire university?”

“Wands - ” you tried, but she cut you off.

“No, wait, wait.” She set the towel down, grabbed a knife to slice a lemon  -  probably for the drink, but the timing was… dramatic, to say the least. “Maybe we should talk about how you made out with Carol Danvers in the hallway two minutes after kissing me in the kitchen.”

You huffed, snapping your gaze away. “Not this again.”

Her head snapped up. “Not this again?!”

The knife thunked a little harder against the cutting board.

“You don’t get to say that,” she bit out, voice shaky but simmering with barely contained rage. “You don’t get to pretend that didn’t happen just because it’s inconvenient for you right now.”

“Wanda - ”

“I am so sick of this.” She threw the lemon into the glass with more force than necessary. “Of you… showing up, stirring everything up, saying things that make me think maybe, just maybe, this means something, and then - ” Her voice cracked. “ - then acting like it doesn’t.”

Silence. 

You stared at her. She wouldn’t look back. Her hands shook slightly as she poured the drink.

You swallowed. “...I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

Her eyes flicked up  -  tired, glassy, but still sharp as ever. “Yeah? Well. You sure picked a funny way of showing it.”

Wanda sniffled lightly, and the sound caught you completely off guard. You’d never seen her cry before. The walls you thought she had built felt suddenly fragile, and you found yourself breaking down your own posture, stepping closer with caution.

But she didn’t let the tears fall. She straightened her back, shoulders pulling tight like armor as she returned to slicing the orange. Her voice was low, clipped. “I want to be alone. And get drunk. Can you just leave me be?”

You hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat. Wanda finished the orange slices, the knife tapping softly against the cutting board. You exhaled slowly. “You’re doing it wrong.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

She glanced up, confused. For a moment, she considered walking away, but her body felt too drained, too tired to make a scene. Instead, you rolled your sleeves up and leaned down to grab another bottle from the bottom shelf.

“This is a cocktail, right?”

Her eyes blinked, caught off guard by your nearness, and she muttered quietly, “Yeah, a Moscow Mule.”

You hummed thoughtfully, pouring some rum into the glass she’d started. “You should add some ginger beer too  -  a little fizz makes a world of difference.”

She watched you finish her drink with quiet fascination, more focused on how your fingers flexed and moved than on the actual lesson. You slid the glass across the counter with a soft smile.

“Here you go, Miss Maximoff.”

Wanda accepted the glass, fingers curling around it as you gave her a wink and turned to leave the kitchen, ready to respect her wish for space. Her heart jumped, and she gasped almost inaudibly.

“Stay.”

Your back paused mid-step, and you turned just enough to catch the faint plea. Wanda’s shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. “Please. I don’t want to be drunk and alone.”

You smiled warmly, stepping closer again. “If you wanted a drinking companion, all you had to do was ask, princess.” You teased lightly, reaching for your own glass and starting to prepare a drink for yourself.

Wanda smiles weakly, not waiting for you to take the first sip. She needed to calm her nerves  -  and somehow, your quiet company already felt like the first step.

-

The apartment echoed with your shared, slightly slurred laughter - two voices tangled between humor and alcohol - as you and Wanda sat side by side on the soft carpet. A growing pile of empty glasses cluttered the living room table, testament to how long you’d been drinking and talking.

Wanda had just finished telling a story from junior high, one that really shouldn’t have been that funny - but with the drink loosening your nerves, it had you laughing until tears pricked at your eyes. Gradually, the stories faded away, and so did the laughter, until silence settled between you. You found yourself staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts swirling.

“Am I forgiven?” you asked suddenly, your voice rough but steady - somehow the alcohol kept your nerves at bay, even as the weight of the question lingered in the air.

Wanda exhaled sharply and turned to face you. You met those deep green eyes you adored, your lips curving into a gentle smile, silently urging her closer with your expression alone.

For a long moment, she looked down at your mouth, and you almost thought she might kiss you. Instead, her gaze lifted again, drifting to the ceiling.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she murmured, clearly wrestling with the fog of the drink to hold a coherent conversation. “Actually... I don’t even know if I have anything to forgive. Maybe I’m the one overreacting.”

You shrugged, glancing away to hide the flicker of vulnerability in your own eyes. You thought about reaching for another glass but found yourself too tired to bother.

“It’s alright,” you assured softly.

Wanda grunted, pulling her knees to her chest in a protective hug. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to say more, and she didn’t keep you waiting.

“I’m sorry I freaked out on you,” she said quietly, hiding part of her face in her arms. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

Your concern sharpened, and some of the lingering intoxication faded as you reached out, your hand gently finding hers wrapped around her knees.

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” you said as tenderly as you could. “You got caught in jealousy  -  it happens. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself.”

She muttered something indistinct, and your heart clenched when you realized she wasn’t talking about Carol.

Wanda pressed a trembling hand to her face, and soft tears began to fall. You scooted closer, slipping your arm around her shoulders in a quiet offer of comfort.

“It’s not your fault I’m a mess, okay? You’re amazing. All this rivalry and teasing we have… it actually makes me feel... I don’t know, alive. More than I have in years. I’m just scared  -  terrified of getting hurt again.”

You held her a moment longer, weighing your next words carefully. Finally, you asked gently, “This is about Vision, isn’t it?”

A small, resigned hum was her only answer as she sniffled. You swallowed hard.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Wanda sighed deeply, gathering herself before speaking. She pushed her hair behind her ears, staring at the carpet like it held the answers.

“I thought it was obvious from the way I lost it,” she began with a bitter, humorless laugh. “Vision used to cheat on me when we were dating.”

You blinked, shocked, but Wanda didn’t meet your eyes. She looked almost ashamed  -  though the only one who should feel shame was him.

“We were like high school sweethearts. When we got to NYU, my whole family expected us to get married. But freshman year, he finally told me the truth.”

Her laugh was raw, tearful. You could see the pain and betrayal replaying behind her eyes.

“How can you still be friends?” you blurted, unable to keep the disbelief out of your voice.

Wanda let out a humorless chuckle. “Convenience, I guess. When you’ve known someone your whole life, it’s hard to just... let go.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And Vision... he begged. Made a whole scene  -  on his knees, even dragged Pietro and my dad into it. Everyone was telling me he made a mistake, that we were young, that it happens. So, I said it was fine.”

Her voice cracked, and you could hear the shattering behind the words. “Even though it felt like I was dying inside. Even though it destroyed my ability to trust anyone again. I haven’t held another real relationship since. But I guess... that’s exactly what Vision wanted.”

Wanda snorted, bitter and incredulous, as if the realization had only just dawned on her now. Tears spilled again, but this time they burned with anger.

“As I said... I’m so fucking dumb.”

“Wanda, stop saying that.” Your voice drops into something softer but serious as you shift your arm around her waist, pulling her closer until her body fits perfectly against yours. She grumbles stubbornly but then looks up at you, a flicker of reluctant acceptance in her eyes.

“It just seems to me that you’re an incredibly compassionate person  -  and everyone’s decided to take advantage of that. Your family, especially Vision. They manipulated you, made you carry the guilt for things he did.” You pause, reading her expression carefully. “Let me guess - he probably gave you some speech about needing new experiences, about how the pressure of an engagement made him make a mistake?”

Wanda nods sadly, and you sigh, brushing a hand gently over her cheek. She leans into your touch immediately, and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

“Listen, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. Sweet, smart, and brave. Anyone would be lucky to be noticed by you - chosen by you. Vision knew that, and that’s exactly why he tried to break you down, crash your self-esteem so you wouldn’t realize what a selfish scumbag he was and just walk away.”

“Do you really think so?” Her voice is small, vulnerable.

You nod without hesitation. “I’m sure.”

Wanda exhales softly, letting her head fall against your collarbone. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her up into your lap when sitting like that starts to get uncomfortable. She sighs contentedly, resting her cheek against your chest, eyes closing as she breathes in your scent. Your hands stroke her back gently, and for a long moment, you just hold each other in quiet comfort.

Then Wanda suddenly chuckles, light and teasing. Half-asleep and surprised, you frown in confusion. She pulls away just enough to look up at you, fingers resting on the collar of your shirt.

“You announced to the whole campus that you’re my girlfriend,” she remarks with a sly smile.

You feel your face flush. You twitch your nose, trying to play it cool - but there she is, in your lap, looking breathtaking. In that second, you swear you fall even deeper for her.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” You murmur, your hands settling on her thighs. “Is that... okay?”

She smiles, letting her gaze drop to your lips for a heartbeat, and your breath catches.

“Well,” she teases, “you never asked... or bought me a ring.”

Her lips trail softly along your jawline, a whisper of kisses following, fingers teasing the buttons of your shirt open slowly. You close your eyes, a soft gasp escaping as she explores the bare skin beneath.

“I’ll buy you a ring,” you murmur with a nod, feeling the warmth of her smile against your skin before her kisses deepen. “Anything you want,” you add, voice low and sure.

It’s completely Wanda’s fault  -  those kisses on your skin make you stammer affectionately. Your hands tighten around her waist as she giggles softly into your collarbone, her hips pressing against yours with a teasing rhythm. You hum your approval, but when she finally kisses you on the mouth, the taste of alcohol on her tongue grounds you, bringing a sudden flash of clarity.

Holding her close, you press a few gentle kisses to her lips until her pout from being interrupted softens into a reluctant smile.

“You’re drunk, princess,” you say softly, locking eyes with hers. “Let’s just... sit here, eat something, maybe watch a movie?”

Wanda bites her lower lip, eyes sparkling with mischief. Her hands sneak to your belt, and you sigh deeply, already knowing where this is headed.

“I know something I wanna eat,” she murmurs, a sly grin tugging at her mouth.

You grunt dramatically. “Wanda...”

She deftly unbuckles your jeans, but just as you brace to resist the pull of alcohol - and temptation - the front door swings open. Wanda barely has time to scramble off your lap before several residents spill into the room, all wide-eyed and frozen at the scene: tangled clothes on the floor, two drunk messes caught red-handed.

“Really, people? In the middle of the living room???” Yelena exclaims, horrified, echoed by the shocked expressions on the other girls’ faces.

But you and Wanda - utterly wasted - burst into uncontrollable laughter, the tension melting away in the ridiculousness of the moment.

Something had shifted between you and Wanda. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what, exactly  -  the tension was still there, but somehow you were in a tentative truce. She never mentioned you carrying her to bed that night, and neither did you. Instead, your days were marked by mild, innocent teasing rather than the usual sharp edge. You guessed she was, like you, trying to navigate this new dynamic of not outright hating each other. But you weren’t ready to fool yourself into thinking you two were friends yet.

With your internship finally over, you had hoped for quieter weeks; time to study and relax. But your usual Wednesday afternoon of video games and TV was interrupted by your phone’s insistent ringing.

“Where’s the fire, Romanoff?” you answered on speaker, eyes locked on the boss fight on your screen.

“Nice of you to answer after a hundred tries,” Natasha mocked, clearly amused.

You muttered a distracted, “Was busy.”

“If it was anything urgent, I already know Assassin’s Creed would be your top priority.

You laughed, glancing at the phone before returning to the game. “Sure, Romanoff. Alright - what can I do for you?”

She sighed softly. “Could you do me a huge favor and take the apartment keys to Wanda?”

“No.”

“Y/N, please,” she pressed. “Wanda texted me saying she forgot them earlier today, and she won’t be back until everyone’s gone. That is, if you didn’t cancel the game with Carol...”

“Nope, still happening,” you cut in, a bit impatient. “And why doesn’t Maximoff use those pretty legs of hers and come get the keys?”

Natasha chuckled. “Pretty legs, huh? I see you.”

“It was just a joke,” you shot back, cheeks heating up a little. Natasha laughed but dropped the teasing.

“Please, Y/N. I wouldn’t ask if there was anyone else. The girls are all working. Can you do me this favor? I’ll buy you your favorite burritos.”

You smiled. “Deal, Romanoff.”

After hanging up, you finished one last stage before putting down the controller. Grabbing your phone, you messaged Wanda: Taking the keys - where are you? When you stepped out of the shower, her reply was terse: Gym. No thanks, no emojis.

You rolled your eyes but decided to honor your deal with Natasha.

Campus was relatively quiet - most students were in class or internships - but the gym was packed. Cheerleaders and PE students shared the space, though the girls in uniform looked distinctly displeased about it. Your gaze landed on a grumpy Wanda Maximoff, stretching in the corner, her expression a mix of focus and mild irritation.

“...It’s so unfair they put us here while the boys’ soccer team can practice outside whenever they want,” you overheard one of the girls grumble as you approached. She was just as striking as Wanda - long red hair, sharp eyes, clad in the cheer uniform.

“Your Highness, I’ve come to deliver your keys,” you said with a smirk, cutting through their conversation and drawing immediate attention.

Wanda, who had been wearing an annoyed scowl moments before, surprised you by smiling when she saw you. Yet there was something unusual flickering in her eyes. Her friend shot you a curious look as well.

“Well, my shining knight, did you get lost?” Wanda teased, her lips curling into a playful smile. “You sure took your time.”

You raised an eyebrow, about to retort indignantly, but the comeback caught in your throat when Wanda resumed stretching. She swung her right ankle up and rested it casually on your shoulder. The short cheer skirt did almost nothing to conceal her legs in that position - and it was clear she knew exactly the effect she had on you. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she used you like one of the gym pillars the other girls were leaning on. “So, where’s the key, detka?”

You swallowed hard, trying to appear composed as you fumbled awkwardly through your pockets, your hands betraying a nervous tremble.

“Is this the girl you’ve been talking about, Wan?” the redhead asked, nodding toward you.

Wanda’s gaze didn’t waver as she nodded, and the other girl smiled approvingly. “You were right. She is pretty.”

Your ears burned, but you lifted your eyes to meet Wanda’s, surprised.

“You talk about me to your friends, Maximoff? Starting to think you might have a crush,” you teased, holding out the keys.

Wanda took the keys but held your hand - and your gaze - longer than necessary, her fingers lightly tracing yours.

“Maybe I do,” she said simply.

You choked on a breath, heat blooming at your neck. The redhead giggled softly.

“Jeez, Wan, you’re lethal today. Gonna give your friend a heart attack,” she teased.

Wanda barely glanced away, then said smoothly, “Jean, why don’t you check on Monica? See what’s taking her so long with the water.”

Jean’s smile faded to a reluctant sigh, and without another word, she got up and left.

You cleared your throat, still feeling awkward but proud that you were managing to stand your ground while Wanda was perched so close. If you tilted your head just right, you caught a glimpse of her black panties - and the thought sent a shiver down your spine. Wanda noticed, of course; the sparkle in her eyes deepened and that satisfied little smile tugged at her lips. You shifted into the most relaxed posture you could muster.

“That’s a pretty rude way to talk to your friend,” you said, voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “Do you always treat people like they’re working for you?”

Wanda chuckled, shrugging as one hand found its way onto your shoulder.

“Of course not, detka. It’s just that…” She leaned in slightly - as if it were part of the stretch - and you barely caught your breath. Your heart hammered in your ears, and the intoxicating scent of her perfume flooded your senses. “Some people just like to obey. Too much.”

You exhaled softly, resisting the urge to step back. A sudden thought nudged at you. “How do you know that about her? You and Jean ever…?”

Wanda pulled away with a low chuckle, clearly entertained by the question. “Why do you care?”

You looked away, annoyed, huffing. “I don’t. Doesn’t matter. You’ve got your key. Bye.” You muttered and started to walk off.

Wanda stumbled slightly at the loss of your support but caught herself with a smirk.

Once outside the gym, you left her there biting her nail thoughtfully, replaying the conversation and wondering how it had taken a turn so fast.

Monica and Jean returned laughing, clutching bottles of water, but their smiles faded the moment they spotted Wanda’s clearly dissatisfied expression.

“Let me guess - your charm didn’t work.” Monica teased, handing Wanda a bottle of water. Wanda just grunted in response.

“We were doing fine. I almost had her,” She said, frowning. “Then I don’t know, I pushed too far and she just… backed off. Seriously, how can someone be so stubborn and difficult?”

Monica and Jean exchanged a knowing look. “Yeah, I can’t even imagine someone like that,” they said in unison, mockingly. Wanda didn’t catch their joke, lost in her own head.

Jean cleared her throat. “Why don’t you try being more obvious? Maybe she thinks you still hate her.”

Wanda gave a dry laugh. “More obvious? I almost risked flashing the whole gym just now, and I’ve been flirting with her for weeks! She just doesn’t notice. Maybe I should just accept that she's not interested.”

“Oh, please, she is interested,” Monica jumped in, and Jean nodded in agreement. “Pietro himself said when they got out, she couldn't stop talking about you.”

Wanda hesitated, pinching her fingers thoughtfully. It was true, but still…

“And she nearly had a heart attack at your little stunt,” Jean added with a grin. “You’re way too close to quit now. Honestly, Wan, you’re going way too easy on her. She’s best friends with Romanoff - she’s probably immune to flirting. Maybe she just treats it like a breakfast joke. You need to play hard.”

“For example,” Monica said, eyes gleaming with mischief, “use the apartment you share to your advantage.”

“Yes!” Jean agreed eagerly. “Imagine how much you could do with that!”

Wanda eyed them both skeptically. “Like what?”

The girls exchanged conspiratorial looks.

Monica stepped closer. “Tell me, friend - do you have any lingerie?”

Wanda admitted she didn’t, but the girls were more than ready to drag her shopping after practice.

The key? It ended up useless - Wanda didn’t come home until late that night, long after the apartment was bustling again.

She stumbled inside, arms full of shopping bags, while the girls were sprawled on the living room carpet, laughing over dinner. To her surprise, you arrived just moments later. Wanda barely had time to drop the bags in the bedroom and grab a towel before nearly bumping into you in the hallway on the way to the bathroom.

“Don’t even think about it, Maximoff. I’m showering first,” you declared, planting yourself firmly in front of the bathroom door. You hesitated to step aside for your towel because you knew if you moved, Wanda would slip in ahead of you. She raised a brow, ready to argue, but you softened your expression with a tired sigh. “Some idiot spilled beer on me at the game. So please, can I have first dibs?”

Wanda blinked, surprised by the sudden gentleness, but quickly recovered, shooting you a look that made you swallow hard.

“How about we save water and go in together?” she teased, stepping closer.

You choked on your breath.

“I-I...” you stammered.

“Oh, detka, did I melt your brain?” she laughed, closing the gap, and instinctively you backed against the door, the wood creaking under the pressure.

From the living room, Natasha’s voice rang out sharply: “I swear, if you two start fighting again, I’m putting you to sleep in the hallway!”

Wanda giggled, but you just grunted breathlessly, seizing the chance to grab your towel while the brunette called back, “We’re fine!”

When you returned, Wanda was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, clutching a towel of her own.

“You still haven’t answered my offer,” she teased.

You sighed, moving to open the bathroom door. Wanda lowered her head, conceding defeat - until you paused, door ajar, and leaned in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. It was just long enough to make her legs wobble and her breath hitch from the closeness.

“If I said yes, there wouldn’t be much showering,” you murmured, making her hold her breath. Then you smiled softly. “And I really need one.”

Wanda chuckled, catching the faint scent of beer on you - not unpleasant, but she could imagine how annoying it must have been, especially with wet clothes clinging to you.

You straightened up, giving her space to breathe again. “How about we watch one of your sitcoms later?”

Her heart skipped a beat, her face lighting up like a sunrise. “Yeah? Sure. I - I’d love that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated, unable to stop smiling. You gave a shy little laugh and nodded.

“I’ll go,” you said, nodding toward the bathroom. She returned the shy smile before you slipped inside and closed the door behind you.

She barely had time to wipe the goofy grin off her face before Natasha shot her a curious look from the living room.

-

Whatever had shifted in your relationship, it transformed the tension into something completely different. Or maybe… it had always been like this. Wanda couldn’t quite tell if, from the very first moment, she hadn’t secretly wanted you to kiss her again. Every stupid fight between you two had, in reality, been destined to end in your bed.

For long, torturous weeks, nothing had happened. Or at least nothing overt. But whatever subtle thing was simmering beneath the surface didn’t escape the notice of your friends.

“So, when did you and Wanda start sleeping together?” Yelena’s blunt question caught you off guard, and you nearly choked on the juice you were drinking. Fortunately, the house was empty except for the two of you.

After you stopped coughing, you stared at her in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about, Lena? Me and Wanda? Never. Just… no.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you seized the excuse of hunting for a napkin to turn your back on her. But the blonde wasn’t the least bit intimidated by your little retreat.

“Right… but you’re definitely thinking about it,” she said, voice teasing.

You laughed incredulously. “What? No, I’m not.”

“Of course you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

Lena sighed dramatically. “Oh, so then you won’t mind if I ask her out - ”

You snorted angrily, wagging a finger at her. “Listen here, Belova. You stay away from her or I - ”

But Yelena just burst out laughing, and you grunted in shame. You stormed out of the kitchen, leaving her to settle into the free armchair next to you in the living room.

“You should’ve seen your face,” she teased, ignoring your silent glare. Then, with a chuckle, she softened. “Hey, don’t be grumpy. It’s good you two are getting along. Definitely beats the fights.”

“Whatever,” you muttered stubbornly, but Yelena just shrugged it off.

“I just hope you’ve thought this through,” she said quietly, and grudgingly, you took the bait.

Sighing, you kept your eyes on the TV before asking, “Hypothetically speaking, if I was thinking about it, why would it be a problem?”

Yelena laughed. “It’s not a problem if it works, Y/N.”

You frowned, confused.

She adjusted herself on the couch. “Dude, just think about it, okay? You’ve got some college years ahead, and Wanda’s… well, her situation isn’t exactly stable. If you start dating, it has to work. Otherwise, living with your ex is going to be really awkward.”

Her words gave you pause, and you found yourself thoughtful. Yelena gave you a reassuring smile before turning back to the TV.

You tried to focus on the screen, but it wasn’t easy.

Meanwhile, across campus in the university’s busiest coffee shop, twins were about to have a very similar conversation.

“You’re doing it again.”

Wanda looked away from her phone screen immediately - your Instagram feed fading as she blocked the device, cheeks flushing.

“I wasn’t,” Wanda muttered quickly to her brother, who had just appeared behind her at the window seat, carrying both their drinks. Pietro laughed.

“Oh sure, you accidentally spent the entire time I was in line stalking your roommate. Happens to the best of us.”

Wanda snorted impatiently. “Whatever. It’s not a crime to stare. She’s attractive, and I’m human.”

Pietro chuckled, surprised by how honestly she admitted it. He’d expected at least a little denial. That sincerity told him exactly how deep she was in this, and he didn’t hesitate to say so.

“You’re way too into this, you know that?”

Wanda took a slow sip of her iced coffee, finishing it before searching for the perfect excuse.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pietro. I don’t have a crush,” she said, quickly adding, “What I have is…”

“A crush,” he finished with a grin.

“No. I have needs,” Wanda insisted, ignoring him. “I’m a single woman with a stressful routine and a roommate who drives me up the wall. She could do it in a different way.”

“Gross,” Pietro teased, earning a laugh from her and a grimace as she went back to her coffee.

He sighed and softened. “Just be careful, okay?”

Her smile faltered. “With what?”

“I don’t know, sestra. I guess I’m just used to being the twin who has casual flings while you’re the one thinking about marriage, kids, and a dog,” he said, receiving a playful pinch in return.

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing, just… who we are. And after Vision, I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Wanda swirled her straw through the whipped cream. “Well, I could do casual.”

She smirked. “Besides, Y/N’s always the first to remind me how different we are. She doesn’t expect anything serious. We’re both single  -  we should spend more time having sex and less time fighting.”

“I’m gonna need something stronger than coffee for this conversation,” Pietro muttered, grinning as she slapped his shoulder and giggled.

“Shut up. Like we keep secrets from each other,” she teased. “You forget I’ve been listening to you ramble about every relationship since third grade.”

Pietro laughed, tossing his hair back. “Please spare me the details. Just tell me you’ll hold her hand or something.”

“Oh, there will definitely be hands involved,” Wanda said with a sly smile.

Pietro stood, and Wanda followed, both laughing. Outside, she linked her arm with his as they pulled their coats tighter and walked side by side toward the apartment complex.

“Sľúb mi, že budeš opatrný?” Wanda asked in their native tongue  -  Promise me you’ll be careful? Pietro only spoke Sokovian when he was serious, and her frown betrayed her worry.

“Áno,” she replied softly  -  Yes. But she wasn’t ready to drop the subject. “She’s not Vision, you know?”

Pietro smiled, eyes scanning the path ahead to avoid tripping. “Of course not. Vision’s an asshole, but Y/N? She’s turning into one of my best friends.”

Wanda’s face lit up. “Yeah, I noticed. You guys get along well. I’m glad.”

Pietro twitched his nose. “Yep, which is exactly why you need to think this whole ‘casual’ thing through. I don’t want things to get weird between me and Y/N if you two break up.”

“We haven’t even started, and you’re already planning our breakup,” Wanda said, half annoyed.

Pietro slipped his arm over her shoulders as she tried to step away.

“Why do you even care? You said there weren’t any feelings involved, Miss ‘I don’t have a crush’…”

Wanda grunted, embarrassed and impatient, pushing him away before striding ahead. Pietro just chuckled at her stubbornness.

-

The quiet click of the lock pulled Wanda’s attention away from the book resting in her lap.

She knew it was you before you even stepped inside  -  recognizing the familiar sound of your uneven steps as you stumbled, once again, through the dim hallway whose faulty wiring never got fixed, no matter how many times the residents complained to the janitor or the front desk.

You tried to be quiet, mindful of the late hour, and Wanda found it oddly endearing  -  the way you fumbled to shut the door with just your fingertips, as if that would somehow make the noise softer.

“Fun night?”

You jolted, cursing under your breath, one hand flying to your chest in pure dramatics  -  but the second you realized it was her voice, your startled scowl melted into a grin. There she was, cozy in her little fortress of blankets, pillows, and half-open books, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Don’t do that,” you muttered, pressing your palm to your sternum with exaggerated offense. It only made her giggle.

Tossing your keys into the bowl by the door, you slipped out of your jacket  -  and Wanda bit down on her lip, entirely against her will. Her mind betrayed her instantly, conjuring an image of you shedding far more than just that jacket.

God. What are you doing to her?

“I won’t disturb your study session,” you mumbled, already padding toward the kitchen. “Just grabbing dinner and heading to my room.”

She chuckled softly, closing her book and slipping a bookmark between the pages. “Don’t be silly. Maria’ll cuss you out if you bring food in there  -  you know how she is about crumbs.” Wanda shifted, patting the spot beside her. “Eat here. I was about done anyway. Everything’s starting to blur.”

You flashed her a grateful smile, murmuring your agreement as you disappeared into the kitchen. Wanda busied herself gathering her scattered books  -  or, at least, that was the excuse.

She heard the soft clatter of pans and the click of the stove, and after a moment, sighed. Fine. If you were eating, she might as well grab something too  -  bad habits be damned. She’d gone all day forgetting basic needs again.

But then... there it was. That tension. That now-familiar, breath-stealing pull that filled every shared space.

Maybe it was Wanda’s fault  -  leaning in a little too close when reaching for a pan, brushing against you more than strictly necessary. Or maybe it was your fault  -  the way you didn’t even bother pretending not to watch her, gaze trailing, lingering, devouring every subtle move as if you were daring her to notice you noticing.

Either way, the air was thick, electric. And thank God for the glass of cold water in Wanda’s hands.

“So...” Your voice broke the silence, smooth, measured  -  but laced with something else, something heavier. Your arms crossed, eyes scanning her like a puzzle you were already halfway to solving. You licked your lips  -  absentmindedly, casually  -  and Wanda reflexively took a longer sip of water.

“Should we have the talk?”

She blinked, frowning. “The talk?”

That lazy little smile tugged at your lips. “Come on, Wands... you know.” You tipped your chin toward her. “There’s something going on here. Isn’t there?”

Her mouth opened  but nothing came out. No denial. No confirmation. Just silence, her brain scrambling to decide which was worse: pretending, or admitting.

Not that it seemed to bother you. You uncrossed your arms, closing the distance with steady, unhurried steps  -  and Wanda’s heart tripped over itself.

“All the staring,” you murmured, voice lower now. “You. Wandering around in those ridiculously short skirts. Like you want me looking... like you want me wondering what’s underneath.”

Wanda sucked in a sharp breath, a shiver running the length of her spine as her back hit the counter  -  pinned, caged by the arms you’d braced on either side of her. Your body didn’t touch  -  not yet  -  but the heat between you was palpable.

“Yeah.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Yeah... definitely something.”

A chuckle rumbled out of you, soft, wrecked, as your nose brushed against her cheek  -  so close Wanda thought for sure you’d kiss her. She tilted up instinctively, chasing it  - 

But you didn’t.

Not yet.

You turned your face away, jaw tight, breathing shallow.

“We shouldn’t,” you rasped, eyes squeezed shut, as if not looking would somehow make this easier. Wanda’s lips dragged against your jaw anyway  -  slow, teasing, trailing downward  -  and every kiss made your hands grip the countertop harder.

“Why not?” she breathed.

You exhaled like it hurt. One hand rose, fingers curling around her neck  -  not rough, but firm enough to halt her, to hold her still. And yet, the thigh you pressed between her legs said something very different.

The sound Wanda made  - sinful  -  nearly broke you in half.

Your head spun. God, how were you supposed to survive this?

“It’s better if we don’t...” you try to reason, your hand still firm around Wanda’s neck  -  her skin burning beneath your palm.

She ignores you completely. Instead, she starts grinding against your thigh, slow but deliberate. Your head falls back against her shoulder with a sharp, helpless groan.

“For God’s sake, Wanda...”

Dry-humping your leg was absolutely not how Wanda thought this night would go  -  but she wasn’t about to complain. It wasn’t enough  -  not even close  -  but it was something. Just enough friction to soothe the worst of the ache building between her thighs.

“If you don’t like it... I can stop,” she purrs against your ear, her voice a grin wrapped in velvet.

You growl sharp and impatient  -  and break away just long enough to spin her around, pinning her front-first against the counter. Any complaint about losing the friction dies in her throat when your hands are everywhere  -  sliding over her body, squeezing her hips, gliding up her waist until they grab her breasts, rough and possessive.

Wanda whimpers, forehead pressed against the cabinet. Her body arches into your touch like it’s instinct. 

“Fuck...” Your mouth is hot against her neck, teeth dragging, lips mouthing along her skin. “You’re driving me insane lately.”

Your hands don’t stay still for long  -  one slips under her shirt, fingers immediately closing around her breasts, kneading, squeezing, thumbs flicking at her nipples until they harden beneath your touch. The gasp she lets out is choked, bitten off as she bites her lip  -  doing everything she can not to wake the whole damn building.

But it gets harder  -  so much harder  -  when one of your legs nudges hers apart, and your thigh presses right back into her center.

“All that little show you’ve been putting on,” you continue, lips ghosting over her jaw, her ear, biting at the lobe. “Walking around in practically nothing. Flirting like you wanted me to do something about it...”

“Wanted you… to do this…- ah...” she gasps, grinding harder against your thigh now, completely shameless. You can feel the wet heat soaking through her shorts, bleeding into your pants  -  a mess you’ve both made together.

The shrill whistle of the kettle becomes the cruelest kind of enemy  -  loud, jarring, inconvenient. You groan, forehead dropping to her shoulder, then curse as you force yourself to step back and kill the noise before the entire apartment wakes up.

Wanda whines  -  desperate, protesting  -  but only gets as far as pushing her hair out of her face before you’re right back on her.

This time, you kiss her.

No teasing. No hesitation. Just mouths crashing together, tongues sliding, hands gripping, pulling, claiming. Wanda melts into it  -  into you  -  her hands clawing at your shirt like she’ll die if you stop.

It’s breathless. Dizzying. Addictive.

When you finally pull back, she’s panting, lips kiss-swollen, eyes dark. Her fists are tangled in the fabric of your shirt, a silent don’t go.

“Don’t you think...” Your voice is wrecked, hoarse, barely there. “Don’t you think our friends are right?”

Wanda blinks, dazed. “What?”

You press kisses to her collarbone between words, hands roaming everywhere  -  flattening over her back, sliding down to grip her ass, pulling her flush to you. “They say we’re gonna hurt each other... that it’s gonna be awkward when it’s over.”

“They don’t know shit,” she breathes,  hands sliding under your shirt, nails scratching over your stomach in a way that makes your whole body shudder.

Your teeth sink into the side of her neck and Wanda moans, the sound shameless, right into your ear. “Fuck... I want your tongue inside me.”

The noise you make is halfway to a growl, your mouth crashing back to hers, harder, messier.

You don’t even hesitate, lifting her onto the counter, stepping between her legs like you belong there (because you do). Your hands trail up her thighs, fingers about to slip under the hem of her shorts  - 

When the doorbell rings.

Both of you jolt, startled  -  hearts pounding, breath caught.

But neither of you stop.

The kiss doesn’t falter, just deepens  -  a wordless agreement that whoever it is can go to hell.

Wanda’s moaning into your mouth, fingers fisted in your hair, ready to suggest you forget the kitchen entirely  - 

But then the hallway light clicks on.

“Jesus Christ. In the middle of the kitchen?”

Natasha’s groggy voice  -  rough with sleep, hair a mess, one hand rubbing at her eye  -  makes you and Wanda freeze. Both of you groan in unison, practically wilting in frustration.

Wanda hides her face against your chest, her legs still locked around your waist, doing her best to calm her breathing. You bite down on a curse, hand flexing against the counter.

“Shit, Nat, sorry, we were just - ”

“Yeah, no. I don’t wanna hear it.” She cuts you off with a dismissive wave, followed by a loud yawn. “At least you could’ve answered the door.” She smirks, clearly more amused than annoyed, but very much awake thanks to the noise.

You barely have time to register the other muffled voices complaining from their rooms  -  something about “some of us trying to sleep”  -  but it’s hard to focus when Wanda’s mouth is back on your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses like she fully intends to pick up exactly where you left off the moment Natasha disappears.

But then - 

“...Yeah, she’s still awake. Just a second, I’ll get her,” Nat says  -  not to you, but to someone at the door. Her tone shifts  -  something cautious threading through it.

She glances over her shoulder. “It’s Danvers. Y/N... she wants to talk to you.”

Your entire body tenses.

Wanda’s grip tightens like a vice. You glance down  -  her face is unreadable, jaw clenched.

“S’okay,” you murmur softly, kissing her temple, fingers brushing along her thigh to soothe. “I’ll just see what she wants. We’re... not done here, yeah?”

Wanda doesn’t answer at first  -  just huffs, reluctantly unclenching her legs from around you. Her pout is immediate, her hands dragging along your sides like she hates letting you go. You steal one more kiss to her cheek, then force yourself to step back.

Natasha arches a brow but says nothing, moving toward Wanda as you head for the door  -  left ajar behind you like a wound still open.

“Hey... Carol,” you greet, trying for casual. “Did I forget something at your place or...?”

But the second you see her face, your stomach drops.

Big mistake. You should’ve stayed inside.

“No. I just...” She exhales, shoulders squared like she’s about to run into traffic. “I know what you said before. I know. But I can’t help it, Y/N. These... these dates. The way we get each other. The games. The jokes. The - ”

“Carol...” Your gut twists. You already know where this is going.

“I like you.” She blurts it out, desperate, stepping into your space. “I really like you. You’re funny and brilliant and beautiful, and I tried. I tried to settle for friendship, but it’s killing me. The more I’m around you, the harder I fall.”

Your heart sinks, not for yourself, but for her. You swallow, throat dry, scrambling for something  -  anything  -  to soften this.

You reach for her hands, gentle. “Carol, I... I’m so - ”

But she lunges.

Her mouth is on yours  -  sudden and uninvited. You flinch, stunned, hands flying to her shoulders as you shove her back.

“Jesus Christ, Carol.” You gasp, wiping your mouth. Your patience frays on the spot  -  this was becoming a pattern, and not a cute one.

She’s panting, flushed, but before either of you can say another word - 

SLAM.

The apartment door.

You don’t even have to turn around. You already know exactly who saw it.

Carol tries again anyway, voice cracking. “Please. Just... give me a chance - ”

“No.” You cut her off, sharper now, voice steady but cold. “I don’t see you like that. I never did. And I’m sorry if... if anything I did made you think otherwise. But you told me friendship was enough. I trusted that. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

She opens her mouth, but you hold up a hand.

“I mean it, Carol.” Your tone drops  -  low, dangerous. “If you ever force a kiss on me again... we’re done. As friends. As anything. Got it?”

Her face crumples; embarrassment, hurt, guilt all crashing over her at once. She stumbles back a step, nodding, eyes glassy.

You sigh, scrubbing a hand down your face. “Go home, Carol.”

It’s all you say before turning back inside.

The first thing you see is Natasha, standing at the kitchen counter pouring two fingers of bourbon into a glass  -  then another.

The second thing you notice is Wanda’s bedroom door. Closed.

“Do you think the community pool’s still open?” you mutter, dragging a hand through your hair as you collapse into the armchair. “Because honestly, I’m considering drowning myself in it.”

Nat chuckles, walking over to hand you a glass. “Might wanna hold off on that. At least until you drink this.”

“I can’t blame either of them, Y/N.” Natasha says, watching you take a long sip.

You grunt, not looking at her.

“And you can’t be mad at Carol for getting her wires crossed,” she goes on, voice firm but not cruel. “She’s liked you since day one.”

“I really don’t want to have this conversation - ”

“Yeah, well, we’re having it. Because I got dragged out of bed for this mess.” Her tone sharpens. She plucks the empty glass from your hand and replaces it with hers, still half-full. You sigh, dragging the drink to your lips, but don’t argue.

“You never drew a line with Carol. Not once. You let her think there was a chance. Spent weeks glued to her side while  -  surprise  -  something was clearly brewing between you and Wanda.”

She crosses her arms, glaring. “We all asked you two to be careful. All of us. Because it took a hell of a lot of effort to get this living arrangement to work without turning into a warzone. But no. Of course you didn’t listen.”

Nat scrubs a hand over her face, jaw tightening. “I’m serious, Y/N. No one wants to live in a house full of screaming matches and slammed doors. College is hard enough without that crap. Fix it. Talk to Wanda. Make it right.”

You tip back the last of the bourbon, grimacing as it burns down your throat. Setting the glass in her hand, you mutter, “Yes, boss.”

Nat rolls her eyes but lets it slide, turning to leave. “Smartass.”

The second she’s gone, the weight of everything catches up  -  your head pounding, chest aching. You tell yourself you’ll handle it tomorrow. No more midnight drama. Let everyone sleep.

But if you’d known Wanda was in her room crying into her pillow... you would’ve knocked. You would’ve swallowed your pride, your exhaustion, your fear.

You didn’t know.

Because she never told you.

Now that Fanny and Lucky - the Akita belonging to Yelena and the golden Labrador that was Kate’s - had officially become residents of the apartment, it was clear there was a lot to do. Space had to be rearranged for the little creatures, and essentials had to be bought to welcome them properly at home.

After a brief, somewhat heated debate over naming rights - during which you found yourself grumbling about being swiped from the decision - Maria and Nat took on the mission of clearing some room in the apartment. Meanwhile, you, Kate, and Yelena headed to the mall to gather supplies.

It turned out to be the perfect chance for Wanda and Pietro to come along. Most Nexus students were scrambling to replace dozens of belongings lost in the recent flood, so the trip was a shared errand. That’s how you all ended up piled into Wanda’s older twin brother’s sporty truck.

Inside the cramped cabin, Yelena and Pietro immediately launched into a battle over the radio dial. Kate was bouncing in her seat, unable to stay still, while you practically dozed against the window. Wanda sat between you, doing her best not to lose her calm amid the chaos.

“No, Yelena, I don’t want to hear sad rock on the way to the mall - I have a reputation!” Pietro complained loudly, reaching out to switch the station.

The soft, moody tune was quickly replaced by an upbeat electronic track, causing Yelena to snort derisively.

“That’s not even real music - it’s just noise! How are you supposed to think with that racket?” she snapped back, trying to wrest the dial away.

Pietro swatted her hand away, and a slap fight ensued, with both of them laughing and squabbling as the car swayed slightly on the road. Wanda and Kate exchanged exasperated exclamations, while you blinked awake, puzzled by the racket.

“Stop it!” Wanda demanded seriously.

“Yeah, before we all die!” Kate added with mock urgency.

“I wouldn’t object,” you mumbled sleepily.

Kate leaned back to poke at your ribs, and Wanda, separating the combatants with a firm look, declared she would be the one to choose the music from now on, in hopes of ending the childish war.

“You two are such children,” she grumbled, settling on a soft melody. Yelena crossed her arms and faced the window, while Pietro continued driving, still visibly sulky.

After a moment of quiet, Wanda shot you a glance. “Why are you sleeping?”

You barely cracked an eye open. “I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s past ten o’clock.”

You stretched languidly against the glass. “So early,” you pouted, eliciting an eye roll from Wanda - who couldn’t help but giggle.

Eventually, the truck rolled safely into the mall parking lot, and Kate and Yelena practically jumped out, excitedly discussing dog supplies already.

“Your enthusiasm is contagious, Y/N,” Pietro teased as he noticed your slow, sleepy stretch before climbing out.

You chuckled. “Sorry, stayed up late finishing an article. I just need coffee.”

“We’re going to buy some stuff. Want to meet us in the food court later?” Pietro asked.

You nodded, stifling a yawn. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Don’t get lost,” Wanda teased, and you winked at her as you turned away - unaware of the faint blush coloring her cheeks.

The twins headed off in one direction, and Wanda caught Pietro’s amused glance as he watched you walk away.

“What?” she asked, frowning.

“You like her,” Pietro accused with a smirk.

“As if,” Wanda replied, dry but not quite convincing.

“Come on, you have to admit it,” Pietro insisted as they walked side by side. “She’s getting to you, even if it’s slow.”

Wanda shot him a side glance, a smirk tugging at her lips. “She annoys me every single day, so there’s that.”

Pietro laughed. “You lie so badly, Wanda.”

She just rolled her eyes, clearly embarrassed but not denying it. Luckily, Pietro didn’t press further - his attention soon snagged by the growing shopping list in his hands.

Meanwhile, you decided on a full breakfast, figuring everyone else would be tied up with shopping for a while. The waffles were absolutely delicious, and you were just finishing your drink when the shopping bags suddenly appeared on the chair across from you.

“Ah, so you were hungry. That explains the grumpiness the whole way here,” Yelena remarked as Kate slid into the seat beside you.

You shrugged, a small smile playing at your lips as you sucked on the plastic straw. The girls had scored plenty of pet supplies but were still hunting for those tiny dog houses.

“We were going to have lunch here,” Kate commented, “but I’m guessing you won’t want to eat anytime soon.”

You made a soft sound of protest. “Oh, I will. The Maximoffs will be shopping all afternoon, you can bet on that.”

And you were right. Wanda and Pietro’s pile of bags far outweighed the others’. You thought Pietro’s purchase of a foosball table was a joke until he nonchalantly said the guys wanted something to do for fun - and mentioned Tony had ordered a giant flat-screen TV for his room.

“So everyone at Nexus really is filthy rich,” Yelena joked next to you.

You laughed and nodded. “And they have no idea that’s not normal, right? So weird.”

The group soon launched into a conversation about the return of frat parties now that members were settling into their apartments, and you drifted along with the chatter.

Eventually, you decided to head home for lunch - mostly because Nat and Maria were waiting - and grabbed a few groceries at the market first. Special shoutout to Kate, who hopped into a cart while Yelena gleefully pushed her through the aisles. You and Pietro burst out laughing, while Wanda buried her face to avoid catching the attention of anyone she knew.

Just as you were about to leave the market, your laughter was interrupted by a familiar voice calling your name.

“Harley? Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in ages!” You greeted her warmly, and Wanda fought to keep her reaction in check as she watched you hug the blonde woman, who beamed in return.

Yelena, standing next to Wanda, nudged her gently and giggled, “You’ve gotta watch this.”

Wanda frowned in confusion, but Yelena was already trying to suppress her laughter - and Kate wasn’t far behind. Wanda’s eyes flicked back to you, and immediately regretted it.

For the next few minutes, she was forced to witness Harley Quinn unabashedly flirting with you - loads of playful touches, giggles, and those sly smiles.

“She has no idea,” Kate whispered at one point, watching Harley toss her head and expose her collarbone as you babbled about everything new in your life.

“I know,” Yelena replied. “It’s so sad… but hilarious. Wish Nat was here to see this.”

Suddenly, Harley leaned in and whispered something in your ear. You giggled and that was Wanda’s limit.

“Is there any way you can hurry this up, Avenger? We have places to be,” Wanda warned aloud, her voice dripping with the most spiteful, arrogant tone she could muster.

You blinked a few times, caught off guard, but managed a graceful goodbye - planting a quick kiss on Harley’s cheek and giving her a warm hug. That was enough to make Wanda snap into action, hurrying back toward the car.

The ride home was thick with tension and heavy silence. Everyone seemed too wary to spark another conversation, afraid it might ignite a fresh argument between you and Wanda.

But the moment you stepped through the apartment door, all that uncertainty vanished. Fanny and Lucky erupted into excited barking, leaping up to greet you with wagging tails and joyful chaos.

And just like that, the confusion and unease melted away.

-

It wasn’t surprising at all that as soon as the smell of food wafted through the apartment - and even beyond the front door - the neighbors showed up, drawn by the promise of a real meal. By neighbors, you meant the usual crowd who survived mostly on pizza and frozen dinners - typical NYU fare - and never turned down an invite for homemade food.

So there you were, sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a plate of stew balanced in your lap. Yelena, Kate, and Natasha crowded around the kitchen table, joined by Maria and Pietro, while Steve, Bucky, Sam, Peter, and Wanda sprawled across the living room couches and floor. The TV played a forgotten soccer game in the background, but no one was really paying attention; everyone was caught up in their own conversations.

Tony Stark had vanished briefly after the food arrived, only to reappear a few minutes later carrying cases of beer. Cheers erupted at the sight of the drinks, and soon the radio came to life. Bucky headed off to his apartment for snacks, and just like that, your small gathering turned into an impromptu party.

Yelena called out for board games, but Natasha was busy flirting with Maria, having scattered everything from its place. She grumbled about where the games were before returning to the conversation. Yelena, with Lucky peacefully asleep on her lap, shot you a pleading look. You chuckled and stood up, excusing yourself from Steve’s chat to find the games.

In the hallway, you were surprised to see Wanda alone, talking softly on her phone.

“No, we’re just having some fun,” she said quietly, a small smile touching her lips. You made a deliberate noise with your footsteps so you wouldn’t startle her. She glanced your way but didn’t hang up. “Yeah, it’s with the Avengers. No, Vis… Come on…”

You walked past her toward the coat closet where you and the girls kept all the extras, searching the top shelf for the board games. When you came out clutching an old, battered Monopoly set - probably missing half the pieces - you found Wanda still standing there, staring at the wall with a faraway look, her phone tucked under her chin.

“Boyfriend problems?” you asked lightly, catching her off guard.

She blinked and let out a short laugh. “Kind of ex-boyfriend problems. Vision and I don’t date anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of name is Vision?”

She smiled softly. “His parents were kind of hippies.”

You grinned. “What, does he have a brother named Hearing?”

Wanda chuckled. “Maybe a cousin named Smell.”

You giggled, leaning just a little closer without thinking. She didn’t pull away.

As the laughter faded, you asked gently, “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Wanda hesitated, surprised by your genuine concern, but forced a smile. “Yeah. Vis is just… a bit controlling. I was his first girlfriend, and now we’re friends, but he still thinks he needs to worry.”

“Don’t you think you’ve got enough controlling people in your life, Wanda?” you said, half-joking but serious underneath.

She blinked, caught off guard. You quickly cleared your throat and softened your tone. “Sorry, that’s none of my business. Good luck with Mr. Eyesight. If you want to join us, we’re in the living room.”

You gave her a small smile and turned to rejoin the group, leaving Wanda standing there in the hallway, a little confused but clearly affected by your words.

-

The cleaning weekend was, as Wanda quickly discovered, a tradition across the Avengers Apartments Complex. Returning from practice, she found nearly every door open, furniture shifted into hallways, and a steady stream of young people bustling about with brooms, dusters, and garbage bags. The girls had warned her about the event, but the sheer buzz of activity still caught her off guard.

Chores had been divided among the apartment residents, and Wanda wasted no time changing into something more comfortable before diving into her tasks.

To her mild annoyance - though she’d never admit it outright - you were her assigned cleaning partner. And, predictably, you were late.

“Y/N just texted, Wanda,” Yelena called from the living room, where the phones were left charging.

Wanda’s hands were wet, scrubbing the last stubborn dish, and she shot the blonde a dry look. “What excuse did she come up with to keep me from strangling her for not being here?”

Yelena chuckled, stepping closer with her phone in hand. “She sent a picture.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow.

“Getting snacks for everyone - with my favorite Maximoff,” Yelena said, holding the phone so Wanda could see the selfie: you and Pietro in the car, McDonald’s wrappers strewn across your laps.

Wanda wanted to be annoyed, but you looked so effortlessly lovely in that snapshot, smiling wide, carefree. With a reluctant sigh, she whispered to Yelena, “Send her a thank-you message.”

You arrived not long after, and following a much-needed food break that lifted everyone’s spirits, you and Pietro returned to your chores in your respective apartments.

Wanda was just finishing the last of the dishes when a mug caught her eye - a mug you had borrowed without asking. It was now full of soapy water in her hands, but the sight unleashed a flood of memories she hadn’t touched in weeks.

She bit her lip, remembering the feel of your mouth on hers, your hands gripping her waist, the spark that ignited when your lips pressed firmly against hers-

“Hey.”

Startled, she nearly dropped the mug. Natasha stood in the doorway, casual but watching.

“Got any trash to take out?” Nat asked.

Wanda hurried to mask her flushed cheeks and denial, but the way Natasha’s eyes lingered on the mug made it clear she knew exactly what was running through Wanda’s mind.

As Nat left, Wanda exhaled deeply, gathering herself. She finished the dishes and, perhaps still under the spell of those memories, walked toward the room you were tidying.

“Need any help here?” Her voice was softer than usual, surprising you.

You suppressed a teasing grin and shook your head with a smile. “Nah, I’m almost done. Besides, you handled most of it while I was gone. You should rest. I’ll finish the other rooms.”

You turned back to the scattered papers on your desk, but Wanda didn’t move to leave. She wanted to stretch this moment, any moment you might share.

“Don’t be silly,” she said, stepping in and picking up a few stray papers. “You went out to buy food for everyone. We’ll finish faster if we work together.”

You shrugged casually, trying to hide the fact that having Wanda so close - wearing tight shorts and an oversized shirt, looking impossibly beautiful - was anything but distracting.

Together, you worked in comfortable silence, sorting through the mountain of crumpled papers, occasionally exchanging remarks about the chaos.

It was during this quiet moment that you stumbled on a secret of Wanda’s - a deep, heartfelt passion for poetry.

“Why do you throw them away?” you asked, holding up one of her crumpled drafts.

Wanda froze - not because the question was inappropriate, but because it was you. Her usual Queen Bee composure never held up around you. It always seemed to crumble.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, clutching a full trash bag, avoiding your gaze. “I guess… I never think they’re good enough.”

You hummed thoughtfully, eyes scanning the poem in your hand. The silence stretched long enough for her to realize you were actually reading it. She turned toward you, cheeks burning with embarrassment, and hurried to snatch the paper away.

But you were quicker, slipping it behind your back with a teasing smile.

She hesitated, swallowing dryly, nerves rising at how close you stood. Then, stepping back, she muttered, “They’re not good- ”

“I strongly disagree.” You cut in, that infuriating smirk tugging at your lips - one that made her knees weak. “And you have to trust me on this. I don’t usually like poetry. But you, Miss Maximoff, have talent.”

Wanda chuckled, skeptical, raising a hand at chest height. “As if.”

You handed the poem back but held onto her hand lightly. She trembled beneath your gaze, locked in that charged silence.

“That person you write about… do I know the lucky guy?”

She met your eyes, steady despite the flush on her cheeks.

“Who says it’s a guy?”

You couldn’t even smile. The magnetic tension between you clouded everything - logic, the crowded apartment, open doors. All you could think about was Wanda, close enough to kiss.

Then, just as the moment thickened, Kate came rushing down the hall after Lucky, who’d somehow slipped free and snagged a pillow. The spell broke.

Clearing your throat, you let go of Wanda’s hand. She looked at you, disappointed, as you stepped back.

You laughed hoarsely, teasing, “Who knew NYU’s bee queen had room for girls in her icy little heart too, huh?”

Wanda rolled her eyes at the jab - but mostly at the distance you suddenly put between you. With a frustrated sigh, she crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash, harder than necessary.

You opened your mouth to apologize, but she cut you off with a sharp, “Finish here - I’m going to the next room,” and walked away.

You spent the next twenty minutes mentally cursing yourself for being such an idiot.

-

“I’m sorry.”

Wanda blinked, surprised at how quickly the apology came. She’d half-expected the usual passive-aggressive dance between you two, but there you were - right outside Yelena’s bedroom door just moments after Wanda had disappeared inside. The brunette looked at you, stunned, unable to say a word.

You sighed, but it wasn’t directed at her - it was frustration with yourself. Leaning casually against the doorframe, hands shoved into your pockets, you admitted, “I shouldn’t have brought up that stupid joke. That was childish, especially since… well, we were having a moment.”

Wanda’s lips curved into a small, teasing smile. “Were we?” she challenged softly, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, yeah, I guess I deserve mean Wanda.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, but she tried to hide it behind a quiet chuckle. “Mean Wanda?” she echoed, confused but amused, which made you grin again.

“Yeah. You know - your mean version. Sarcastic, overly bossy. Defensive, trying to stay in control so you don’t get hurt or show too much vulnerability.”

Wanda stood frozen for a moment, absorbing your words. You awkwardly cleared your throat. “Was that too much?”

She giggled shyly, shaking her head. “No. I just… didn’t expect a psychoanalysis in the middle of cleaning day.”

You laughed along with her. 

“And I didn’t know you noticed me so much. Or at all.”

You scratched the back of your neck, a bit sheepish. “Well, now I feel bad. I know we… well, we fight a lot. But we’re flatmates, and despite all the differences, we have an understanding. A few weeks ago, if someone asked me what I thought of you, I’d say - like everyone else - that you were basically a real-life Regina George. But now? Now I’ve seen you in bunny slippers, humming the Bewitched theme while stretching for the highest shelf in the kitchen.” You smiled, watching the rosy color deepen on Wanda’s cheeks. “I don’t see you as mean or intimidating anymore. You’re actually pretty sweet when you’re just… being you.”

She shifted her weight, heart pounding. “You thought I was mean?”

You chuckled, shrugging. “Everyone does, Wanda. That’s the image you’ve built for yourself, isn’t it?”

Wanda nodded quietly, knowing it was true.

“It’s a shield, I get it,” you said gently. “If you’re untouchable, no one can hurt you.”

Clearing her throat, Wanda teased, “Looks like your psychology classes are paying off.”

You smiled softly. “It’s not that. I just… spend too much time trying to figure you out, I guess.”

Her breath caught a little. “W-why would you do that?”

You shrugged, deflecting her meaning with ease. “I got tired of arguing, that’s all. If understanding you means I learn to like you - and stop fighting over silly things - then I’m all for it.”

Wanda grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. “So basically, you like me?”

You winked, making her legs wobble. “Don’t get cocky - I can always change my mind.”

With a casual turn on your heels, you left the room.

Wanda stayed behind, a silly, happy smile lingering on her face for the rest of the day.

-

Somehow, the weekend cleaning morphed into a movie night in the living room, with all the boys eventually joining in. Comments about the mess meaning they’d have to clean again were promptly ignored.

Horror movies were chosen by consensus, but Wanda barely absorbed a single scare. Instead, she spent the evening furtively stealing glances at you sitting beside her  -  a habit she’d been caught twice already, once by Natasha and once by Pietro. She was desperately trying to avoid a third mortifying catch.

Her plan unraveled spectacularly during The Conjuring 2, when Peter and Yelena returned with another round of snacks. Peter tried handing Wanda a Snickers bar, but you caught it halfway before she could refuse.

Peter gave you a confused look. “What - ?”

“She’s allergic.”

“I’m allergic.”

The two of you said it together, and you just smiled as you tore open the chocolate. Pietro laughed from the couch, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“And how would Y/N know that?” he asked, nodding at Wanda, who was staring at you like you’d just performed magic.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual but feeling the heat rise under Wanda’s gaze. “She must’ve told me.”

Natasha giggled quietly beside you. “Next thing you’ll say you know Wanda’s favorite foods,” she teased.

You flushed a little but shot back, “Whatever, Romanoff. It’s not hard to memorize someone’s favorites when you share an apartment. Like, who else would notice that she likes Pringles with cheese sauce or blueberry pie?”

The group had stopped paying attention to the movie entirely and was now focused on you two. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, you gave a nervous laugh.

“Why is everyone looking at me like that?” you asked.

Kate raised an eyebrow. “What’s my favorite food?”

You grimaced, genuinely puzzled. “How would I know, Bishop? We barely know each other.”

A chorus of incredulous murmurs bubbled up from the group, like everyone was sharing a private joke you weren’t getting.

Impatient, you huffed, “You guys are acting weird. I’m gonna get a drink.” With that, you jumped off the couch and practically ran from the conversation.

Wanda cringed as the attention shifted back to her, but the group was kind enough not to press further. Slowly, everyone’s eyes returned to the movie.

When the night finally wore on and one by one the others retreated to their rooms or apartments, Wanda fought off sleep, trying to get up. Yelena had finally left her alone, and she was about to collapse on the couch when she felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder.

“If you sleep here, you’ll wake up sore for cheer practice,” your voice was low and soft.

Wanda blinked sleepily, nearly drifting off as she listened, wishing you’d just keep talking in that tone. The warmth of your hand vanished for a moment, then suddenly was everywhere as you adjusted her in your arms and lifted her from the couch.

Her surprised exclamation dissolved into a deep sigh. Your arms circled her, and she clung to your neck, burying her face in your shirt to hide the flush she was sure painted her cheeks - even if the dim light might conceal it.

“Don’t get used to it, princess,” you teased quietly against her ear.

Wanda didn’t mind. She closed her eyes and breathed in your scent, almost slipping back to sleep in your arms as you carried her toward the bedroom.

When you gently laid her down, brushing loose strands of hair from her face before tucking the blanket over her, Wanda suddenly understood how you knew she was allergic to peanuts without her ever telling you.

“Good night, Wands,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. The warmth from your lips spread through her chest.

Half-asleep, a sudden realization bloomed in Wanda’s mind  -  the identity of the mysterious person from the poems she’d been writing, the one she never could quite see clearly until tonight.

Your impulsive kiss had only made things worse between you and Wanda.

Every interaction quickly became a battleground. Arguments over who got to shower first, who claimed the last cup of coffee, or who controlled the remote spiraled into full-blown disputes. Even the smallest things turned into childish fights.

Kate and Yelena found the whole mess hilarious, often egging you both on just to watch the fireworks. “It’s like watching two kids with red faces accusing each other like they’re twelve,” they’d tease, barely able to contain their laughter.

Natasha and Maria, on the other hand, weren’t amused. They longed for a little peace in the apartment, wishing the two of you could coexist without constant war.

Almost a week after Wanda moved in, you finally met her twin brother.

You were sprawled on the couch, flipping through a science magazine, when the door creaked open.

“Hey, is my sister around?” a young man’s voice called as he poked his head in, mostly hidden behind the door frame.

You raised an eyebrow, incredulous. Did all Maximoffs have zero concept of knocking?

“Excuse me, but do you know how doors work? You knock before entering,” you replied.

To your surprise, he laughed, then gave two sarcastic knocks before strolling inside.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, approaching. You sighed, realizing any hope of teaching manners here was lost. “Wanda told me about you.”

“She did?” you said, genuinely curious. 

He shrugged. “She said you’re the worst person she could’ve ended up living with, and if the Nexus plumbing isn’t fixed soon, she’s gonna strangle you.”

“Aww, she likes me then,” you said with a wry smile, waving a hand without bothering to get up.

“I’m Pietro, her twin,” he added. “She hasn’t answered her phone. Do you know where she is?”

Without looking up from the magazine, you shrugged. “Don’t really care, pal. But you can check the calendar on the fridge if you want.”

“Thanks,” he said, heading to the kitchen. After a few minutes rifling through the fridge notes, he muttered, “It just says free period here. Think she’s with the cheer girls?”

You let out a dry laugh. “No idea.”

From the kitchen, Pietro sighed impatiently. Returning to the living room, he checked his phone, looking tense, enough to pull your attention away from your magazine.

“Did you guys schedule something together?” you asked.

“What? No.” He hesitated, eyes flicking over you like weighing whether to share more. “I just need to know where she’s going, you know? Our dad’s kind of a control freak.”

“That’s… creepy,” you said, turning back to the magazine.

“Yeah, I know,” he admitted, flopping into the empty armchair. You almost told him that wasn’t the invitation for an honest chat you thought it was, but something about his openness stopped you.

“We can’t blame him, though. He’s been through a lot and is cautious now. We just moved to America, and he worries about us being halfway across the world.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, closing the magazine and settling back on the sofa. “Where are you guys from?”

“Sokovia,” he said, sounding more at ease now that you showed interest. “It’s in Europe.”

You giggle. “I know where Sokovia is, Pietro.” You notice the slight surprise in his eyes. “It’s a beautiful country, with some good colleges too. So, why did you two pick NYU?”

He grins. “You sound like the Dean on Admission Day now.” You both chuckle. Then he shrugs. “Our stepfather taught here for a few years before moving back to Sokovia and marrying Dad. I guess we grew up hearing stories about the place, so when it was time to choose, it just felt right.”

“Now you sound like an eager applicant,” you tease, making him laugh again. “I’ve never been to Sokovia, but I go to St. Petersburg at least twice a year to visit Nat’s family,” you add. “When your sister wants to gossip or gets really angry, she curses in Sokovian. It’s pretty similar to the language there  -  but don’t tell her I know what she’s saying.”

You’re not sure why you shared that, but Pietro seems to find it interesting. He launches into a conversation about how rare it is to find anyone at NYU who understands Sokovian, and before you realize it, you’ve been talking for quite a while, bouncing between all kinds of topics.

As you talked, you realized Pietro was fiercely determined to carve out a career as a professional athlete. His hands, calloused yet quick, gestured animatedly whenever he spoke about training and competitions, a spark lighting up his stormy eyes. But despite his ambitions, you caught a shadow of frustration whenever he mentioned babysitting his sister - something he did only because their father insisted, and hated every second of it. The glint of a sleek sports car keychain dangling from his jeans pocket told you he enjoyed the thrill of speed off the track too.

Unlike Wanda, who was caught in a storm of tensions with the flatmates, Pietro was fitting in surprisingly well. His easy smile and casual confidence seemed to smooth over the rough edges between everyone.

“I think only Stark and Barnes argue about silly stuff,” Pietro said with a smirk, glancing toward the kitchen where some of your housemates were preparing dinner. “But honestly, everyone else is getting along. When Natasha came by, saying she was thinking of kicking you and Wanda out to sleep on the fire escape, Steve actually suggested you two try hanging out - get to know each other.”

You let out a short, sharp laugh that barely hid your irritation. “Hard pass.”

“Come on,” he urged, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locking with yours. “The Nexus building’s going to be shut down for at least six months for the plumbing. If this keeps up, someone’s going to get strangled before the pipes get fixed.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. “Not my fault your sister’s insufferable. No offense.”

Pietro chuckled, shaking his head with a half-smile. “I’m her twin, so I’ve got some insider knowledge. She’s fussy, obsessed with her calendar, and won’t admit she has the same control freak streak as Dad. But she’s pretty cool… most of the time.”

You shrugged, stretching and letting the magazine slip from your fingers onto the couch cushion with a soft thud. “Dude, I don’t know what to tell you. I’d rather change the subject than talk about someone who clearly hates me.”

He grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So, you busy? I need a Call of Duty partner.”

Normally, Natasha - or Peter when he was around - would be your go-to for gaming marathons. Nat had classes and responsibilities, so you relished the rare days off from your internship when you could just kick back. Pietro eagerly accepted the challenge, his competitive streak shining through.

For the rest of the afternoon, the two of you were lost in the game and conversation, the room echoing with laughter, playful trash talk, and the satisfying clicks of controllers. The tension from earlier seemed to dissolve in the dimming light, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that neither of you expected but both secretly welcomed.

-

Wanda’s laughter echoed softly down the dimly lit hallway as she chatted on the phone with Monica - her best friend and teammate - reliving the coach’s latest dramatic meltdown during practice. The corners of her mouth lifted easily, her breath catching in a quiet giggle, but as she neared the apartment door, the warmth in her smile flickered and faded the instant she caught the unmistakable sound of voices inside - laughter, playful and urgent.

Her steps quickened, the lightness in her chest giving way to a sharp crease of worry on her brow. “Monica, I have to go. I’ll text you later,” she said briskly before ending the call.

Fingers tightening around the door handle, she pushed inside and froze.

There, sprawled comfortably on the worn couch, were her twin brother and her newest flatmate, locked in a fierce shooting game. Their shoulders nudged each other in teasing jabs, laughter spilling freely as they tried to distract one another from the screen. The ease between them - bare feet propped up, heads thrown back in amusement - felt like a silent insult.

“Am I interrupting?” Wanda’s voice cut through the room, low but sharp, the question laced with a disbelief she didn’t want to admit was jealousy.

Pietro glanced up, a teasing smile tugging at his lips, but you only rolled your eyes and, without missing a beat, mumbled distractedly, “Yes, you’re free to leave anytime.” Your tone was casual, but the edge was there - sharp enough to sting.

Pietro chuckled, sensing the tension brewing. “Finally, sestra! I’ve been looking for you,” he said, poking Wanda in the ribs playfully to get her attention. You laughed, calling out that he just wanted an excuse not to lose, but you paused the game anyway and rose to grab drinks from the kitchen.

Wanda hated it - the casualness of the scene, the way you two looked so natural together, relaxed and easy. Like she was a ghost to the two of you, invisible when she wasn’t there. It gnawed at her.

“Practice ended early, so Mon and I went to grab a snack at Marvel’s,” Wanda explained, shrugging off her jacket. The cheer uniform underneath, crisp and bright, suddenly felt like a spotlight on her, something you'd been quietly noticing - and fearing - the past few days. You weren’t ready to admit why it unsettled you so much.

“Where’s that?” Pietro asked, but you busied yourself with the sodas, not wanting to dive into the conversation.

“Near the Compound,” Wanda answered, eyes flicking toward you before narrowing slightly at her brother. “And it was just the two of us.”

His gaze sharpened, voice dropping into an almost teasing interrogation tone. “Is that so? Just the two of you?”

Wanda’s patience snapped, the heat rising in her cheeks. “Is this an interrogation?”

Pietro sighed, defeated. “Wanda, Dad asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“Watch me like I’m a fucking child,” she shot back, voice cold and biting. “And I’ve told you - you don’t have to do everything he says.”

“But Wanda - ”

“I don’t want to have this conversation again,” she cut him off, shedding her shoes with a flick of her foot, signaling him to drop it. Pietro didn’t push further, and the room fell into a taut silence, broken only by the soft fizz of soda opening and your quiet sipping.

Wanda’s glare lingered on her brother. “If you keep treating me like this, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Alright, sestra,” Pietro relented with a half-smile, standing and shutting down the game console. He turned to you, his usual mischievous grin back in place. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Drop by anytime. I’ve got Super Mario, and I’m pretty sure I can kick your ass.”

You laughed, the tension easing just a bit. “Sure thing, Pietro.”

He waved goodbye, exchanging a quick, meaningful glance with Wanda before stepping past her and out of the apartment, leaving a fragile quiet in his wake.

Wanda let out a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of all her frustration as Pietro’s footsteps faded down the hallway and the door clicked shut. For a moment, the apartment felt oddly silent, the laughter and noise replaced by a tense stillness. Then, almost unexpectedly, she turned toward you, her usual guarded expression softened, vulnerability flickering in her eyes.

“How mad do you think he got?” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as if revealing this uncertainty was a risk in itself.

You studied her for a moment - her posture slightly tense, fingers twisting absentmindedly on the strap of her bag - and then replied thoughtfully, “If that was the first time you stood up to him, he might have been more surprised than angry.”

Wanda bit her lip, a pensive crease forming between her brows. She glanced down at her phone, her fingers moving swiftly over the screen as if seeking refuge in the digital world. You didn’t see her typing, but you sensed she was sending a message to Monica, confiding in her about the argument with Pietro. Respecting her silence, you diverted your attention back to the soda bottle in your hand, assuming the conversation had quietly ended.

After a pause, her voice broke through again, softer this time. “It wasn’t the first time.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Wanda met your gaze briefly before offering an unexpected confession. “I mean, standing up to him. The first year here, we had a terrible fight. Dad puts so much pressure on Pietro - with racing and school - and he snaps when things get overwhelming. That first week, I had a really bad day and just wanted to have some fun. But I crossed the line... Pietro found me drunk, two blocks from a frat party. We didn’t speak for three weeks.” She chuckled dryly, a sound tinged with irony and a touch of self-mockery. “I have no idea why I’m telling you all this.”

You blinked, surprised - not just by the admission itself, but by the quiet trust in her tone. The room seemed to shrink around you, the bare walls of the apartment suddenly feeling more intimate, more real.

Wanda cleared her throat and shifted, gripping her training bag a little tighter as if anchoring herself. “I’m gonna shower. Bye.”

“Bye,” you answered automatically, your voice low.

But she was already moving - her footsteps brisk and purposeful - as she disappeared down the hallway. Left alone, you let out a small chuckle, shaking your head at how strange and complicated it all felt. The fragile edges of family, friendship, and rivalry - all tangled together in that small apartment.

-

Just because you were on vacation from your internship didn’t mean things had suddenly gotten easier in class. Quite the opposite, actually. The mounting workload felt heavier than ever: two seminars to prepare, a paper demanding at least two solid pages, and a pile of homework calculations waiting to be finished. It was a small mercy that you weren’t juggling a full day in the Luthor labs  -  honestly, you had no idea how you’d manage all of this alongside your internship.

Most of your classes wrapped up by midday, so you had hoped that returning to the apartment in the early afternoon - when the girls had their own classes - would mean some quiet time to focus.

You had exactly fifteen minutes of peace.

You were just finishing the last calculus problem for Mr. Pym’s class when the faint sound of footsteps approached the door. Expecting Natasha, who’d recently picked up an evening bar job and thus had more afternoons free, you didn’t lift your eyes from your notebook.

But then a muffled beat seeped through the closed door - music, unmistakably loud and rhythmic. It tugged at your concentration like a stubborn thread. You frowned, set your pen down, and stood, curiosity piqued.

Opening the door, you immediately realized the sound was coming from Wanda’s room. A sharp spike of irritation prickled your skin. Without hesitation, you stepped inside, your expression taut.

“Excuse me, there are people trying to study here,” you said, voice clipped.

Wanda, clad in sporty leggings and a loose tank top, paused mid-dance in front of the mirror. She didn’t turn, but raised a single eyebrow, lips quirking with challenge. “And I need to practice.”

You scoffed, moving toward the stereo to turn the volume down. “Ever heard of the gym?”

Her irritation deepened as she took a step closer to crank the volume back up. “They’re using it for PE, practice got postponed.”

You quickly lowered it again. She grimaced but didn’t back down. The moment she raised it, you switched it off entirely.

“God, you’re so annoying!” she snapped.

“I’m studying. Stop being loud!” you shot back, frustration bubbling.

Wanda crossed her arms, eyeing you like you were the disturbance. “Why are you here now, anyway?”

You rolled your eyes, letting the sarcasm slide out naturally. “First, this is my apartment. Second, it might be an unfamiliar concept to you, but there’s something called jobs, and we take vacations from them every year.”

Her eyes flashed, and without missing a beat, she uncrossed her arms and shoved your shoulder with a laugh. “Get out of my room!”

You didn’t push back, simply insisting again, “Keep the volume down.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, muttered something under her breath, and shut the door firmly in your face. You bit back a curse, inhaling deeply to steady your racing temper.

Moments later, the music resumed - this time, thankfully, quieter. You almost smiled at the truce, turning to head back to your own room.

Then a sudden, loud bang echoed from inside Wanda’s room. You froze, heart skipping, before rushing back to the door and swinging it open.

Wanda stood there, one hand braced on a tilting bookcase, her other hand clutching a knee. “I tripped,” she muttered, eyes flicking to you with a sheepish grin.

You stepped forward to steady the wobbling shelf and couldn’t help the teasing edge in your voice: “That’s why people use the gym.”

A short, genuine laugh escaped her lips, and your stomach warmed at the sound. “Touché,” she replied softly, looking down at the bruise forming on her knee.

You gathered the scattered books and carefully placed them back on the shelves. Then you crouched beside her, voice shifting into a more commanding tone, “Follow me.”

She gave you a curious glance but didn’t argue, limping slightly as she trailed you out of the room.

“Sit somewhere,” you directed, nodding toward the kitchen countertop.

Wanda settled herself with a wince, and you busied yourself rifling through a cabinet for the first aid kit. You set it beside her, searching for cotton and alcohol to clean the scrape.

Her eyes tracked your movements, lip caught between her teeth. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked with a teasing edge.

“I think I have enough knowledge to clean a two-inch cut, Maximoff,” you retorted, stepping in front of her with a smirk.

Wanda didn’t take her eyes off you, arching a brow. “You don’t go to med school, do you? I’ve never seen you hanging around with those people.”

“No, Wanda.” You dipped the cotton in alcohol, holding it up like a peace offering. “Now stop swinging your leg. Thank you.” Your voice was calm as you began to gently clean the small bruise on her knee. “But I did take some classes with a lot of them in first grade. And, well, I’ve fallen off skateboards enough times to know how to clean a cut.” You threw in a playful joke, and her lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

“Don’t wanna be a doctor then, huh?” she teased, watching you carefully as you stepped aside to grab a bandage.

You sighed dramatically. “That may be hard to believe, since I’m amazing and incredible all the time and hide it very well…” you began, your voice dripping with mock confidence. Wanda raised an eyebrow, amused, as you gently pressed the bandage over her skin. “But honestly, people make me nervous. I work better in a lab than in a doctor’s office.”

Your eyes met hers, warm and sincere. Wanda blinked down at her knee, now softly wrapped in the bandage, and smiled.

“I think you’re doing just fine,” she said quietly.

Her compliment caught you off guard, but you returned the smile, lingering in the moment a beat longer than usual. Wanda’s gaze drifted lower, lingering on your mouth. She remembered the fleeting brush of your lips against hers - the unexpected warmth of that touch - and wondered, with a flicker of surprise, if she’d want you to close that distance again. No, she told herself firmly. Definitely not. Because you were the most insufferable person she could ever imagine sharing an apartment with.

Then why was she leaning in?

Before either of you could make a move, the apartment door swung open suddenly. Both of you jumped, startled. You cleared your throat, stepping back a few paces as you muttered something about finishing the bandage.

Wanda blinked, still caught in the residue of that charged moment, when a loud bark pulled her attention toward the living room.

There stood Kate and Yelena, each holding a leash, two huge dogs bounding excitedly, tails wagging wildly. Wanda’s eyes widened in surprise - and alarm.

“Not a fucking chance!” you barked, stepping forward.

Kate and Yelena whined in protest, their voices soft but insistent, “They can stay! Please!”

What followed was two hours of lively debate - arguments volleyed back and forth, Natasha and Maria arriving just in time to weigh in. The apartment was filled with laughter, raised voices, and the occasional bark and thump of paws on the hardwood floor.

“Absolutely not.”

The words left your mouth sharper than intended - your only possible response to the utterly absurd information that had just assaulted your ears.

Thirteen hours ago, some idiot - no, some drunk, overprivileged idiot - from the most obnoxious fraternity at NYU thought it’d be hilarious to pull a prank on the Nexus dormitory. Hilarious, in the same way watching a building catch fire might be. A poorly executed stunt involving a garden hose, several buckets of who-knows-what, and - rumor had it - a very unfortunate goldfish. The aftermath? An entire floor flooded. The second floor, specifically. Half the Nexus students were left temporarily homeless.

Temporarily, as in: for the rest of the school year.

The administration’s damage control came swiftly. Desperate to appease both a horde of angry students and their even angrier millionaire parents, they decided to relocate the displaced to shared apartments on the far side of campus. Temporary housing, they called it. A community-building exercise, they claimed.

Bullshit, you thought.

Unlike your neighbors, who got the news firsthand from Dean Harkness herself, grim-faced, arms crossed, delivering the message like a sentence, you had the misfortune of being woken up from a much-needed, post-internship nap by Natasha Romanoff, specifically, by the sound of your bedroom door slamming open and her boots hitting the floor.

“We have roommates.” Her voice was sharp with disbelief, green eyes flashing with something between irritation and dread.

For a moment, your sleep-fogged brain lagged. “...What?”

“You heard me.” She crossed her arms, pacing like a caged animal. “The Nexus frat boys flooded the dorms. Half the building is uninhabitable. Admin’s cramming them wherever there’s space.” Her brows pinched together. “Including here.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face as you sat up, feet hitting the cold hardwood. “Please tell me this is some sick, twisted joke.”

Nat threw her hands in the air. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

Your gaze drifted toward the window, as if Columbia might materialize on the horizon like a shining, roommate-free beacon. “Is it too late to transfer?”

The snort that escaped Nat was as humorless as it was tired. “Way too late.”

It wasn’t just the two of you in this apartment anymore, and hadn’t been for over a year. Yelena, Nat’s younger sister, had moved in last fall - her humor drier than the Nevada desert and her sarcasm even sharper than her sister’s. But even with the three of you, the apartment never felt crowded. You each had your own room, your own bubble. Your one precious slice of peace amid the chaos of student life.

Now, peace was officially under threat.

“I swear to God, if some frat bro sets foot in my kitchen...” you muttered, already mentally calculating how fast you could move your sharpest knives out of reach.

“We don’t have a choice, Y/N,” Nat cut in, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Dean Harkness was pissed, but she went on about equality, community, how every student deserves a roof over their head.” Her voice dropped into a mocking imitation of the Dean’s clipped cadence. “But we both know it’s just about keeping the donors happy.”

By the time the official notices arrived - creased, hastily printed slips shoved into everyone’s mailboxes - the entire Avengers Apartment Complex was buzzing. Residents crowded the sidewalks, leaning over balconies, peeking through windows like it was a neighborhood-wide fire drill or maybe a low-budget reality show.

You sat cross-legged on the living room floor, half-heartedly packing your DVD collection into a box that felt way too small for the impending invasion of strangers. Every plastic case clacked together like a countdown.

“Maybe... they’re nice?” Peter Parker’s hopeful voice floated in from the couch. He was leaning so far toward the window that his sneakers barely touched the floor.

You didn’t even bother looking up. “Or maybe they’re even worse sober than they are at parties.”

Peter let out a nervous laugh but didn’t disagree.

From the open doorway, a grunt echoed; heavy footsteps accompanied by the clatter of wooden bed frames. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, both hauling a disassembled bunk bed up the stairs, overheard you.

“Come on,” Steve said, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his jersey. “We should give them a chance.”

You and Peter exchanged a glance so loaded with disbelief it might as well have been written in neon lights.

“Of course you’d say that,” Peter deadpanned, elbow resting on the window frame. “You got lucky. You’re moving in with your boyfriend.”

You nodded in agreement, unable to resist the smirk tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it’s easy to be optimistic when your ‘random’ assignment sticks you with Tony.”

It was true. The apartment across from yours, which had always belonged to Peter, Steve, and Bucky, was now expanding to include Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, and, unfortunately for your eardrums, Pietro Maximoff.

And as for your own fate? Your crumpled-up assignment sheet - now tragically marinating in a puddle of spilled iced coffee at the bottom of your trash can - had revealed the names of Kate Bishop, Maria Hill, and Wanda Maximoff.

The latter being precisely why you knew the so-called “random selection” was a bigger lie than Tony Stark’s claim that he doesn’t check his reflection every time he passes a window.

Turning your attention back to the chaotic pile of DVDs and tangled game controllers in your lap, you mumbled a half-hearted goodbye when Peter excused himself to help the boys wrangle the bunk beds upstairs. The door clicked shut behind him with a soft thud, leaving behind the fading sounds of voices, laughter, and furniture scraping against tile.

For a while, the apartment settled back into its usual rhythm;  the low hum of the TV blending with the rustle of pizza boxes and the occasional sarcastic comment from Yelena, who was now scrolling through her phone, boots resting on the coffee table like she paid the rent.

But the peace was shattered around dinner time.

You were halfway through a slice of greasy, slightly overcooked pepperoni pizza when a chorus of car doors slamming echoed from outside. The muffled roar of engines cut out, replaced by hurried footsteps, voices overlapping in the hallway - a symphony of chaotic energy that didn’t belong to this side of campus.

“Ah, shit...” you sighed under your breath, pausing mid-bite.

Yelena, sensing the disturbance like a bloodhound, shoved your feet off her lap without warning. “Move,” she said, brushing pizza crumbs off her sweatpants as she bolted toward the window.

“Seriously?” you groaned, wincing as your heels hit the floor. “No warning?”

“Yep,” she confirmed, pulling back the curtains with both hands like she was revealing the grand finale of a magic trick. Her pale eyes scanned the sidewalk below. “They’re here.”

Outside, a convoy of cars lined the curb - some luxury sedans, one obnoxiously large Jeep, and an aggressively blue sports car that was definitely Stark’s. A scatter of young adults shuffled between trunks and backseats, most clutching wrinkled papers - their housing assignments flapping in the evening breeze. Duffle bags were slung over shoulders; boxes balanced precariously on hips. Some faces were familiar from across campus parties; others were total strangers.

A heavy groan left your chest as you sank deeper into the couch, like maybe if you flattened yourself enough, you could merge with the furniture and disappear. The cushions swallowed you halfway as you dragged your hoodie over your head.

“God, I can’t do this,” you muttered into the fabric.

“So dramatic,” Nat chuckled from her armchair, flipping through the TV channels with that trademark unbothered look. Her legs were lazily crossed, socked foot bouncing in rhythm to the sound of ESPN commentary.

The minutes dragged until - knock knock knock.

“Oh, look alive,” Yelena chirped, practically vibrating as she stood by the door. “Showtime.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t want to move.

The door cracked open before Nat could say anything.

“Hey, I’m - ”

“Kate Bishop!” Yelena cut in, grinning like a gremlin as she yanked the door fully open. Her excitement was infectious - her hands were already reaching for the strap of Kate’s overstuffed tote bag like they were old friends. “Come on, come in. We’ve been waiting.”

“‘Waiting’ is a... bold word choice,” you mumbled from the couch, lifting a brow as you lazily took another sip of your soda. “More like... praying no one would show up.”

Nat had to stifle a laugh, hiding it behind the rim of her water bottle.

Kate definitely heard it - her smile faltered just for a moment. She stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands fidgeting with the strap of her bag, a polite flush coloring her cheeks. “Uh... yeah, fair.”

Yelena rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t detach. “Ignore them. They’re just two grumpy old ladies. Midterms fried their brains. I promise they’re marginally nicer in the summer.”

Kate huffed a laugh at that and nodded, her posture relaxing a little as Yelena tugged her deeper into the apartment, already launching into an impromptu tour that was mostly sarcastic commentary about whose room was messier.

You watched them disappear down the hall, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. But the reprieve didn’t last. The next knock was barely five minutes later.

“It’s your turn,” you said flatly, cutting Nat off before she even shifted in her chair.

With a sigh that sounded like it carried the weight of a thousand regrets, Nat rose, but not before passing you and flicking the brim of your baseball cap. “You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you for noticing,” you deadpanned, sinking further into your hoodie.

At the door stood a tall, sharp-eyed woman whose posture was military-grade stiff, her expression a careful mixture of neutral and mildly annoyed.

“Hey, you’re Maria, right?” Nat asked, slipping easily into her diplomatic tone.

The woman nodded once. “Yeah. Maria Hill.”

“Cool. I’m Natasha. That lump on the couch is Y/N.” Nat jerked a thumb your way without looking. “Come in. I’ll show you around.”

You raised a hand in a lazy greeting without peeling your gaze from the TV. “Hey.”

Maria gave you a polite nod, then stepped inside, boots thudding quietly against the hardwood. Her gaze swept the space - cool, assessing, as though calculating the exact dimensions of the apartment and every possible exit route.

She barely had time to take it all in before chaos arrived.

The door burst open mid-play - the game just coming out of halftime. Someone stumbled through, balancing a phone between shoulder and ear, speaking fast in a mixture of exasperated whispers and breathy frustration.

“Papa, I told you - I told you, Pietro is in the front apartment. Yes. No, Papa, not with me.”

Her voice was soft, melodic with a smooth Sokovian lilt that made the mundane conversation sound almost lyrical.

And unfortunately, it distracted you for exactly one second.

Just long enough to miss number twelve cutting through the defense for the most perfect touchdown pass of the entire goddamn game.

“NO!” you practically roared, bolting upright as the ball crossed the screen in glorious slow motion - just as the camera cut away.

The girl, her hand halfway to her pocket to hang up, jumped a little, blinking at you like you’d grown a second head. Her brows pinched together, expression somewhere between startled and unimpressed.

“...Right,” she mumbled into the phone. “Papa, I have to go. I’ll call you later. No-no, Pietro’s fine. He’s... right next door. Bye.”

A quiet sigh left her lips as she thumbed the phone off and shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans. Only then did her gaze return to you, curious, sharp, and far less startled now. Her head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing like she was trying to figure out whether you were a threat, a lunatic, or both.

The air shifted - tense, electric, just a fraction heavier than it had been a second ago.

And that’s when you realized - you were officially staring at Wanda Maximoff.

“Hi, my name is - ”

“Wanda Maximoff,” you cut in sharply, not bothering to hide the irritation threading your voice. “Yeah. Everyone knows you.” Your gaze stayed locked on her, flat and unimpressed. “Congratulations, by the way. You’ve been here less than five minutes and you’ve already made me miss the most important play of the season.”

A beat of stunned silence followed, then Wanda let out a dry, incredulous laugh. Her fingers twitched at her sides, then crossed tightly over her chest as if bracing against a cold wind. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me.” You finally turned away from the TV, leaning back against the worn cushions of the sofa, crossing your arms. The static of the abandoned game crackled behind you, the announcers’ distant voices now just background noise to the sudden tension flooding the room. “And let me make something very clear,” you continued, your jaw ticking as heat crawled up your neck, “just because some of your brilliant Nexus idiots thought it’d be fun to screw with the housing lottery doesn’t mean we’re about to play house together like one big happy family.” Your voice dipped, sharpened. “Nobody here forgot how your people treat the Avengers.”

For a moment, Wanda didn’t respond. Her lips parted, then pressed into a tight line, as though biting back a hundred different responses. Her posture shifted, shoulders pulling back, chin tilting upward - regal, defensive, like someone who’d spent too many years being judged before even opening her mouth. Her eyes, sharp, storm-gray with flecks of green, narrowed. Her fingers flexed, then curled into fists against her hips. The exhaustion from the day - the disastrous phone call with her father, the loss of half her belongings to the morning’s flood - boiled just beneath the surface, and this reception was gasoline tossed over open flames.

“Avengers,” she repeated, rolling the word on her tongue like something bitter. Her lips curved into a slow, cold smirk. “You still call yourselves that childish little nickname?”

Her scoff was laced with condescension, but her eyes glittered with something more volatile - hurt, maybe. Or pride bruised enough to lash out. “Tell me, what are you avenging now? The debate club lost? Or was it your soccer team getting their asses kicked - again?”

Your ears burned. You knew it was visible - the flush that crept up your throat, the way your fingers dug into the fabric of your sleeves. “Listen here, you little- ”

“Wow.” A new voice cut cleanly through the tension, cool but unmistakably amused. “Someone’s already making friends.”

Natasha’s presence entered the room, calm and collected. She strolled in with the easy confidence of someone who’d walked in on enough fights to be entirely unimpressed by this one. Behind her, Yelena and Kate followed with matching expressions of curiosity, taking in the electric standoff unfolding in front of them.

Nat moved first, stepping between you and Wanda with a practiced, neutral smile. “Wanda, right? Welcome.” She extended a hand without hesitation.

Wanda blinked, clearly thrown by the abrupt shift, but recovered fast. Her posture straightened further, smoothing her expression into something cooler, detached. Her fingers slid into Nat’s, offering a firm handshake. “Yeah. Wanda.”

“We’ll be sharing a room,” Nat added with an easy nod.

Your brows snapped together. “But I’m the one who - ” The protest caught rough in your throat, frustration splintering through you like glass.

“Y/N,” Nat interrupted smoothly, her tone edged with the warning of someone not in the mood for arguments. “Can you help Maria with the wardrobe trick? I forgot to show her.”

You clenched your jaw, grinding back the snark already forming on your tongue. Annoyance prickled under your skin like a rash - at the game, at Wanda, at Nat’s diplomatic deflection - but eventually, you sighed through your nose and shoved off the couch. “Fine.”

Maria, at least, wasn’t a walking, talking migraine.

You crossed the apartment toward the hallway, motioning for Hill to follow. Her steps were quieter, deliberate - she seemed observant, watching how everyone fit into this weird ecosystem of passive-aggressive chaos.

Once inside the bedroom, the familiar scent of cedar from the old built-in wardrobe greeted you, mingling with the faint scent of Maria’s subtle perfume - something clean, vaguely citrus. You showed her the trick: how the left hinge had to be nudged just right to get the doors to fully close.

“Yeah, it sticks,” you explained, fingers demonstrating the motion, “but once you slide the hinge here - ” click “ - good as new.”

Maria chuckled softly, smoothing her palms down her jeans. “Thanks. Organization is kind of... my coping mechanism.” Her hands gestured toward her suitcase, where everything was labeled - socks, gym stuff, electronics. “Keeps the chaos manageable.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, lips twitching despite yourself. “Chaos seems to be the theme today.”

She glanced at the logo on your sports cap and smiled. “Skrulls fan?”

Your eyes lit up. “Uh-yeah. Lifelong.”

“I’ve got a friend who’s obsessed. You’d get along.”

“Really?” you asked, a grin pulling at your mouth before you could stop it. “I mean... not gonna say no to meeting someone normal around here.”

Maria chuckled under her breath. “I’ll set it up.”

The conversation relaxed something in your chest - just enough for you to forget, momentarily, how tense the apartment felt earlier. You stepped back into the hallway, still grinning faintly, and promptly collided with someone coming from the opposite direction.

Your shoulder clipped theirs hard enough to jolt you both. You staggered, glancing up with a reflexive, “Sorry - ”

Only for your gaze to lock directly with Wanda Maximoff’s.

Of course.

Her expression flickered. First surprise, then narrowing defensiveness as though bracing for yet another round of verbal sparring. Her hands twitched at her sides, knuckles pale, but her mouth was pressed into a tight line, refusing to be the first to speak.

Your apology died halfway out of your mouth, shriveling into a reluctant, irritated grumble as you shoved your hands into your hoodie pocket and looked away. “...Figures.”

The hallway suddenly felt narrower. Warmer. Like the walls themselves leaned in to watch.

Wanda tilted her head, arms folding neatly over her chest, brows raised in wordless challenge.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you looked away.

The tension was tangible - woven thick into the charged, heavy air between you.

“Do you mind watching where you’re going?” Wanda’s voice was sharp, but not raised - clipped, tight, threaded with the same brittle exhaustion you felt. Her eyes scanned your posture, catching the subtle shift in your shoulders, the way your jaw set like you were gearing up for round two.

A humorless laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it. “Would you mind getting out of the way?”

The instant the words left your mouth, the air between you snapped taut, like a stretched rubber band ready to break. Wanda’s eyes darkened, and her fingers twitched - whether out of instinct to argue or pure restraint, you weren’t sure. Her lips parted as if a retort was already forming, sharp and barbed, but - 

“Seriously?” Yelena’s voice sliced cleanly through the moment as her door swung open with a dramatic creak. She strode into the hallway holding one of your sweatshirts, dangling it like it was evidence in a crime. “Are you shedding your stuff all over the apartment again?”

Before you could answer, the fabric hit your chest with a soft thud, and you fumbled to catch it, startled just enough for your focus to break away from the tense standoff with Wanda. “Yelena - seriously?” you snapped, wrestling the hoodie into your arms. “It was literally on the back of the chair.”

“Well, it’s not a chair in your room,” she shot back, already turning on her heel with a dismissive wave. “Get your life together, grandma.”

“Unbelievable…” you grumbled, shaking your head as you adjusted the hoodie over your forearm.

When you finally glanced back, the hallway was emptier - Wanda had retreated, slipping into the room that was now, unfortunately, hers. You caught sight of her through the partially open door: back turned to you, her dark hair falling slightly over one shoulder as she scrolled through her phone. Her brows were knitted together, lips pursed, the glow of the screen soft against her skin. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second before she typed something, jaw tightening like whatever conversation she was having was only adding to her growing pile of frustrations.

A reluctant, traitorous thought edged its way in before you could shove it down.

How can someone so damn irritating look that good being annoyed?

You clenched your jaw, dragging your gaze away before it lingered too long, heat creeping up the back of your neck. Huffing under your breath, you turned toward your own room, muttering, “This is gonna be a long semester.”

-&-

Falling into a normal rhythm with three new roommates - each with wildly different schedules, habits, and personalities - was… well, chaotic at best. A puzzle with half the pieces upside down.

Yelena - predictably - and now Kate were the only ones truly excited about the forced cohabitation. Honestly, you were convinced it was a first-year thing. That naive enthusiasm for everything: school, people, papers. It made you smile, though, especially when Maria, ever deadpan, casually muttered over coffee, “First-years are always so hopeful. It’s cute, in a way.”

You clicked instantly with Maria. She was calm, sarcastic in all the right ways, and - crucially - a sports fan. Out of all the girls, she was the only one willing to crash on the couch next to you, chip bag in hand, and sit through hours of game commentary. A rare, sacred bond.

Kate was a different story - an anxious ball of energy with absolutely zero concept of an indoor voice. But she was hilarious. Chaotic, but hilarious. You couldn’t even be annoyed when she paced the kitchen, rambling about existential crises and midterms like a caffeinated golden retriever.

Honestly, if it weren’t for one specific person, everything about this new arrangement would’ve been manageable. Peaceful, even.

But Wanda.

God, Wanda was like a walking glitch in the matrix of your sanity.

For the first few days, avoiding her was easy enough. She was constantly busy anyway - wrapped up in fraternity drama, a pile of meetings the principal somehow greenlit, plus cheer practice, book club, and a never-ending to-do list scribbled across the whiteboard on the fridge. You’d stopped trying to decipher it by day two. It stressed you out just looking at it.

Meanwhile, your own life wasn’t exactly a spa retreat. You were knee-deep in the final days of your Luthor Labs internship before your brief academic break. The kind of work that left your brain buzzing with experimental results and your spine questioning every life choice that led you to this moment.

When you finally dragged yourself home after your last shift - badge stuffed somewhere in your bag, exhaustion clinging to your skin like static - the only remedy was obvious: junk food and mindless TV.

Except not tonight.

Tonight was a Skrull game.

And suddenly, inviting Carol Danvers over felt like the best idea you’d had in weeks. You’d only met her recently - Maria had pulled you both into an impromptu lunch - and Carol had instantly struck you as the perfect mix of effortlessly cool and quietly hilarious. The kind of person you clicked with before the appetizers even arrived.

Text. Sent. Response. Immediate.

“Be there in ten. Don’t start without me.”

Grinning, you peeled yourself off the bed, showered off the lab grime, and pulled on your softest hoodie and your beloved Skrulls cap. Comfort mode fully activated.

True to her word, Carol arrived in record time, her own team cap already tugged low over her blonde hair as she stepped inside like she owned the place. “Didn’t peg you for someone with good taste,” she joked, nudging the bill of your cap with two fingers.

“Oh, you wound me,” you shot back, tossing her a soda from the fridge.

By the time kickoff rolled around, the coffee table was a graveyard of snack bags, pizza boxes, and open tubs of dip. The game was brutal. One of those stress-inducing, edge-of-your-seat kinds where the lead changed hands so many times it felt personal.

Between side conversations, bad jokes about the ref’s questionable eyesight, and the occasional shout of “Did you SEE that?!”, the apartment echoed with chaotic energy.

Then, the final quarter. The Skrulls were losing steam, the opposing offense relentless. You were practically vibrating with nervous energy, half-standing, half-kneeling on the couch. But then, the captain made an impossible pass. One of those jaw-dropping, physics-defying moves that would be replayed for weeks.

“YES!” you exploded, bolting upright, arms thrown high as the announcer’s voice cracked over the words, “AND IT’S A TOUCHDOWN! THE SKRULLS TAKE IT!”

Carol was right there with you, slamming her fist against the cushion in triumph, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the soda can precariously balanced on the table. “I cannot believe they pulled that off!”

Grinning so wide it hurt, you flopped back onto the couch, catching your breath between laughs, feeling, for the first time in days, the suffocating weight of your week finally loosen.

For a moment, it was just this: loud, messy, imperfect, and good.

You didn’t notice Carol’s gaze shifting - not the subtle change in her posture, not the soft pull at the corner of her mouth, nor the brief, silent decision flickering behind her eyes. You missed every single warning sign.

So when you turned toward her - grinning, riding the high of the game, confusion barely creeping in as you realized she wasn’t cheering - you barely had time to process anything before it happened.

Her hands caught your jaw, and her mouth was on yours.

Your body jolted, a startled noise caught halfway between a gasp and a half-formed word muffled against her lips.

Oh. Oh. This is… happening.

To her credit, Carol was not a bad kisser. Not even close. She tasted like cola and salt, her lips soft but insistent. When her tongue brushed your lower lip, it dragged with it the tang of sour cream chips and something sharper - the adrenaline still buzzing between you.

Your brain scrambled. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it - it’s that you hadn’t expected it. Warmth flared in your stomach, an involuntary thrum of something fluttering and restless that made your fingers twitch against the fabric of the couch. Awkward. Shy. Completely blindsided.

Still, instinct kicked in - you kissed her back, though the hesitation lingered, tangled up with the residual shock. But Carol didn’t give you much time to overthink. Her hands grew bolder, sliding down your sides, fingers pressing into your hips, guiding you back against the cushions.

Before you realized it, you were lying down, Carol leaning over you, her cap threatening to fall off as she deepened the kiss with sudden intensity that scattered every coherent thought from your head.

“Wait - ” you barely managed between breaths, hands coming to her shoulders - half a protest, half grounding yourself. But Carol was already moving, lips tracing the line of your jaw, then lower, warm breath ghosting against your neck.

You inhaled sharply, torn between untangling yourself and freezing in sheer what-is-happening paralysis.

And then - 

Click.

The front door swung open.

“Jesus, take that to the bedroom.”

Wanda’s voice was sharp, unimpressed, slicing through the room like a cold knife. She strode in with the elegance of someone who had long run out of patience, kicking the door shut behind her.

Your brain stalled.

Because - God - this was the first time you’d seen her this close in her cheer uniform. And suddenly, the crisis of Carol kissing you was temporarily downgraded to background noise compared to the fact that Wanda Maximoff, legs-for-days, ponytail swaying, was standing there glaring at you like you were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

You needed Carol to get off you. Immediately.

Carol just laughed, somewhere between sheepish and unapologetic, rolling off you as she adjusted her sweatshirt. “Right. Sorry. You must be Wanda.”

She offered a hand.

Wanda didn’t even look at it. Her arms crossed, one hip cocked, eyebrow arching in perfect disdain. “Yeah, no. Not touching that. God knows what it’s covered in.”

You blinked. The disbelief curdled fast into irritation, heat prickling beneath your skin. “Seriously?” you bit out. “As if you’re some kind of saint, Maximoff.”

Wanda rolled her eyes like it physically pained her to engage. “I just don’t want to walk into my apartment and find strangers having sex on the couch. Sue me.”

“Her name is Carol,” you snapped, pushing yourself upright. “And this is my apartment.”

“Oh, are we doing this again?” Wanda scoffed, voice dripping with mockery, like she was bored with your very existence. “God. Grow up.”

Your jaw clenched. “Listen here, you spoiled little brat- ”

“Okay! Nope. We’re not doing that,” Carol interrupted quickly, sliding between you like a human barrier, hands raised in peace as she tugged at your wrist. “Why don’t we go grab something to drink... and let Wanda take a shower? She just got back from practice. She’s... probably tired.”

Wanda didn’t say anything, but the look she threw at both of you was venomous. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw tightening, shoulders squared like she was physically restraining herself from a verbal homicide. Her eyes lingered on you as Carol dragged you toward the door - icy, assessing, but something else flickering just behind it. Something sharp. Something almost... unsettled.

You didn’t look back until you were halfway down the block, clutching your second iced drink and pretending you didn’t still feel Wanda’s gaze burning through the back of your skull.

But even long after the ice melted in your cup, you couldn’t shake the image - the sharp set of her jaw, the stubborn crease between her brows, and the way your stupid heartbeat had kicked against your ribs the second you’d noticed how her uniform clung to her skin.

God. This was going to be a disaster.

-

Clearing things up with Carol had been surprisingly easy. Turned out, the miscommunication was almost funny in hindsight - especially once she pointed out (with a dramatic groan) that she’d been blatantly flirting the entire time and you’d been oblivious until, well… the couch incident.

You spent hours at a local pub afterward, nursing cheap drinks, laughing about how dense you both were, and cementing the agreement to stay friends. A few rounds of pool later, and exactly zero kisses, you finally headed home.

The problem was… Wanda hadn’t seen any of that.

All she knew was that the last time she saw you, Carol was practically glued to you on the couch. So, when Natasha casually asked if she’d seen you around, Wanda - being Wanda - told her exactly what she thought she’d witnessed.

Which explained why you walked through the front door only to find your best friend perched on the couch, arms crossed, waiting with the kind of expectant look that meant interrogation was imminent.

“Had fun with your girlfriend?”

“My what now?” you spluttered, half-laughing as you peeled off your jacket.

“Carol Danvers,” Natasha declared, sitting up straighter. “Don’t play dumb with me now. Hill told me she introduced you two, and Wanda said she caught you making out on the couch.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “The absolute lack of privacy in this apartment, I swear.”

Kate sat at the table, headphones on, oblivious, legs kicked up as she tapped away at her laptop. The others were presumably tucked away in their rooms.

“Y/N,” Natasha called, following you as you made a beeline for the kitchen, “come on. Spill. I need details.”

You laughed under your breath, pretending to focus intently on the bread and whatever else you were scrounging for. “We just talked.”

Nat narrowed her eyes, hopping onto the counter. “Talked. Uh-huh. With or without clothes on?”

A startled laugh escaped you. “God, you’re the worst.”

“That’s not a no.”

You shook your head, biting back a grin as you layered ingredients into your sandwich. “I hate you.”

Nat kicked her heels against the cabinet. “Lies. Also, still not an answer.”

Grinning to yourself, you finished the sandwich and grabbed a glass from the shelf, stretching the moment just long enough to get an impatient groan out of her.

“Relax, Tasha,” you said finally, crouching to grab oranges and the juicer. “Carol’s just a friend.”

“Sure. Now she is.” But her tone softened, teasing giving way to something lighter. 

You add: “Also, rude of you to think you wouldn’t be the first person I’d tell if it was something more.”

That made her chuckle as you sliced the oranges. "Okay, now you're just trying to deflect from the subject."

You smile before adding: “Seriously, it wasn’t complicated. We cleared it up. She’s cool. Turns out we’ve got a ton in common - movies, comics, trash-talking people who take pool too seriously - ”

“ - Sounds like a perfect girlfriend to me,” Nat cut in, smirking as she snagged a piece of your sandwich.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight her for it. “Shut up.”

While you juiced the oranges, you filled her in on the full story - how things escalated way faster than you expected, how the post-game adrenaline probably made it worse, how you both laughed it off once you actually talked like normal humans.

You were pouring juice into two glasses, finally ready to hammer the point home - just friends, end of story - when footsteps padded into the kitchen.

Wanda.

She was in pajamas now, and - annoyingly - you sometimes forgot how much she drove you insane when she showed up looking so soft and domestic. Of course, she was quick to remind you.

The second your eyes met, her expression hardened. You hoped - prayed - that maybe it would stop at the glare. But no. She marched right up to you and, with one sharp movement, snatched the juice right out of your hands.

“That’s my cup. You can read, right?” she snapped, irritated by your baffled expression.

You blinked, glancing down at the cup. In your distraction chatting with Nat, you hadn’t even realized you’d grabbed something from Wanda’s shelf. She, clearly, was ready to make sure you never forgot.

“Stay out of my stuff,” she hissed. “I don’t want your germs anywhere near it.”

“My germs?” you echoed with a disbelieving chuckle, but she didn’t even flinch.

“Exactly.” Her eyes narrowed. “God knows where you’ve been putting your mouth. Imagine if you gave me some kind of - ”

You didn’t even think.

In one reckless, electric heartbeat, you lunged - your hands cupping her face, your mouth pressing hard against hers.

Wanda stumbled, gasping into the kiss, caught entirely off guard. For a second - one second - you felt her body freeze… then her lips softened, just barely, against yours. Her hands twitched, like she wasn’t sure whether to push you away or pull you closer.

But as fast as it started, you pulled back.

Her face was crimson - whether from fury or something else, you couldn’t quite tell. Her chest heaved, breath coming fast, and her wide eyes locked onto yours, wild and stunned.

The apartment had gone dead silent. Somewhere behind you, someone audibly gasped.

You just grinned. Smug. Unapologetic.

“What was that about my germs?” you asked casually, letting the words drip with mock innocence. “You might wanna wash your mouth now, yeah?”

For a second, it didn’t seem like she’d move at all. Then something in her snapped.

“You - !” Wanda lunged, aiming straight for your neck, hands out like claws. Chaos exploded - someone shrieked, chairs scraped, and Natasha jumped between you.

“Alright, alright, break it up!” Nat laughed, pushing you toward the hallway while Kate and someone else tried to hold Wanda back.

You were breathless with laughter - your pulse hammering so hard it vibrated under your skin, but not from fear. From exhilaration. From her.

Wanda’s voice followed you down the hallway, shouting curses in a mix of Sokovian and English. You couldn’t stop grinning.

Nat practically shoved you into your room and shut the door behind her, still laughing. “Oh my god. You’re insane. Completely unhinged.”

You didn’t sit. Couldn’t. You were buzzing with adrenaline, pacing in a tight circle. “You think she’s gonna try to strangle me in my sleep?”

Nat shrugged, running a hand through her hair, still grinning. “Strangle? Maybe. Or poison your coffee. Either way, me and the girls are gonna have front-row seats to something.”

You laughed, tipping your head back. “I wanna say I’m sorry… but honestly? Her face? So worth it.”

Nat shook her head, nudging your shoulder. “Stay here. Let things cool off. I don’t feel like witnessing a homicide tonight.”

Grumbling, you nodded. “Fine.”

She left, closing the door behind her.

And the second she was gone, you let your forehead fall against the wood, pressing there, breathing deep. Your heart was pounding. Your lips still tingled, warm and buzzing, like Wanda’s imprint was burned into them.

God.

Kissing her… it was nothing like Carol. Not even close. It was sharper, hotter, magnetic in a way that didn’t make sense for something that lasted barely a second. Your whole body felt wired, like you were still mid-fall.

something shifted between the two of you following halloween. neither of you could pin point the exact moment when it changed, but you both knew it was different. neither of you said it out loud, but it was in the way wanda held her gaze on your face for longer than appropriate. maybe it was how you made it a point to graze your hand against hers as you two walked.

outwardly, nothing had changed between the two of you. you still were playful with each other, looked out for the other. inwardly, on the other hand, wanda was a mess. she felt it against her ribs every time you sent a dimpled smile her way. she was as older, steadier, and for the first time in her life— unsure of where she stood with someone.

you though? you spent each evening after work wishing you didn’t feel how you felt. there’s no way she could possibly reciprocate what you felt for her. still, the way your stomach flutters whenever she lingers in your classroom tells a different story.

it is no secret to the school that you love to go above and beyond with your classrooms— and christmas time is no different.

the multicolored lights strung from the ceiling were without a doubt a fire hazard, but wanda would never tell you that. especially not when she’s watching you remove them with that pout on your face.

to anyone passing by, they would think you two were work wives with the banter going on between you two and how wanda unabashedly watches you in your element.

but what they didn’t know is that the both of you have hid your feelings far each other far beneath the surface. her green irises are now almost completely dark from the way her pupils have dilated from watching you.

“that’s not what i’m saying, angel,” she’s leaned against your door frame with her arms crossed against her chest, “what i’m saying is that you’re going to get hurt if you keep standing on chairs like that.”

you look over your shoulder and scoff, “you have no interest in my safety, wanda. you just didn’t want to lose the classroom decoration competition to me and my whimsy.”

wanda rolls her eyes and moves across the classroom to stand at your side, her hands hovering just above your hips, “i have no interest in taking your joy away, but i do have an interest in making sure i dont have to drive you to the nearest emergency room.”

you take a look over your shoulder, now noticing how wanda is genuinely watching you with complete regard for your safety. her hands hovering above your waist and her eyes glance up and down to make sure you won’t lose your balance.

the warmth in your heart slowly begins to be too much and you force yourself from the chair back down to the floor.

you grab wandas hand with one of yours and place the other on her shoulder— her hands immediately find your waist as she lowers you down with gentleness.

her eyes roam your face as you stand to your full height, her lips curved into a smile, “good job, sunshine.”

her hands haven’t moved, neither have yours.

the compliment causes you to blush and you clear your throat, moving away from her and back to your desk.

wanda watches how you become nervous and she has to force herself to not say anything sarcastic to you. she sits on your desk, as always, right next to where you’re sitting on your desk chair.

she watches as you pretend to be busy with organizing handouts in your tray, her bottom lip between her teeth.

“are you going to miss me?” her voice is just above a whisper. her eyes watch the way your shift in your seat.

your stomach drops and you fight the urge to run out of the room, “do you want me to?”

you try to keep your voice steady and confident, but the way wanda is eyeing you makes you small.

her eyes glance down to your lips just for a moment before she smiles, “you look cute in your holiday sweater.”

deflection— of course.

wanda has always had the habit of somehow getting you wound up and then running away from what she started. you roll your eyes and hit her knee as it sits beside you, a scoff coming from your lips.

she grins when you do, “you’ll think about me over the break.”

she doesn’t phrase it like a question— she says it like it’s fact. the smug look on her face that you know is there only makes your face red.

you glance at her from the corner of your eye, “are you demanding that?”

she laughs, “no, i just know you will.”

you don’t know how to respond, or if you should at all. you don’t know whether to tease back, or admit that the idea of not seeing her for two weeks causes an ache in your chest.

“i’m sure i’ll think about a lot of things.”

wanda’s head tilts at that, almost like her ears just perked up.

“yeah,” her voice is low, “like what?”

your breath hitches and you immediately regret saying that. you keep your hands busy with the papers, but you can feel wanda’s eyes watching your every move.

she lets the moment hang in the air, her legs dangling from where she’s sat, “i’ll miss our lunches. i’ll miss seeing you stress out over test results.”

you roll your eyes and face her with an unamused expression, “wow, so sweet. i’m blushing.”

“you actually are,” she grins, “it’s cute.”

you mutter under your breath, “i hate you.”

you both know it’s not true, but wanda still takes the opportunity to bait you.

“ow,” her hand is over her chest, “you’re supposed to be the nice one out of us two.”

you fully face her now, your eyes narrowed in mock annoyance, “you just like to bother me.”

wanda now grins, her head tilted, “no, i like being around you. the bothering is just an added bonus.”

you take in her expression— the way her eyes soften as they watch you and the genuine curve of her lips. your fingers twitch, almost like they want to reach out and touch her.

you two sit there for a moment, just taking in the other. nothing about this moment is what normal colleagues do— or friends for that matter.

she clears her throat and pulls something from behind her that you hadn’t seen before, a nervous smile bow gracing her face.

“i didn’t get you for secret santa, but i couldn’t not get you something,” she pulls out a small pink gift bag, “you’re the only person in this school that i want to be around— it felt right to get you a christmas gift.”

wanda just about melted right then and there as she saw your eyes light up when the gift was placed in your hands. only a smile that bright coming from you could get wanda to break down her walls.

you pull out the first thing you see, a copy of a book you’d mentioned in passing conversation, “you remembered?”

your voice wavers with emotion, a pout on your lips. wanda visibly melts at your reaction, a loving gaze on her face as she sees how you react to a simple book.

she nods back to the bag, “there’s one more thing in there.”

you pull out a small jewelry box and inside of it is a dainty gold necklace with a small pearl dangling from it.

without thinking, your arms are thrown around wanda’s neck as you hug her tightly, “thank you, wanda.”

without a moments hesitation, her arms are around your waist and she’s smiling into your hair, “you like?”

you nod, laughing slightly, “anything from you is perfect.”

as if you couldn’t make her feel more, you go on to say that. wanda holds you for a moment too long, and she knows it, but can’t help but love how you feel in her arms.

pulling away, she clears her throat, “make sure you wear it, okay?”

rolling your eyes, you assure her that you will wear it every day.

the room stills for a few seconds, neither of you really knowing how to bid goodbye for the next two weeks.

it seems dramatic, really— but neither of you enjoy being away from the other for too long.

“stay safe on break,” she says, “i want you to come back to me in one piece in january.”

you know she’s joking, but the way wanda always cares for you makes you feel she cares about you more than just a friend. you nod and give her one last hug before she begins to leave your classroom.

she turns over her shoulder with a smug look, “don’t think about me too much.”

the ride back to yours seems quieter than usual. you drive, but your mind is elsewhere.

the flirty remarks, quiet gazes, protective tendencies— all of it makes you wonder.

finally making it into your apartment sometime in the evening, you lay on the couch. your hand lingers over your necklace, almost as if it would magically bring wanda to you.

maybe it’s just a workplace crush, maybe it’s all in your head— but everyone else sees it. nothing has gone unnoticed at work, and maybe for good reason.

your phone buzzes.

wanda.

did you make it home?

your heart stops and your stomach drops. without hesitation, you respond a quick yes to her. wondering if you responded too quickly, you groan and toss your phone across the couch.

only a few seconds pass by before you hear a call come in. you scramble from your spot on the couch to find where your phone landed.

“hello?” you answer, trying your best to sound as casual as possible.

“hi,” her voice is gentle, “you okay? you sound tired.”

you groan internally, not sure how to really go about calling her— then groan again as you realize how childish you are being over just a simple phone call.

you hum, “long day.”

rubbing your forehead, you mentally palm your face for being so dry with her.

“i figured,” she says, “just didn’t want to say goodnight through text.”

you smile into the dark, your finger tracing the necklace on your chest, “i’m glad you called.”

she doesn’t say anything for a moment. you can hear her shifting underneath her sheets, the soft rustle of fabric, “i already miss you.”

your heart stutters and a flush adorns your face, “i miss you too. it’s so dumb how much i got used to seeing your face everyday.”

“it’s not stupid,” her voice is just above a whisper, “i hate that i have to wait until next year to see you.”

the both of you know it’s really just two weeks, but it feels as though it is much longer.

“then don’t,” you boldly say.

she pauses— you can hear the way her breath hitches.

her voice is just above a whisper, “are you serious?”

you don’t answer right away, unsure of how she feels, “come over.”

a pause— hesitation.