“you really want that, don't you?” kara whispered near your face, her strap sliding in and out your cunt, and she swears she can feel your gummy walls gripping her length. she watches you nodding intensely, the pleasure already overwhelming you. “yes, yes yes yes yes yes. please baby.”

she rests her forehead against yours as she holds your face with her hand. she was repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, making you dig your nails on her back. “god, you're nasty.”

hesitantly, you feel a weak slap on the side of your face, the same side kara was caressing five seconds ago. you know she's holding back, and you'd think it's sweet that she's worried about hurting you if you weren't desperate to cum.

“fuck kara, i'm not made of glass.” the small crack in your voice sounded like you were about to cry from frustration, and she doesn't know if it worries her or if it makes her even more wet. “gee you can't do shit, can-”

this time you feel an actual slap on your face. one that stings, one that makes a tear roll down your eye. and before you know it, you feel a hand squeezing your neck— not hard enough to completely suffocate you, but also enough to feel the strong grip kara has.

loud moans escape from your lips, nails digging into the skin of her butt and drool running down your mouth. kara stays silent at first, looking at your reaction with wide eyes and a big smile on her face. “oh god. you're so into it.” she leans closer to kiss you, muffling her own moans. “can't believe i'm with someone so weird.” she mumbles between kisses, hand moving to give you a hard slap on the side of your ass.

her thrusts get messier, rougher, her grip on your neck slightly tightening. she can feel you're getting close— she already memorized how fast your heartbeat is when you're about to cum, how loud your moans get and how you hold onto her like your life depends on it.

the hand on your neck moves to grabs your face and holds it, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek as she ruins your poor cunt. “cmon lovebug, show me how much you love when daddy treats you like a damn whore.”

and that was enough for you. the strongest orgasm you ever had hits you instantly, nails scratching kara's skin as you bury your face on the crook of her neck. it takes you a while to finally let go of her and fully lay your body on the bed.

she gently slides the strap out your pussy before leaning down to check on you, brushing the hair sticking on your sweaty forehead.

“are you ok baby? did i hurt you? did you like it?” her concern warms your heart, your hands pulling kara to lay her head on your chest, and she immediately obliged. you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and placed a kiss on her head.

“i'm good. you were perfect.” you whisper against her scalp, throwing your leg on top of hers. relief washes over kara, and she finally allows herself to snuggle against you and bury her face on your collarbone.

“i wonder if you have any other kinky stuff going inside your head.” she mumbles against your skin, earning a chuckle from you. “i do, but i'll keep it as a secret for now.” “ugh.”

When Kara landed on Earth she was sure she’d never call this place home, or that she’d find someone she could bring herself to truly love. Sure she cared for Clark in a way, she didn’t hate her cousin, but most days it felt like Clark would never truly understand her. She had Krypto and the expanse of space. That would just have to be enough.

Then she met you.

It was at a lame party of Clark’s. She didn’t even really want to go, but she had felt guilty for always turning Clark down when it was obvious her cousin was trying. So, she had just curled up on a corner of the couch wishing she could be drinking something stronger while avoiding everyone around. An hour or so and she could politely excuse herself and leave.

Then you had plopped down next to her with a little huff, sinking into Clark’s couch with practiced ease, and smiled at her. “You must be Kara.” You say. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

And as if they weren’t done with her yet the Gods had decided from that point on that she was doomed. She hated to admit that she found you interesting, a civilian too, but she found herself going to more and more of Clark’s events just to see you.

It was your laugh, she decided, that drew her in first. So soft and melodic, a balm to her ears against the harshness of Metropolis’s noise. Then it was your heart, what she found cheesy when it was her cousin, only seemed endearing when it was you.

The way you’d smile at every dog that passed you, the way Lois recounted a story of you helping an injured pigeon, the way you waved at small babies when she took you to lunch. You were easy to love, not innocent or fragile, but good. Good in the way that made her think of her mother’s words.

She told you the truth about who she was a year into dating you, making sure that Clark was okay with it. You didn’t seem surprised when she said it, just laughed from your place in her lap, and told her how many of your students would freak out if they knew. From that point on you were the thing Kara looked forward to most in her day, coming home to you curled up on your couch, sometimes with Krypto in your lap.

And she swore that this time the Gods wouldn’t be so mean. That she wouldn’t lose you.

She was seriously starting to hate Lex. It was always something, and maybe it wouldn’t be so annoying if Clark gave her permission to use more force. Because, really, she could finish Luthor in a day. Today he had decided to let some robot on the loose, sure it would finally be able to beat her cousin, and now it was wreaking havoc downtown.

Including, presently, destroying some very important buildings. “Got any smart ideas?” She tosses to Clark as they float above it. It shoots at them and Kara ducks out of the way quickly. “I’m getting annoyed.”

Clark huffs at her. “Well gee Kara I’m not having fun either.” He retorts.

She scans the buildings for any vantage point they can get, and when she does she sees the exact path the robot is taking. “It’s going towards the museum.” She says, because Lex always picks the area that will evoke a reaction from the both of them.

Clark is flying down to intercept it in the next moment. She can hear the loud boom as the robot fires at him, sending him crashing back into the lobby.

“Great more damage.” She mutters miserably as she flies in after him. She guides the people that move past her out of the way and to safety, and begins scanning around. Already there’s enough damage to make the whole city upset, and she can see that Clark tries to move the robots focus away, but the damage they’ve managed must have messed up its wires by the way it’s going berserk.

“Get the rest of the civilians off this floor!” He shouts. “I’ll try to get it back out onto the street!”

She can barely hear Clark speak as her eyes already work to scan the area with her x-ray vision, and she sees you then. Her mind is racing as it catches up to what she’s seeing. You’re huddled in a far corner, behind one of the desks, with fifteen little bodies and the other teacher.

You had said something about work today, about it not being a normal day, about a field trip to the…

Her stomach sinks, and she’s moving towards you without thinking. To your credit when you see her you don’t react. You show relief, she can hear your heart beat relax despite your panic, but your eyes don’t linger long enough to imply that you’re familiar with her. It’s a lot better than she’s doing at the moment. She desperately wants to wrap you in her arms and get you as far away from here as she can.

Instead she merely realizes that the only way out is the way she came, past the robot, and she understands why you’ve frozen now. “Okay.” She says, several frightened eyes looking up at her in awe, “okay we can do this.”

A loud bang makes everyone flinch, and her body is tense in anticipation, but when she peers out she sees that both Clark and the robot have moved to the second floor. The city is going to hate them both for this much damage she can already tell, but she could care less if it means getting you out of here.

“Okay, you ready?” She’s talking to the children now, crouching down to be on their level, and they all nod. “Superman is distracting it up on the second floor, and while he does that I’m going to get you guys out of here. I need you to grab someone’s hand, so nobody gets lost okay?”

To the children’s credit, they listen, making a linked line. Your colleague is at the front of the line, and you at the back. And you’re all moving steadily, but quickly, towards the exit. Her eyes trained above her just in case.

Then it happens so fast that even Kara, with all her super speed, doesn’t seem able to catch up. The robot and Clark are landing with a loud bang back onto the marble floor in front of her, the lasers of the robot going off when it makes impact, straight past her and into…

She can hear the tearing of your skin before she sees it. She hears your pained cry and the scream of the frightened child as she turns to see what happened. You crouching in front of the young boy, body covering his, and he goes running off to the other teacher.

She doesn’t think about anything else, just you, as you hit the ground with a tiny cry of pain. She’s in front of you in the next second. “Clark!” She snaps, and her cousin looks over in time to understand.

“Go! I’ll figure it out!” He says, and she feels bad for leaving him like this, but you…

You’re bleeding when she picks you up, her eyes scanning you frantically now, and she sees that the beam must have grazed the side of your stomach. Avoiding the boy, but not you. Of course not you, because of course you’d sacrifice yourself to save one of your students. Of course you’d go last in the line to make sure everyone else got out first, even your colleague, because that’s who she fell in love with.

“You’re okay.” She whispers. “You’re okay sweetheart, I’ve got you, I’m going to get you help okay?” You hear the way her voice cracks as she says it, can see the redness in her eyes as tears are already forming. Her voice the weakest you’ve ever heard it. “You’re going to be just fine, I swear it, you’re going to be okay.”

She takes you to the one place she knows she won’t have to worry about explaining things, the one place with a billionaire’s funding, the Justice League’s headquarters.

She’s barking at Terrific to point her to the med-bay and mean when the doctors take too long to arrive. Not that she’s close with any of them per se, but they cut her a wider breadth than normal.

When she settles you down into the bed you can’t help but let out a soft whine. “It hurts.” You say, as if your brave face is finally slipping.

“I know sweetheart I know. The doctors are going to help now.” She tries to assure.

Kara doesn’t think her heart can pound much harder than it already is. When the doctor comes he doesn’t even try to remove her from your good side. As if he can tell that Kara doesn’t like doctors, and there’s no point in trying. Her one hand slipping into yours and the other holding the side of your face.

She watches as you try hard to bite back your pain as he works, and her lip trembles. “Don’t go.” You plea. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m not.” She promises, sinking into a chair finally. “I’m right here.” She brings your hand to her lips. “They’re going to fix it.” Her eyes are stinging as she kisses your fingers again and again. “Just hang on okay?”

You don’t know how long you’ve been out of it when you wake to the sound of a monitor beeping steadily. You’re groggy, head heavy, and as you shift you can’t help but hiss out in pain. You feel hands on you instantly.

“Careful.” Kara says, voice thick with emotion. Her hands help you sit up just a little, and then settle nearby.

You can tell now by the grandness of the hospital room that you must be in the Justice League’s (or gang you can never remember) headquarters. That makes you relax, at least you won’t have to keep up so many pretences here.

“I’ll get the nurse.” She says, and you frown, because you were sure that wasn’t the first thing she’d say to you.

You watch as she disappears only to return moments later, your mind catching up to the events of the day as you do, your eyes drifting down to your side. The nurse is polite, as Kara hovers near the doorway, she explains the injury and how long you’ll need. It makes your head swim a little, but you do your best to make note of the important details.

“I’ll be back to check in on you soon.” She says as she adjusts your pain medication.

“Thank you.” You whisper, eyes finally leaving Kara to give her a sincere smile. Although you wince a little in pain as you do. She nods to Kara as she goes, and you’re left alone with her now.

“The kids?” You ask, voice a little weak.

“They’re fine. Clark managed to defeat the thing shortly after…” Her voice stops. “No one else was hurt.”

She doesn’t sound relieved, in fact her voice sounds incredibly hoarse, and you reach the hand on your good side towards her. Your frown only grows when she seems to hesitate to take it. You know she’s upset, you know Kara like the back of your hand, and usually the promise of your affection is the way to get her to relax.

You don’t ask when she changed, or who sent the robot, because you have a feeling any question of the sort would only make her more upset. “Love?” You ask, voice a little timid now, and you can tell that upsets her more. “Kara—”

“You shouldn’t have leaped in front of him like that.” She says, her voice gruff. “You…”

You steady yourself before you answer, remind yourself that it’s her fear talking and nothing else, and look at her softly. “He was a little boy Kara. It’s my job to protect my students. You wouldn’t hesitate to do the same for me.”

She freezes, and then shuts the door, coming closer now. “I’m bulletproof!” She snaps, but she keeps her voice low enough. “And when I’m not I’m more than able to take a hit! You’re…” She stops herself.

“Not?” You ask. Her words hurt a little, even if you know they’re not entirely wrong, and she winces.

“I didn’t mean it like that okay? I just…” She takes a sharp breath and looks away. “I could have lost you.” Her voice cracks.

“Come here.” You plea with her, and for a moment you think she may deny you again, but then she does.

She sinks so she’s kneeling beside the hospital bed. You hiss again when you raise your arm, and Kara opens her mouth to argue with you, but you give her a look that silences her protests. You just let your hand rest against the side of her face gently, thumb catching the stray tear that she can’t withhold.

“I’m okay.” She gives you a look that tells you she disagrees. “Kara.” Your voice is as firm as you can make it. “I’m going to be okay.” You correct. “You got me here in time. You got me and those kids to safety—”

“But what if I hadn’t?” Her voice is so small and it makes your eyes grow wide. You’ve never seen your girlfriend this upset before. “What if…”

“You didn’t.” You say. “You didn’t love.” You see the tears fall more steadily, and you just let her cry as you sweep messy bangs away from her eyes. “Listen to my heartbeat okay, I’m alive, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

When your hand falls back to the side of her face Kara twists so she can nestle into your palm. You smile despite the situation, because even when she’s with you Kara struggles to be this vulnerable at times. You feel her kiss your palm.

“I love you.” She whispers. “I love you so much.”

Your smile grows. “I love you too.” You say. “My hero.” You tease.

You see despite the fear that still lingers that Kara rolls her eyes at this. “No more field trips for the rest of the year,” she grumbles. “Someone else can go.”

You pat the spot next to you on the bed, and nervously Kara lifts herself up and next to you. Weary of your bad side, weary of shifting things too much. When she settles you lean your head against her shoulder.

“No argument there.” You whisper, and you see that it calms her even more to hear you say it. You give her a small pout. “You’ll have to take care of me you know. I’ll probably be stuck at home for at least a week.”

Chapter 1: The Woman Who Challenges Death

At 2:17 in the morning, New York belonged to the nearly dead.

The city had not gone quiet. It never did. It simply lowered its voice.

Sirens replaced conversation. Traffic lights changed for empty intersections. Steam curled from street grates in pale ribbons, dissolving into the freezing air before anyone thought to look up. Taxi cabs moved through wet avenues like yellow embers, carrying the sleepless, the grieving, and the drunk toward destinations that seemed urgent only because it was dark.

Above the East River, the clouds had swallowed the moon.

NewYork-Presbyterian glowed against the night. Every window held a different kind of waiting.

A man sat beside his wife’s bed with both hands wrapped around hers, as though grip alone might keep her anchored.

A nurse leaned against a supply cabinet and closed her eyes for exactly seventeen seconds.

A new father stood before a nursery window, crying so quietly he had not yet realized he was crying at all.

And on the seventh floor, beneath the bright, merciless lights of an operating room, Dr. Wanda Maximoff reached into a stranger’s chest and refused to let him die.

Y/N stood beyond the glass.

No one looked at her.

No one ever did.

She wore a dark coat that fell just below her knees, though the cold could not touch her. Her hands rested loosely at her sides. Around her, monitors pulsed, wheels squeaked against polished floors, and the building breathed in mechanical rhythms.

She heard everything.

The hum of fluorescent lights.

The whisper of blood through arteries.

The private prayers of people who claimed not to believe in anything.

She heard the patient’s heart struggling beneath Wanda’s hands.

Weak.

Uneven.

Fading.

“Pressure is dropping.”

The anesthesiologist’s voice remained controlled, but fear had already sharpened the edges of it.

Wanda did not look up.

Her dark auburn hair was hidden beneath a surgical cap, though several damp strands had escaped near her temples. A sheen of sweat glimmered along her forehead. Her shoulders were rigid beneath green scrubs, and her gloved hands moved with astonishing precision inside the open chest.

“How low?” she asked.

“Sixty over thirty.”

“Start another unit.”

“We’re already on the fourth.”

Wanda’s gaze flicked toward the monitor.

For less than a second, something cracked across her face.

Not panic. Calculation.

Then it disappeared.

“Then start the fifth.”

Victor stood across from her, tall and composed even beneath the shapeless surgical gown. His pale features were half-obscured by his mask, but his blue eyes remained fixed on the damaged vessel between them.

“Wanda,” he said quietly.

She ignored the warning in his tone.

“Clamp.”

A nurse placed the instrument in her waiting hand.

Victor adjusted his position. “The tissue won’t hold.”

“It has to.”

“That isn’t how tissue works.”

“Tonight it is.”

Victor’s eyes lifted to hers.

For one suspended moment, the operating room seemed to narrow around them.

Y/N watched Wanda’s jaw tighten.

Victor watched it too.

He knew her well enough to recognize the exact moment determination began curdling into desperation.

“Wanda,” he repeated, more gently this time.

“Don’t.”

Her answer came too quickly.

The monitor let out a sharp alarm.

Everyone moved at once.

“V-fib.”

“Charge to two hundred."

Wanda pulled her hands free.

The paddles were passed across the field.

“Clear.”

The patient’s body jolted.

The line on the monitor continued to dance without rhythm.

“Again.”

“Wanda—”

“Again.” She snapped.

Victor stepped back.

“Clear.”

Another violent lift of the chest.

Another refusal.

Wanda stared at the monitor as though hatred might compel it into obedience.

“Three hundred.”

The anesthesiologist glanced at the clock.

“We’ve been down six minutes.”

“I know how long it’s been.” Her voice was flat now.

Too flat. A dangerous calm.

Y/N had heard that tone from soldiers in ruined fields and mothers beside fevered children. It was the sound people made when hope had already begun leaving, but pride had not yet allowed grief through the door.

The defibrillator charged.

“Clear.”

The patient’s body rose.

Fell.

Nothing.

The room became still. Only the alarm remained.

Victor lowered his hands.

“Wanda.”

She did not answer.

He moved closer.

There was blood on his gown. There was blood on hers. It had painted the front of her in dark, ugly blooms.

“We have to stop.”

“No.”

“He has no cardiac activity.”

“Then we keep going.”

“We’ve exhausted every option.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Tell me what’s left.”

Her eyes snapped toward him.

For the first time, anger broke through. “I’ll find something.”

Victor held her gaze.

His expression did not harden. That would have been easier for her. Instead, it softened.

Y/N felt the change in Wanda before Wanda herself did.

A fracture beneath the ribs.

A collapse happening somewhere no machine could measure.

“Wanda,” Victor said, barely above a murmur. “He’s gone.”

The words settled over the room.

Wanda stared down at the still body beneath the sterile drapes.

The man’s name was Elias Bell; he was forty-six years old. He taught American history to high school students in Queens. He hated olives. He kept movie ticket stubs in an old coffee tin because his wife always threw hers away. He had been afraid of elevators since childhood and had spent the entire ambulance ride pretending he was not afraid of death.

Y/N knew these things because she had heard them in the moments before he lost consciousness.

Humans were rarely more honest than when they believed no one could hear them.

Wanda’s hands remained suspended over him.

Victor said nothing more, neither did anyone else.

The clock on the wall continued moving.

At last, Wanda stepped back.

The motion was small, but it seemed to cost her everything.

“Time of death,” she said, her voice faltered.

She cleared her throat. “Two forty-three.”

A nurse repeated the time. The monitor was silenced.

The sudden quiet felt obscene.

Wanda pulled off her gloves with sharp, jerking movements. One snapped against her wrist. She flinched, though not from pain.

Victor reached for her arm, but she moved before he could touch her.

“I’ll speak to the family.”

“You don’t have to do that alone.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Wanda.”

She turned away from him.

The doors opened.

For one brief second, she stopped at the threshold, shoulders rising as she drew in a breath that did not steady her. Then she walked out.

Y/N followed.

She did not need to.

Her duty was elsewhere.

Elias Bell was already standing beside his own body.

He looked younger without pain.

He stared down at the blood, the instruments, the team beginning the quiet work of closing what no longer needed saving.

“Is that me?” he asked. Y/N turned toward him.

He could see her now. They always could, at the end.

“Yes.”

His eyes moved to Wanda’s retreating.

“She tried.”

“She did.”

“I heard her.”

Y/N nodded.

Elias looked at his hands.

His wedding ring remained.

They always carried what mattered, though not always in ways they understood.

“My wife is outside.”

“I know.”

“She won’t know what to do.”

“She will.”

He laughed once, without humor. “No, she won’t.”

Y/N had no answer for that.

Humans often mistook survival for competence.

They believed continuing meant knowing how. It did not.

Elias looked toward the operating room doors.

“Can I see her?”

“For a moment.”

He followed Y/N into the corridor.

No one noticed the dead man walking among them.

A resident passed through his shoulder and shivered.

Elias barely reacted; he was staring at Wanda.

She stood near the end of the hall, removing her surgical cap. Her hair spilled loose around her shoulders in disordered waves. She pressed both palms against the counter at the nurses’ station and bowed her head.

Victor had followed, though he kept several feet between them.

He understood distance.

That was one of the things Wanda loved about him.

Or had loved.

Y/N could not yet tell the difference.

“You should take a minute,” he said.

Wanda laughed softly, though the sound held no amusement. “To do what?”

“Breathe.”

“I am breathing.”

“Barely.”

She looked up. Her green eyes were bright with unshed tears and fury.

“At least I’m doing that.”

Victor’s mouth tightened.

The remark hit him. Wanda saw it happen. Regret flickered across her face, but she was too tired to reach for an apology.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I know.”

He stepped closer this time and Wanda let him.

His hand settled at the back of her neck, thumb resting beneath her hairline. It was an intimate gesture. Familiar. Practiced.

Y/N looked away. The impulse confused her.

She had watched lovers kiss beside hospital beds. She had seen spouses sleep folded together in plastic chairs. She had observed every version of human closeness without ever feeling excluded from it.

Until now.

Elias stood beside her.

“She knows him,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Her husband?”

“No.”

“Boyfriend?”

Y/N turned back.

Victor leaned his forehead briefly against Wanda’s temple.

“Yes,” she said.

The word felt strange in her mouth.

Elias studied her.

The newly dead were often perceptive. Perhaps death removed the need for politeness.

“You don’t like him.”

“I do not know him.”

“That wasn’t what I said.”

Y/N gave him a look. Elias just smiled.

Then his expression faded.

At the far end of the corridor, a woman rose from a vinyl chair.

Rebecca Bell, Elias’s wife.

She was small, with silver threaded through dark hair and one sleeve of her sweater pulled over her hand. She had been staring at the operating room doors for three hours, seventeen minutes, and twelve seconds.

When she saw Wanda approaching, hope transformed her face. It was immediate.

Brutal.

Wanda stopped.

Rebecca knew.

Hope did not disappear all at once. It broke apart piece by piece.

Her hand rose to her mouth.

Wanda crossed the remaining distance slowly. “Mrs. Bell?”

Rebecca shook her head before Wanda could continue.

“No.”

Wanda’s expression changed. The surgeon vanished. What remained was simply a tired woman carrying unbearable news.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No.”

“We did everything we could.”

“No, you have to go back.”

Rebecca gripped Wanda’s forearms.

“You have to go back in there.”

Wanda did not pull away.

“Mrs. Bell—”

“He was talking when they put him in the ambulance. He was talking.”

“I know.”

“He said he’d call me.”

Wanda’s eyes filled. “I know.”

“You don’t understand.” Rebecca’s fingers tightened around her. “He always calls.”

Elias stood behind his wife. He reached for her shoulder, but his hand passed through.

Rebecca shuddered but did not turn.

Elias tried again. Nothing.

The dead learned quickly, but they did not always learn gently.

“Tell her I’m here,” he said.

Y/N’s gaze remained on Wanda. “I cannot.”

“Why?”

“She would not hear me.”

“Then make her.”

“I cannot.”

His grief sharpened. “What good are you?”

The question was not cruel. That made it worse. Y/N had no answer.

Rebecca’s knees buckled.

Wanda caught her.

Natasha appeared from another corridor, still wearing navy scrubs beneath an open white coat. Her red hair had been pulled into a low, careless knot. She took in the scene with one swift glance and moved without hesitation.

She placed a steadying hand beneath Rebecca’s elbow. “Come sit down,” Natasha said.

“No.”

“You don’t have to go far.”

“I don’t want to sit down.”

“Then we’ll stand.” Natasha’s voice carried the calm authority of someone accustomed to meeting disaster at eye level.

Rebecca stared at her, then she turned back to Wanda.

“Was he alone?”

Wanda swallowed. “No.”

Rebecca’s face crumpled.

Wanda tightened her hold on her arms. “I was with him.”

So was I, Y/N thought.

She had stood less than ten feet away while Elias’s heart stopped.

She had heard every plea.

She had felt none of the panic.

That had always been the difference between angels and humans.

Angels witnessed suffering. Humans entered it.

Wanda did not merely observe Rebecca’s grief. She allowed it to move through her. She let a stranger’s pain settle into her own body as though compassion were a kind of injury.

Rebecca began to cry. Not elegantly, not quietly. Her grief tore through the corridor in raw, broken sounds.

Wanda held her. She held her despite the blood on her clothes and the tremor beginning in her hands. She held her while Elias stood helplessly behind them.

Y/N watched Wanda close her eyes. One tear escaped.

Then another.

She did not wipe them away.

Something shifted inside Y/N. Not pain.

She did not experience pain, not truly anyway.

There was no body to contain it.

No heart to constrict.

No lungs to fail.

Still, something moved through her, deep and unfamiliar.

A pressure without location. A wound without flesh.

She looked at Elias. He was watching his wife. “Will she be all right?” he asked.

Eventually, perhaps.

Not tonight. Not for a long time.

Y/N had learned that humans rarely wanted the truth when they asked questions like that.

“Yes,” she said.

Elias nodded.

He knew she was lying.

He was kind enough not to say so.

A presence appeared beside her.

Steve.

He stood tall and quiet in the crowded hallway, broad shoulders hidden beneath a dark coat. His blond hair caught the sterile light. His blue eyes moved from Elias to Rebecca, then finally to Y/N.

“You’re late,” he said.

Y/N looked at him. “I know.”

Elias glanced between them.

“Another one?”

“Yes,” Steve answered.

“Do all of you dress like undertakers?”

Steve considered this. “Only in Manhattan.”

Elias laughed unexpectedly.

The sound surprised all three of them.

Y/N looked at Steve. He almost smiled.

Almost.

“Come,” he said to Elias. “It’s time.”

Elias looked back at Rebecca.

She was seated now, though she had insisted she would not sit. Natasha remained beside her. Wanda knelt in front of her, hands wrapped around hers.

Victor stood several feet away. Close enough if Wanda needed him but far enough to let her decide.

Elias’s face folded with longing. “I’m not ready.”

“No one is,” Steve said.

“Can I stay until she leaves?”

“You may stay a little longer.”

Elias nodded.

Steve’s attention returned to Y/N. “You were meant to meet me upstairs.”

“I became occupied.”

“With the soul?”

Y/N looked toward Wanda.

Steve followed her gaze.

His expression did not change, but she knew him too well.

He understood.

“I see,” he said.

“You see nothing.”

“I’ve known you for six thousand years.”

“That does not mean you know everything.”

“No,” he agreed. “Only your habits.”

Y/N turned fully toward him.

Steve folded his hands behind his back.

“You have been returning to this hospital for years.”

“There are many deaths here.”

“There are many hospitals in New York.”

“This one is efficient.”

“So is Mount Sinai.”

Y/N said nothing.

Steve waited.

He had always been good at that. Waiting was easy for immortals.

Eventually, humans confessed simply to end the silence.

Y/N had no intention of becoming human enough to fall for such a trick.

Across the corridor, Wanda stood.

Rebecca clung to Natasha now. Wanda stepped away. Victor moved toward her.

She shook her head before he reached her.

“I need air.”

“You’ve been awake for twenty-one hours.”

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t drive.”

“I’m not driving.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“No.”

The refusal was soft.

That somehow made it more final.

Victor stopped.

Wanda saw the hurt she had caused and closed her eyes briefly.

“I just need ten minutes,” she said.

Victor gave a single nod. “Ten.”

She walked away.

Y/N followed.

Steve sighed behind her. “You have duties.”

“So do you.”

“I am doing mine.”

Y/N glanced back. Steve stood beside Elias.

His meaning was obvious. She ignored it.

Wanda entered an empty stairwell and pushed the door shut behind her.

The harsh hospital noise disappeared. Concrete walls rose around her. Pipes ran overhead. A red EXIT sign buzzed faintly above the landing.

Wanda took three steps down then stopped.

Her hand found the railing. She bent forward as though struck.

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then the first sob escaped. It was small. Humiliated, Wanda pressed her fist against her mouth.

Her shoulders began to shake.

Y/N stood one step above her.

She had seen Wanda cry before.

In supply closets.

In parked cars.

Once in the hospital chapel, though Wanda had not prayed.

Each time, Y/N had watched.

Each time, she had understood grief as an event.

Now she understood it as a place.

Wanda was inside it. Alone.

Y/N moved closer. The instinct came before thought.

She reached toward Wanda’s shoulder.

Her fingers passed through.

Wanda froze, and then her head lifted.

For one impossible second, she looked directly at Y/N.

Not through her.

At her.

Y/N stopped breathing, though she had never needed breath.

Wanda turned slowly, eyes red, face pale beneath exhaustion. “Who’s there?”

The stairwell remained silent.

Y/N did not move.

Wanda stared at the place where she stood.

A line appeared between her brows.

“Victor?”

No answer.

Wanda wiped at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. “This is absurd,” she muttered.

Her voice echoed against concrete.

She looked again.

Y/N felt something pass between them. Recognition without memory.

A door opening onto a room neither woman had entered. Wanda’s lips parted.

Y/N wondered what it might feel like to hear her own name spoken by that mouth.

The thought disturbed her.

She stepped back.

The moment broke.

Wanda exhaled shakily and pressed her fingers to her temple. “Sleep,” she whispered. “I need sleep.”

She straightened.

By the time she opened the stairwell door, Y/N was gone.

Dawn arrived reluctantly. The storm had moved east, leaving the city washed clean and temporarily tender.

Angels gathered above Manhattan. They stood along rooftops, bridges, church spires, and the stone ledges of buildings older than most living memory.

Some watched from the crown of the Chrysler Building. Others lined the arches of Grand Central.

A hundred stood unseen along the terrace of the New York Public Library, their faces turned toward the pale horizon.

Y/N stood atop NewYork-Presbyterian. Steve joined her.

Below, taxis crowded the avenue. Delivery trucks blocked intersections. A man shouted at a cyclist. Somewhere, a bakery opened its doors, sending the scent of bread into the cold morning.

The angels began to listen.

The sunrise carried music.

Not music as humans understood it.

No instruments.

No melody.

It was the sound of light entering the world.

The vibration of the atmosphere.

The turning of the earth.

A chorus older than language.

Y/N had heard it every morning since the first dawn.

Today, she barely noticed.

The hospital doors opened below. Wanda stepped onto the sidewalk.

She had changed into a dark coat, though her scrubs remained beneath it. Her hair was loose around her face. A paper cup warmed one hand, untouched.

Victor followed. He said something Y/N could not hear over the song of morning.

Wanda shook her head.

Victor touched her arm.

She looked at him.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Y/N looked away.

Steve noticed. “You missed the first note,” he said.

“I have heard it before.”

“That has never mattered.”

Y/N said nothing.

Below, Victor entered a waiting car.

Wanda remained on the sidewalk, she watched it leave then she lifted her face toward the hospital roof.

Toward Y/N.

The distance between them was impossible.

Wanda should not have seen anything. Still, her gaze found the exact place where Y/N stood.

Her expression changed.

Not fear.

Not recognition.

Something softer. Something worse.

Steve turned toward Y/N. “She felt you.”

“No.”

“She did.”

“That is not possible.”

“Many things are impossible until they happen.”

Y/N watched Wanda raise one hand to shield her eyes from the growing light.

For one suspended heartbeat, immortal and human stared across the distance between them.

Then a bus passed.

The moment vanished.

Wanda lowered her hand.

She looked around the sidewalk as though embarrassed by herself. Then she took her first sip of coffee and walked toward the avenue.

Y/N followed her with her eyes until she disappeared into the morning crowd.

The sunrise song swelled around them. Steve stood beside her in silence.

At last, he spoke. “You should be careful.”

Y/N continued staring at the place Wanda had been.

“Of what?”

Steve’s expression held no judgment. Only sorrow.

“Wanting to be seen.”

For the first time in centuries, Y/N did not have an answer.

Far below, hidden among eight million beating hearts, Wanda Maximoff carried the memory of a woman she had never truly seen.

King Erik and Queen Natalya had decided to stay in Virelia for two weeks.

Y/N hadn't objected for even a second.

Watching Wanda with her parents again had been enough reason. Watching them with Nora was another entirely. Their first granddaughter had quickly become the center of their world.

Every morning, Natalya would ask if Nora was awake yet before making her way to the nursery. Erik was less obvious about it, but somehow always found himself nearby whenever the baby was awake.

If Nora needed holding, one of them was already reaching for her. If she fell asleep, they both seemed content simply sitting nearby, watching her with quiet smiles. It was nothing extravagant.

Just normal grandparents completely taken with their granddaughter.

With them there, the palace felt lighter.

There were afternoons when Erik or Natalya insisted on watching Nora so Wanda and Y/N could rest, share a quiet meal together, or simply take a walk through the palace gardens.

"Go," Natalya would say with a smile. "She'll be perfectly happy with us."

And she always was.

Those small moments together reminded Y/N and Wanda that they were more than exhausted new parents. They were still spouses, still finding little pockets of peace between sleepless nights and endless feedings.

Even so...Y/N never stayed away from Nora for long.

It wasn't worry. Not really.

They simply missed her.

Sometimes they would return from a walk and head straight to wherever Nora was, smiling the moment they saw her tucked safely in someone's arms.

She was changing so quickly. Her cheeks had grown rounder. She stayed awake a little longer each day. Her eyes seemed brighter like Wanda’s, lingering on faces with growing curiosity.

Y/N loved every new little discovery.

The way her tiny hand wrapped around one of their fingers. The sleepy sounds she made after feeding. The way she settled almost instantly whenever she was held close.

None of it ever felt ordinary. Not to them.

Some evenings, after finishing their duties, Y/N would stand quietly beside the crib while Nora slept. They wouldn't say anything.

They would simply watch her. Still amazed that after everything they and Wanda had been through...

She was here.

Their daughter. Safe and healthy.

Loved beyond words.

---

One evening, after the palace had grown quiet, Y/N sat against the headboard with one knee drawn beneath the blankets.

Nora slept peacefully in the crook of their arm, her tiny cheek tucked against their chest. In their free hand rested an open storybook.

Y/N's voice had long since dropped to a whisper as they read the final lines.

"...and they all lived happily ever after."

They turned the page before realizing their audience had fallen asleep several pages ago. A smile tugged at their lips. Then the bath chamber door opened.

Y/N looked up. The moment they saw Wanda standing there, fresh from her bath, their smile softened.

"There you are."

Wanda returned the smile as she quietly closed the door behind her. "I didn't want to interrupt."

"You aren't."

Y/N carefully closed the book, keeping a finger between the pages.

"Was the bath relaxing?"

"It was."

"Lily helped you?"

Wanda nodded as she crossed the room. "She did."

Y/N's eyes lingered on her for a moment, quietly making sure she looked comfortable.

"Do you need help with anything?”

She smiled. "I'm alright."

Y/N nodded, relieved.

When Wanda reached the bedside, she carefully lifted Nora into her own arms. Their daughter barely stirred, letting out only the smallest sleepy sigh before settling against her mother's shoulder.

Y/N watched them with the same quiet wonder they always did. They watched Wanda gently lay Nora in the crib beside the bed. She wriggled once beneath the blanket. Then settled again. Fast asleep.

Only after making sure she was comfortable did Wanda turn back.

Y/N had already set the book aside. Without a word, they opened their arms.

Wanda smiled and slipped into them without hesitation, curling against their chest while Y/N wrapped both arms around her. Holding her close.

She let out a long, contented breath. "Thank you."

Y/N gently rubbed slow circles across her back. "For what?"

"For putting her to sleep."

A smile touched Y/N's lips. "It was my pleasure." They pressed a gentle kiss into her hair.

For a while, they simply held one another before Wanda spoke again.

"How was your day?"

Y/N let out a quiet breath.

"Long."

"I figured."

"There were council meetings all morning, two trade reports that somehow became four, and a border dispute that could've been solved if everyone involved had simply spoken to each other."

Wanda laughed softly.

"So... a normal day."

"Unfortunately."

"And yours?"

Y/N asked. Their voice softened immediately. "Were you able to rest?"

"I was." She smiled against their shoulder. "My mother and Lina made sure of it."

"I'm glad."

"They wouldn't let me do anything."

"They're very wise."

Wanda chuckled. "I knew you were going to say that."

Y/N smiled, their hand never leaving the gentle circles on her back.

"I came back between meetings."

"I know."

"You knew?"

"I woke up and you weren't beside me anymore."

Y/N looked almost sheepish. "I didn't want to wake you."

"You didn't."

"I just wanted to see you and Nora.”

Wanda smiled knowingly. "I know."

"I meant to stay for only a minute."

"But?"

"...It became twenty."

She laughed. "I thought so."

Y/N laughed quietly with her.

"Our daughter is very distracting."

"She certainly is." 

Silence settled comfortably between them easy and familiar.

After a while, Wanda spoke again. "I spent most of the afternoon with my mother."

"How was that?"

"She insisted I was still doing too much."

Y/N nodded without hesitation. "She's right."

Wanda leaned back just enough to look up at them.

"You too?"

"You've only been recovering for a month."

"I'm feeling much better."

"I know."

Their thumb brushed gently along her back.

"But I'd rather remind you to rest a hundred times than watch you overdo it once."

Wanda's expression softened. "I know."

Y/N smiled. "When you're fully recovered..."

"Hm?"

"I'd like to take you riding again."

A brighter smile spread across Wanda's face.

"I'd like that."

"Soon."

"Soon."

Y/N kissed her forehead before resting their cheek lightly against her hair.

Outside, the palace had grown almost completely silent. Inside, Nora slept peacefully in her crib.

Y/N held Wanda a little closer, grateful beyond words that this had become their life.

---

The next morning, Y/N woke before the sun had fully risen.

For a long moment, they didn't move. Wanda was still asleep against them, tucked comfortably beneath their arm, her breathing slow and even.

She looked peaceful. Rested. Or at least, more rested than she had in weeks.

A soft smile found Y/N's lips.

Carefully, they brushed a loose strand of crimson hair away from her face. Their fingertips lingered against her cheek before they leaned down and pressed the gentlest kiss there.

Wanda stirred only slightly.

Never waking. Good. She needed the sleep.

Y/N had no intention of stealing another minute of it. Slowly and carefully, they slipped out of bed, making sure not to disturb her.

Only then did they walk over to the crib. Peeking inside, they found Nora already awake. Wide green eyes—so much like Wanda's—looked back at them.

She wasn't crying. She was simply lying there, quietly watching the world.

Y/N smiled immediately. "Well..." Their voice was barely above a whisper. "You're awake."

Nora blinked. Still perfectly content.

"And you didn't wake Mama."

Y/N carefully lifted her into their arms, settling her securely against their chest. The little girl gave a tiny sigh and nestled closer.

Y/N kissed one chubby cheek. Then the other.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

Nora answered with a soft little coo.

Y/N's heart melted, just as it always did. They glanced back toward the bed.

Wanda hadn't moved. Still asleep. Still finally getting the rest she deserved.

Y/N smiled softly.

"Let's leave Mama alone for a little while." They gently rubbed Nora's tiny back. "She needs her sleep."

Cradling their daughter close, Y/N quietly slipped out of the chambers, carefully closing the door behind them.

The palace beyond was only just beginning to wake.

For now...The morning belonged to the two of them.

After quietly leaving the chambers, Y/N stopped by the nursery first.

Changing their own clothes took only a few minutes. Changing Nora's took considerably longer.

Not because she fussed. Quite the opposite. She lay there quietly, blinking up at them while they carefully dressed her in fresh clothes before wrapping her snugly in a soft blanket.

"There." Y/N smiled, gently tucking the blanket beneath her tiny chin. "Much better."

With Nora nestled securely in their arms, they made their way through the palace.

The halls were only beginning to stir. Servants bowed as they passed, their expressions softening the moment they noticed the little princess.

Several quietly wished them good morning. Y/N returned each greeting with an easy smile.

Nora, meanwhile, seemed fascinated by everything. Her bright green eyes wandered from the high ceilings to the stained-glass windows, then to the tapestries lining the corridors.

She barely made a sound. Only watched. Taking in the world one curious glance at a time.

Y/N couldn't stop looking at her.

"I think you're going to be curious about everything."

Nora blinked up at them. Still perfectly content.

Y/N chuckled quietly. "And I love that you're not crying."

They gently brushed a thumb across her tiny hand. "I'll enjoy it while it lasts."

Nearly an hour passed that way, wandering through the quiet palace gardens before looping back inside.

Only then did Y/N notice the first signs.

Nora's little mouth began searching. Her tiny brows knitted together. A faint whimper escaped her lips, and her eyes grew watery.

Y/N smiled knowingly. "I know."

They gently rocked her as they turned toward their chambers.

"I think someone's hungry."

By the time they reached the door, Nora was beginning to fuss in earnest.

Not crying. Not yet.

Just letting them know she was no longer interested in sightseeing.

Y/N eased the door open as quietly as they had left earlier.

The sound was enough to stir Wanda. She blinked sleepily before pushing herself up on one elbow. For a moment, she looked around in confusion. Then her eyes found Y/N. Already dressed for the day. Nora bundled safely in their arms.

A surprised smile spread across her face.

"You're both already awake?"

Y/N smiled as they walked over to the bed.

"We've been on quite the adventure."

They looked down at Nora, who let out another tiny, impatient whimper.

"I believe someone has decided breakfast can no longer wait."

Wanda laughed softly, still shaking off the last traces of sleep.

"I leave the two of you alone for one morning..."

Y/N smiled as they stopped beside the bed. "We didn't go far." They looked down at Nora. "We simply inspected half the palace."

Wanda raised an amused eyebrow. "Half?"

Y/N considered it. "...Perhaps a little more than that?”

She reached up and gently stroked Nora's cheek. Their daughter immediately turned toward the touch, her little mouth opening in search of milk.

"There it is."

"She's been very patient," Y/N said quietly. "But I think she's reached her limit."

Wanda smiled. "Come here."

Y/N carefully lowered themselves onto the edge of the bed before passing Nora into Wanda's waiting arms. The little girl settled against her mother almost instantly, the tiny whimpers already beginning to fade.

Y/N watched while Wanda adjusted her chemise and guided Nora closer. Within moments, their daughter latched. The room fell quiet again.

Y/N let out a small breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding.

Wanda noticed. "You worry every time."

"I do."

"She was only hungry."

"I know." Their eyes never left Nora. "I still worry."

Wanda reached over with her free hand and gently intertwined her fingers with theirs.

"You took her out this morning?"

Y/N nodded.

"She was awake before I was ready to leave the bed."

"And she didn't cry?"

"Not once."

Wanda smiled proudly at their daughter. "She's been looking around a lot lately."

"She has."

Y/N's expression softened. "She spent nearly an hour watching everything."

"The gardens?"

"The gardens."

"The hall?"

"Every painting."

Wanda laughed quietly. "Already appreciating beautiful things."

Y/N looked at Wanda. "I think she inherited that from her mother."

A faint blush colored Wanda's cheeks. "You always know what to say."

"I'm only telling the truth."

She leaned over and kissed their lips. "Thank you."

Y/N looked at her in surprise. "For what?"

"For giving me an hour to sleep."

Their smile was gentle. "You needed it."

"So did you."

"I had company." They nodded toward Nora. "The best kind."

Wanda followed their gaze.

Nora had already begun to relax again, one tiny hand resting against her mother's chest as she nursed peacefully.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

They simply watched their daughter together.

It was quickly becoming their favorite way to spend the morning.

---

One Week Later

The palace was unusually quiet that morning. Not because everyone was asleep—quite the opposite. The kingdom had already begun another busy day.

Somewhere else in the palace, Y/N was in their study with King Erik, discussing trade routes, harvest reports, and the endless responsibilities that came with ruling two kingdoms. Wanda didn't envy them. Not today. Today belonged to something much quieter. Much cozier.

Lina had no lessons, which meant she'd declared it "a family day" before breakfast had even been served. No one had argued.

Now the four of them occupied one of the smaller sitting rooms overlooking the palace gardens. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, warming the room as tea steamed gently on the table beside fresh pastries and fruit.

Natalya sat in an armchair with Nora resting comfortably in her arms, gently rocking her without even realizing she was doing it. Across from her, Lina lay on her stomach on the rug with parchment spread around her, carefully drawing with colored pencils. Every few minutes she looked up, just to check on Nora.

Wanda smiled. "You've looked at her six times already."

Lina didn't even deny it. "I know."

"You don't have to make sure she hasn't disappeared."

A small shrug. "I like looking at her."

"So do I," Natalya said with a warm smile.

The room fell quiet again, peaceful and comfortable. After a few moments, Nora stirred with a tiny stretch before her sleepy little eyes slowly opened.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Natalya whispered.

Lina immediately abandoned her drawing and hurried over before remembering herself, stopping a careful distance away.

"Hi, Nora."

The baby turned toward the familiar voice. For a brief moment, she simply stared at Lina. Then the corners of her tiny mouth lifted.

It wasn't a big smile. Just the smallest little grin. But it was unmistakable.

Lina froze. "Wanda..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "She smiled at me."

Wanda looked over just in time to see Nora's little smile linger for another heartbeat before it faded. A soft laugh escaped her.

"I think she did."

Lina's eyes grew impossibly wide. "She smiled at me."

Natalya looked between the two girls, her own smile widening. "I believe she knows exactly who you are."

Lina beamed—the kind of smile only a seven-year-old could have. She leaned just a little closer. "Hi again."

Nora blinked up at her, still calm, still watching. Lina looked as though someone had handed her the greatest treasure in the world.

Wanda watched them together, her heart impossibly full. Her mother. Y/N's little sister. Their daughter. Three generations gathered together without ceremony or expectation.

Just...Family.

And somewhere down the hall, she knew Y/N was probably trying very hard to concentrate on maps and reports while secretly wondering what Nora was doing. Wanda smiled to herself to the thought. She had a feeling they wouldn't stay away much longer.

Lina soon returned to her drawing, humming softly as she shaded the petals of a flower. Seeing how content Nora was, Natalya carefully laid her down on a thick, soft blanket beside Lina.

"There we are," she murmured.

Nora immediately began waving her tiny arms and kicking her little legs, completely entertained by the light filtering through the windows and the colorful papers scattered around Lina. Every now and then, Lina would stop drawing just long enough to show Nora what she had finished.

"Look." She turned the parchment toward the baby. "I'm drawing the gardens."

Nora blinked up at the page before letting out a happy little sound.

Lina grinned. "I think she likes it."

"I think she likes listening to you," Wanda said with a smile.

That seemed to make Lina even happier. She continued chatting away as she drew, telling Nora about each flower she added, the birds she'd seen outside that morning, and how, once Nora was older, she would teach her how to draw too.

Wanda and Natalya watched from the sofa, cups of tea forgotten in their hands.

"Lina is really a good kid,” Natalya said with a warm smile.

"She is.”

"I remember when I was here during your pregnancy. She would talk to your stomach as though the baby could already answer."

Wanda laughed softly. "She was convinced Nora knew exactly what she was saying."

"And now she still believes it."

"I don't think anyone could convince her otherwise."

The two women fell into an easy conversation, speaking quietly as they watched the girls together.

"I've never seen Y/N like this before," Natalya admitted after a while. "They adore Nora.”

Wanda looked toward the window, a fond smile touching her lips. "They do.”

“I saw how they were with you during the pregnancy. But now..." Natalya smiled. "They’re hopeless.”

Wanda laugh.

"And they laugh more."

Wanda nodded. "They're happy."

A comfortable silence settled between them as they watched Nora happily wiggle on her blanket while Lina narrated every line she drew as though her little audience understood every word.

Then, without warning, Nora's face scrunched. A tiny cry escaped her.

Wanda smiled knowingly as she stood. "I know that cry." She scooped Nora into her arms, immediately recognizing the familiar expression. "I think someone needs a clean diaper."

Lina abandoned her drawing altogether and followed Wanda to the changing table, watching with complete fascination. She stayed unusually quiet, observing every careful movement as Wanda unwrapped the blanket, changed the diaper, and dressed Nora again.

When Wanda finished, Lina looked up thoughtfully.

"Can I help next time?"

Wanda smiled. "I'd love that."

"Really?"

"Of course. But maybe in a few months."

"Why?"

Wanda gently adjusted Nora's little sleeve. "She's still very tiny."

"And she wiggles a lot," Natalya added with a smile.

"When she's a little bigger, I'll teach you how to help."

Lina nodded with complete seriousness. "I'll learn."

"I know you will."

Satisfied, Lina returned to her drawing while Wanda settled back onto the sofa with Nora against her shoulder.

The morning drifted by peacefully until the rich aroma of lunch began filling the halls. Not long afterward, footsteps approached outside. The door opened and Y/N stepped inside beside King Erik, both of them finally free from a morning of meetings and maps.

The moment Lina saw Y/N, she smiled.

"You're done!"

"For today," Y/N answered with a laugh. They crossed the room, absentmindedly kissing the top of Lina's head as they passed.

"Have you been taking good care of everyone?"

"I have."

“Good girl.”

Only then did they stop beside Wanda. Without a word, they leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better."

"And Nora?"

"Asleep again."

"She wore herself out supervising Lina's artwork," Natalya teased.

Y/N chuckled. "I don't doubt it."

Wanda carefully shifted Nora toward them.

"I think she'd like to see her other favorite person."

Y/N's face softened as they gathered their daughter into their arms with practiced ease. The moment Nora settled against their chest, she stirred. Her sleepy green eyes blinked open. She looked up, found Y/N's face…and smiled. A tiny, unmistakable smile.

A soft little coo followed, as though she were greeting them.

Y/N's entire expression melted. "Hello, sweetheart."

They gently brushed their nose against hers. "I missed you too."

Nora answered with another happy little sound, one tiny hand lifting toward their face.

Wanda watched them together, smiling quietly. It amazed her that no matter how busy Y/N's mornings became, the moment they held Nora again, the rest of the world simply ceased to exist.

Erik noticed it too. "I don't believe I've ever seen King Y/N smile that much during council."

Y/N laughed without taking their eyes off their daughter. "I can't imagine why."

The room filled with soft laughter.

Just then, a servant appeared in the doorway and bowed. "Your Majesties, lunch is ready."

Y/N looked at Wanda before offering her their free hand. "Shall we?"

She slipped her fingers between theirs.

Together, with Nora safely in Y/N's arms and their family surrounding them, they left the sitting room and headed toward lunch.

---

Later that Day

Y/N’s POV

The afternoon passed peacefully.

After lunch, King Erik and Queen Natalya happily disappeared with Nora, insisting that Wanda and Y/N take some time for themselves. Neither of them had protested very hard—not when both grandparents looked so delighted to have their granddaughter all to themselves.

It had become a familiar sight over the past week. Natalya humming softly as she rocked Nora. Erik strolling through the palace with the little princess asleep against his shoulder. They were completely taken with her, and Nora, quite happily, seemed to enjoy every moment of the attention.

Which left Wanda and Y/N with something they hadn't realized they'd been missing.

Time. Just the two of them.

When Y/N finally returned to their chambers after one last meeting with Erik, the halls were unusually quiet. No nobles. No reports. No urgent requests waiting outside the door. Just...Home.

The moment they stepped inside, they found Wanda curled comfortably on the sofa near the window, a book resting in her lap as sunlight spilled across her hair.

Beautiful.

Y/N immediately forgot whatever they'd been thinking about.

Wanda looked up and smiled.

Gods. That smile.

Y/N crossed the room without hesitation. Wanda barely had time to set her book aside before they leaned down and kissed her. Softly and tenderly. The kind of kiss that came naturally after months of marriage. The kind that always felt like coming home.

Wanda smiled against their lips.

Y/N kissed her again. And again. Taking their time. Not rushing. Simply enjoying her. The warmth of her lips. The softness of her smile. The way her hand instinctively rested against their arm.

Gods. They had missed this.

Not because they didn’t kiss anymore, but because the past weeks had been filled with recovery, newborn routines, and a family completely enchanted by Nora. Every kiss had been brief, stolen between feedings, interrupted by tiny cries, grandparents arriving to steal another cuddle, or Lina asking to hold her niece again.

This felt different.

Slow.

Quiet.

Just them.

Y/N rested a hand against Wanda's cheek before gently brushing their nose against hers.

"Where's Nora?"

Wanda laughed softly. "My parents took her for a walk."

Y/N smiled. "So she's being spoiled."

"Completely."

"They've had her most of the afternoon."

"They insisted."

"I'm not surprised."

Neither was Wanda.

Y/N kiss her again. This one lingering just a little longer.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested their forehead against hers, eyes closed, simply enjoying being close. Enjoying her.

"I missed this."

Wanda's expression softened immediately. "I missed you too."

Y/N kissed the corner of her mouth. Then her cheek. Then her forehead.

Apparently unable to stop.

Wanda laughed. "My love."

"Hm?"

She smiled, thoroughly amused.

"You realize we can't do anything."

Y/N groaned dramatically.

Wanda burst into laughter.

"The healers said I'm still recovering."

"I know."

"Y/N."

"I know."

"It hasn't even been two months."

Y/N let their forehead fall onto her shoulder, entirely defeated.

Wanda gently threaded her fingers through their hair, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

"You'll survive."

"I have my doubts."

"You survived childbirth."

"That was different."

Wanda laughed harder.

Y/N looked up, attempting to appear completely tragic. Failing miserably. Because Wanda could still see the smile hiding underneath.

She cupped their face before leaning forward to kiss them again. Soft, sweet, and full of affection. The kiss lingered, not urgent or demanding, just comfortable. Familiar. The kind that came from knowing someone completely.

Wanda's fingers continued combing gently through their hair.

Y/N practically melted. They shifted closer until they were half-curled against her side on the sofa.

Wanda smiled against their lips. Then kissed them again. And again. Neither seemed interested in stopping.

The room was quiet. The palace felt wonderfully far away. For once there were no meetings, no crying baby, and no responsibilities demanding their attention.

Just them.

Y/N rested a hand lightly on her waist while Wanda continued absentmindedly playing with their hair. The soothing motion relaxed them almost immediately. Then Wanda gently nipped their lower lip before pulling away.

Y/N let out a long, exaggerated groan. "My love..."

Wanda's eyes sparkled. "What?"

"You cannot do that."

"Do what?"

"You know exactly what."

Her laughter filled the room.

Y/N buried their face against her shoulder. Entirely betrayed.

Wanda kissed the top of their head.

"Poor thing."

"You're making fun of me."

"A little."

"A lot."

"...A lot."

That only made her laugh again.

Eventually, Y/N lifted their head and kissed her cheek. Then her jaw. Then the corner of her mouth. Unable to stay away for very long.

Wanda wrapped both arms around them, holding them close. Comfortable.

After a while, Y/N sighed before pressing one last slow, tender kiss to her lips.

"I have an idea."

Wanda smiled. "Should I be worried?"

"Probably not."

"That's not reassuring."

Y/N grinned, then gently squeezed her hand. "Let's have a picnic."

Wanda blinked. "A picnic?"

"Just us."

She immediately understood. "Nora can stay with my parents."

Y/N nodded. "I don't think they'll mind."

Wanda laughed.

"No... I don't think they'd let us take her even if we tried."

Y/N chuckled. "I believe you're right."

The thought alone made Wanda smile. Nora would spend the afternoon thoroughly adored by her grandparents, and she would probably sleep through most of it.

"I'd like that."

The answer made Y/N's smile brighten immediately.

Before Wanda could react, one arm slipped behind her back while the other tucked beneath her knees. In one smooth motion, Y/N lifted her into their arms.

Wanda let out a surprised laugh. "Y/N!"

"What?"

"Put me down."

"I don't think I will."

"My love..."

Y/N only held her a little closer.

"I'm under strict orders not to let you walk too much."

"You gave those orders."

"I did."

"And I'm following them."

Wanda laughed, hiding her face against their shoulder.

"You are impossible."

"So I've been told."

Still carrying her, Y/N left the chambers.

---

The Queen's Garden welcomed them with warm sunlight, birdsong, and the familiar oak tree standing proudly at its center. The same tree that had witnessed generations of memories. The same tree beneath which Y/N and Wanda had shared so many of their own.

A blanket had already been prepared beneath its shade.

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "You planned this?”

"I may have."

"You absolutely did."

Y/N only smiled.

Once they reached the tree, they carefully set her down before settling beside her on the blanket. Immediately, their arm found its familiar place around her waist.

Wanda rested her head against their shoulder, listening to the steady beat of their heart.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The breeze rustled the leaves overhead. The gardens swayed gently around them. The palace seemed wonderfully distant.

Eventually, Y/N broke the silence. "I missed this."

Wanda smiled. "So did I."

Their fingers intertwined. Y/N lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before holding it a little tighter. Wanda looked around the gardens before turning back to them.

A month ago, they had both been terrified. Now...

Their daughter was safe. Their family was together. Their home was filled with laughter.

Y/N noticed her watching. "What?"

"Nothing."

She leaned over and stole another quick kiss. Y/N immediately chased another. Then another, making her laugh.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Y/N smiled before pulling her a little closer, holding her not out of fear...

But simply because they loved her.

And beneath the shade of the old oak tree, while their daughter was undoubtedly being spoiled by two very proud grandparents, they spent a quiet afternoon simply being spouses.

---

Five Months Later

Wanda's POV

Time passed.

And somehow...Life became even better.

Not perfect. There were still disagreements between nobles. Still reports. Still long days. Still moments where Nora decided sleep was optional.

But it felt perfect.

At least to Wanda.

Not only because of their little family, but because she could finally see Virelia becoming the kingdom Y/N had always dreamed it could be.

The council meetings were changing. They were no longer consumed by repairing the damage left behind by the previous reign. Instead, they spoke of expanding trade routes, prosperous harvests, new ports, and alliances.

Almost every week another messenger arrived carrying beautifully sealed letters from kingdoms across the ocean. Some wished to establish trade. Others proposed military cooperation or cultural exchanges. A few even hinted at royal alliances through marriage, hopeful that their houses might one day be joined with Virelia's.

Those letters always amused Wanda.

As if Y/N weren't already hopelessly devoted to their wife.

They barely glanced at such proposals before handing them to the council to be politely declined, never giving them a second thought.

What mattered wasn't the proposals themselves. It was what they represented. For generations, Virelia had been feared.

Under King Alaric's rule, the kingdom had earned a reputation for conquest and bloodshed. Neighboring nations had learned to fear its banners on the horizon, knowing they often heralded another campaign, another city brought to its knees, another family torn apart by war. Even kingdoms across the sea had spoken Alaric's name with caution.

Virelia had been powerful. But it had never been trusted.

Y/N had inherited not only a crown, but the weight of that legacy. A kingdom viewed with suspicion. A throne stained by wars they had never wanted.

Yet instead of ruling through fear, they had chosen compassion. Instead of threatening their neighbors, they extended open hands. They negotiated where others expected armies. They rebuilt where others expected revenge.

Slowly...

The world had begun to answer.

Those letters arriving at the palace weren't sent because kingdoms feared Virelia anymore. They came because they respected it.

Because they trusted the ruler sitting upon its throne.

Y/N never spoke of it. They simply continued attending council meetings, signing treaties, listening to their advisors, and doing everything they could to leave the kingdom kinder than the one their father had ruled.

And little by little...

They were succeeding.

Not just for themselves.

For every person who called Virelia home.

Sometimes Wanda caught Y/N standing alone on the palace balcony after another successful council meeting, believing no one was watching.

There was never pride in their eyes. Only quiet relief. Relief that their people finally had the peace they deserved.

And Wanda loved them all the more for it.

Because every morning she woke beside the person she loved. Every night she fell asleep knowing their daughter was only a few steps away. And every day she got to watch Y/N become more and more ridiculous about Nora.

Nora was six months old now.

The tiny newborn who once fit entirely against Y/N's chest had grown into a curious, happy baby who wanted to touch everything. Grab everything. Taste everything. And climb absolutely anything within reach.

Especially Y/N.

The entire palace adored her. The servants adored her, the knights adored her, Lina adored her.

Even Barnes had been caught making funny faces at her.

Twice.

But nobody adored Nora more than Y/N. And nobody adored Y/N more than Nora.

Well... maybe except for Wanda.

Watching the two of them together had become one of her favorite parts of the day. It didn't matter how exhausting the council meetings had been or how many reports waited on Y/N's desk. The moment Nora spotted them, the king disappeared, replaced by a parent so completely smitten that the rest of the world simply ceased to exist.

Wanda was sitting beneath the gazebo in the Queen's Garden, a book forgotten in her lap because there was something much more interesting happening nearby.

Y/N had just returned from a council meeting. Still dressed formally. Still carrying paperwork. Still looking every bit the king.

Until Nora saw them.

The transformation was immediate. The baby gasped. Actually gasped.

Then her entire face lit up.

"MMPa!"

Y/N froze. Every. Single. Time.

Like they still couldn't believe it.

Nora immediately started kicking her legs excitedly from where she sat on a blanket beside Lina.

"Mmm!"

Her tiny arms shot upward. Demanding their attention.

Y/N's expression melted instantly. "Hello, sweetheart."

Nora squealed, then immediately launched into a stream of excited babbling—a full conversation, apparently.

Y/N crouched beside her at once, listening with complete seriousness as though she were delivering the most important report in Virelia.

"Really?"

Babble.

"No."

More babble.

"You're kidding."

Even more babble.

Lina laughed. Wanda laughed.

Y/N nodded solemnly. "I agree completely."

Nora beamed, delighted to finally find someone who understood her language. She leaned forward without the slightest hesitation, practically throwing herself into Y/N's arms.

Y/N caught her immediately. Like always. Like they always would.

Nora squealed happily the moment she was secure against their chest, tiny hands immediately grabbing at their collar.

"MMPa!"

Y/N's smile became helpless.

"There’s my little princess.” They pressed a loud kiss against one chubby cheek.

Then the other.

Again.

And again.

Each kiss earned delighted little giggles from Nora, who kicked her legs excitedly, clearly approving of the arrangement.

Y/N looked completely enchanted. As usual.

With Nora balanced easily on one arm, they leaned toward Lina next. The little princess was already smiling because she knew exactly what was coming.

Y/N pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Hey little dove."

Lina immediately beamed. Even though she’s seven years old, she still melted every time her brother called her that.

"Hi, Y/N."

"Hi."

Then Y/N straightened, their gaze finding Wanda instantly, just as it always did. No matter who else was in the room. No matter where they were. They gave her that smile that they only reserved for her. Not even Nora have it.

Wanda smiled.

And Y/N was already moving.

Still holding Nora securely against their side, they leaned down, gently cupped Wanda's cheek, and kissed her. Softly. Not long, just enough. A familiar kiss, shared countless times over the years. One that still made Wanda smile every single time.

When they pulled back, Nora immediately objected.

"MMMa!"

Both parents laughed.

Wanda looked down at her. "Sorry." And kissed her chubby cheeks too.

Nora pointed at Wanda. "Ma!"

Then at Y/N. "Pa!"

Than at Lina. “Aaa!”

The baby looked very pleased with herself, as though she'd successfully gathered her entire collection of favorite people.

Y/N laughed. "Very good sweetheart.”

Nora grinned proudly. The praise clearly accepted.

Wanda watched them for a moment. The king of Virelia standing in the middle of the garden. A baby on one hip. Their little sister beside them. A smile on their face.

Happy. Truly happy.

And sometimes Wanda still had to pause and appreciate it, because there had been a time when she wasn't sure Y/N would ever know peace. A time when every smile seemed weighed down by old wounds. By guilt. By fear.

Now those shadows still existed. But they no longer ruled them. Now when Y/N smiled, it reached their eyes, no matter who that smile was addressed at. They laughed easily. And when they looked at their family...

They looked happy. Really happy.

Wanda reached out and brushed a strand of hair from their forehead. Y/N immediately turned their head and kissed her palm. The gesture was so automatic it made her smile.

"What was that for?"

Wanda shook her head.

"Nothing."

Y/N narrowed their eyes suspiciously. "You're looking at me."

"I am."

"Why?"

Wanda laughed softly.

"No reason."

"There is absolutely a reason."

Nora chose that moment to smack Y/N's cheek. Not hard. Just enough to make a tiny pat sound.

Y/N blinked.

Nora looked delighted. Lina immediately burst out laughing. Wanda wasn't much better.

Y/N looked down at their daughter. "Hey."

"Pa!"

A smile tugged at their lips despite themselves. "I know you want my attention, sweetheart, but you cannot slap Papa."

The smile vanished from Nora's face almost instantly. Her tiny lower lip quivered. Her bright green eyes shimmered with tears.

"Oh, sweetheart..." Y/N's voice softened at once. "No, no. Papa isn't mad." They gently rubbed her back, rocking her against their chest. "I promise. I'm not upset with you."

Wanda had already crossed the short distance between them. She smiled gently at Nora, cupping one chubby cheek with the back of her fingers.

"Papa's not mad," she murmured. "But we don't slap people, okay? We use gentle hands."

She stroked Nora's soft cheeks, brushing away the tears before they could fall.

Nora let out a tiny hiccup. Then, with a small whimper, she buried her face against Y/N's neck instead of crying.

"There she is," Y/N whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head. "That's my brave girl."

They held her a little closer, gently swaying from side to side until the last of her sniffles faded away, Nora content to remain tucked safely against them.

After a moment, they looked toward Lina, their expression softening instantly.

"Now."

Lina straightened immediately, already knowing that voice.

"How were lessons this morning, little dove?"

Lina brightened. "They were good."

"Were they?" She nodded enthusiastically.

"We learned about the old kingdoms."

Y/N hummed thoughtfully. "And?"

"And I learned about Mama’s Kingdom.“

“That’s good” Y/N smile. 

“I hope we can visit them someday.”

“…me too, little dove.” Y/N say softly. 

Lina nodded. Then immediately forgot about the topic. "I also beat Eren at mathematics."

Y/N laughed. "Good job!"

Lina looked very proud of herself. "I got every answer right."

"I'm shocked."

"You are not."

"No."

"You're teasing me."

"A little."

Lina groaned.

Nora immediately joined in, making her own dramatic baby noise.

Y/N looked down.

"Feeling better, baby?"

Nora bounced excitedly in their arms.

"Oo!"

"I think that’s a yes?"

More bouncing. And Y/N kiss her head.

Wanda watched as Nora practically launched herself upward, trying to get a better view of Lina. The baby absolutely adored her aunt.

“Aaa!”

Lina’s face lit up instantly.

“Yes, Nora!”

“Aaa!”

Lina held out her arms instinctively.

Y/N smiled before carefully lowering Nora into them, making sure Lina had a secure hold before letting go completely.

“There you are,” Y/N said. “Support her back.”

“I know,” Lina replied with mock offense, cradling her niece proudly. “I’m an expert.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Nora immediately resumed her endless stream of cheerful babbling, tiny hands waving animatedly as though she were telling Lina the most fascinating story in the world.

“I know,” Lina answered with complete seriousness. “And then what happened?”

Another excited burst of baby chatter.

“No!”

More babbling.

“Really?”

Y/N chuckled. Satisfied that the two girls were happily entertaining one another, Y/N settled onto the bench beside Wanda. The moment they sat down, Wanda leaned naturally against their shoulder.

Just as she always did.

Y/N wrapped an arm around her waist without a second thought, resting their cheek lightly against her hair.

Together, they watched Nora and Lina beneath the warm afternoon sun.

One talking. One pretending to understand. Both laughing anyway.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. There wasn’t any need. The breeze carried the scent of blooming roses through the garden. Somewhere nearby, birds sang from the old oak tree.

It felt…Peaceful.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” Y/N said quietly.

Wanda tilted her head to look at them. “What is it?”

Their eyes never left Nora.

“Thank you.”

She blinked.

“For what?”

A small smile touched their lips.

“For loving me.”

Wanda’s expression softened immediately.

“For staying.”

Y/N swallowed.

“For believing there was still something worth loving, even when I couldn’t see it myself.”

She reached for their hand, intertwining their fingers.

“You made that easy.”

They shook their head gently.

“No.”

Their thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“You gave me a home, Wanda.”

Their voice was barely above a whisper now.

“You gave me and Lina a family.”

Their gaze found Nora, who had just erupted into another fit of delighted giggles in Lina’s arms.

“And…”

A quiet laugh escaped them.

“You gave me her.”

Emotion caught in Wanda’s chest.

“You gave me the chance to be someone’s parent.”

Their eyes glistened.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for that.”

Wanda lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of theirs.

“You don’t have to.”

Y/N looked at her.

“You’ve given me everything too.”

They smiled at one another. No grand declarations. No dramatic promises. Just the quiet certainty that comes from years of choosing each other, day after day.

Nearby, Nora squealed loudly enough to steal both of their attention. She had somehow managed to grab one of Lina’s braids.

“Oh no,” Lina laughed. “You’ve discovered hair.”

Y/N sighed with exaggerated resignation.

“We’re in trouble.”

“A little,” Wanda agreed.

“A lot.”

They laughed together.

The sound mingled with Nora’s happy babbles and Lina’s laughter, carrying across the gardens of a kingdom that had finally found peace.

Once, Y/N had believed their life would be defined by the sins of the past.

Instead…

It was defined by quiet mornings. Shared laughter. Gentle kisses. Tiny hands reaching for them without hesitation. 

A little sister who never stopped believing in them.  A daughter who thought they hung the moon. And a wife who had loved them through every season of their life.

As the afternoon sun bathed the palace gardens in gold, Wanda rested her head against Y/N’s shoulder while they watched Nora laugh in Lina’s arms.

There was no battle waiting beyond the gates.

No prophecy.

No tragedy on the horizon.

Only home.

Only family.

Only tomorrow.

And for them…

That was more than enough.

The End.

---------------------------

Thank you all so much for reading The Heir’s Secret.

I honestly never expected this story to grow into 37 chapters, but every comment, vote, and bit of support kept me inspired to continue. What started as a simple idea became a journey that I loved writing, and I hope you enjoyed it as well. 

Thank you for laughing, crying, getting angry, and celebrating with these characters alongside me. Your support truly means more than you know.

Whether you’ve been here since Chapter 1 or just found this story recently, I’m incredibly grateful that you gave The Heir’s Secret a chance.

This may be the end of this book, but it won’t be the end of this series. I hope you’ll join me again in future stories.

---------------------------

Epilogue

Far from Virelia…

An elderly butler entered the throne room carrying a bundle of sealed reports.

He bowed.

“Your Majesty.”

The king didn’t look up. “What is it?”

“We’ve received the latest reports from the Kingdom of Virelia.”

A long silence followed.

“…Read.”

The butler broke the seal.

“‘King Y/N Dragna continues strengthening diplomatic relations with neighboring kingdoms. New trade agreements have been signed, and several rulers have expressed interest in formal alliances with Virelia.’”

Another page.

“‘The people speak highly of their king. Reports describe King Y/N as compassionate, just, and deeply devoted to both the kingdom and the royal family.’”

Another.

“‘Many now believe Virelia has become one of the most trusted kingdoms on the continent under King Y/N Dragna’s reign.’”

The butler lowered the papers.

Silence.

Then…

The king laughed.

A cold, hollow sound that carried no trace of amusement.

“They’ve forgotten.”

He slowly rose from his throne.

“They’ve forgotten the smoke…The screams…The graves.”

“They’ve forgotten Alaric Dragna.” His hand slammed against the table. “They’ve forgotten what Virelia truly is.”

The butler remained silent.

“They praise his heir now,” the king spat. “They call the monster compassionate.”

A bitter smile twisted across his face.

“How quickly the world rewrites its stories.” He laugh dryly. “Now they call that same monster their greatest hope.”

He scoffed.

“A crown doesn’t change blood.”

“And a smile…” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “…doesn’t make a monster any less dangerous.”

The butler hesitated.

“Your Majesty… every report insists King Y/N is nothing like the former king.”

“I know what the reports say!”The king’s eyes hardened. “I don’t care.”

The room seemed to grow colder.

“Some debts cannot be repaid…Some crimes cannot be forgiven. And some names…” His gaze settled on Virelia’s crest carved into the map.

“…deserve to disappear from history.”

The butler lowered his eyes. He had served his king for decades. He knew that look.

The king rested one hand over the map of Virelia. His fingers slowly curled into a fist.

“Enjoy your happy ending, King Y/N Dragna.”

His smile held no warmth.

“It won’t last.”

Outside, thunder rolled across the distant mountains.

Far away…

Unaware that the past had begun moving once again…

Virelia slept peacefully.

---

The afternoon light filters weakly through the half-drawn blinds in Natasha’s room, casting long, thin shadows across the cluttered floor. Empty beer cans and discarded clothes are scattered across the floor, and a half-smoked joint lingers in an ashtray. The air smells like her, sharp perfume mixed with cigarette smoke and something deeper, warmer, like skin after a long night out. 

Natasha is your new stepsister, the daughter of the man your mom married six months ago. She’s supposed to be family now, but nothing about Natasha feels very sisterly. 

You’re curled up on the end of her bed with a pillow hugged to your chest, eyes fixed on the TV sitting on the dresser. Your mom and stepdad don’t let you have one in your own room, “too distracting from schoolwork”, but Natasha’s twenty-one, so she does whatever she wants. That includes inviting you in here when she’s bored and hungover, which happens more and more often.

Natasha’s sprawled beside you, one leg dangling off the bed in her tiny sleep shorts. She flips between channels lazily, the remote loose in her hand, like she couldn’t care less. “This movie’s shit,” she mutters. The flickering channels finally lands on a mindless action film. “But better than staring at your phone all day, right?”

You nod, glancing at her shyly. “Thanks for letting me sit in here. It’s nicer than the living room. Mom’s always hovering.” Your voice is quiet, shy, almost.

Natasha has always been the opposite. Her voice is brash, her tongue almost barbed whenever she talks to your parents, her heart full of secrets she keeps from them about where she goes at night and who she sees.

She snorts, tossing the remote aside. “Yeah, well, Dad’s the same with me. ‘Where are you, who are you with?’ Like I’m gonna tell him I’m at Tony’s again.”

She reaches for an already open can of beer on her nightstand. You watch as she takes a casual sip, then tips it towards you, offering. You shake your head quickly, and she rolls her eyes with a knowing smirk. “Good girl. Wouldn’t want to corrupt you.”

The comment hangs in the air, slightly edged. You shift a little closer on the bed, knees drawn to your chest. Natasha’s always oddly attractive in that way, her ability to make anyone at ease unparalleled.

For a while you both watch the screen in comfortable silence, explosions and flipping cars flashing across it. Natasha comments on the bad acting, mocking the dialogue until you laugh.

Eventually the movie drags, and she turns down the volume. Turning to you, she props her head on her hand. Her hair falls messily over her eyes, but her gaze is still intense as she studies you quietly. “You’re quiet today. What’s up with you? School sucks?”

A half-hearted shrug as you pick at a loose thread. “It’s fine. Just…” You glance over at your stepsister, who motions with a nod for you to continue. A lump in your throat emerges, but you press on.

“People are just weird,” you murmur. “Everyone’s talking about parties and dating and stuff. I don’t really fit in.” The admission slips out easier here, in her room with the door closed and the TV humming low.

Natasha’s smirk softens into something more curious, though the glint never fully leaves her eyes. “You got your eye on anyone? Some nerd who pops a boner when you walk by?”

Heat creeps up your neck. “No. Nothing like that. I’ve never even…” You trail off, biting your lip nervously.

“Never even what?” Natasha scoots closer, her bare knee brushing yours. The contact is casual, but her voice drops a notch. She’s interested now. “Come on, spill. We’re basically sisters. You can tell me shit you won’t tell your mom.”

You hesitate, your heart rate picking up. Natasha’s always been this way, abrasive and pushing boundaries. Being around her feels dangerous in a way that excites you. “I’ve never really done anything. With anyone. Kissing, dating…”

“So,” she starts, voice low and rough from last night’s hangover, and the smirk on her lips seems less than sisterly, “you really telling me you’ve never even kissed anyone? Eighteen and still a real virgin?” 

Her green eyes rake over you, predatory in the dim light. There’s a thrill in them, something dark and wrong that makes heat crawl up your neck.

You shrug again, cheeks burning. “I don’t… I mean, it’s not a big deal. I’ve been busy studying. And all the guys at school are stupid.” Your voice comes out small, almost childlike. Timid is what Mom calls it. With Natasha, it feels like hiding from a storm.

Natasha laughs, a short, abrasive bark, and takes another swig from the can before offering it to you. You shake your head again. Shrugging and setting it aside, she scoots closer on the bed until her knee brushes yours.

“Bullshit. Bet you’ve thought about it. Late at night, yeah, under the covers? Someone else’s fingers inside you instead of your own.”

Her words hit like a spark against dry tinder. You squirm, pressing your thighs together without thinking. “Natasha…”

“What? We’re sisters now, right? Stepsisters, whatever. We can talk about this shit.” She leans in, breath warm against your ear, smelling of beer and mint gum. “Tell me the truth, little sis. You ever cum before? Like, really cum?”

Your heart hammers. The room feels smaller, the air thicker. “I… I don’t know. Maybe? It feels good sometimes, but I can’t keep going…” 

You can’t even look at her. Your fingers twist the hem of your shirt, exposed under her gaze.

Natasha’s hand lands on your knee, heavy and warm, perhaps possessive. “That’s so fucking cute. A real virgin, not like those girls who take it up the ass and say they're still waiting for the right guy.” Her thumb strokes slow circles on your skin, inching higher under the edge of your skirt. Your heart thunders. “Bet you’d look so pretty cumming.”

Your cunt clenches wetly around nothing. You inhale sharply but you don’t pull away. 

She’s wrong. This is wrong. She’s your stepfather’s daughter. Your sister.

“Natasha, we shouldn’t–” you start, voice barely a whisper.

“Shouldn’t what?” she cuts you off, shifting so she’s behind you now, her chest pressed to your back. Her arms wrap around your waist, her lips brush your neck. “Admit it. You’re wet right now, aren’t you? Just from me asking.”

You nod before you can stop yourself, a tiny, humiliated whimper escaping your throat. “A little.”

“Good girl.” The praise is rough, laced with something hungry. Her hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher. “Spread your legs for me. Just a bit. Let big sis feel.”

The word sends a guilty jolt through your stomach. You hesitate, then slowly obey, knees parting on the bed.

Her fingers trace the edge of your simple cotton panties, already lightly damp. She hums approval against your shoulder, nipping lightly, making you shiver. “Fuck, you’re almost dripping. Does your pussy know you’re supposed to be a virgin?”

“Natasha…” Your voice trembles, but you can’t help the way your hips twitch toward her hand. As shy as you are, the ache between your legs wins.

“Shh. Just feel it.” Natasha hooks a finger into your panties and tugs them aside. The warm bedroom air against your cunt makes you blush. 

Her index and middle finger glide through your folds, slick and confident, finding your clit with ease and circling with lazy pressure. You gasp, back arching against her. It’s electric, better than your own novice touches in the dark. Her skin is warm, calloused slightly from whatever rough nights she spends out partying, and the contrast makes you shiver.

“See? Nice and easy,” she murmurs, voice dropping a note, more commanding. “Bet you’d squeeze my fingers so good.” You mewl gently as she circles, and then she presses one finger inside you slowly, knuckle-deep, and the mewl turns into a moan. Your cunt clenches around the intrusion, a stretch that borders on too much.

“Oh god,” you breathe, head falling back against her shoulder. All of your senses feel overloaded. The wet sound of her finger moving, the warmth of her body behind you, the faint scent of her sweat mixing with your arousal, all of it mixes into something dizzying.

“Another one,” she decides, and before you can tell her to stop, to slow down, she’s pushing in a second finger. Both curl inside you, stroking a spot that makes heat flicker in your belly. You squirm, legs shaking, moans spilling from your lips. “There we go. Feel that? That’s your sweet spot, baby. No boy’s ever gonna find it like I can.”

You bite your lip desperately, trying to stay quiet. Your mother and stepfather are both downstairs. “Natasha, what if someone hears? This is… we’re sisters–”

“Stepsisters,” she corrects, and her fingers thrust deeper, faster, like she’s proud to say it. Her thumb finds your clit, and she begins to rub firm circles that make your hips buck wildly. “And you’ll keep this secret, won’t you? Just like I keep all my shit from Dad and your mom. Our little secret. Say it.”

“I-I’ll keep it secret,” you gasp, voice breaking. Pleasure builds fast, a coiling snake low in your belly. It’s too intense. Your hips rock involuntarily, chasing her hand. “Natasha, it feels… weird. Like I have to pee. I can’t–”

She only laughs. Her hand doesn’t slow. In fact, she almost speeds up, flicking your clit with her thumb like she’s had years of experience.

“That’s not pee, dummy. That’s you about to cum. Let it happen. Don’t fight it. I want to feel you soak my fingers for your first time.” Her free arm tightens around your waist, holding you in place as you squirm harder.

The words are filthy, wrong, but they push you closer to the edge. Tears prick your eyes from the new, overwhelming sensation. “Come on, let go. Cum for me.”

Your thighs tremble violently. The pressure crests, that urgent, full feeling making you whimper and twist in her grip. “Natasha– please– it’s too much, I think I’m gonna–”

“Do it,” she groans, teeth finding your earlobe. “Cum. Now.”

Your first ever orgasm crashes over you like a wave, hard and shattering. Your whole body seizes, walls pulsing around her fingers as pleasure rips through you in waves. You cry out, muffled against her shoulder, squirming in her grasp, gasping your sister’s name.

Natasha keeps her fingers buried deep, stroking lazily through the aftershocks, milking every last twitch from you.

There’s a lazy grin on her lips that makes your stomach spin. “Remember, you can’t tell Mom or Dad. This stays between us.”

You nod weakly, still floating, cheeks flushed and heart racing.

The aftershocks are still rippling through you when Natasha slowly, finally, withdraws her fingers. You slump against her, breathing hard, thighs trembling and slick. Your mind spins. Guilt, pleasure, disbelief all tangle together.

Natasha lifts her hand between you, her fingers glistening with your release. She lets out a low, amused whistle. “Holy shit, look at the mess you made.” Her voice is teasing as she watches your flushed face. “Bet you didn’t know your body could do that, huh?”

You can’t speak. You just stare, heart pounding, as she brings her fingers to her mouth and licks them clean, one slow, deliberate swipe of her tongue after another. The sight makes your stomach flip. 

This isn’t normal. This isn’t what sisters do, step or otherwise. The wrongness of it sits heavy in your chest, but the words to protest stay trapped in your throat. You only watch, both mesmerized and ashamed as she savors the taste of you.

“Mmm. Sweeter than I expected,” she murmurs. “It’s like a cheap porno. ‘Innocent stepsister gets corrupted.’”

A nervous, embarrassed laugh slips out of you before you can stop it. Your cheeks burn hotter.

Natasha’s grin widens. “Lay back on the bed, baby sis. I want you spread out for me.”

You hesitate, shy and squirmy, but her tone leaves little room for argument. Hesitantly, you shift backwards to lay down on her messy bed. Her quilt feels worn and slightly rough under your back. Your skirt is bunched around your waist, panties still pushed aside, and you instinctively try to close your legs.

“Uh-uh. Keep them open,” Natasha reprimands, and then she reaches into her bedside drawer. You try not to look too curious, but then she pulls out something small and sleek, and your eyes widen. It’s smooth, with a tapered tip, but before you can ask what it is, she clicks it on, and a low buzz fills the room.

“Natasha… I’ve never–”

“I know,” she cuts you off with a shit-eating grin, moving to crawl between your legs. Her free hand pushes your thighs wider, exposing you completely. “That’s what makes this fun. Relax. Our secret, remember?”

Her nails rake across your skin. The vibrator touches your inner thigh first, the buzzing sensation making you jolt.

Natasha’s grin turns into something almost studious. She slowly drags it upward, circling your oversensitive clit without pressing directly on it. You whimper, hips twitching away and then back again, torn between too much and not enough.

“Easy,” she soothes, but there’s laughter in her voice. “It’s just a toy. Breathe.”

She presses the tip against your entrance, and you try not to squirm at the brand new sensation, biting your lower lip hard. She's surprisingly patient, letting the vibration tease you open, and when your hips lift, only then does she slide it in, inch by inch. 

The stretch is completely different from her fingers. It’s relentless, buzzing deep inside you. Your back arches sharply off the quilt.

“Oh–oh god,” you babble, hands fisting the sheets. “It’s– Natasha– fuck, I can feel it–”

Natasha laughs, loud and unrestrained, clearly delighted by your reaction. “Look at you. Already losing your mind and I’ve barely started. So fucking cute.” She twists the toy slowly, angling her wrist so the buzzing presses right against that sensitive spot you didn’t even know existed until today.

Your thighs shake uncontrollably. Whimpers and gasps spill from your lips, needy, foreign to your own ears. “It’s too much– Natasha, please, I can’t–”

“Yeah you can’t,” she grins, pressing the heel of her hand down on your lower belly to hold you in place while she fucks you with the vibrator. “Say it again. Tell me how good it feels.”

“So good,” you gasp, “oh, I’m– I feel like I’m gonna explode–” Your voice cracks on the last word, hips jerking wildly. Your cunt clenches around the toy, arousal practically dripping down your thighs.

The steady, intense buzz deep inside you, the slick-slick sound every time she fucks it in and out of your cunt, Natasha’s warm hand pinning you down, her laughter washing over you like she’s enjoying your reactions more than anything. It's all too much.

She clicks the vibrator higher.

You cry out, back bowing sharply. “Natasha–!”

“That’s it. Cum for me. Really fucking hard this time.”

The orgasm slams into you like a freight train, much harder than the first. Your entire body tenses like a tightly wound coil, and you sob with pleasure, thighs clamping around her hand while your walls thrum violently around the intrusion. Something gushes out of you, soaking the patchwork quilt beneath your hips. You babble incoherently, Natasha, please, too much, completely lost in the haze of your own pleasure.

Natasha keeps the vibrator buried deep through every brutal contraction, laughing the whole time. “Holy shit, listen to you. Making such a mess. My little sister.”

You ride the peak for what feels like forever, thighs twitching until the pleasure borders on painful. Only then does Natasha finally ease the toy out, clicking it off, and you flush at the sight of it glistening in the light. 

She tosses it aside, and it bounces off the mattress and lands somewhere you can’t spot it. Slowly, a grin on her face, Natasha crawls up your body, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead while you struggle to catch your breath beneath her.

“See?” she whispers, some sick sort of satisfaction in her voice. “Way better than doing it alone. And no one else ever has to know.”

Y/N watched as Wanda stumbled into his office, looking tired and stressed. He quickly glanced at the mission assignments on his computer. Wanda had just come back from a tough one in Spain; he didn't have all the details, but it looked like she'd been tasked with rescuing hostages. Those kind of missions always put strains on the avengers.

"Can you check me?" Wanda asked, her voice low and slightly raspy due to her exhaustion. Nearly every superhero asked that same question after missions; the whole reason Y/N was hired in the first place was because he was notoriously good at finding wounds and injuries others struggled to see. 

He stood up from his desk, ushering Wanda into his office. "Of course. Strip to your comfort and sit down on the exam table."

Y/N turned away as Wanda began to undress, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. He knew that having to be essentially naked while being examined by someone you didn't even know was awkward enough, so he tried to give her some privacy.

Wanda, on the other hand, had her eyes all over Y/N as she undressed. He was a new hire, and she could already tell that he was going to be her eye candy. He was so tall, and she could see the outlines of his defined muscles even through his lab coat. 

She took her red leather jacket off, followed by her black undershirt, leaving her top half in just her white, lacy bra. She continued to eye him up as she undressed her bottom half, taking a look at his. He was at an awkward angle, but she could see his bulge through his trousers; even when he was relaxed and soft he looked big. Her face turned red as she imagined what was under those pants, trying to push those thoughts out of her mind.

She then pulled her skirt off and rolled her tights down, leaving her legs bare before she quickly discarded her boots and socks. Now, she was nearly completely exposed, just in her matching bra and panties now. She sat on the exam table and then called out to him as he previously instructed. "Dr. Y/L/N? I'm ready."

Y/N turned back around, eyes widening slightly as they landed on Wanda, taking her in. He knew he shouldn't be looking at a patient this way, but goddamn she looked absolutely delicious like this. Sitting all nice and pretty for him on the exam table, waiting for his next instructions.

He brushed it off for now, not wanting to seem unprofessional, but he couldn't deny the small twitch his cock made at the sight of her. 

"Thanks for stripping so much, Wanda. It makes my job a whole lot easier." He said as he settled in front of her, beginning to examine her body, trying to find any discrepancies or wounds.

Wanda was the perfect patient, lifting her arms and shifting her body whenever he asked her to adjust. She was so good at following rules, so obedient, Y/N's mind couldn't help but wander as he moved down, beginning to examine her legs.

He didn't let his fantasies distract him too much, though, and stayed on task, trying to find any wounds. As much as he enjoyed being so close to and feeling up Wanda's body, he didn't find a single thing on her legs, or any other part of her. He stood up, reluctantly backing away from her as he stated, "You're all clear, Wanda. I didn't even see a scratch on you. Are you feeling okay otherwise?"

Wanda was surprised and confused at Y/N's evaluation of her condition. Her body hurt. She expected there to be at least a couple rough spots on her. She tilted her head up, needing to do that so she could meet his eyes, asking nervously, "Are you sure? My body really hurts… I was sure something was injured."

Y/N raised his eyebrow, trying to think of a quick answer for her. From the get-go, he noticed that she had looked tense, and he knew that the mission she just finished was high-stakes, so he figured she was likely stressed.

"It could very well be stress related," he answered, approaching her once again, eyes traveling over her beautiful figure once more. He reached out, his hand rubbing her shoulder slightly as he continued, "In my practice, we also learned how to give massages. I'm a massage therapist as well as a doctor. Why don't you let me help you relax?"

Wanda's eyes widened a bit, her pussy traitorously clenching as she imagined his big hands roaming along and squeezing her body, but she knew she'd be a fool to say no. She nodded, answering quietly, "Y-yeah. Sure. We can try that."

"Lie back," he mumbled, the hand on her shoulder moving to slowly press her down onto the exam table. He slowly shifted her position so that she was lying on her stomach, her back exposed to him. Wanda complied almost too easily, happily letting him handle her and adjust her body any way he pleased.

Once she was settled and in the position he wanted, his hands began to roam. 

He started high up at her back, pushing down and kneading the tense muscle. "Breathe, Wanda. Try to relax," he murmured, his hands moving up to her neck, pushing down on her upper traps.

Relaxing was easier said than done for Wanda, her heart was racing as his hands roamed, and her pussy throbbed when he mumbled a command in that deep voice of his. She whimpered out a noise of confirmation, and she noticed the way his hands slightly faltered at her vocalization.

That sweet, needy, high pitched voice of hers was so perfect. He wanted to hear it in his ear as he pounded her into the exam table. But he had to be patient. He couldn't let his lust be that obvious.

His hands traveled downward, towards the center of her back. As he dug into her muscles, releasing the tension she'd been holding, he could tell she was slowly beginning to become more relaxed. Her breathing evened out, and she even began to let out some soft hums when he made contact, sounds reminiscent of moans.

Right as Wanda thought she was finally completely relaxed, Y/N did something that made her jolt to attention again. Those big, strong hands of his settled themselves on each side of her ass, giving her a long, hard squeeze. She knew that wasn't the touch of a massage therapist. That was the touch of a hungry man.

Fuck, her ass was perfect. Round, thick, and practically begging to be touched. How could he resist touching something that was so clearly begging for attention?

"Oh god…" Wanda couldn't help but moan, her head rising and tilting back in pleasure at the feeling of his hands on her.

Y/N smirked. She was so easy. So adorable. His touch didn't linger long, though, and his ministrations moved down to the back of her thighs and calves, a huff of disappointment leaving Wanda's lips at the loss of the intimate contact.

"Did you like a certain spot I massaged?" he asked tauntingly, knowing full well which part she liked the most. 

"Shut up," Wanda whimpered in response, not having the energy to fight for his touch, and also feeling more than a little flustered. Her face was pressed down against the top of the exam table, but Y/N just knew that she was blushing like crazy.

Once he finished with her legs, his hands traveled back up, not squeezing this time, but giving her plush ass a quick smack. A high pitched moan escaped her at the contact, her back instinctively arching as a beautiful red flush spread across her pale skin. The sight made a low growl escape his throat. "Roll over," he commanded.

Wanda immediately complied with Y/N's demand, rotating so that she was now looking up at him. He gave her a predatory smile before his eyes raked down the front of her body. Her nipples were hard underneath her bra, and he could see the damp, dark spot on her panties. 

His hands began to travel again, not massaging this time, just touching. Exploring. He ran them from her collarbones down to her breasts, cupping the beautiful mounds and squeezing gently. At the contact, another whimper left her lips. She was so easy.

"You're such a slut," he mumbled, his fingers going to pinch one of her nipples, earning a yelp from her. He just laughed, watching the way her thighs shifted, desperate for some friction. 

""M-"M not…" she whimpered, futilely trying to defend herself as his fingers danced along her stomach, the contact making her body twitch. "I just… haven't been touched in a while."

She muttered the confession almost shamefully, like she was embarrassed of it. Y/N knew she had absolutely nothing to be embarrassed of here, but he did like to torture her. He finally got down to her thighs, his hands cupping and kneading the flesh as she whimpered and whined nearly constantly now.

He moved one hand down ever so slowly, delicately brushing against the front of her panties, just grazing her clit slightly, but the contact was enough to make her sit up and yelp. He laughed at her reaction, one hand reaching up to push her back down. "You can be touch starved and still a slut, you know that?"

Wanda whimpered once more, hips bucking up to try to make contact with his hand again, but it was futile. He'd pulled his hand away, and now walked so that he was standing at the front of the exam table, right above where her head was, her big eyes gazing up at him with pure need. 

He leaned forward slightly, pressing his bulge right against her face, making her simultaneously gasp and moan. He shifted his hips, softly rubbing it against her face as he mumbled, "You're gonna service me first. And if you can show me that you can be a good girl, then I'll take care of that slutty little pussy."

Wanda desperately nodded, pushing her face against his crotch as she whined, "Yes, sir. I'll do such a good job. I promise."

"We'll see," Y/N grunted, his belt clinking as he discarded it. She watched as he undid his zipper, pushing his work pants down, leaving him in just boxers. His cock looked even bigger with one less barrier of separation in the way. 

He reached a hand into his boxers, slowly squeezing his pump until he was hard. He saw the way Wanda's eyes were obsessively fixated on his bulge, waiting for him to whip it out. He smirked to himself, knowing she'd love it. His surgeon had been incredible, giving him a cock that made every woman he fucked weak in the knees.

When he finally pulled his boxers down, his cock sprung out, slapping against Wanda's face. She gasped, shifting her position so that she was lying on her stomach, staring directly at the monster he called a cock. She reached up, her hand tentatively wrapping around it as she took in the sheer scale of it. He was huge. Bigger than Vision, bigger than any S.H.I.E.L.D. agent she'd sucked before.

"Oh my god, Y/N-" she started, but he cut her off. "Start sucking, princess. You wanted this so bad, and now you have it. Get to work."

Wanda nodded dumbly, listening to every word he said, because how could she not? She was completely under his spell. She leaned forward, her small hand cupping the base as she took the head in her mouth, slowly licking around the ridge of his tip.

Y/N threw his head back, a low groan escaping his throat as he felt her tongue move, now beginning to lick and lap at the underside of his cock. "Keep going."

Wanda complied, continuing to use her tongue as she took him deeper and deeper into her throat. It took an effort, the size of his cock was staggering, but Wanda liked feeling overwhelmed. She took as much as she could into her throat before gagging, eventually having to pull back and take a breath.

Y/N's hand went to her hair, gently running through it as she caught her breath. "Good girl. Your mouth feels fucking amazing. Get back to it."

At his command, Wanda dove back in, licking along his tip and shaft before taking him into her throat again, tearing another deep groan from him. She took note of how he responded to each lick or suck she gave, continuing to provide the ministrations that drove him crazy.

Soon, Wanda had found a pattern. She alternated between sucking his tip and taking as much of his length as she could deep into her throat, the pattern causing his hips to begin to buck forward, meeting every downward motion her mouth made. 

As she sucked, she'd use her hands, too, stroking the base of his cock that she couldn't get completely down her throat, and gently cupping and massaging his balls. The dual sensation of her mouth and her hands on him had Y/N throbbing, and she could feel he was close. 

As she began to deliver slow, deep sucks, she felt him tremble, his hands going down to her hair to control her movements and hold her in place. His teeth were clenched as he grunted out, "I'm gonna nut. Swallow it."

Wanda's big, needy eyes met his, giving him a submissive nod. That visual sent him over the edge; the look she was giving him and the way her mouth was stuffed full of his cock was too much for him. She took him so well.

"Fuck!" he roared, keeping her head as far down on his cock as he could as he throbbed, leaking clear, sticky ropes of cum into her throat. Wanda didn't move, breathing obediently through her nose as she swallowed, gagging slightly, but that just made it all the better.

When he finally pulled out of her mouth, he wanted to moan again. She looked absolutely wrecked. Her hair was messy, her lips puffy and coated in his cum and her own saliva, and more than anything, she looked so, so obedient, like she was ready for more this very second. 

He leaned down, giving her a rough, bruising kiss. She moaned into it, and he did, too, when he tasted the flavor of himself on her tongue. He took her hands, guiding her so that she now sat up on her knees, all while still making out with her.

When he finally pulled away, he growled, "You've got the best mouth on you, you know that? You're such a good girl. Now, ass up. Time for me to handle that needy pussy." 

Wanda's heart thrummed with excitement knowing that she was finally going to be fucked by him. She scrambled to get into the position he wanted, bending forward and arching her back so that her ass was high and presented to him. She reached up, beginning to slowly, seductively pull her panties down as she mumbled, "Is this what you wanted, sir?"

Fuck, she was such a tease. It made Y/N go crazy. He reached out, palming and squeezing her ass more as she pulled down her panties for him. He helped her get them down her legs, and once they were completely off, he ran a finger slowly along her slit.

"Mmf!" she whimpered, her hips pushing back against his finger, desperately trying to get any friction she could. She was sopping wet, her slick was literally beginning to leak down her thighs. She was so needy, and Y/N couldn't bear to deny such a sweet, desperate girl.

"You're so wet for me, love," he mumbled, giving his cock a couple strokes before lining it up with her entrance, and ever so slowly beginning to push inside her. 

Wanda wailed at just the small bit of him entering her. He was so big, she'd never taken anything as big as he was before, and the way he was stretching her was making her crazy. Y/N could sense her hesitation, but she reached back, trying to grab his thigh and push him deeper, whimpering, "D-don't stop. I can take it. I promise."

Y/N smirked down at her, continuing to ease his cock into her, slowly squeezing and massaging her ass to try to relax her more. "I know you can, baby. You're gonna take it all."

Wanda continued to whimper and squirm as Y/N gradually entered her, and once every inch of his cock was in, he delivered another sharp smack to her ass, causing her to whimper and clench. He then massaged the area he just hit, soothing her once more as he mumbled, "There we go, Wanda. Every single inch of me is inside you. Do you like it?"

Wanda bit her lip, mind already going hazy at the feeling of being completely filled like this. She nodded dumbly, her hips beginning to push back and forth, trying to gain some friction. "Y-yes, sir. Your cock feels so good. 'M so full of you."

He smiled at the way she desperately whimpered for him, noting the way her hips were beginning to move back and forth. He smacked her ass once more before pulling his cock out so just the tip was inside, then slamming forward so she took it all once more. "I was right, you know. You're such a slut. I didn't even do anything, and your hips were already moving, body begging for me to start fucking you."

Wanda gasped at the feeling of him ramming into her, and his words only made her crazier. Her hands dug into the small layer of cushioning on the exam table, trying to keep her body still, trying to not be so obvious in her need. "S-so what if I need you? I know you need me, too. You groaned as you pushed into me."

God, she was so cute when she was all petulant and needy. Y/N laughed, slowly giving her what she needed, beginning to thrust in and out of her at an agonizingly slow pace. His hands came down to grip her hips, keeping her in place so only he could dictate her movements and pace. 

"Appreciating good pussy isn't the same as being a needy whore, princess." he grumbled, admittedly getting lost in the feeling of her heat wrapped around him. "But, goddamn, yours may be the best I've ever had. I'm gonna have fun ruining you."

With that Y/N picked up the pace, his thrusts quickening and becoming more forceful. He couldn't deny how good being inside her felt. She was warm, wet, and tight; every time she clenched around him, it felt like she was trying to pull him deeper. 

And Wanda? Wanda was in heaven. Her face was pressed down on the exam table, eyes rolling back, some drool even beginning to drip out of her mouth. God, she needed this so badly. This is what she really needed after a mission. To be fucked. 

"F-fuckkkkk, don't stop!" she'd whine, her words sounding incoherent as he pounded into her. All she could focus on was the plap plap plap of his balls slamming against her clit, making her even more sensitive, and the feeling of her walls being stretched every time he thrusted into her.

But What really made Wanda lose it was when he spanked her. The first couple times, he was just testing it out, but when he felt how hard she clenched around him and how loud she moaned when he delivered the hits, he knew it made her crazy.

"Your ass is all red and pretty for me, baby," he murmured, massaging where he had just delivered a particularly hard hit. "Do you like when I spank you?"

Wanda whimpered at his condescending words, hips desperate to quicken the pace even more, but she was still held in place by his free hand. He was so strong. "Yes, sir. I… every time you hit me, I get closer and closer."

That was what Y/N wanted to hear. He wanted to make this pretty, desperate girl cum for him. He quickened the pace like she wanted, the new speed making her whine out once more. He reached one hand down, rubbing her clit a couple times, getting her extra sensitive and making her squirm. He leaned down so he was close to her ear, whispering, "The next time I spank you, I want you to cum, okay? Don't hold back, cum all over my cock like a good girl."

Wanda whimpered out a shaky "okay," doing her best to not cum before his touch gave her permission to. He was driving her crazy, fucking her just right, but she was determined to be a good girl and not cum until he let her.

His hands were wrecking her. As he thrusted, they were all over her ass, roaming, squeezing, massaging, but not spanking. She arched her back even more, a desperate plea for him to just deliver the hit and let her cum, but he still held back.

Wanda was so close, and was about to blurt out that she was sorry, that she was going to cum, going to break his rule, when a brutal, sharp slap landed on her ass. She wailed out his name, nails digging into the cushioning so hard she ripped it as she finally came.

She sobbed, her orgasm wracking through her in waves. As she came, Y/N continued to fuck her slowly, rocking her through it. He leaned close to her ear, murmuring, "Good girl," "Cum for me," "My baby," all those sweet words and affirmations, but she could tell his voice was shaky. He was close, too.

As Wanda finally began to come down from her high, her breathing evening out again, that's when she felt it. Ropes of warm, sticky cum slowly leaking into her. He had came inside her. Knowing that he had used her, had given her his load, caused her to whimper once more, her pussy throbbing with overstimulation.

Neither of them moved for a couple moments, simply taking in the post-coital bliss. But, unfortunately, Y/N was still on the clock, so he slowly pulled out of her, pulling his work pants back up and buckling his belt. He leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek as she looked up at him, mumbling, "You were so good, sweet girl. So good. The best I've ever had, even."

Wanda giggled at his praise, whimpering as she slowly sat up, her pussy still aching slightly from being so thoroughly stretched, and her ass burning in the best way possible. "I've never been fucked like that. Ever. Thanks for finally giving me a good time."

Y/N handed her discarded panties back to her, along with the clothes she had stripped off long ago. He watched shamelessly as she got dressed again, admiring the way her body moved as she pulled each article back on. He didn't care for courtesy now; he knew she was his. 

He had been leaning against his desk, and he got up to open the door for her as she began to walk out. Before she could cross the threshold, he grabbed her arm, stopping her and saying, "You know, your ass is going to be pretty bruised tomorrow. It would be a good idea to check in with me again then. Just to make sure everything is okay, of course."

Wanda blushed, the idea of having him again being nearly too much for her fuzzy, post-sex mind to handle. She reached out, adjusting the slightly messed up collar of his shirt as she replied, "Well, then I guess I'll be back tomorrow. I'd never defy a doctor's orders."

kara who has a really hard time finding a job. well, the problem isn't finding a job, the problem is *staying* at the job. sometimes she feels like she doesn't fit in, that she can't handle doing “normal human” stuff.

by the time she gets home, she couldn't be more relieved to see that you got home earlier than her, seeing your figure sitting on the couch and greeting her. she doesn't even reply, she just takes her shoes off and gets closer to lay her head between your thighs. she kisses your skin as she mumbles about how annoying her day was, letting a groan out when she feels your nails scratching her head.

sometimes it ends up with her burying your face in your pussy and wrapping her lips around your clit, but usually you just allow her to take a nap on you, kara holding your leg and snoring as you watch something on the tv. ♡

she likes to lay her head on your chest to listen to your heartbeat. she doesn't need to do that to hear it but she likes to! 😊

she will happily hold your stuff and follow you around when you're shopping if you let her in the dressing room, sitting on a little bench as she watches you try everything you got and ask her if you look good— like she isn't looking at your with heart-shaped eyes.

“you're just saying that because you're my girlfriend.” you complain after kara said you looked stunning for the third time in a row. she rolls her eyes and pulls you closer by the back of your knees— she wraps her arms around your thighs and looks up at you with a smirk. “no, you just look good in everything.” she placed a kiss on your belly, making your heart flutter. “also, i never lie to you.” and, as much as you hated to admit it, she was absolutely right.

she's terrified of fighting near the area you live/work, afraid of you getting hurt or worse. and whenever that happens she ignores anyone who tries to talk to her and rushes to find you, either going to your apartment or flying outside the building you work at and looking through the windows until she finds you. she only gets to rest when she sees you alive and well.

she gets pissed when she finds out krypto behaves like a normal dog around you. it's like he knows you're more fragile than her or clark, so he never jumps over your head or flies around your apartment breaking everything. she almost gets mad at him for all the times he broke her stuff and stepped on her when she was laying down.

the first time she told you she loves you was when she thought you were sleeping. you just looked so sweet resting on her chest and holding her hand with your eyes closed. she never thought she'd experience something like that again— the feeling of belonging somewhere and not wanting to run away.

“god.” she mumbles to herself, running her hand through your hair and kissing your forehead. “i just realized i actually i love you.”

but her heart stopped for a second when she noticed your heartbeat increasing, like you actually heard what she said.

she freezes when she hears you sleepily mumbling something that sounded a lot like “love you too.”

she loves having your fingers inside her mouth. it doesn't matter if she's fingering you or if she's being filled by your strap, she'll always grab your hand and suck on two of your fingers. it just makes sex 2x better for her!

when you cried during sex for the first time she was so worried, she held your face and asked if she was hurting you ☹️☹️ but when you told her it was because she felt too good, something clicked inside her head. the concerned expression on her face was quickly replaced by a smug smirk.

“oh, really??” she leans down to kiss your neck as she slides her red strap inside you again, getting a whimper from you. “can't believe i'm that great.”

Before the expensive dinners, the designer dresses, and the front-page headlines, there was only the quiet simplicity of my small apartment.

Kara was still learning the subtle nuances of life on Earth. For someone who grew up isolated and approached the world with straightforward, literal pragmatism, human social dynamics often felt like an overwhelming maze to her. But I was always there to guide her gently.

I remembered teaching her how to hold an ice cream cone on a hot summer day without letting it melt all over her hands. I remembered the quiet evenings when she returned exhausted, the heavy weight of her Kryptonian duties pressing down on her shoulders, and simply collapsed beside me on the couch. We didn't need to fill every second with noise. My home was her sanctuary—a place where she didn't have to be invincible, just Kara. That quiet, profound intimacy was the foundation of everything we built.

Until the night of that press conference.

Kara had just finished a public appearance, and I was standing off to the side, quietly supporting her as I always did. That was when the son of a prominent city billionaire approached. He was loud, flashy, and radiated an overbearing confidence. Even though he clearly knew I was Kara’s partner, he pursued her blatantly right in front of me—offering rides on private jets, showering her with grand compliments, and making theatrical promises.

I remained calm. I didn't raise my voice, step in to mark my territory, or pull Kara away by the arm. I trusted her, and I respected her far too much to turn her into a trophy in a contest of male egos.

To Kara, however, my silence meant something entirely different.

Coming from a culture of harsh realities and still naive about human mind games, she interpreted my restraint not as respect, but as a lack of care. In her mind, love was fierce, protective, and possessive—you fought for what was yours. When the rich man began sending extravagant gifts the very next day—custom jewelry, private dinner invitations, luxury sports cars—Kara mistook that loud, public possessiveness for the ultimate proof of devotion.

When she came to break things off with me, her reasoning was delivered with a clinical, overly formal honesty that stung deeply.

"His actions demonstrate a quantifiable investment of social and material resources," Kara had said, her blue eyes wide as she carefully articulated her thoughts, completely unaware of the blade she was driving into my chest. "He publicly establishes my importance to his peer group through high-visibility displays. You, conversely, exhibited zero defensive behavior when he engaged in courting behavior toward me. I concluded from your passivity that my presence holds no distinct priority in your life."

It hurt deeply. It hurt because I had been down this road before. Others in my past had also traded my quiet, steady affection for someone louder and flashier. But I refused to beg for loyalty.

"If you believe his kind of love is what you need, Kara," I had replied, keeping my voice steady and my dignity intact as I packed my small bag, "I won't stand in your way."

She had expected a fight. She had expected me to yell or try to outbid the other man's grandeur. Instead, I simply touched her cheek, bade her a quiet farewell, and walked out, leaving her in a heavy silence she would soon grow to dread.

It took three weeks for the illusion to shatter completely.

The turning point came at a private high-society gala. On camera, the billionaire's son was attentive, draping a heavy, suffocating diamond necklace around Kara's neck while reporters snapped photos. He smiled for the press, proudly declaring her his "invincible muse."

But the moment they stepped into the private VIP lounge—away from photographers and flashing bulbs—the illusion died instantly.

He dropped his arm from her shoulder as if turning off a switch. He immediately pulled out his phone, scrolling through social media metrics and checking media coverage of their entrance. When Kara quietly mentioned that the high-frequency hum of the room's sound system was causing her sensory discomfort, he didn't even look up from his screen.

"Just put on a smile for twenty more minutes, Kara," he said carelessly, waving a dismissive hand. "The press loved the necklace shot. This is huge for my brand."

When she tried to talk about her day or express her feelings, he cut her off, tuning her out entirely unless someone important walked into the room. He didn't care about Kara the person—her mind, her home, or her heart. He was only enamored with the prestige of parading Supergirl on his arm. The expensive gifts weren't tokens of love; they were business expenses for his public image.

Sitting on a plush velvet couch in that cold lounge, staring at the man who couldn't be bothered to engage in a single genuine conversation with her, Kara felt an unbearable void in her chest.

She remembered sitting on my worn-out couch, wrapped in a blanket, eating lukewarm takeout while I softly explained human traditions to her. She remembered how I listened to every word she said, noticing every micro-expression of exhaustion or joy.

She had traded something real for a gilded cage.

The knock at my apartment door late on a rainy Tuesday was sharp and urgent.

When I opened it, Kara practically pushed her way past the threshold. She wasn't wearing designer clothes or jewels—just a rain-soaked hoodie, her hair damp, her posture tense. She looked angry, her jaw set, but beneath the frustration in her blue eyes was a raw, desperate confusion.

"Why didn't you fight for me?" she demanded immediately, her voice louder than intended as she turned to face me in the hallway. "Why did you just let me go? It defies logic!"

I closed the door quietly, remaining composed as she paced like a caged animal.

"I have been analyzing your behavior for weeks," Kara continued, her hands gesturing sharply as she struggled to articulate human emotions that felt alien to her nature. "My baseline understanding dictates that if an asset or bond is valued, one must defend it against competing entities! Yet you offered no resistance at the conference, and you yielded without conflict when I initiated our separation. How can I experience optimal safety and comfort in your presence, how can I miss you so intensely, when you made no attempt to claim ownership of our bond?"

I looked at her with a patient, teaching calm, stepping slowly into her space without any trace of anger or resentment.

"Kara, Earth relationships are usually built on things like territory, jealousy, and fear of loss," I explained gently, taking a soft, educational tone with her, the way I used to when explaining human customs. "Most people think love is a feeling you claim, and when someone threatens it, they feel anger, envy, or the need to possess the other person. They treat affection like something to be defended."

I paused, meeting her confused blue eyes.

"I don't view love as a feeling or a possession. To me, love is a daily choice. I don't feel anger when someone tries to compete for you, nor do I feel jealousy, because you are a free person making your own decisions. If you chose to leave, I had to respect that choice. I will never fight to possess someone, because true connection can't be forced or won—it can only be freely given."

Kara froze.

My words hung in the warm air of my living room, quietly breaking down her entire perspective.

Her possessive, basic understanding of affection—the idea that love was an emotional territory to be claimed—shattered completely against my quiet maturity. She saw the profound difference now. The rich man operated on instinct, noise, and ownership; I operated on respect, freedom, and conscious choice.

What she had felt with the billionaire wasn't love—it was the shallow satisfaction of being claimed like a trophy. What she felt with me was true, unselfish love.

The anger drained from her posture instantly, leaving her looking remarkably small and deeply remorseful.

"I... I miscalculated," Kara stammered, her speech growing stiff and formal as her emotions overwhelmed her. "My analytical framework regarding human affection was entirely flawed. The past three weeks have been... deeply miserable. When the cameras stopped flashing, he ceased to perceive me at all. Every grand gesture I received functioned as an economic transaction rather than genuine care. I experienced a severe deficit of the quiet stability we shared. I missed the specific manner in which you observe me when no audience is present."

She took a step toward me, her blue eyes brimming with unshed tears, completely stripped of her pride.

"I acted with profound ignorance," she admitted, her tone earnest and utterly sincere. "I misconstrued your respect for indifference, and in doing so, I inflicted emotional harm upon the only individual on this planet who truly perceives me. I compromised your trust, and I possess no logical grounds to request your clemency. However, I am requesting it nonetheless. I wish to learn the correct protocol for loving you, if you will grant me another opportunity."

Listening to her formal, blunt, and fiercely honest apology, I felt the old ache in my chest finally dissolve.

In my past, those who left me for flashy options never came back. If they did, they brought excuses and pride. Kara didn't do that. She stood before me wet from the rain, owning her mistake completely, eager to learn and fix what she had broken. Her willingness to take total responsibility—and her deep desire to grow—meant more to me than flawless perfection ever could.

I reached out, gently taking her cold, wet hands in mine.

"Earth can be a confusing place to figure out, Kara," I whispered, offering her a soft, warm smile. "It takes a lot of strength to realize when you're wrong and come back to fix it."

Kara blinked, a tear spilling down her cheek. "You... you are not terminating our connection?"

"No," I said gently, pulling her into the warmth of my apartment and wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. "We have to take things slow and rebuild what was broken. But you came back, and you took responsibility. That's what matters to me."

Breaking through Wanda’s walls wasn’t easy for most of the Avengers. The only people she really listened to were Steve, Clint, her brother when she was in a good mood, Natasha, and you. 

On account of you saving her twin’s life, she felt as though she owed it to you to be kind. Even if you were Tony Stark’s child.  

Right now, you were soaking up her “kindness”. It was difficult to reject her when it meant kissing your lips raw in the center of your bed and feeling you up without allowing you to take off a single piece of clothing. She was such a tease.  

You pull away from her lips, eyes pleading with her. “Need you Wands, please?”  

Your witch sits upright with her weight settled on your middle. She pushes her hair behind her ears before patting your cheeks. You enjoyed the coolness of her rings against your heated skin. 

“Can’t, detka. Weren’t you the one who wanted to beat Sam to the living room?”  

“He’s probably been waiting there since lunch or something. You know how serious he is about watching Top Gun. Please, Wanda?” You pouted and her hands go from playfully tapping your cheeks to squishing them now. 

She loved how silly you looked beneath her. She leans down and leaves a peck on your forcefully puckered lips, not allowing you to deepen it. You whine, frustrated by the way she fanned the flames of your desire, not truly fueling it.  

Wanda's smiles down at you condescendingly. “So needy, are you not?”  

“Just for you.” You reach for one of her hands, bringing it just below your chest to fiddle with her rings. You feel her body relax further.

“Mmm. Show me?” Wanda's eyes flash red and you feel a rush of warmth spread throughout your body.  

Wanda was intimidating. Her power brought the energy she carried to a different level. And when crimson crept into her stare, all you could do was fall weak before her. It had always been this way.

“You want me to beg, witchy? Or do I need to shove your hand in my pants for you to understand how much you turn me on?” Still, you weren’t ready to fold for her just yet.  

“I want you to ride my thigh until you come. Pants stay on. That way, I feel you soak through them, detka. I’ll make sure you beg for me anyway, don’t you worry.” One of her hands began to trace your bra through your shirt as she speaks, leaving goosebumps wherever her fingers fell.

Unfortunately for you, Wanda would never allow you to think you had any power over her in such a moment. You relinquished it the instant her accent grew thicker, her words weighed down by her hunger for you.  

She begins to climb off your hips, moving to sit up against your headboard. Her legs spread wide enough for you to encase one of her thighs with your own. She pats her lap and waits patiently, eyeing you as you start to rise from your place beside her.  

You settle yourself atop her carefully, and she grins, flexing her thigh as your core rests inches above her knee. You gasp and nearly fall into her. She’s quick to hold you steady, hands clutching your hips firmly, heat in her gaze, and seconds away from gloating about how easy it was to get you here.  

But of course, neither of you could have a moment of true peace in this tower.  

Rapid knocks rattle your door as a familiar, irritating, voice sounds out. “Sestra!” His call for Wanda is long and drawn out, stupidly jolly and almost melodic as his first hammers against the wood. “I know you’re in there!”  

You throw yourself to the side, flopping back onto the space beside her as you roll your eyes.  

Wanda exhales sharply and fixes her hair with slightly shaking hands before she gets up, straightens out her skirt, pulls up her knee high socks, and makes her way across the room.  

“You never remind me to have F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell everyone we’re asleep.” You complain quietly.  

“You really think that would matter to him?”  She whispers back harshly.

“Oh, sestra!” You could only imagine the grin spread across his face. 

Wanda pulls open the door, her features drawing out her irritation.  

“What?” Pietro ignores her short tone and leans against the door frame.  

“Everyone is waiting on you two. The bird and the spy lady are arranging a vote between Top Gun and Die Some Other Day.” 

"It's Die Another Day, man." You threw your head back and groaned dramatically.

When those two went head-to-head on movie night, it was the worst. After two years of choosing this as a team building activity, you’re sure you’ve watched either movie at least a dozen times each. None of the Avengers took to exploring film outside their comfort zones, and you were about to add a spin the wheel feature to F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s system if you had to endure torture like this again. 

“Sam and Natasha, Pietro.” His sister reminds him, sighing as she watches him shrug. To him, it was enough that you knew exactly who he was talking about. 

“I’m going to kill both of them. Seriously.” Maybe you could make it board game night instead if you cried.  

Pietro looked between the two of you before his stare lingered on your crumpled comforter.

“Why are you in her room?” The question was abrupt, giving neither of you a chance to respond with practiced ease. 

The both of you stumbled over your words, searching for a plausible excuse. It’s not like Pietro was stupid, it had to be believable. You see his brows begin to furrow the longer the two of you took to come up with something. 

“She wanted to paint my nails before our press conference tomorrow. Told her no.” You chuckle nervously and hold your hands up, making sure he catches the chipping paint and dry cuticles.  

“Obviously. I don’t think my sister could fix that. You need professional help.” Pietro speeds to your side and grabs one of your hands for a closer look. You snatch it away and grumble at him. Your fists clench as you bring them down to your sides.  

“Says you and your bone-dry bleach job.” 

Wanda sees Pietro gear up to argue back and intervenes quickly, her arms stretched out towards you two.

“Alright! Both of you, calm down. You, didn’t you say they were waiting for us?”  In a flash, Pietro's standing back in front of her, eager to get going now.

“I wanted to walk with you.” Wanda’s features soften at that. You understood. It was kinda sweet how the two of them rarely went anywhere without the other.

“Give me some time. I have to change, Pietro.” She raises her finger at him as she passes. She gives you a brief look over the shoulder before walking towards the door and down the hall to her own room.  

You found yourself lucky her twin had arrived when he did. Otherwise, it’d be a bit difficult to explain why the crotch of your jeans were soaked through, and Wanda’s thigh was glistening. 

Out of the three of you, you were the first to change and head downstairs to sit around waiting with the rest of the team. You played with the string of your sweatpants as you watched Sam and Natasha go back and forth about movie night. Bruce read through his lab notes beside you.  

Weirdly, your father was nowhere to be seen. Usually, he’d have already staked his claim on the couch and snuck a disk into the player while no one was looking, easily seizing the spot of first film of the night.

“We should just let one of the twins pick our movie tonight. Whatever they pick won’t be something we’ve watched a hundred times over.” You spoke up, tired of their arguing. 

“Yeah, guys. I don’t think I wanna watch the two of you fight for an hour and a half over which movie to watch after Sam loses the vote.” Bruce agreed with you, his voice calm and clearly avoiding a fight.  

“How do you know I wasn’t going to win?”  

Bruce deadpans. “We’ve watched Top Gun eleven times. At least the franchise Natasha chose has twice the number of movies. Yours doesn’t even have a sequel yet.”  

“Fine. We defer to Speedrunner then. I refuse to watch some cheesy romcom.” 

Before any of you could respond, your father makes his grand entrance. He struts into the living room with purpose and an accusation.  

“Romanoff. Just the spider I’m looking for. Where’s my Metallica shirt? Cough it up.”  

“Why’d you assume I’m the one who took it? It’s probably with your kid.” Natasha stands up from her place in front of the bookshelf.  

Her picks were always on the bottom level. 

“Just ransacked her closet. Found twenty-three articles of clothing that belong to me. Metallica shirt? Nowhere to be found. You’re my only suspect, sticky fingers.”  

"You ransacked my closet?" You went unaddressed.

“Tony, I borrowed your jacket like one time.” He eyes her. “Okay, I kept it for two months and stole your blow dryer on Wednesday. That’s hardly enough to make you think I crept into your room just to take some dumb band-tee.” 

He blinks rapidly at that. “You stole my blow dryer?”  

“It has that rotating brush I needed. Pepper never taught you how to share?”  

Sam laughed loudly at the reveal. “That’s what was happening? I was wondering why you started looking like Farrah Fawcett was the centerpiece of your mood board.” 

“Oh, shut up Wilson.” 

“Look, Carmen Sandiego, if I find my shirt—and my hair dryer—back in their rightful place by noon tomorrow then I’ll look the other way. Otherwise, Salem’s getting the boot.”  

“You can’t kick my cat out over some stupid shirt.”  

As if understanding the threat, you hear a quiet meow from across the room. Liho was hidden somewhere, possibly behind the recliner or under a side table.  

You watch the two of them squabble a little longer. Truthfully, you did jack his closet for that shirt. But you now had no idea where it went. Last you’d seen it, it was stranded somewhere on your floor before your date with Wanda. But you wanted to see how far the two of them would take this before you owned up to it.  

Then your girlfriend walked into the living room, innocent as ever, and your heart dropped into your ass. You were both so over. You closed your eyes and nodded solemnly, accepting your fate.  

“Uh...Tony?” Bruce was the first one to notice. His finger points in Wanda’s direction.  

“Don’t interrupt me, sweet pea. Romanoff hasn’t—” Your dad does a double take.  

His voice falls short at the sight of Wanda. The witch wore dark grey leggings under an oversized band tee. The very band tee he’d ravaged the tower for. She stopped in the entryway, a puzzled expression taking over as she took in the living room’s silence. Pietro isn't far behind her, zooming into the center of the room with an oblivious smile.

“You were saying, Stark?” Natasha sported a smug smirk, her eyebrows raised towards you as she looked to the brunette and back.  

Wanda’s tone held a bit of trepidation as she questioned the room. “What?”  

“Guess we know where your shirt went, Tony.” Bruce chuckles falteringly, eyes darting between your father, your girlfriend, and you.  

Wanda stood uncomfortably, fingers playing with the rings littering her fingers as she came to understand what the rest of the room now knew. If she’d been aware the t-shirt actually belonged to the most exasperating billionaire she knew, there was no doubt she would’ve set it on fire before pulling it over her head. Wanda would’ve later convinced you it was lost in the wash if need be.  

“Clint owes me so much money.” When you hear Nat whisper, amusement coloring her tone as she observed Wanda’s face grow increasingly flushed. 

“I thought we agreed on action for movie night, not a telenovela. But hey, I’m not complaining.” Sam shrugs and slumps back into the couch cushions, growing comfortable as he watches the scene unfold.  

“Sam, I swear to god I’ll rewire Red Wing to self-destruct every time a corny-ass comment comes out your mouth, if you don’t shut up!” You fuss, glaring in his direction. 

“Why am I the only one being threatened?” He asks. His question goes ignored as your dad finally speaks up.  

“Kid, since when?” You recognize the look in your father’s eyes and turn away.  

“Five months.” While you knew it’d hurt him to be blindsided like this, your connection with Wanda was still sensitive. Given the nature of his relationship with the twins, there would have been no right way to tell him, or Pietro, the truth.  

He looked at the Sokovian girl, still frozen at the living room entrance. “The safehouse in Guyana?” Wanda nodded in response.  

Her heart was beating out of her chest, she didn’t have to hone in to feel how erratic your energy was. And even if she tried, she’d never be able to hold onto a single one of the thoughts racing through your mind. Your mind was loud, hers too, as you waited for him to say something else.  

“Are you sure she hasn’t got you under some evil love spell?” He tried to joke, but you could see how the comment hit Wanda from across the room.

“Dad, she’s my girlfriend. Can we just talk about this later?” You tried to keep your voice even as you spoke, wanting to leave enough of a warning without being malicious. 

“Wanda, she is telling the truth?” If possible, you felt even more nervous about Pietro’s reaction than your father’s.  

He was everything to Wanda. If he didn’t approve, what would come of your relationship? Sure, you saved his life, but she was his little sister.  

“Pietro…I was going to tell you. There was just never the right time.” Pietro nodded thoughtfully, taking it all in.  

You watch the twins fall into a daze. A part of your brain monitors their changing expressions as you begin to pick the skin off the side of your left thumb. You knew they were communicating in their own way when Wanda glared his way and Pietro’s lips twitched slightly at the sight.

The living room kept its silence throughout. Natasha and Bruce hadn’t moved an inch since they’d last spoken.  

You knew the two of you were extremely lucky half the team was out on missions. It’d be at least three more days before the mood lightened up and everyone in the tower was teasing the two of you. For now, you could both deal with a little mouth and awkward silences from these few. You just knew Bruce would make some one-off comment about it in the lab and leave it at that. Once the rest of them grew comfortable with the idea of you two dating, it would be never ending snark and teasing. 

Unbelievably, you almost couldn't wait for that moment.

The tension was broken when Sam, munching on his popcorn, became loud enough to be disturbing. You eyed him seriously and went to say something when Wanda snapped out of her daze and marched your way.  

“You.” She grabs your hand. “Are coming with me. Now.” Her face was burning red.  

The embarrassment wasn’t a usual sight for you. You tried to bask in it, knowing the fun wouldn’t last for long once you were alone together, but honestly, you were afraid of the conversation that'd come behind closed doors.

You let Wanda drag you to her bedroom. Once inside, she locks the door and commands F.R.I.D.A.Y. to soundproof the space. She leans her head against the door as you sit stiffly on the edge of her bed.  

“We’ve been so careful.” She mumbles. You bite your lip at her words, feeling guilty she’d been put on the spot like that.  

“Are you mad at me?”  

“Oh, draga. Never. This wasn’t your fault.” She pushes herself away from the door and crosses the room to you.  You let out a long breath of relief and lick your lips.

When she makes it to you, Wanda’s hands cradle your face gently. Her thumbs smooth over the ends of your brow bones before coming to sit in the hollows of your cheeks. They rub there in small circles as she leans down to kiss your forehead.  

“But you do understand what this means for you at the end of the night, don’t you?” 

Wanda eyes glowed with barely restrained chaos, irises a deep and spellbinding red that made you gulp. At a loss for words, you could only nod meekly. You knew she'd take the chance to remind you that embarrassment was fleeting, but her control over you was not.

“Good, draga. Now sit back while I choose a show for us.”  Satisfied, Wanda lets go of you and grabs the remote on her nightstand. 

“You always get to pick!”  

“Right, and why do you think that is?” She tries you and you let her have it, knowing the banter would lead to nowhere—well maybe foreplay.  

“Whatever.” You pouted, crossing your arms as you sat up against her headboard.  

“Charmed is way better than whatever stupid Western Pietro was going to pick out anyways.”  

“Hey! That’s my brother-in-law you’re talking about.” Wanda rolls her eyes at you but there's no hiding the blush coloring her cheeks.

“Shut up, Stark.”  

“Make me.” You challenge.  

Chaos magic begins to wind around her fingers as she turns your way. “You know what being bold gets you, detka. And it’s not a reward.”