Spoony 🌵💦🥄

If nothing went wrong.

Which, considering her life, probably meant something would.

Yelena rested one hand lazily on the steering wheel while the radio played quietly in the background. Beside her, Wanda sat unusually peacefully, one elbow resting against the window.

For the fifth time in the last ten minutes...She looked into the backseat.

Y/N was asleep. One arm was tucked behind her head while the other rested across her stomach. Her head leaned against the window, hair falling over her forehead, completely unaware that someone had been staring at her for the past hour.

Wanda smiled. Again.

Yelena watched the reflection in the windshield. There it was. That stupid smile. Then Wanda quietly looked back out the window.

Thirty seconds later...She looked back again. Still asleep. Another tiny smile.

Yelena made a face. She'd enjoyed teasing them before. Back when they were both hopeless idiots dancing around each other.

Now?

Now they were just...Sweet. Unbearably sweet. Every time Y/N reached for something, Wanda handed it to her before she asked. Every time Wanda shifted in her seat, Y/N instinctively adjusted the air conditioning without looking away from the road. Every time one of them laughed...The other looked like they'd personally invented happiness.

It was annoying. Cute, sure. But annoying. Yelena physically shuddered.

"I miss when you were both emotionally constipated."

Wanda looked over. "...What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't even know what that means."

"It means this." Yelena gestured dramatically between Wanda and the sleeping wolf in the back. "All this..." She waved both hands. "The smiling."

Wanda blinked innocently. "What smiling?"

"The smiling you keep doing."

"I haven't smiled."

"You smiled three seconds ago."

"I did not."

"You looked at sleeping beauty back there and smiled like you were in romance movie."

Wanda's ears turned pink. "I wasn't—"

"You were."

"I just looked."

"Mhm."

"I did."

"You looked lovingly."

"I did not look lovingly!"

Yelena sighed dramatically. "This is exhausting."

Wanda crossed her arms, trying very hard not to smile again. It lasted exactly twenty seconds. Then she glanced back once more. Y/N had shifted slightly in her sleep, brows furrowing before relaxing again. Wanda's entire expression softened.

Yelena let out the loudest groan she'd made all week. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"You did it again."

"I didn't even—"

"You looked at her like she is baby deer."

"I was making sure she was comfortable."

"You are proving my point."

Wanda huffed. "I can't win with you."

"No."

Yelena looked ahead. Then suddenly spotted a weathered sign beside the highway.

DINER — NEXT EXIT

Perfect. She flicked on the turn signal. "We're stopping."

Wanda looked over. "Why?"

"Because if I spend another hour watching you two make heart eyes at each other, I will intentionally crash this car."

"I don't—"

"No."

Yelena pulled into the gravel parking lot before Wanda could finish defending herself.

The diner looked like it had been standing there since the seventies. A faded red sign hung crookedly above the entrance, and three pickup trucks were parked outside.

Yelena killed the engine. "Let's go eat."

The sudden silence woke Y/N immediately. Golden eyes snapped open. She looked around once. Twice. Then focused on the front seats. "...Did something happen?"

"No," Yelena answered while already climbing out. "I'm hungry." She slammed the door behind her and marched toward the entrance.

Y/N watched her disappear through the glass doors. "...Is she upset?"

Wanda climbed out of the passenger seat just as Y/N stepped onto the gravel beside her. "I don't know."

Y/N frowned slightly toward the diner. "She sounded grumpy."

"I noticed."

Y/N closed the car door before looking toward Wanda. "...Did I do something?"

"I don't think so."

Before Wanda could say anything else, she found herself gently pulled forward.

Y/N wrapped one arm around her waist, the other sliding carefully around her shoulders.

"Wha—"

A low, content rumble vibrated through Y/N's chest. The familiar purr.

Wanda laughed softly. "Someone's in a cuddly mood."

Instead of answering, Y/N leaned down and rubbed her nose gently against Wanda's cheek. A slow, affectionate nuzzle. The motion was so natural that it almost made Wanda forget they were standing in the middle of a parking lot.

She smiled helplessly.

"There you are..."

Y/N hummed happily, pulling her a little closer. "You smell nice."

"Thanks."

Another soft nuzzle. Wanda's cheeks warmed immediately. "You've become very affectionate."

Y/N blinked. "...Is that bad?"

"No." Wanda reached up, smoothing a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. "It's very nice."

Y/N smiled. A real one. Not shy anymore. Not uncertain. Just... happy. She dipped her head again, brushing another tiny nuzzle against Wanda's temple before kissing the side of her forehead.

Wanda melted.

"I think," she murmured against Y/N's shoulder, "Yelena might actually kill us."

"...Why?"

"I think we've become annoying."

Y/N looked genuinely confused. "We haven't done anything."

Wanda laughed. "I know."

"You said affection is normal."

"It is."

"Then why would she be upset?"

"Because..." Wanda smiled. "She's Yelena."

"...Oh."

That apparently explained everything.

Inside the diner, Yelena happened to glance through the front window while waiting for the waitress. She froze. Outside...The giant wolf woman was nuzzling Wanda's face.

Again. And Wanda was smiling like an idiot again.

Yelena slowly closed her eyes. Then opened them. They were still doing it. She looked toward the ceiling. "Natasha," she muttered under her breath. "You owe me."

The elderly waitress approached with a warm smile. "Table for one?"

Yelena sighed. "...Unfortunately, three."

As if summoned by fate itself, the front door opened. Y/N held it open for Wanda. Of course she did. Wanda thanked her with another smile.

Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose. This was going to be the longest two days of her life. She followed the waitress to a booth near the window before sliding into one side with a quiet sigh. Reaching for the menu, she looked up as the waitress smiled.

“Coffee?”

“Please, three.”

The waitress nodded and disappeared toward the kitchen.

A moment later, Wanda and Y/N joined her. Y/N instinctively waited for Wanda to slide into the booth before taking the seat beside her. Yelena watched the entire thing happen and simply rolled her eyes.

Of course.

The waitress returned with three mugs of coffee, setting them down before leaving them to decide on breakfast. Silence settled over the table as everyone looked over their menus. After a minute, Y/N leaned a little closer to Wanda, angling her menu just enough for Wanda to see.

“They have blueberry pancakes.”

Wanda glanced to where Y/N was pointing, a small smile spreading across her face. “I see them.”

Y/N nodded once, looking quietly pleased she'd found them.

Across the table, Yelena looked between the two of them before shaking her head with an amused smile. “And there goes the lovesick smiles again.” Yelena comments.

Wanda groaned softly. “Just leave us alone Yelena!”

“I wish!” Yelena replied with a small shrug.

The waitress returned a few minutes later with a notepad tucked beneath her arm. “Ready to order?”

Wanda nodded. “I'll have the blueberry pancakes with a side of bacon.”

“I'll take the country breakfast,” Y/N said. “And... another side of pancakes.”

The waitress smiled as she scribbled everything down before looking at Yelena.

“The western omelet. Hash browns instead of fries.”

“I'll have that right out.”

She disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving the three of them with the smell of fresh coffee drifting through the diner.

Wanda wrapped both hands around her mug before looking at Yelena. “So... how much longer?”

Yelena thought for a moment before answering. “If the roads stay clear...” She took a sip of coffee. “Two more days.”

Wanda nodded. “And then?”

“We find the safehouse.”

“And hope Natasha is there.”

Yelena's expression softened slightly. “Yeah.”

“If she's not?”

“We figure out the next step.”

Y/N quietly listened while stirring cream into her coffee. “You think Hydra knows where we're going?”

Yelena shook her head. “No. But I still don't like staying anywhere too long.”

“We'll keep moving if we have to.”

Y/N nodded once. “I'll keep watch tonight.”

“You've kept watch every night,” Wanda reminded her.

“I know.”

“You need sleep too.”

“I sleep.”

“Wolf naps don't count.”

“They do.”

Yelena smirked into her coffee. “I am staying out of this one.”

A comfortable silence settled over the booth until the waitress returned, balancing three large plates on her arms. “Blueberry pancakes.” She placed Wanda's breakfast in front of her. “Western omelet.”

Yelena thanked her before reaching for the hot sauce.

“And the country breakfast.” The enormous plate landed in front of Y/N, piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, toast, and pancakes.

“I'll be right back with the extra pancakes.”

Y/N nodded politely. “Thank you.”

A minute later, the waitress returned with another plate stacked with fluffy pancakes. “There you go, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.”

Yelena looked from the second plate to Y/N. “...You know, I always forget how much you eat.”

Y/N glanced down at the table. “…This isn't that much.”

Wanda laughed softly. “It really is.”

“It is?”

“Mhm.”

Y/N looked genuinely unconvinced before picking up her fork.

Breakfast began quietly. The only sounds were forks against plates, coffee cups settling back onto saucers, and the low murmur of conversations from the other customers.

Halfway through her pancakes, Wanda noticed Y/N had already finished nearly all of her eggs and bacon. She cut off a small piece of pancake, dipped it into the blueberries and syrup, then held the fork toward Y/N without thinking.

“Here.”

Y/N looked over before immediately leaning in to take the bite.

“Mm.”

Wanda smiled. “Good?”

Y/N swallowed. “Very.”

A few minutes later, Wanda did it again, this time with a piece of bacon. Y/N accepted it just as naturally. Yelena watched over the rim of her coffee before quietly shaking her head. “I knew this was going to start.”

Wanda looked over. “What?”

Yelena only roll her eyes and say “Nothing.” But the smile on her lips betrays her. 

Wanda roll her eyes back and reach for Y/N plate stealing one of the crispy bacon strips.

Y/N noticed immediately. “…You took my bacon.”

“I did.”

“You could've asked.”

“I knew you'd say yes.”

Y/N considered that for a moment before nodding. “…That's true.”

She simply took another strip from the untouched side plate she'd ordered.

By the time Yelena had finished her omelet, Y/N had already cleaned her first plate completely. Not a crumb remained.

The waitress happened to walk past just as Y/N pulled the second plate of pancakes closer.

“Oh, honey,” she said with an impressed smile. “I’ve never seen anybody eat that much!”

Y/N looked up. “I was hungry.”

“I can tell.”

The waitress laughed warmly before continuing on to another table.

Wanda watched with quiet amusement as Y/N finished the second stack of pancakes, then reached for the remaining bacon and eggs she'd ordered on the side.

“You really were hungry.”

“I slept well.”

“I've noticed.”

Within another few minutes, the second plate was just as clean as the first.

Yelena leaned back in her seat, looking at the two empty plates in front of Y/N. “…Where does it all go?”

Y/N looked down at herself. “I don't know.”

“The wolf,” Wanda answered with a smile.

Y/N nodded thoughtfully. “…Probably.”

Yelena couldn't help smiling. “I should've guessed.”

She picked up her coffee again, watching Wanda absentmindedly brush a smear of syrup from the corner of Y/N's mouth with her thumb before returning to her own breakfast as if she hadn't done anything unusual.

Yelena simply rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

Still ridiculous.

But... she supposed there were worse things than watching two people who'd finally found a little happiness after everything they'd survived.

---

Soon they were back on the road.

This time, Yelena insisted on driving again.

“I've had enough of being trapped in the backseat watching you two flirt,” she'd declared before tossing Y/N the keys to lock the car instead.

So Y/N sat in the passenger seat while Wanda settled into the back. It wasn't ideal. Every now and then, Y/N glanced into the rearview mirror just to check on Wanda. Every time their eyes met, Wanda smiled, and Y/N couldn't help smiling back before returning her attention to the road ahead.

Yelena noticed every single exchange.

She chose not to comment.

The day passed much like the ones before it. Long highways. Small towns. Forests gave way to open farmland before disappearing behind more stretches of empty road.

Around noon they stopped at another roadside diner for lunch before continuing south. A few hours later, they pulled into a gas station to fill the tank.

While Yelena paid for the fuel, Y/N disappeared into the convenience store. She emerged several minutes later carrying two bags absolutely overflowing with snacks.

Yelena looked at them, then at Y/N. “…Planning for winter?”

Y/N peeked inside one of the bags. “I got hungry.”

“You haven't stopped eating.”

“The wolf burns a lot of calories.”

“So apparently.”

The snacks disappeared surprisingly quickly over the next few hours. By the time dusk settled over the countryside, only a few empty wrappers remained on the floorboard beneath Y/N's seat.

The sun finally disappeared below the horizon just as another faded neon sign came into view.

MOTEL

DINER

VACANCY

Yelena let out a relieved sigh. “Finally.”

She pulled into the parking lot and switched off the engine.

For a few seconds, nobody moved.

Then, almost in unison, all three doors opened.

Yelena climbed out first, stretching both arms over her head until her back cracked. “Oh...” She rolled one shoulder. “I think I've been sitting for ten years.”

Behind her, Wanda stepped out more carefully, immediately stretching her legs before letting out a quiet groan. “I never want to see another highway.”

“You'll see one tomorrow.”

“…Don't remind me.”

Y/N rounded the front of the car carrying all three duffel bags over one shoulder as if they weighed nothing.

“You can give me mine,” Wanda offered.

“I've got it.”

“I know you do.”

Still, Wanda slipped closer anyway, leaning lightly against Y/N's side. Without even looking, Y/N's free arm settled naturally around her waist.

It happened so automatically neither of them seemed aware of it. Yelena noticed. She simply shook her head with a small smile before leading the way toward the diner attached to the motel.

Warm air and the smell of grilled food greeted them the moment they stepped inside. The diner was small but cozy, with only a handful of occupied booths. Country music drifted softly from an old radio somewhere behind the counter while a waitress welcomed them with a tired but friendly smile.

“Evening, folks.”

“Evening,” Yelena answered.

“Booth okay?”

“Perfect.”

She led them toward the back of the diner.

Yelena slid into one side while Wanda and Y/N took the other. Wanda barely made it halfway across the booth before leaning against Y/N again. Y/N shifted closer without interrupting her reading of the menu, one arm remaining loosely around Wanda's waist beneath the table.

Yelena watched them for a second before looking back at her own menu. “…Road trips are exhausting.”

“They are,” Wanda agreed. “I cannot wait to lie down.”

“You've been saying that since lunch.”

“Because I meant it since lunch.”

Wanda laughed softly. “I think we've all reached our limit.”

Y/N nodded. “I could sleep for a day.”

Yelena looked over. “You? Sleep?”

“I do sleep.”

“Barely.”

The waitress returned with her notepad. “What can I get you?”

Yelena ordered first. “The chicken fried steak.” Wanda chose the grilled chicken with vegetables. Y/N studied the menu another moment. “I'll have the ribeye.”

The waitress nodded. “Okay...”

Y/N glanced down once more. “And!…another ribeye.”

The waitress smiled surprised. “Coming right up.”

Once she left, the three of them settled into the comfortable silence that only came after spending an entire week together. No one felt the need to fill every quiet moment anymore. Sometimes simply existing together was enough.

Their food arrived surprisingly quickly. The waitress carefully distributed the heavy plates across the table.

“Need anything else?”

“We're good,” Wanda said with a smile.

“Just holler.”

The smell of grilled steak immediately filled the booth. Y/N thanked the waitress before cutting into the first ribeye.

For several minutes, the only sounds were cutlery against plates and the quiet conversations drifting from the rest of the diner.

Halfway through her first steak, Y/N suddenly stopped chewing. Her fork froze halfway to the plate.

A second later, the bell above the diner's entrance jingled. Three men walked inside. They looked like ordinary travelers. Work boots. Baseball caps. Dust-covered jackets. One of them laughed at something another had said.

The waitress greeted them with the same warm smile she'd given everyone else.

“Evening, gentlemen.”

“Table for three.”

“Right this way.”

She led them deeper into the diner before seating them in a booth three rows behind Yelena's.

Close. Too close.

Y/N's breathing slowed almost imperceptibly. She inhaled once through her nose.

Then again. The scent hit her all at once.

Gun oil.

Cheap aftershave.

Hydra.

Her muscles locked. Wanda felt it immediately. Y/N didn't look at the men again. Instead, she slowly turned toward Wanda.

Golden eyes met green.

Hydra.

The single thought brushed against Wanda's mind like ice. Wanda's expression didn't change. She simply looked across the table. Yelena was finishing the last of her juice.

Their eyes met.

Wanda gave the smallest nod.

Yelena didn't ask a single question. “…Got it.”

She calmly reached into her jacket and pulled out several folded bills—enough to cover dinner and leave a generous tip. She tucked them beneath her empty glass without drawing attention.

None of them looked toward the three men again.

None of them needed to. Because if Y/N recognized that scent...Then they'd already stayed one minute too long.

Yelena didn't rush. That was the first thing Wanda noticed. No sudden movements. No panic. She simply folded her napkin, stood from the booth, and slipped on her jacket. “Ready?”

Y/N rose first, her eyes never once drifting toward the three men behind them. Wanda stood beside her.

The waitress happened to pass by just as they reached the register.

“Everything alright?” she asked warmly.

Yelena smiled with practiced ease. “Food was great.”

“I'm glad to hear that.”

She tucked the cash beneath the receipt holder. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. Have a safe night.”

“You too.”

Nothing looked unusual. Nothing sounded unusual. Three tired travelers paying for dinner before checking into the motel.

Yelena pushed open the diner's door. Cold night air rushed over them. The parking lot stretched beneath buzzing neon lights.

Y/N immediately swept the area with one slow glance. Empty. Too empty.

“Car,” Yelena said quietly.

They didn't run. Running attracted attention. Instead, they walked briskly across the parking lot. Wanda climbed into the backseat, Y/N slid into the passenger seat, and Yelena was already starting the engine.

The SUV roared to life. She shifted into reverse. As they backed out of the parking space—The diner's front door burst open.

The three men stepped outside. One looked directly toward them. Another reached beneath his jacket.

“Go,” Y/N said.

Yelena didn't need to be told twice. The tires squealed across the asphalt as the SUV shot out of the motel parking lot and onto the highway.

For several seconds there was nothing.

Just darkness.

Headlights cutting through the empty road.

Y/N twisted in her seat, checking the passenger mirror. The motel was shrinking behind them. Then—Headlights.

Two vehicles exploded out of the motel entrance.

“They're coming,” Wanda said.

“I know,” Yelena answered calmly, pushing harder on the accelerator.

The engine growled.

Eighty. Ninety. One hundred.

The speedometer climbed relentlessly.

Behind them, the two SUVs matched every increase.

“They're gaining.”

“I see them.”

Yelena's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. The road ahead curved sharply through dense forest. She took it without touching the brakes.

The tires screamed.

The SUV leaned dangerously before gripping the pavement again.

Behind them, the first pursuing vehicle drifted wide before recovering.

“They're trained,” Y/N said quietly.

“I noticed.”

Gunfire shattered the night.

CRACK!

The rear windshield exploded inward. Glass showered across the backseat. Wanda ducked instinctively. Another shot punched through the tailgate.

“They're shooting!”

“You think?” Yelena barked.

She swerved violently left. Then right.

Another volley cracked through the darkness.

Bullets skipped across the asphalt. One struck the rear bumper.

Y/N twisted farther around. “They're moving alongside.”

“I need them behind us.”

“They won't stay there.”

“I know.”

The second SUV suddenly pulled into the opposite lane, trying to overtake.

“Oh, no you don't.”

Yelena jerked the wheel left, forcing the pursuing vehicle back behind them just before an oncoming truck thundered past.

The truck's horn blared.

The Hydra driver barely avoided a head-on collision.

“Nice.”

“Thank you.”

More gunfire. A bullet punched through the passenger-side mirror, exploding it into fragments.

Y/N didn't even flinch. “They're trying to disable us.”

“They're about to become my problem.”

Yelena took another hard corner before shouting, “Switch!”

Without hesitation, Y/N unbuckled. Wanda immediately grabbed the steering wheel with her magic from the backseat, keeping the SUV straight just long enough.

Yelena climbed halfway across the center console while Y/N slid behind the wheel in one smooth motion.

The transition took barely three seconds. Y/N caught the wheel.

Yelena was already hanging halfway out the passenger window. Wind whipped violently through her blonde hair as she drew one of her pistols.

“Little closer!”

Y/N understood immediately. She eased off the accelerator just enough.

The pursuing SUV closed the gap.

Closer.

Closer.

Yelena steadied herself against the roof.

“Perfect.”

BANG!

The first shot shattered the enemy's windshield.

BANG!

The second struck the front tire, exploding it. Rubber shredded across the highway. The SUV jerked violently sideways. Its driver fought for control.

Didn't get it.

The vehicle spun twice before smashing through the guardrail and tumbling down the embankment.

Yelena climbed back inside. “One down.”

She looked into the side mirror.

“…Ah.”

“What?”

“More.”

Headlights appeared over the hill behind them.

Not one. Three.

Then another.

“Oh, come on.”

Yelena slammed a fresh magazine into her pistol.

“How many people did you make angry?”

“I don't know,” Wanda answered.

Y/N's jaw tightened. “They've been waiting.”

The first of the new SUVs closed rapidly.

Then another. Four vehicles now, spread across both lanes.

Yelena cursed under her breath. “This is getting ridiculous.”

The nearest SUV pulled alongside them.

Its passenger rolled down the window.

Gun raised.

“Wanda!”

Scarlet energy erupted from the backseat. The red glow flooded the SUV. The entire vehicle lifted off the road as though grabbed by an invisible giant.

The Hydra agents inside had just enough time to scream. Then—The SUV flipped, crashing onto its roof before skidding across the highway in a shower of sparks.

The second vehicle swerved to avoid the wreck.

Wanda caught that one too. With a sharp motion of her hand, it rolled violently into the ditch.

Silence.

For exactly one second.

Yelena stared into the mirror. “…You could've done that earlier.”

“I was trying not to draw attention!”

“Little late for that!”

Before Wanda could answer, Y/N's instincts screamed.

“Left!”

A black SUV burst from a side road hidden by the trees.

It had been waiting.

The vehicle accelerated straight toward them.

“No—!”

CRASH!

The impact slammed into the driver's side with bone-rattling force.

Metal screamed. Glass exploded. The entire SUV spun violently across the highway.

Rubber screamed against the asphalt.

The driver's side slammed into the guardrail with enough force to fold steel inward. Glass exploded across the cabin as every airbag deployed at once, filling the vehicle with white fabric and the smell of burning propellant.

Wanda's head whipped sideways.

Crack.

Her temple slammed against the edge of the window before she was thrown into the opposite side of the backseat.

White flashed across her vision. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Only the ticking of the ruined engine echoed through the night.

Yelena was the first to react. “This is not a good way to die. You two okay?”

Wanda pushed herself upright with a groan, one hand immediately flying to the side of her head. Her fingers came away streaked with blood. The world tilted violently before settling again.

“...I'm fine,” she managed, though her voice sounded distant even to herself.

Y/N looked over immediately. “You're bleeding.”

Wanda blinked several times, trying to clear the ringing from her ears. “Just... hit my head.” She pressed harder against the cut, ignoring the throbbing behind her eyes.

“I'm okay.”

Y/N wasn't convinced. The words had barely left Wanda's mouth when blinding headlights flooded the highway.

One SUV screeched sideways in front of them. Another blocked the road behind, doors bursting open. Hydra agents poured onto the asphalt with military precision, rifles already raised.

“There!” one shouted. “Move!”

Yelena kicked her door open before the first shot was fired.

Gunfire erupted.

Bullets ripped through the windshield as everyone scattered from the vehicle.

Yelena hit the ground in a combat roll. Her pistol barked twice before she was fully upright. Two Hydra rifles spun from their owners' hands.

She never stopped moving.

A third soldier rounded the hood of the SUV. Yelena met him with the butt of her pistol, smashing it across his nose before driving a knife beneath his arm. The man collapsed.

Another replaced him instantly.

Hydra had learned. They didn't attack one at a time. They moved in coordinated pairs. Suppressing fire. Flanking positions. Communication. But Y/N charged anyway.

A baton crackled with blue electricity as one soldier swung toward her head. She ducked beneath it, seized his forearm, and snapped it across her knee.

The scream barely escaped before another rifle stock crashed into her ribs from behind.

She didn't even turn. Her elbow shot backward into the man's throat. He folded instantly.

Another agent rushed from the left. Y/N caught him by the tactical vest and hurled him straight into the windshield of the lead SUV. Glass burst outward in a glittering explosion.

Across the road, scarlet energy exploded through the darkness.

Wanda caught three rifles at once, wrenching them from Hydra's grip before spinning them into the trees. An agent lunged at her with a combat knife.

She sidestepped. The blade missed by inches.

Her magic wrapped around his ankle, slamming him headfirst into the pavement. Another fired from behind. Before Wanda could turn—Yelena shot the rifle from his hands.

“I've got your back!”

“Thanks!”

For several brutal minutes, the highway became chaos.

Gunfire.

Magic.

Flying bodies.

Sparks.

Shattered glass.

Then—Silence.

Eight Hydra agents lay unconscious across the road. Yelena lowered her pistol. “...That felt too easy.”

Almost immediately, engines roared through the darkness. More headlights.

Three.

No...

Four.

Y/N looked up first. “They're not finished.”

Black SUVs surrounded them. Doors opened and more Hydra soldiers stepped out.

Then two figures emerged from the final vehicle. Neither carried a weapon. Neither looked concerned. Both were enormous. Broad enough to block the open door behind them. Dark tactical armor covered their bodies from neck to boots. Their expressions remained perfectly blank.

Y/N's heartbeat slowed. “...Enhanced.”

One of the men smiled. Not confidently.

Hungrily.

He disappeared. Not literally. Just impossibly fast. One instant he stood thirty feet away. The next—His fist crashed into Y/N's guard with enough force to create a shockwave.

The impact blasted her off her feet.

She flew backward through the air, smashing completely across the hood of a wrecked SUV before hitting the pavement hard enough to leave cracks in the asphalt.

She rolled twice, then forced herself upright.

The enhanced soldier hadn't moved. He simply waited.

Y/N wiped blood from the corner of her mouth.

“...Strong.”

“So are you.”

He smiled again.

Then attacked. The road beneath them exploded as they collided. Every punch sounded like a car crash. Y/N landed three clean strikes to his ribs.

He barely reacted. His knee slammed into her stomach. The air exploded from her lungs. A backhand sent her skidding twenty feet across broken pavement.

She'd never been hit that hard. Not since Hydra.

Across the highway, the second enhanced soldier crashed straight through Wanda's telekinetic barrier. It shattered like glass.

“What—”

Wanda instinctively reached out again, scarlet magic flaring around both hands. A sharp spike of pain exploded behind her eyes. Her vision doubled just for an instant the spell faltered.

It was enough.

The enhanced soldier burst through the half-formed barrier before it could solidify. He caught her wrist and twisted.

Pain shot up her arm. Wanda tried to throw him backward, but another wave of dizziness hit her. The ringing in her ears grew louder, making it harder to focus her magic.

Scarlet energy flickered wildly instead of striking cleanly.

His fist crashed into her ribs.

Wanda cried out as she slammed into the side of the ruined SUV, leaving a deep dent in the metal.

“Wanda!”

Y/N lunged toward her but the first enhanced intercepted. His shoulder drove into Y/N's chest. She hit the ground. Before she could rise—a boot slammed into her ribs.

The enhanced wasn't trying to beat her. He was keeping her away from Wanda.

Behind them, Yelena fought desperately to keep the remaining Hydra soldiers off both of them, firing, reloading, and switching to knives whenever someone got too close.

“We're getting circled!”

Wanda staggered upright, one hand braced against the SUV. Blood continued to trickle from the cut on her temple, dripping onto her collar. Every heartbeat made the pounding inside her skull worse. She shook her head once, trying to clear the haze.

It didn't help. The concussion slowed everything. Her thoughts. Her reactions.

Even her magic.

Normally, she would've stopped him before he got within arm's reach. Tonight...She was always a fraction of a second too late.

The enhanced soldier closed the distance again. He caught her by the throat. Lifted her completely off the ground.

Scarlet magic erupted around his arm, but Wanda struggled to maintain her concentration through the dizziness. The energy surged unevenly instead of crushing him outright.

He slammed her into the SUV again. The impact sent another burst of agony through her head.

Stars exploded across her vision. Blood ran freely down the side of her face.

He pulled back his fist. Y/N saw it.

Saw Wanda's unfocused eyes. Saw the blood. Saw her struggle to even keep her magic steady. Saw the fist descending.

Something ancient inside her shattered.

The growl that erupted from her chest didn't sound human. It shook the trees. Hydra agents froze. Even the enhanced soldiers hesitated. Bones cracked. Muscles expanded. Dark fur burst through skin.

Within seconds, a massive wolf stood where Y/N had been. Golden eyes burned with pure fury. The wolf didn't roar. She attacked.

She hit the enhanced soldier like a freight train. Massive jaws crushed his armored shoulder. Steel folded between her teeth.

He screamed.

The wolf flung him nearly forty feet. He crashed through the windshield of his own SUV before the entire vehicle rolled onto its side.

The second enhanced charged. The wolf met him head-on. Claws tore through reinforced armor. He punched her ribs hard enough to splinter nearby asphalt.

She answered by driving him into the highway with both forepaws. The pavement collapsed beneath them. He tried to stand but she didn't let him.

Claws.

Teeth.

Another slam.

Again.

Again.

Again.

She fought like an animal protecting its mate. Not a soldier. Not an Avenger.

A wolf.

Every strike became more vicious than the last.

Nearby, Wanda forced herself onto one knee, clutching her side.

“Y...Y/N...”

One Hydra soldier hadn't joined the fight. He'd gone back to the SUV.

Carefully...He unlocked a reinforced case. Inside rested a long silver weapon covered in Hydra markings and glowing blue conduits.

Yelena's stomach dropped. “...Wanda.”

Wanda looked up. The barrel was already charging. “No...”

The soldier smiled. He wasn't aiming at the wolf. He was aiming behind her.

At Wanda.

The wolf couldn't see him.

“Y/N!” Wanda screamed.

The wolf turned, saw the weapon, then Wanda.

There wasn't even a moment's hesitation. She leapt. The blue spear erupted from the launcher.

It struck the wolf square in the chest.

The weapon didn't explode. It punched through. Clean through. The force carried the wolf backward several feet before she hit the ground.

Silence.

The wolf remained standing for one impossible second. Blood poured from both sides of the wound. A broken whine escaped her throat. Then her legs gave out.

As she collapsed, the transformation unraveled.

Fur disappeared. Bones shifted. Claws became trembling fingers.

Y/N lay motionless on the shattered highway. A gaping hole tore through the center of her chest.

“Wanda...” Yelena's voice broke.

Wanda didn't answer. She couldn't.

The world had narrowed to one impossible sight.

Y/N.

Still.

Bleeding.

Not breathing.

Something inside Wanda broke beyond repair. Scarlet energy exploded from her body with a force that split the highway apart. The night turned crimson.

Cars lifted into the air. Hydra soldiers screamed as invisible hands seized every one of them simultaneously. The enhanced soldiers fought against it.

It didn't matter.

With a single, grief-filled scream, Wanda unleashed everything. The shockwave tore across the highway. Every Hydra vehicle crumpled like paper.

The launcher was ripped apart atom by atom. The enhanced soldiers were hurled hundreds of feet into the darkness. The remaining agents slammed unconscious into trees, concrete barriers, and overturned wreckage.

When the red light finally faded...Nothing moved. Nothing except Wanda.

She was already on her knees beside Y/N, her hands shaking as they reached for the wound that no healing magic in the world should have been able to fix.

“No…” Her voice barely existed.

Scarlet energy poured frantically from her palms, wrapping around the gaping wound in Y/N's chest.

“Come on…”

The magic trembled violently.

“Come on…”

It wasn't working.

Blood continued to seep between her glowing fingers, warm against her skin.

“No, no, no…”

“Wanda.” Yelena's voice sounded distant.

Wanda didn't hear her. She pressed both hands harder over the wound as though she could physically hold Y/N together.

“Please…”

Her magic searched desperately for something to mend.

Broken ribs.

Torn muscle.

Collapsed lung.

The hole through Y/N's chest.

Every spell unraveled the moment it reached the wound, as though something was consuming the magic itself.

“No…” Wanda whispered again, tears spilling freely now. “Please…”

Y/N didn't move.

Didn't breathe. Didn't even twitch.

The silence was unbearable.

Yelena knelt beside them, breathing heavily from the fight. She glanced over her shoulder, pistol still raised as she scanned the dark highway for movement.

Nothing. Only wrecked vehicles. Unconscious Hydra soldiers. Smoke rising into the night.

She looked back at Wanda.

“…Wanda.”

Nothing.

“Wanda.”

Still nothing.

Yelena reached out, carefully placing a hand on Wanda's shoulder.

The witch flinched violently.

“Don't touch me.”

“Wanda.”

“I'm fixing her.”

Her voice cracked.

“I'm fixing her.”

Yelena's heart sank.

Because Wanda wasn't speaking to her anymore. She was pleading with herself. With her magic. With the universe. Anything that might be listening.

Scarlet energy intensified until it illuminated the entire highway. Wanda gritted her teeth.

“You heal,” she whispered to Y/N, tears falling onto her face. “You always heal.”

Nothing.

“You heal.”

Nothing.

“You promised me…”

Another desperate wave of magic surged into the wound.

It vanished like pouring water into an endless abyss.

Wanda's breathing became ragged. “No…”

Yelena's expression tightened. Something about the weapon...It wasn't just a projectile. It had done something else.

She stood abruptly. “I'll find it.”

Wanda didn't answer.

Yelena hurried toward the shattered remains of the launcher scattered across the road. Pieces of silver alloy still glowed faintly blue.

She crouched beside the largest fragment.

Hydra markings. Unknown circuitry. Burned beyond recognition.

“Damn it…”

Nearby lay the soldier who had fired it. Still alive but barely conscious.

Yelena was beside him in an instant, grabbing him by the front of his tactical vest and dragging him upright.

“What was that weapon?”

The man laughed weakly. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “You... don't know…”

Yelena slammed him against the overturned SUV.

“What. Was. It.”

He smiled. “A... wolf killer.”

Yelena's blood ran cold.

“It stops…” He coughed violently. “…regeneration.”

“No.”

“It destroys…” Another cough. “The healing response…”

Yelena stared at him.

“No…”

The man laughed again. “…By morning…”

He never finished. His head rolled limply to one side.

Unconscious. Or dead.

Yelena didn't care.

She looked back toward Wanda.

Toward Y/N.

Toward the pool of blood slowly spreading across the broken highway.

“Wanda…”

The witch still hadn't moved. Her forehead rested against Y/N's.

“I'm here,” she whispered brokenly. “I'm right here.”

Another pulse of scarlet magic.

Another failure.

“You don't leave me.”

Silence.

“You hear me?”

Nothing.

“You don't get to leave me.”

Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. The blood on Y/N's chest refused to stop flowing.

Then—Almost too faint to hear...

A tiny hitch.

Not a breath.

Not quite.

More like...

A weak, wet gasp.

Wanda froze.

Her entire body went still.

“…Y/N?”

Another tiny sound escaped Y/N's lips. So faint it could have been imagined. But Wanda had heard it. Hope exploded through her chest so violently it almost hurt.

“Yelena!”

Yelena spun around immediately.

“What?”

“She's alive.”

Yelena was beside them in seconds. The two women held their breath. Several agonizing moments passed.

Then...

Another shallow, ragged breath.

Painfully weak. Barely enough to move Y/N's chest. But it was there.

Yelena let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

“She’s fighting.”

Wanda's tears fell freely as she gently cup Y/N's face with one hand while the other still pour her magic into Y/N chest.

“I know…” she whispered, her voice trembling with relief and terror all at once. “I know, my little wolf. Just keep fighting. I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”

---

Y/N's POV

Pain.

It was everywhere.

Not sharp. Not dull. Just... everywhere.

Every breath burned. Every heartbeat sent something warm spreading through her chest. She couldn't move. Couldn't open her eyes. Couldn't even tell if she was lying down or standing.

There was only darkness.

And voices.

"...Y/N..."

Wanda.

She knew that voice anywhere.

Soft. Shaking and crying.

Y/N tried to answer but nothing came out.

Her lips refused to move.

"...stay with me..." Another voice.

Further away.

"...we need to move, Wanda." Yelena.

"They'll send more."

"No."

Wanda's answer came immediately.

"I'm not leaving her."

"We're not leaving her."

A pause.

"We're taking her with us."

Y/N wanted to tell Wanda she was okay. Wanted to reassure her. But all she managed was a weak twitch of her fingers. Or maybe she imagined it.

Something warm squeezed her hand. Immediately.

Like Wanda had been holding it the entire time.

"I'm here," Wanda whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm right here."

Y/N tried to smile. She wasn't sure if she did. The darkness swallowed her again.

---

The next thing she knew...

Movement. Everything hurt. Every bump rattled through her body. The steady vibration beneath her told her she was in a vehicle.

The smell of gasoline.

Leather.

Blood.

The SUV.

Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. She forced them open. Only a sliver. The world was nothing but blurred lights streaking past the window.

"...Slow down!" Wanda shouted.

"I'm trying!" Yelena yelled back.

"They're behind us!"

The SUV suddenly jerked hard around a corner. Y/N's body slid several inches across the backseat despite the hands desperately trying to keep her still. Pain exploded through her chest.

A broken groan escaped her lips.

"...Ngh..."

Her eyes rolled back before she could stop them.

"Shit!"

Wanda caught her immediately.

"What the hell, Yelena?"

"There was a truck!"

"I don't care!"

"I'd rather not die tonight!"

"You almost killed her!"

"I almost killed all of us!"

Y/N barely understood the words. Everything sounded underwater. She felt warm hands press gently—but firmly—against the wound in her chest.

They'd never left.

Wanda.

"I'm sorry," Wanda whispered immediately, her voice trembling. "I'm sorry, baby.”

Gentle fingers brushed damp hair away from Y/N's forehead.

"We're almost there." A kiss touched her temple. "Stay with me."

Y/N tried.

God...

She tried.

But the darkness pulled harder. Everything disappeared again.

---

Cold.

That was the first thing she noticed.

Then...

Sheets. A mattress. The faint smell of old wood, medicine and rain.

Y/N groaned quietly.

"...Mm..."

Her eyelids fluttered open. Everything was blurry. The ceiling swayed strangely above her.

Where...

Where was she?

She inhaled instinctively. Trying to find something familiar.

Wanda.

Usually Wanda's scent grounded her immediately. But all she could smell was antiseptic.

Dust.

Old furniture and her own blood.

Confusion settled heavily in her chest. She blinked several times. Nothing came into focus.

"...W..."

Her throat hurt. She slowly turned her head. Just find an empty room and no signs of Wanda.

Her heartbeat spiked instantly.

Panic.

She pushed herself upright. The movement sent unbearable pain through her chest.

"...Ah..."

Her vision blackened around the edges.

No.

No, where—

"Wanda..."

Her voice barely came out. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. The second her feet touched the floor…they gave out.

Y/N hit one knee hard against the wooden boards. Pain shot through her body but she didn't care.

"Wanda..."

She forced herself up using the bedside table. The room tilted violently. She stumbled into the wall.

Caught herself and kept moving.

Her hearing rang loudly. Somewhere nearby...

Voices.

Muffled.

Someone was talking. She couldn't make out the words. Only that people were there. She staggered toward the bedroom door, one hand pressed against the wall to keep herself upright.

Every step hurt. Every breath burned.

Her chest felt tightly wrapped beneath thick bandages.

She reached the hallway. The voices became clearer. Still distorted beneath the relentless ringing in her ears.

Another doorway. Light spilled through it. She stumbled toward it.

Almost there...She leaned against the frame—And froze.

Wanda.

Standing across the room talking to someone.

Yelena.

There was someone else too but Y/N didn't register who. All she saw was Wanda. Alive.

Before anyone could react—She lurched forward. Her legs completely gave out.

"Wanda..."

Wanda turned at the sound just in time to catch her.

Y/N practically collapsed into her arms.

"W-Whoa!"

Wanda wrapped both arms around her immediately before she hit the floor.

"Y/N!"

Y/N buried her face against Wanda's neck.

Frantically.

Desperately.

She inhaled over and over.

Finding her scent. Making sure it was real.

"You..." she whispered hoarsely, panic still evident in every word. "You're okay..."

Her nose brushed frantically along Wanda's neck, her shoulder, her hair.

Checking.

Confirming.

"You weren't..."

Another shaky breath.

"...hurt..."

Wanda's eyes immediately filled with tears.

"Oh, baby…”

Y/N clung tighter despite how badly it hurt.

"I couldn't..." Her breathing hitched. "I couldn't smell you..."

"I know."

"I thought..."

"I know."

Wanda carefully cradled the back of her head, tears already slipping down her cheeks.

"I'm okay."

Y/N pulled back just enough to look at her face.

Still blurry. Still doubled. She reached up with trembling fingers and cupped Wanda's cheek.

"...You're okay?"

"I'm okay."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Only then did some of the panic leave Y/N's body. Her shoulders sagged. Relief washed through her.

"...Good..."

The single word was barely audible. Then her knees buckled again.

"Y/N!"

She completely went limp in Wanda's arms, unconscious once more before Wanda could finish calling her name.

---

Pain greeted Y/N before consciousness did. Not the unbearable agony from before.

This was different.

A deep, dull ache spread through her chest every time she breathed, as though every muscle had been torn apart and stitched back together.

She frowned.

The light behind her eyelids felt too bright. Slowly…she opened them. The room blurred for only a second before gradually sharpening into focus.

The ceiling was wooden.

Old beams.

Stone walls.

A fireplace crackled quietly somewhere nearby. Nothing spun this time. She squinted against the sunlight filtering through the curtains.

A gentle hand brushed through her hair.

“Easy…”

Wanda.

Y/N turned her head.

Wanda was sitting in a chair pulled right beside the bed. Dark circles rested beneath her eyes, and her hair was tied back messily. She looked like she hadn't slept properly in days.

Despite that…the moment their eyes met, Wanda smiled.

A shaky, relieved smile.

“Hi.”

Y/N's lips felt dry.

“…Hi.”

Her voice came out rough, almost unrecognizable.

Wanda immediately reached for the glass on the bedside table.

“Easy.”

She slid one arm carefully behind Y/N's shoulders, helping her sit just enough to drink. The cool water soothed her throat.

Y/N sighed softly.

“…Better?”

She nodded.

Wanda helped her lie back down before brushing another strand of hair from her forehead.

For several moments, neither of them spoke. They simply looked at each other. Making sure the other was really there.

Y/N was the first to break the silence.

“…How long?”

Wanda's smile faltered.

“You've been asleep...” She swallowed. “…Three days.”

Y/N blinked slowly. Three…days?

“I thought...” she whispered.

“I know.”

Wanda reached for her hand immediately, lacing their fingers together.

“We made it.”

“The safe house?”

Wanda nodded.

“We were only about forty minutes away.”

“What happened?”

For a moment, Wanda didn't answer. Her thumb continued tracing slow circles across the back of Y/N's hand.

“You passed out again in the SUV. We couldn't stop. They kept sending more patrols, so Yelena drove...” She let out a tired breath. “…Like a maniac.”

Despite everything, the corner of Y/N's mouth twitched.

“I believe that.”

“It wasn't funny.”

“I know.”

“We got here just before sunrise.”

Y/N listened quietly.

“The weapon...” Wanda's voice caught. “…It wasn't normal.” She looked down at their joined hands. “It went straight through your chest.” Her breathing became uneven.

“I tried healing you. I tried everything. Closing the wound. Stopping the bleeding. Repairing the damage.” Her voice broke. “…I couldn't.”

Tears welled in her eyes again.

“My magic just...” She shook her head helplessly. “It wouldn't work.”

Y/N squeezed her hand as much as her weakened body allowed.

“The man who fired it,” Wanda continued quietly, “Yelena found out it was designed specifically for enhanced people.”

Y/N frowned.

“It stopped your healing.”

The words hung heavily between them.

“For almost two days,” Wanda whispered, “nothing happened.”

“I thought...”She couldn't finish. Her lips trembled. “I thought I'd lost you.” A tear escaped despite her efforts to stop it.

“I kept checking your heartbeat.”

“Every few minutes.”

“I was terrified it would stop.”

Y/N's heart clenched. “Wanda...”

“The wound finally started closing yesterday.” Wanda laughed softly through her tears. “Just... a little. But it was enough.”

She looked down at Y/N's bandaged chest.

“Then this morning... your healing finally came back. The hole closed. The lung repaired itself. The ribs started knitting back together.”

She smiled through her tears.

“You're still healing…But you're healing.”

Y/N couldn't stand seeing her like this. She slowly tried to push herself up. But a sharp pain ripped through her chest.

“…Ah...”

She immediately collapsed back against the pillow with a pained groan.

“Hey.”

Wanda was beside her in an instant.

“Don't. You've got a hole that only mostly closed.”

Y/N winced.

“I just...” Another painful breath. “…Wanted...”

She reached up anyway. Her fingers brushed against Wanda's cheek.

“…Come here.”

Wanda didn't hesitate. She leaned forward immediately until their foreheads rested together. Y/N's thumb gently brushed away one of the tears still clinging to Wanda's face.

“I'm sorry...”

“No.”

Wanda shook her head immediately. “Don't apologize.”

“I scared you.”

“You almost died.”

“I'm still sorry.”

A watery laugh escaped Wanda.

“You really are impossible.”

“I know.”

They stayed like that for several quiet moments. Just breathing. Just existing.

Neither wanting to let go.

Then—A familiar voice spoke from the doorway.

“Well...”

The voice was hoarse. Warm. Carried the unmistakable hint of amusement.

“I leave you two alone for a month... and this is what happens?”

Both of them turned.

Standing in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the frame with her arms loosely crossed, was Natasha.

There were fresh bruises along her jaw. A bandage wrapped around one forearm and she looked tired but she was smiling.

A real smile.

Her green eyes landed on Y/N.

“They said you'd wake up today.” She pushed herself off the doorframe. “I was starting to think you were trying to sleep through my welcome home.”

Y/N stared at her for a long second.

Then...“…Nat.”

Natasha's smile softened.

“Hey, pup.”

The nickname alone was enough to make Y/N smile weakly.

Natasha let out a quiet breath, some of the tension finally leaving her shoulders.

Y/N looked between Natasha and Wanda. “…How?”

“We got here first,” Natasha explained, stepping farther into the room. “Steve, Bucky, and I reached this safe house two days before you three did.”

“…Then?”

“Yelena came crashing through the front door just before sunrise.” A smirk tugged at Natasha's lips. “Literally.”

Wanda sighed. “She almost drove through the fence.”

“I was in a hurry,” Yelena called from somewhere down the hallway.

Ignoring her, Natasha continued, “Yelena was covered in dirt. You were covered in blood.” Her gaze settled on Y/N. “…And you looked dead.”

The room fell silent.

“Wanda wouldn't let anyone touch you.”

Y/N looked at Wanda, who lowered her eyes to their joined hands. “I thought if I let go...” she whispered, “…you'd stop breathing.”

Y/N gently squeezed her hand.

“When none of us went back, after that mission…” Natasha continued, “Clint came to me immediately. Didn't tell anyone. Just left. Classic Clint. A few hours later, Sam showed up too, looking for Steve and Bucky. Fury had managed to reach him.”

“Fury?” Wanda asked.

Natasha nodded. “He knew something was wrong inside SHIELD but didn't know who he could trust. His orders were simple: find us, stay off the grid, and don't trust anyone claiming to be SHIELD until he says otherwise.”

“…So officially?” Y/N asked.

“We're all missing,” Natasha replied. “Fury listed every one of us as MIA. That buys him time to figure out who's compromised.”

“And while we stay hidden...” Y/N murmured.

“We figure out what Hydra is really planning,” Natasha finished. “And how deep this goes.”

A knock sounded against the already open door.

Yelena leaned against the frame with an apple in one hand. She looked at Y/N, took another bite, and said, “Oh. The corpse woke up.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “There she is.”

“I was getting bored talking to Sleeping Beauty.”

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh. “…Hi.”

“Hi.”

Yelena wandered over to the bed and, for once, dropped the sarcasm. “…Thanks.”

Y/N blinked. “What for?”

“For jumping in front of that thing.” Her voice softened. “It wasn't just Wanda you protected. It would've hit both of us.”

Silence lingered before she shoved her free hand into her pocket. “…So... thanks.”

“I'd do it again,” Y/N said.

“I know.” Yelena sighed. “That's what worries me.”

Natasha clapped her hands once. “Alright. Mission briefing can wait. You've been unconscious for three days. Your only job right now is recovering. We'll catch you up later.”

Y/N nodded. “Okay.”

Natasha gave her shoulder a careful squeeze. “Come on, Yelena.”

Yelena took another bite of her apple. “Don't do anything dramatic while we're gone.”

Y/N looked genuinely confused. “I'm in bed.”

“Exactly.”

The sisters disappeared into the hallway, leaving only the crackling fireplace to fill the silence.

Y/N turned her head. “Wanda.”

“Hm?”

“Come here.”

Without a word, Wanda kicked off her shoes and carefully climbed onto the bed beside her, taking care not to jostle the bandages around Y/N's chest. The mattress dipped as Y/N slowly lifted an arm despite the pain and wrapped it around Wanda's waist, pulling her close.

Wanda melted against her, resting her head beneath Y/N's chin.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Y/N simply breathed her in.

“…Did you sleep?” she finally asked.

“I did.”

Y/N looked down at the dark circles beneath Wanda's eyes, her tangled hair, and wrinkled clothes.

“…Liar.”

“I slept.”

“You closed your eyes,” Y/N murmured. “That's different.”

Wanda said nothing.

“You stayed here.”

A small nod.

“The whole time?”

Another nod.

“You barely left.”

“…Only when Nat or Yelena made me.”

“Wanda...”

“I couldn't.” Her voice cracked. “What if you woke up and I wasn't here?”

Y/N's heart ached. She tightened her arm around Wanda despite the sharp protest from her ribs.

“Easy,” Wanda whispered.

Ignoring the pain, Y/N rested her cheek against Wanda's hair. “I'm awake now.”

“I know.”

“So now...” She kissed the top of Wanda's head. “…you need to sleep.”

“I'll sleep later.”

“No.”

Wanda looked up to find Y/N watching her with quiet determination.

“You took care of me. Now let me take care of you.”

Wanda smiled tiredly, cupping her cheek. “I'll let you... after you're recovered.”

Y/N opened her mouth. 

“No arguments.” Wanda glare softly.

“I wasn't—”

“You were about to.”

“…Maybe.”

“I've spent three days making sure you stayed alive. Now you stay in bed until you're healed.”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “I don't like staying in bed.”

“I know.”

“I feel useless.”

“I know.”

“I can walk.”

“You can barely sit up.”

“…That's temporary.”

“It is. Until then...” Wanda kissed the tip of her nose. “…you're listening to me.”

“…You're bossy.”

“I learned from Natasha.”

Y/N laughed, immediately wincing as pain flared through her chest.

Wanda rested a hand gently against her side. “See?”

“I'm fine.”

“Mhm.”

“I am.”

“You just proved my point.”

Y/N sighed and settled deeper into the pillows, still holding Wanda close.

“…Then sleep here.”

Wanda blinked. “Here?”

“With me.”

“You need space to heal.”

“I need you.”

Silence settled between them as the words lingered in the air. A faint blush colored Wanda's cheeks.

“…Okay.”

She carefully lay beside Y/N on top of the blankets, mindful of every bandage. The bed was small, but neither cared. Wanda rested her head lightly against Y/N's shoulder while Y/N held her just tightly enough to keep her close.

“There.”

“There,” Y/N echoed.

For the first time in days, Wanda's body finally relaxed. The tension eased from her shoulders, and the fear that had kept her awake every time Y/N's breathing changed slowly melted away.

Y/N buried her face in Wanda's hair. “…Sleep.”

“I will.”

“You promise?”

A soft smile spread across Wanda's face.

“I promise.”

Within minutes, her breathing became slow and even. Y/N smiled faintly. It had taken nearly being torn apart for Wanda to finally rest. She pressed one last kiss to the top of Wanda's head before closing her own eyes—not to sleep, but simply to listen to Wanda's heartbeat.

A sound she would never take for granted again.

A heat wave had pushed much of the university outdoors.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-&-

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

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

Now, there was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natasha rolled her eyes and raised the hose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you don’t.

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

"Yes, yes, yes!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then footsteps echo nearby.

And a familiar, mocking voice cuts through the haze:

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

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

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

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

"I'm decent, jerk."

Jean raises an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Best car wash ever.

-&-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yelena, for God’s sake - ”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” she murmurs.

“Hello, you,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

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

You and Wanda share a confused laugh.

Chapter 8

The Art of Pretending

The sound of a car horn made you jerked around, the traffic light changing into green just as you disassociate with memories of that Halloween night.

You shifted on the seat, the sky above your head was turning into shades of purple and dark blue, not a single cloud could be seen and night started consuming the daylight that had accompanied you half the road.

You glanced out at the rear mirror shaking your head to try and scare away the memories of the first time you met Wanda Maximoff. Halloween of 2024. With a sigh, you pushed the gas pedal and your car started advancing through the streets leaving behind the busy centre of the city and entering the suburban world you had been introduced to by chance.

It never occurred to you that night would come back to haunt you, at that time you opted to forget those green eyes and the experience the night brought to you. You cocked your head to the left then to your right, your eyebrows shooting up at the great, fancy houses erecting on each side of Chelsea streets. As you drove further into the neighbourhood and the houses became bigger with fenced entryways and high security you became aware of the world you were getting dragged into.

This world did not forgive nor did welcome people like you. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, not for the first time you regretted having agreed to such an idiotic plan. Not only was this a bad idea due to the amount of people that already knew you, but you also risked the wrath of the redhead that, day by day, seemed to just despise your mere existence.

At some point you asked yourself why it matter so much to you that Wanda continue with her angry stance against you. You pursed your lips trying to concentrate on the streets and the houses, and the fancy decor of the neighbour; your memory playing tricks with you, bringing back the memories of Wanda arriving that day at work acting as if you were invisible. Cold, detached, and a tad upset, her nonchalant attitude towards you that day was even worse than her constant bickering and misplaced angry against you.

This newfound attitude in which you were non-existent told you perhaps Bishop had told her something about their fake girlfriend deal for that night. This could only mean the night would be long, just as your day had been unbearable that day.

You sighed parking right beside the intercom of a huge black fence leading to the Stacy household.

“Good afternoon and welcome to Stacy Manor, may I know your name and the reason for your visit?” A male voice inquired through the metal box; you blinked a couple of times trying to remember what you were doing here. “Miss?”

“Oh, right, sorry. I'm Y/N Y/L/N, I was invited to the…pre-wedding dinner?” You kept your eyes on the black box; you could hear the static and then after a couple of minutes the man talked again.

“The parking courtyard is to the left of the fountain. Welcome to Stacy Manor.”

You mumbled a quiet thank you watching as the fence slid silently to the left. Not for the first time you asked yourself why you were doing all of this. Why did you accept this deal? Why were you coming to Wanda’s aid when it was obvious she hated you.

The answer eluded you, and you dared not to dive into the reasons behind your actions. This question would come into your mind whenever you found yourself around Wanda but, by the time you decided to answer it, it was already too late.

For now, you were happily ignoring your reasons, and getting into a world that most certainly didn’t want you there.

The clock showed it was 6:30pm.

Everything was being set up to be ready by 7:30pm when the guests were actually scheduled to arrive. Kate Bishop stood by the garden in the courtyard, her gaze traveling around the beautiful setting where Gwen was fussing around with her mother and Eleanor who had offered a friendly hand before dinner. The normalcy of the scene almost made her smile; this is what life used to look like when they were younger. 

Hell, this was what their lives used to look like before Halloween 2024. Kate spotted Wanda inside the house, her hands grabbing the phone against her ear, her face a mask of pure irritation and stress. Kate didn't need to ask who was at the other end of the line, there was only one person that could prompt such a reaction out of her friend and, not for the first time, Kate begged the skies she wasn't adding fire to an already burning Wanda.

There was a beep coming from her phone, Kate gasped, opening her mobile and glancing at the new message.

I'm here, Bishop, are you coming with my sweet pumpkin to welcome me?

Kate felt her lips twitch upwards at the nickname. Then, she winced, she really hoped Wanda would not kill Y/N and that Y/N would behave during dinner.

With a heavy heart, and some determination Kate started walking towards Wanda, the young woman putting a hand on her face while ignoring the set of messages assaulting her mobile at the moment.

There were days in which she felt as if her world was crumbling under her feet, her body falling while hitting some of the debris waiting for that last hit that would drag her into a cold void where she would never find an exit. Today was one of those days in which she felt her world just falling apart. Her mother had been calling nonstop, asking her about her girlfriend, what said girlfriend should be wearing for the dinner, how if Natalya didn't approve of her Wanda needed to be ready to accept Victor as her companion.

Wanda had tried to answer the questions. But she didn't know the answers. Kate had been secretive since Monday when Wanda called her in the middle of her drunken meltdown, and the only thing her best friend had said was that she ‘had everything under control’. But, even Kate had been distant and distracted, and not for the first time Wanda’s mind played on repeat and with full high-quality video the little scenes between Y/N and Kate.

Y/N half naked in the kitchen, the intimate kiss. Kate asking for Y/N phone number. The Lunch. The second kiss. Kate being secretive with Wanda. Y/N acting all weird that day at the office. Jarvis calling her, Jarvis whispering promises. Jarvis telling Wanda he needed her. Jarvis kissing Jessica and proposing to her. Wanda waiting for Jarvis at their hidden flat only for him to cancel last minute.

The memories of everything that had happened to her in the last year, all coming together making her dizzy, her body was trembling, her hands sweating while a piercing coldness went through her chest down to her abdomen.  Everything was moving fast, and Wanda was losing control, then…

Wanda jerked around when a hand placed itself on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, her heart hammering in her chest, while her green eyes found the blue ones of Kate glancing at her worriedly.

“Wands, are you alright?” Kate tilted her head; her brows put together in a familiar gesture that Wanda hated to see on her best friend at the moment.

“Yes, yes, I am fine.” She snapped, stepping back while putting her hand on her forehead, she winced at the hurt flashing Kate’s eyes.

Wanda closed her eyes before opening again, “mother has been calling me nonstop since she scheduled this dinner to meet my ‘girlfriend’”

Wanda made quotation marks around the girlfriend's word. Kate winced with a hint of understanding in her smile; she lowered her eyes to Wanda’s mobile then back to her friend who had an eyebrow raised at Kate.

“Kate, tell me you got someone, you told me to not worry, that I…”

By then Wanda had started breathing hard, tears forming in her eyes while desperation drew on her features. Kate put her hands on Wanda’s shoulders, she squinted her eyes at her, not knowing how to reach out to Wanda who seemed to just get lost little by little in an emotional turmoil.

“Hey, Wands, I told you I have your back, and I do.” Kate offered a half smile, her voice soft and reassuring. “Wands, are you sure you are okay? I mean, it's just lately…”

Wanda wrapped her arms around Kate, whatever Kate was about to say was cut off by the sudden gesture. Kate gasped but returned the hug softening, she knew Wanda had been at a crossroads and all she wanted to do was to make things easier for her, to make sure Wanda did not fall into the hands of Jarvis once more and finally could just be her old self.

“Wanda.” Kate whispered, but Wanda stepped back offering a practice, pearly smile fixing her hair and clothing.

“I trust you, you know how I get when mother starts pressuring me.” She tried to explain, but Wanda could see Kate was not convinced. They stood like this for a moment, before Kate decided to not press the matter for the time being.

“I know.” Kate could see the relief washed over Wanda, the gratefulness in her stare. Kate just hoped this expression would still be on once she told Wanda who was waiting for them in the courtyard.

“So, about my fake girlfriend…” Wanda bounced on her feet, she glanced around making sure they were alone in the living room before setting her eyes on Kate. “I know you prepare everything, I’m just anxious and…”

“She is here.” Kate blurted out, Wanda blinked a couple of times, her lips twitching with uncertainty.

“Oh, you mean…” Wanda waved her hand glancing back at the entrance as if expecting a young woman would jump out of the sofa spreading her arms in a surprised gesture. “Where is she? Come on, I would like for her to meet me properly before mother comes here, perhaps give her a couple of tips…”

Kate tittered, grabbing Wanda’s hand in hers, her eyes wandering around refusing to look at Wanda while she started guiding them to the main entrance. Wanda didn’t notice this change, she was still babbling away the things she would need to share with this stranger, while also trying to make sure no one caught them on that first meeting. Everything seemed to be falling into place, a normalcy that was familiar and manageable until they finally reached the house’s entrance and Wanda found herself standing in front of none other than Y/N.

“There you are, my sweet precious angel, did you think I forgot about this dinner?” You gave Wanda a lopsided grin, your hands inside the pockets of your trousers looking specially relaxed and just a tad smug.

Wanda stood there for a moment unable to do or say anything besides the choked gurgle grunt mixed with an exclamation that didn’t quite resemble any human speech. Kate opened her eyes standing in between the both of you, she lifted her right hand as if trying to placate Wanda while shooting you a warning stare.

“Now, Wands, this…”

“You brought her?! What the hell is wrong with you, Kate?” Wanda finally exclaimed, she shot you a withering stare clenching her jaw close when the memories and thoughts Wanda had tried to suppress came crashing down and all her misfortunes came to be represented by a single figure.

Y/N.

“There is no way in hell I will pretend to even like her.” Wanda said through gritted teeth, her green eyes growing wide and wild. “You told me to trust you!”

“Wanda, hear me out…Y/N…”

“No!” Wanda exclaimed, almost screaming while glowering at you. “Get out! I prefer to go with Victor or anyone for that matter than spend a single minute with yo…”“Y/N, dear you look absolutely dashing!” Eleanor Bishop came out of nowhere wrapping her arms around you, her lips curled into a content smile while her eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Eleanor, you look beautiful, as always.” You replied rather thankful for the sudden interruption, Kate let out a sigh of relief while offering a shaky smile to Wanda.

Wanda was wearing her scold quite firmly, but this time around there was uncertainty in her eyes, when did Y/N meet Eleanor? Why were they looking so familiar with one another? Why did Wanda even care?! Wanda looked around at you, then Eleanor, and finally Kate who had her right hand wrapped around her forearm, her eyes glistening lightly with a hint of sadness and hurt in them.

“Wh-what…” Wanda started but the words tangled inside her throat when you stepped closer to her, your eyes locking with hers in a single demanding stare.

“Kate asked me to pretend to be happy with you, and I will pretend that you are a decent human being and that I am in love with you.” You said and for the very first time in forever, Wanda could see the cold anger emanating from you, her breathe caught in her throat when you mentioned being in love and pretend. This was turning out to be a strange nightmare and Wanda was not sure how to get out of it.

You continued speaking making sure Wanda could not look away from you, “Kate all but begged me because you were in trouble, she knew this probably was not what you had in mind but she knew, unlike you, that I would try to make it work so you and her could get away with whatever it is you both need.”

Wanda turned to Kate, her heart breaking at the sight of her best friend trying to hold it together. Eleanor stood wearing a half-smile, impressed by the young woman that was talking rather forcefully to Wanda.

“Now, I can go if that’s what you want, Maximoff. But I won’t let you hurt Kate or mistreat me anymore.” You finalized. “I sure as hell don’t know why Kate is so worried about you, last time I met you and your toy boy you seemed to enjoy being treated like nothing.”

“How dare you…? You…” Wanda whistled, stepping closer to you, defiant and letting go of her frustrations only to be stopped by you standing in front of her, closer than was probably necessary.

“Look you are the one needing help, not me. You can continue with the insults, hell even with the slaps and it won't change the fact that you have a fucking huge attitude problem.” You shrugged without being affected by her withering glance. “Kate is only worried about you, and I am doing this because Kate asked me to. Not because of you. If I'm honest, you pretty much deserve this. But, I'm not a bad person so, I came here, ready to pretend but I won’t submit to you or your abuse.”

Wanda opened her eyes in utter disbelief, hurt and even angrier than she was before. But by then she was well-aware of Kate and Eleanor looking at her waiting to see what she would do. Wanda could also see, out of the corner of her eye, that Pietro had arrived with their mother, that he was parking and soon Wanda would need to face Natalya and everyone. 

She just couldn't get a rest. Not a single moment of respite.

You read every single thought and emotion that went through Wanda in those few seconds you two faced one another. With a snort you step back letting out a heavy sigh tilting your head to look at Kate, your eyes softening lightly when they discover how hurt and sad Kate was looking at the moment.

“I told you this wouldn’t work, Kate. Sorry, but I am not about to play this part with someone who clearly despises me and doesn't want me here.”

Then you turned to Wanda once more, the sound of a car approaching making all four of you turn to the entrance to see a black car circling the fountain in the parking courtyard. Wanda gasped clenching her fist closed, her eyes went from you, then to Eleanor and finally to Kate who was looking at her with confusion, hurt and just a tad bit of understanding.

Time seemed to slow down, the world before her eyes twirled in a kaleidoscope of emotions and images she could hardly control. Her ears caught the sound of a parking car, doors getting closed, footsteps approaching; Wanda found herself locking her eyes with yours with her lower lip quivering lightly.

“Wanda, dear, I can't imagine what you are going through.” Eleanor spoke gently, approaching the redhead while placing a single hand on her shoulder, “what I do know is that Natalya won't stop at nothing to ensure you end up with whoever she has chosen for you, and that will make you even more miserable than you are right now.”

Wanda looked away only to find herself facing her best friend, Kate took a tentative step and hugged her.

“I know this is not what you hope for, Wands. But believe me, I wouldn’t have done so if I didn’t think this would work.” Kate whispered, Wanda closed her eyes hugging Kate back before nodding.

“I know.”

Wanda stepped back, her world spinning out of control as she took a step closer to you. Her trembling hand grabbing yours, she was trembling, and her eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions you couldn’t read properly.

“Let’s pretend then.” Wanda stated it as if it was a heavy burden, her green eyes locking with yours.

Wanda froze for a moment; her breath caught in her throat when her nose caught the sweet aroma of your perfume and the smell of your shampoo. Her eyes locked with yours, and for a brief moment, Wanda thought you were going to kiss her, you could see the panic in her eyes so you tried to offer a half smile that didn't quite reach your eyes then you leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Let’s pretend, then.”

Pietro Maximoff had never understood the animosity his mother felt against Wanda and everything his twin sister did in life. It was not a mystery to anyone, Pietro had always been able to practice the sport that he wanted, to take the classes he desired, to get everything he wanted. Whereas Wanda had to work for it, Natalya always made sure it was something she approved or else Wanda would never get it unless their father intervened. Pietro had tried to speak about it with his mother, he had tried to be a bridge between the two women, but all his attempts had been futile and, at some point his father had told Pietro to just give up.

Unfortunately, your mother sees things differently. Do not waste your time trying to change their relationship. Instead, support your sister and never let Wanda get lost in pleasing your mother. Nor lose yourself trying to please her either.

After that conversation Pietro found it easier to be there for his sister while trying to jiggle up the relationship with their mother. Some days were just harder than others.

“Frankly, I do not understand her aversion to going out with Victor.” Pietro had been hearing the same discussion for over a week, her mother continued rambling about Wanda and the perfect life she would have if only she went out with von Doom.

“He is handsome, a gentleman, he has money, and a name, and…”

“...he is an arsehole.” Pietro chimed in grinning, his mother glared at him shaking her head.

“Language.” She scolded Pietro who chuckled while nodding.

“I'm sorry mother, he is a butthole.” He could see his mother holding back a smile, trying to keep her scolding expression.

“Pietro, he is not that bad, and he will be good for your sister.”

Pietro flickered his eyes to his mother; there was a twitch in her eyes and the muscles of her face were tense.

“Mother, Wanda has a partner already, and it wouldn’t kill you to try and be nice with her and her girlfriend.” Pietro held back his emotions, he acted like the protective brother he had always been even though he knew there was no girlfriend and Wanda better come up with a good excuse for this mess.

Natalya pursed her lips crunching up her nose in distaste.

“Yes, the lesbian girlfriend.” Natalya spat the last word with disdain. “We will see how real this girlfriend is, and how well-behaved she is…”

“We need to make sure she is vaccinated as well, and perhaps if she can go potty properly?” Pietro rolled his eyes making sure to drive the car into the Stacy Manor entranceway reaching the parking courtyard in no time. “She is a woman, not a dog, mother.”

“Please, Pietro, not you too. I am only looking out for your sister! I thought you would understand that you of all people would be on my side.” Natalya looked out of the window, her eyes falling on the group standing by the entrance of the Manor.

Pietro parked the car, he turned to his mother, placing a hand on hers.

“Mother, I am on nobody's side.” He stated clearly, his mother pursing her lips. “I will support Wanda with her decisions because she is my sister and I love her. I won't force her or convince her of going out with someone she clearly doesn't like. Now, this is my wedding, can you at least give us this moment without trying to set her up?”

Pietro wanted to say something else, he wanted to tell his mother to stop messing with Wanda’s life. To leave her alone, but he remained silent, his father's words dancing inside his head while the pressure of the oncoming wedding weighed him down a little.

“Very well, Pietro. I will behave.” His mother said rather coldly, “let's go, I believe your sister is dying to introduce me to her girlfriend.”

*****

The courtyard lights lit up one by one, igniting the porch with clear yellowish light.

As the night descend upon the neighbour, the temperature dropped with a gust of wind messing around with clothing and hair of the people still standing by the stairs leading to the main entrance. The afternoon had changed into a terse night, and the subtle changes were quite evident to you by the way Wanda straightened up, her green eyes losing all glimpse of fire giving way to a cold detachment you were not familiar with.

It wasn’t as if you knew her too well, you had seen Wanda angry, upset, confused, irritated, lost and some more angry. You could tell there was a fire in her that would be amazing to be a part of without getting burn, and you could tell by how loyal Bishop was that Wanda was a really good friend. A good person.

Which is why you were confused, now more than ever, to see her so weak. So meek. You had seen her at her worst, what happened on Halloween was something you found yourself thinking it was disgusting, before going through pity for the young woman, and finally wondering how someone as smart and beautiful as Wanda could be in such a dire situation with an arsehole.

Now you knew why.

Natalya Maximoff was a woman in her late fifties, that exuded power and money with her gestures, her clothes and her words. It was quite evident in the way she looked physically that she was Wanda’s mother, but their likeness ended in the physical appearance. Unlike Wanda, Natalya was a cold, calculating woman, and she had little to no sympathy for her daughter or those she deemed inferior to her and her family.

And, by the way she was looking at you, Natalya Maximoff had already formed a judgement against you. By the time you turned to Wand, your eyes crossed with those of Kate who had a frown in place, you pressed your lips together turning to the redhead, watching her reaction.

Wanda stood completely rigid with the tension pulling back on the skin around her eyes and lips, her eyes were dulled with just a hint of tiredness and submission, something you were not familiar with. It was quite evident by the way she was standing and grabbing her left forearm with her right arm that she would prefer to be anywhere but there.

Once more, Wanda found herself standing at the edge of a cliff in which everything she thought was her perfect life was crumbling down her perfect life was crumbling down right in front of her eyes threatening to take her down without giving her a chance to be happy. Wanda hated the situation she found herself in, she hated the fact she had no control over what she could do, and what was expected of her. She was at the mercy of everyone, forced to submit herself to their whims to try and just…

…she didn't even know it anymore.

Natalya Maximoff approached the entrance stairs with her eyes hardened as she inspected you from her to toe before turning to Wanda. The woman squinted her eyes, pursing her lips while raising a brow.

“Today was going to be a semi-formal dinner, Wanda. I told you to wear something proper for the occasion.” Natalya stated lifting her chin, Wanda held back his expression.

“Good afternoon to you to, mother.” She said softly, her hand tightening on her forearm. “I was at work; I didn’t have a chance to change.”

“I think she looks cute.” You commented stepping closer to Wanda, the young woman opened her eyes slightly while her cheeks burned under the sudden proximity of your face to hers, you offered a wink putting a stray of red hair behind her ear. “She looks all businesslike without being unnecessary fancy.”

Then you turned to face the woman who was looking even less impressed than before, you offered a half-smile stretching your hand to her.

“You must be the mother, Mrs. Maximoff, right?”

The tension was quite palpable, you could teel the woman held a defiant glint that was not about to give under your own stare. The woman returned your smile, though hers was colder, calculating.

“Ah, this must be the girlfriend,” Natalya delivered each word with surgical precision, her eyes slightly opened with a glint of intelligence that actually made you smile. The woman lifted a brow before centring her attention on Wanda who seemed frozen in place. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Wanda?”

“You must be the mother, Mrs. Maximoff, right?” You didn’t give Wanda time to answer, stepping forward your hand stretched out. “I’m Y/N, the girlfriend, pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Maximoff.”

Pietro chortled, putting hand on his mouth to cover his laughter, Natalya lifted her other brow and her lips twitched. She grabbed your hand with the same care, and reluctance as one would do when picking up a dirty napkin. Kate opened her eyes, while Eleanor was smirking at the audacity of this newcomer who really didn’t know Natalya at all. Wanda was just about ready to bolt, or throw up, she hadn’t decided yet.

“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same, I have always had high hopes for Wanda to choose her partners properly,” Nataly pursed her lips trying to walk past you, but you stepped in her way never losing your smile, “but I guess you will do. For now.”

Your eyebrows went up, and then you started laughing, shaking your head, surprising not only Natalya but everyone else. You winked at the older woman, tilting your head before turning to Wanda making sure your eyes locked with those green pupils that were a storm of fears and uncertainties at the moment.

“I can see where Wanda got her wit, her intelligence, and her looks…” You said grabbing Wanda’s hand in a gentle gesture, Wanda was tempted to pull away but she knew her mother was glancing their every movement. Then, you turned back to Natalya, never losing your smile though your eyes hardened, “…from her father, Mr. Lerhnsherr. You don’t seem to have a good sense of humour, Mrs. Maximoff.”

Wanda opened her mouth, her eyes opening wide while Pietro put a hand on his mouth and Kate put her hand on her forehead. It was Eleanor the one who saved the day by stepping closer, laughing lightly, her hand placing firmly on Natalya’s arm, squeezing lightly in a silent warning to the older woman.

“She sure has fire in her, smart, witty, and certainly not afraid of you, Natalya. The perfect partner for your daughter.” Eleanor winked at you before giving a quick warning to Wanda that, up until that point had been silent.

“Mother, this is Y/N.” Wanda offered a tiny smile, but everything in her posture and expression seemed rehearsed, and even if she was trying to sound chirp her voice remained taut.

It took you but a second, but you stood by Wanda’s sight intertwining your hand with hers and giving her a comforting squeeze. Kate was standing away from the group, at that moment she couldn’t determine if her actions would turn out in something positive; everything was so uncertain Kate could only hope.

Eleanor started talking with Natalya guiding the other woman inside the house while Pietro started laughing high-fiving Y/N before giving her a huge hug and talking animatedly with her. Wanda was still standing, trembling under the cold wind of the afternoon; Kate stepped closer to her timidly typing on her shoulder.

“Peny for your thoughts?” Kate winced when Wanda turned to her with a hint of anger and tiredness in her eyes. “Wanda…”

“I hope this really works.” Her voice trembled by the end; she shook her head and was about to leave when a hand wrapped around hers.

Wanda turned sharply only to find herself a breath away from you.

“Look, I don’t like this any more than you, but…” You trailed off pressing your lips together before shrugging, “…let me help. I promise I will be in my best behaviour.”

“That means no munchies or inappropriate touching with my sister.” Pietro wagged his finger teasingly; you snorted rolling your eyes while Wanda looked almost panicked at the idea.

Kate stepped forward, “no funny business, we swear, Wands. It’s just…”

“I mean, you will have to kiss me, eventually.” You said putting a hand on your chin thoughtfully, “or else…”

“Yes, it can’t be that convincing.” Pietro agreed laughing when Wanda was looking really out of place trying to speak.

“N-no..ye-no! I what? Kiss?”

Kate shot you and Pietro a warning glare, she wrapped her arms around Wanda trying to calm her down while Wanda closed her eyes feeling a headache coming over.

“Wands, please…it’s only for a couple of days, but if you want we can finish this right now.” Kate whispered, stepping back.

“I am not…I…” Wanda finally dared to look at you, understanding crossing her eyes while her heart skipped a beat at the sight of your carefree smile.

“Mate, the way you dealt with mother…I have never seen anyone come at her the way you did.” Pietro finally said, patting your back, “that was amazing. I love my mother, but she can be…”

“Intense?” You helped him out when he trailed off, he smiled sheepishly.

“A nightmare.” Pietro lifted his hands when Wanda glared at him. “You know it’s true. And she is especially vicious to you, so at least I know Y/N won’t let her get to you while we are in the celebrations of my wedding.”

Wanda put a hand on her face; she tried to get her thoughts organized to find a solution to her problems. But all she found was darkness, and emptiness. A sudden wave of warmness engulfed her back and arms, she lowered her hand finding herself in front of you once more, your white shirt and black tie completely visible, while your black jacket rested on Wanda’s shoulders.

“Nothing will happen that you won’t allow me to do, Maximoff.” You stated sharply, “I am here as a favour to Kate, so we can play the part, or I can leave.”

“I already told you, didn’t I?” Wanda clenched her jaw; she took a deep breath grabbing your hands in her dragging you inside the house. “Let’s pretend.”

The moment your feet touched the inside of the house you knew you were entering a different world.

Everything inside the Stacy Manor was out of this world. It wasn’t so much that everything looked expensive, but that everything seemed to hold onto a piece of history and tradition you had only seen in movies or magazines.

Hell, even Stark's house held a corner in which you could tell half the stuff in there was inherited instead of bought.

“Close your mouth, it's as if you have never been to a house before.” Wanda whispered beside you, rolling her eyes when you distracted yourself with the wooden model of a spider that had strange markings on it.

“Oh, sorry, Maximoff, but this is the first time I entered a house where half the stuff seemed to be trophies from the colonies.” You whispered back pointing to a large mask with tribal designs decorated with red and black wood. “That looks like a traditional Maasai Mask! A real one!”

“How do you know…?” Wanda started shaking her head letting go of your hand to gesture with her hands. 

“I know my history! Well, history! Look at that! Is that a museum tag?” You crossed the hall to glance at the metal tag under the mask. “See? Maasai.”

“Stop acting like…” Wanda trailed off pressing her lips together, you smirked at her.

“Like I have never seen a real one outside of a museum? I haven't. I was raised by wolves.” You snorted walking towards Wanda. “Flash news, Maximoff, I have only seen them in a museum not a house.”

Wanda snorted, turning towards the hall leading to the backyard.

“Well hopefully you have seen cutlery and plates outside of a museum and you show some manners during dinner.” Wanda remarked, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness matched by an exaggerated terse smile.

You feigned a posh laughter, rolling your eyes at her, “Oh, my sweet, precious, and quite adorable Wanda Bear, I was raised by wolves but educated by humans, so I learnt how to use the silver spoons.”

“What a sweet deal Kate got me, bad puns, and pure sarcasm for a girlfriend.” Wanda scoffed trying to move past the main hall towards the entrance leading.

“Hey! I am a sweet deal! You just don’t know how to appreciate me without a couple of drinks on and…” You trailed off lifting your hands in the air, never losing your smile, you stepped closer to Wanda who was shaking a little, one foot taking her back and away from you. “No slaps, Maximoff, we're supposed to be dating not fighting.”

“I’m not going to…I’m… GOD, you are so infuriating!”

You softened slightly watching as Wanda tried to storm off towards the closest hall, but unable to do so knowing they were being expected to make an entrance together. She stopped trembling before turning her sharp, irritated stare towards you.

“Are you coming, Dear?”

“I wish.” You laughed when Wanda opened her mouth, a light blush forming on her cheeks at the obvious innuendo in your comment. “Oh, come on, loosen up, Punkin.”

“Call me that again, and you may have an accidental fall.”

You stood right in front of Wanda surprising her and you at how daring, and how close you decided to stand to her. You could see her green eyes opened wide, her lips quivering a little and whatever weight she had been carrying in the last couple of hours was suddenly back on her stare.

“Come on, Pumpkin,” You smirked at her, Wanda narrowed her eyes grunting annoyedly, “I bet your mother and the rest of your friends are waiting for us.”

Everything Wanda had forgotten for a few minutes while talking and arguing with you came back. She closed her eyes for a moment; her breath caught on her throat when she felt your left arm hooking up with her right arm. When she turned to face you, all she could see was a real smile. Not the infuriating smirk you usually wore when addressing her, or the annoyed one you got whenever you two discuss anything at work.

It was different.

It made her heart flutter lightly; thus, it scared her a little.

“Let go.” Wanda whispered frowning, she tried to pull away but you held her firmly.

“Nu-uh, Wanda Bear, love of my life, Rose to my Jack, remember we need to pretend…” Wanda narrowed her eyes at you pressing her lips together, your winked at her. “Come on, I promise I will behave this time around…”

“God, I hate you.” Wanda all but mumbled grabbing you tightly by the arm, you laughed shrugging.

“Hate you too.”

In all that time, not even once did Wanda nor Y/N noticed the two people watching the interaction from afar. Kate couldn’t shake the frown off of her face, while Pietro was grinning widely with his arms crossed over his chest; there was something there the interaction was so volatile that all bets were on either Wanda killing Y/N, or Y/N actually breaking into Wanda’s stubborn emotional blockage and…

Well, Pietro was not sure. Yet.

“So, this was your idea?” Pietro finally asked, turning to Kate who winced sheepishly.

“Yeah, I am starting to wonder if this was the wisest one…”

“Well, in hindsight they are acting like an old, married couple so…kudos to you?” Pietro wrapped his arm around Kate’s shoulders, the young woman giggled nodding.

“They are, aren’t they?” Kate turned to Pietro chewing on her lower lip, “do you think this was a good idea? I mean, you remember what happened last year on Halloween, and well with your mother and that idiot still bothering her…”

Pietro nodded gravelly looking around the room before turning to Kate.

“I don’t think we will actually know if it is a good idea or not until…well, later.” Pietro let out a heavy sigh. “She is not looking good, you know? I could see the bags and the cloud of pure misery around her.”

“It has been difficult.” Kate mumbled, shrugging, “but you know I’ve been keeping an eye on her.”

“Thank you, Kate.” Pietro nodded, giving away a half-smile. “Come we better join the others; I don’t want to give mother enough time to bother Wanda or Y/N too much.”

*****

The backyard in the Manor had been decorated with a round table that would host 25 guests; your eyebrows went up at the sight of the yard heaters surrounding the set-up alongside the lights illuminating the place to make everything comfortable and quite lively for everyone.

You held Wanda’s arm in yours comfortingly, the moment the both of you stepped into the backyard all eyes were on you. Wanda tensed up, her eyes sweeping around the yard before they found Jessica alone talking to Pietro’s best man. You glanced at Wanda out of the corner of your eyes, hearing the sigh of pure relief that left her lips, the tension leaving her body for a moment.

“Wanda!”

Gwen Stacy wrapped her arms around Wanda, her smile brightening her face up. Wanda relaxed into the embrace, missing the warm on her right arm after you let go to step aside. Gwen stepped back beaming at Wanda before turning to you, her smile never faltered but her eyes squinted with her brows lifting a fraction.

“You are…I remembered you. You were with us at the school meeting and the bar!” Gwen exclaimed turning to you then to Wanda, for a fraction of a second of both you tensed waiting for Gwen to mention Sersi or the slapping incident back at the club. Gwen however went to you hugging you tightly.

“Oh, I can't believe Wanda has someone as cute as you!” 

You chuckled, sighing in relief. “What can I say? It's me who is lucky.”

You locked eyes with Wanda who held herself back from any negative reaction before approaching the both of you.

“Gwen, this is Y/N.” Wanda hesitated before mumbling the next part, “she is my girlfriend.”

You snickered, winking at Gwen, “someday soon I hope she can say that without looking so pained.”

Gwen giggled mock scolding at Wanda.

“Wanda, that's not nice.” You wiggled your eyebrows to the redhead, before turning back to Gwen. 

“Well, Y/N I'm glad you could make it in such a short notice. We were surprised that Wands here did have a date and, oh God, I'm sorry we tried to pair her up with Victor, and that…”

You kind of disconnected for a moment, though Gwen was holding your hand babbling away until a black-haired girl approached you smiling. Wanda stirred on her spot, and you could see those eyes glancing around anxiously before she grabbed her mobile and started typing. 

“Gwen, let the poor woman go.” Jessica came to you stretching her band for you to take, she was looking at you with a hint of curiosity and something else you couldn’t pinpoint at the moment.

“I'm Jessica and I'm so happy to finally meet you.”

“Happy to finally meet Pumpkin's friends.”

You laughed whereas Gwen and Jessica giggled at the look of pure horror that crossed Wanda’s face at the nickname.

“Oh, Pumpkin, don’t look so horrified. You know you like it, you never complain.” You said winking at Wanda who narrowed her eyes at you, you turned to the other women. “Of course, it is kinda hard to complain when you ufffgh…”

“Dear, sweetie, if you finish that sentence, you will be in the doghouse for a year.” The fake sweetness didn't go amiss to you, but it seemed for Gwen and Jessica it was part of the couple's banter they had never seen Wanda act out.

You chuckled, placing a kiss on Wanda’s cheek, the young woman tensed her breath caught on her throat.

“Sorry, Wands, it's just you make it easy to mess with you.”

You winced when Gwen squealed, putting a hand to her mouth, the sheer happiness in her friends’ faces was enough to put Wanda at ease. In that moment Wanda could see how honest they were in their reactions; how happy they were to see Wanda had finally brought someone to their meetings. For a brief moment her heart stopped twisting painfully in her chest knowing she wasn’t only lying to them, she was also living a lie. She had been living a lie for so long, she actually didn’t remember the time in which she allowed herself to be free. To meet other people. To let others get close to her, to let herself love and be loved.

“Hey, you okay?” You whispered furrowing your brows, Wanda blinked a couple of times noticing they were alone with Gwen greeting Pietro and Jessica now engaged in a hug and conversation with Kate.

“You don’t need to pretend all the time, Y/N.” Wanda replied, stepping back, looking everywhere but at you.

“I’m not pretending, Maximoff, you were just…” You trailed off shrugging, “never mind, come let’s join the others and get this night over with.”

Diner itself was quite uneventful.

You couldn’t help the surprised in your facial expressions whenever they brought food, or people around the table started talking about the wedding itself. In all this time, you could feel Natalya’s eyes on you, while Wanda seemed to be in another world always focused on her phone with frustration and sadness coming out of her whenever she grabbed her mobile.  You tried to play the part, crossing stares with Kate, you sneaked your hand around a couple of times only to have Wanda tensed squeezed you tightly before letting go and going back to her phone.

At some point it was getting frustrating, and you decided to stop trying.

In all that time, Gwen also made sure you were included in the conversation and the introductions. You got to meet every single member of the wedding entourage, all but one. Jessica offered an apologetic smile pointing to the empty spot by her right side.

“Jarvis is working, right now he got a good deal and has to entertain his clients. I am dying for you to meet him.” Jessica said beaming, “I know he will be happy to know Wanda is finally dating with someone, he has been worried about her.”

You held back your face’s response, grabbing the glass of wine and drinking some before speaking.

“Has he? Why is that?” Your question came lightly, and Jessica giggled putting a hand on your forearm.

“Oh, they have been best friends since high school, and since all of us are getting married and she has never brought a boyfriend…” Jessica opened her eyes wide in panic. “Or...or girlfriend. I mean, we never thought…”

“It’s okay, she told me you guys didn’t know about me. Or her preferences.” You eased the other woman; Wanda dropped her phone furrowing her brows noticing for the first time you were speaking with Jessica.

“Did I miss something?” She asked grabbing her wine, Jessica shook her head leaving the fork on the table.

“Oh, not really, I was telling Y/N that my Jarvis is working, and that he has been worried about you and that you two have been best friends since high school.”

Jessica turned to the other side to answer a question, and you have enough time to see Wanda’s eyes twitching, her brows knitting together. You snorted lifting a brow.

“I remembered him.” You all but whispered to her. “He is the arsehole from last year. So, best friends?”

Wanda turned sharply to you, her body trembling lightly only to have her heart dropped at the sight of your serious face. There was a hint of knowledge and understanding she hated seeing reflected in your eyes, in the way you spoke to her.

“You better start acting better, Wands, your mother has not stop looking at us through the dinner.” It was all you said, hesitating before leaning in and kissing her cheek. “You should leave the phone alone.”

Wanda tightened her hold on her phone, you merely offered a tiny smile leaned back and turned your attention to Gwen who was speaking excitedly.

“Oh, Y/N since you will be in the wedding entourage, well…I am not sure of your preferences, but I guess you will look so pretty in the tuxedo Pietro chose for his groomsmen.” Gwen was bouncing on the chair; you chuckled leaning back.

“Oh, she will look just fine.” Kate said earning a glare from Wanda, while Pietro wiggled his brows at you.

“What do you say, Wands? Will your sweet pumpkin look hot in a tuxedo?” Pietro leaned in, Kate hid her smiled behind her glass of water while Wand looked as a deer caught in the headlights when all eyes turned to her.

“She will look…” Here Wanda trailed off turning to you squinting her eyes, and you knew right there and then that the young woman was trying to imagine you in a tuxedo. Her cheeks dusted pink, she cleared her throat offering a shaking smile to the table.

“She would look nice.” Then as an afterthought, “I am afraid if I said she will look hot I would not hear the end of it afterwards.”

You couldn’t help the grin on your face, dipping your head you puffed out your chest.

“I would look hot, did you hear her?”

The table erupted in laughter while Wanda covered her face and you poked her playfully, everything seemed to be lightened up when Natalya cleared her throat setting her eyes on Wanda.

“A tuxedo on a woman that likes women, how original.” Everyone shifted, Gwen opened her mouth to say something when Natalya spoke once more. “I will expect you have the money to pay such an attire, or is Wanda going to cover the expenses?”

“Mother!” Wanda exclaimed glaring at Natalya. “She is perfectly capable of buying her own stuff, and even if that was not the case, what would be the problem if I gift her the clothes?”

Wanda was trembling, hating the fact everyone was now in the middle of a very old and usually powerplay between herself and her mother. Nataly shrugged, her cold eyes turning to you then to Wanda.

“I worry for you, Wanda. It is clearly your companion may need extra help to fit in.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Mrs. Maximoff. I have my own money, and getting this won’t be an issue.” You commented trying to grab Wanda’s hand in yours, but at that moment Wanda’s mobile vibrated and she went to her phone right away.

This gesture didn’t go amiss by the older woman, who narrowed her eyes at you and Wanda.

“Very well, I am just concern.” Natalya stated leaning back.

“I understand, Mrs Maximoff. But there is no need.” Before you could add something else Eleanor asked Gwen something related to the wedding and soon the tension broke and everyone was back, once more, into the topic that reunited them that night.

It didn’t go amiss to Natalya that Wanda was, once more focused on her phone while whispering harshly at you who would just back off and tried to engage in the conversation happening around the table. You went into the conversation quite easily, and at some point Wanda couldn’t help but shot you a quick exasperated stare at how you just engage with everyone while also trying to keep with the act of being her girlfriend. For Wanda it was proving to be quite difficult, more so since she had Jarvis writing nonstop demanding her to leave the dinner and meet with him.

Meanwhile, Gwen and Pietro were quite excited about the final arrangements and the schedule of the dinner, the rehearsal and the actual wedding. The table soon erupted in multiple conversations and you were left, for a brief moment, alone beside Wanda who had been as distant and as upset as she had been as of late in the office.

All in all, you could say that dinner had not been as bad as you thought it would turn out to be, and everyone seemed to have bought the girlfriend act. Everyone but one person, the same one that had her eyes on you and was waiting for the right time. You pretended to not notice, you glance around looking for salvation, you even dared to try and engage Wanda in conversation only to have the redhead dismissed you unaware of what was about to happen.

*****

Nothing could go wrong. This was the thought dancing around Wanda’s head when she decided to pretend. She could get through the night pretending.

Right?

Well, the night was turning out to be normal.

The first thing Wanda noticed was the lack of Jarvis. According to Jessica, he was attending an important business dinner with some foreign client; according to Wanda and the constant influx of messages, he was waiting for her to meet him at the same hotel.

Wanda was not supposed to have him on her phone; she had promised Kate she would block him and end this situation once and for all. But Wanda couldn't do it, and at that moment Jarvis was bombarding her with messages and promises, with the same words he had wiggled his way into her heart to get her to rush to him, consequences be damned.

Wanda felt the weight of the mobile on her hand and her pocket all through the dinner. The vibrations announcing a new message only increased her heartrate, it made her feel dizzy and nauseous detached from what was happening during the dinner while also hyper aware of her mother looking at her and her interaction with her fake girlfriend.

“If you continue like this, you will either faint or throw up. I’m not pretty sure the contract I signed for this covers medical or damage expenses.” You leaned in whispering to Wanda while pretending to fix a lock of hair and while to everyone it seemed a simple gesture, but for Wanda it was another task she needed to check in the long list of obligations in her life.

“You signed a contract?” Wanda shook her head, you chuckled nodding.

“Bishop was very thorough.” You continued evading Wanda’s eyes while focusing on her pale skin, the sweaty hands, and the mobile she had not been able to let go off since they sat at the table.

“So it seems.” Wanda couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice, her posture tense while she tightened her hold on her phone.

You rested your cheek on your right hand, your elbow resting comfortingly on the table while you shot Wanda a calculating stare. How could someone so smart and beautiful look so miserable? Wanda felt the weight of your stare on her, shifting slightly and she turned to you annoyed.

“What?”  

You smirked, “tsk, Pumpkin is that a way to talk to the love of your life?”

“God, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Wanda finally said, letting out a tired sigh. “You’re loving the fact I can’t slap you and do anything about this!”

“Pumpkin,” You laughed when Wanda threw a napkin at you glaring annoyed, “you really should loosen up. You really are missing the point and asking all the wrong questions.”

Wanda scoffed, letting her phone on the table to cross her arms, lifting a single brow she pursed her lips.

“So, according to you, what should I be asking?”

Before you could answer you saw the lone figure of Natalya Maximoff approaching the both of you, the woman’s stride exuded power with her eyes cold and calculating she made sure Wanda was pinned to the chair with her body completely tense. The more you observe the dynamics of mother and daughter, the more you remember the dynamic you discovered last Halloween between Wanda and whatever the guy was to her.

“A lover’s quarrel? And it has not been more than an hour since we met.” Natalya stood in front of you, pursing her lips while inspecting you with her green eyes.

“Mother…” Wanda clamped her mouth shut when Natalya lifted a hand, you raised a brow at the gesture.

“Gonna teach me that?” You winced when Wanda looked daggers at you, “sorry bad joke.”

“It seems you have many of them.” The woman put a chair closer sitting down while crossing her legs, you straightened up well-aware the woman had not taken her eyes off of you and Wanda since you made your appearance.

“Oh, Wanda has me on a leash, you know? Tell me to better hold my tongue so I will make a good impression.”

“You should hear my daughter more often, regardless of her lack of judgement and desire to be better,” Here Natalya turned to Wanda, “she does know and understands how our world works. What we want.”

The backyard filled with the sound of muffled conversations happening all around the dining table, whatever warm and cosy atmosphere you had experienced during dinner was long gone and there was a dark cloud hanging above your head. Natalya smiled with her eyes pinning her daughter, all her attention on the young woman that seemed to give her one disappointment after the other.

“Are you ready to give up, Wanda?” Your brows lifted up, Wanda clenched her jaw lifting her chin towards her mother who narrowed her eyes. “If you could only put this much energy and effort in getting a good man to keep you, and not being a constant disappointment to me, I will be assured that I didn’t fail you by allowing you to destroy your life.”

The woman’s voice held a hint of irritation, but there was mostly anger and disappointment meant to make Wanda feel small. The young woman sat frozen in place, her lower lip quivering while trying to come up with the right words, perhaps with the right retort to what her mother was trying to say.

“You are going to stop this charade, you will pay this woman whatever money you promise, and you will get ready to go with Victor…” Natalya stated slowly, dangerously low towering on Wanda without standing up. “To think you dare to bring her to your brother’s dinner, Wanda, this is getting ridiculous.”

“I think that’s enough.” You said leaning over putting your elbows on your knees cocking your head to make sure the woman couldn’t look away from you after the sudden interruption.

Natalya didn’t look impressed, if anything, she looked even angrier and annoyed. Her attention went back to you, waving her hand with a flourishing gesture.

“Your services will no longer be required; I will pay you double if you leave right now.” Each word was emphasized with a commanding tone that made Wanda winced, you could see the panic in Wanda’s eyes and the tension around you grew while the conversation around the table seemed to increase in volume.

Natalya lifted a brow at you, impatient she opened her mouth to say something else and this time around it was you lifting your hand, open palm, in a gesture meant to stop and shut the older woman up.

“I said that’s enough.” You lifted your chin, your eyes hardening as they focused on the older woman in front of you. “I don’t know why or how you can come to such a conclusion, Mrs. Maximoff, but let me clarify some things to you.”

The older woman hesitated for a fraction of a second, then as soon as the anger and annoyance had shown on her face, it transformed into something else. More dangerous and calculating, Wanda had been alternating her attention between you and her mother, her heart almost giving up while she couldn’t get a grasp of her bodily functions, her thoughts going to dark places just as she clenched her fists trying to control her breathing. 

“Please, clarify these things you speak of.” The older woman spoke slowly, with each of her words measured with the right voice influx to denote her scepticism about you and your role in her daughter’s life. 

“You can’t afford me.” You stated simply going back to put your elbows on your knees offering a half-smile to Natalya. “You really do not have enough money to get me to breakup with Wanda, or to leave her here, alone, with you. There is not a price you can pay me to make me do that.”

Wanda opened her eyes wide, this time around her attention went back to you with her lower lip quivering lightly. 

“Believe me, there is nothing you can offer me that can get me away from her.”

You never turned to look at Wanda, but Natalya had a good glimpse at her reaction and yours- She could see the utter disbelief in Wanda’s face, the relief and then something else, something strange she had never seen in Wanda before. Then, there was you. There was conviction behind your actions and your words, you held Natalya’s stare while holding onto Wanda’s hand in a protective gesture. The older woman was confused, but a part of her had not given into believing this girlfriend and this sudden relationship was nothing more than a setup.

This time around you straightened up grabbing Wanda’s left hand in yours, at first you could sense the tension in Wanda’s hand, the intake of breath while the young woman refrained herself from flinching away from your touch. You offered a gentle smile, then turned back to Natalya who was analysing your interaction with Wanda. 

“Y/N–” Wanda started with her voice trembling, her eyes fluttering close while her body tensed up under the sudden warmth of your body against hers. 

You stood up beside her passing your arm in a protective gesture, but then you knew Kate and Pietro and apparently everyone in the room were looking at you three waiting for whatever it was happening to just explode.

“I was afraid of this.” You said firmly, you didn’t need to speak loudly to make sure everyone was listening to you. “Of coming over and having my intentions with Wanda questioned.”

“So, you were not paid to pretend to be her girlfriend?” Natalya let out an exaggerated sigh standing up, her frame far taller and more intimidating than yours. “My daughter has never shown any interest in women, at least, not in the sexual way. You are telling me all of a sudden she changed her mind?”

“Mother, I can…” Wanda started her voice shaken while she tried to make a gesture with her hands, to make an explanation to her mother’s accurate assumptions. 

You were not sure why you did what you did.

It could be the fact the older woman was looking at her daughter like no mother should, or that you could feel Wanda trembling under your hands or how her voice broke and it was so foreign to you because you were used to her fire and her wit, and she was looking just so meek and miserable. 

You kneeled in front of Wanda, grabbing her hand in yours with your thumb drawing circles on the back of her hand in a slow, soothing motion. Your eyes locked with hers, and while you could see she was utterly confused and panicking, you could also see the glint of helplessness in there. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to let you bring me into your life, I am so sorry, Love.” you softened your features kissing Wanda’s knuckles. “I promise you it will never happen again, I just…wanted to make you happy and now I understand.”

There was no reason for you to explain exactly what you understood of the situation, Wanda could read it in your face and your gestures and your words. Her heart twisted painfully inside her chest, and soon she just sat there, her eyes fluttering closed when her lips found yours in a single, quite innocent peck. 

“I asked Wanda to keep our relationship a secret because I didn’t want anyone thinking I was with her for the money, the name or the position.” Every word leaving your mouth was measured and well-thought of you never left Wanda’s hand and even in that position you made sure Natalya Maximoff had not a single doubt that there was something going on between you and her daughter.

“I am no one.”

“Y/N…” Wanda spoke without thinking, she squeezed your hand furrowing her brows but you just smiled gently.

“I am.” You chuckled. “My last name is as common as they come, and I do not have a family history, nor do I have paraphernalia from the colonies in my living room.”

Here Wanda couldn’t help but roll her eyes letting out a breathy laugh, you winked at her kissing her hand once more.

“I am just smart. I have a good job. And I care for Wanda.” You stepped forward, your shoulders back and head tilted defiantly. “I really don’t care what you think of me, but you won’t be talking to Wanda the way you just did, you are not going to continue setting her up with some arsehole just because you think it is the proper thing, we are in the middle of the Twenty-First century, Mrs. Maximoff, not the Middle Ages, so you better back off.”

The room stood frozen in time.

Gwen and Jessica interchanged stares, while Kate had hers wide open with a hand on her mouth and Pietro was looking torn between being mad at you for treating his mother that way and being proud at you for standing up to his mother and protecting Wanda in that way. Wanda from her part was just awestruck, your words, your protectiveness…her heart fluttered strangely when you helped her up from the chair. 

“Gwen, it was a pleasure to meet you, I do apologize for my behaviour right now.” You said glancing at the blond-haired woman who was just nodding shocked. “I promised you I will be on my best behaviour next time, now if you excused us, I would like to make sure my GIRLFRIEND has a good night.”

You announced making a good emphasis on the word girlfriend, Wanda didn’t even hesitate to take your hand to help her up from the chair. It took her a moment, but Wanda finally composed herself, straightened herself up while intertwining her hand with yours, making you break the facade with the surprise that showed on your face.

“Mother, I don’t want to fight with you, I don't want to make this about me or my relationship.” Wanda was trying to make her mother understand, she found herself looking into her mother's eyes trying to find the same affection and understanding Natalya showed Pietro whenever he wanted to follow his heart.

But there was nothing there, not a single glimpse of understanding or love. Just reproach, annoyance and disappointment.

Natalya nodded briefly, well aware that all the presents were now waiting for her to give her verdict on the situation. The older woman turned to you, her lips curling slightly though you could read the scepticism in her, the calculation of something she wasn't speaking of yet. Without too much effort, Natalya stood up putting two fingers under her daughter’s chin and lifted her face.

“Wanda, stop slouching and don't cry, dear, what I did, I did it out of love for your well-being. I wouldn't want anyone taking advantage of your innocence and naivety.” Natalya spoke slowly, as if talking to a child. “I hope you know what you are doing. Make sure she is well-dressed for the wedding.” 

“Don't worry, Mrs. Maximoff, I will make sure to be well-trained for the event.” You replied cheekily, Natalya narrowed her eyes at Pietro who was laughing and soon the tension broke and conversation was back. 

You stood beside Wanda watching Natalya join Eleanor who was shaking her head pursing her lips to her friend. 

“Thank you.” Wanda whispered, her voice shaking a little.

“You want to leave?” You asked her, seeing the young woman seemed to be shaken up.

“I came with Kate, and…” Wanda trailed off when she found herself looking at you.

“I am offering, Wands, do you wanna go?” 

Wanda offered a crooked smile, “yes.”

Wanda was saying goodbye to Pietro and Gwen while you went to Kate. The young woman had her face in a rictus of faux smiles, trying to pretend everything was alright but wanting to smack you and hug you at the same time.

“Hey, don't worry, I promise to behave and take her home.” You said chuckling when Kate made a sound at the back of her throat before slapping your arm playfully.

“God! You are taking advantage that I can't say much without being too obvious.” Kate crossed her arms, pouting.

“God! You rich pampered women are impossible.”

You snickered when Kate poked you playfully on your abdomen before wrapping her arms around you.

“Take care of her?”

“Yeah, I'm taking her home, no naughty business.”

“As if, Wanda will smack you.”

“That doesn't sound so bad.”

“Are you two quite done?” Kate jumped back waving her hands around with her cheeks taking into a nice shade of red.

“Wanda! You…we…”

You rolled your eyes patting Kate on the back before drawing soothing circles like one would do to a baby. 

“Okay, Bishop, no need to get your knickers in a twitch.”  

Wanda huffed, crossing her arms, “can we go?”

There were eyes on them, people around had started talking, and while Natalya Maximoff was still doubting the veracity of their relationship, she couldn't afford to make a mistake while approaching this topic. 

Natalya would need a new strategy.

“Sure Pumpkin,” you smirked when Wanda’s left eye twitched.

The car drive was done in silence.

There was no music, and the streets of London soon brought the noise of the nomal life in one of the busiest cities in the world. It was a cold night, with not a single cloud in the sky but with a cold wind announcing the oncoming winter. The tension inside your vehicle was strange, to say the least. There was a white elephant hanging around, but Wanda refused to acknowledge it, and you were too tired to even pay it any mind.

The sound of an object vibrating made your eyes flickered to Wanda’s lap. The young woman hesitated before grabbing her mobile, unlocking it and reading the message there. Her hand trembled, her lips parted, exhaling some air before she placed her hand on her eyes.

You pressed your lips together with a frown in place, your hands grabbing the wheel turning the car to the street leading to Wanda’s and Kate's flat.

“Are you okay?” You finally asked, trying to sound casual.

Wanda was looking out of the window, the phone forgotten on her lap. She remained silent, and for a moment you thought she would not answer but then her voice filled the car and you were left confused.

“Thank you for what you did today.” Her voice was shaken; it was barely a whisper. “You were not the person I was waiting for, but even after how I behaved with you…you helped me today. So, thank you, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows went up while your lips twitched lightly. You cleared your throat looking out of the corner of your eye to the young woman sitting beside you, but she was firmly focused on the landscape outside your car window.

“I have to ask, are you alright?” 

This time around Wanda snorted turning to you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She opened her mouth, then closed it again chewing on her lower lip while wiggling her hands.

“My relationship with my mother is complicated.” Every word came with a memory, tiredness marking her narration without facing you but glancing into the empty space in front of her.

“She can be difficult, but I guess she means well.”

“The fact that you call her mother tells me just how complicated the relationship is.” You pursed your lips shaking your head. “And the fake girlfriend trope…”

“There is this guy, Victor Von Doom.” Wanda nodded, noticing your expression of surprise and recognition of the name. “I see that you've heard of him.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, he is trying to get into business with my dad and Uncle Charles.” Wanda closed her eyes leaning back on the chair. “Mother dreams of me being married, tied to a man that can tame my unruly nature to make me into a proper society lady.”

“Of which century?”

That earned you a small smile, Wanda shrugged.

“Preferable with a man of her choice.” Wanda finished chuckling at the face of pure horror you had on. 

“You rich people and your archaic ways.” You parked the car in front of Wanda’s building, turning to face the young woman you couldn't help the teasing glint in your eyes or the half-smile on your face, “You know? This is the first time we have had a real conversation since last year?”

Wanda stiffened, her lips tight into a grimace. You leaned back on the car seat tapping the wheel, while ignoring the fact Wanda’s phone was vibrating once more.

“You can't even fathom what you did that day, what you destroyed.” There was no bite behind her words, only tiredness and uncertainty.

People walked past their car, the security guard standing by the gates of the building speaking with one resident. Life continued as if nothing had happened that night, the big picture of a world that could not see the two women facing up a storm while sitting inside the car. 

“You didn't look happy that day, you are not looking happy at all right now.” You remarked softly, without turning to Wanda. “I'm pretty sure the one keeping your phone so active today was the man absent from the party, Jarvis, right?”

“I don't want to talk about this, and certainly I won't discuss this with you.” Wanda bristled, grabbing her phone and the door handle, “thank you for today. But I won’t be requiring your…wh-what are you doing?”

Wanda sat frozen when your hand closed around hers, the contact was warm and comforting sending a shiver down her back, before it twisted her abdomen and finally made her heart flutter. Your face was a mask of pure seriousness, those eyes that usually held a glint of mischief or unconcerned gone as your eyes found those of Wanda.

“Stop being so stupid and prideful.” Your voice was firm, but gentle. “I will keep playing my part now that I understand why Kate was so concerned about you. I won't ask anymore about your situation with that arsehole you were with last year, but to me it is evident you need help.”

“And what? You are going to help? Be my shoulder to cry on? Pretend to get into my pants to…”

“Stop it.” You commanded, this time around your eyes were inflamed with anger. “Don't flatter yourself, Maximoff, you are beautiful but I am not attracted to you, you are not my type and certainly I wouldn't even entertain the idea of being with someone like you.”

Your words hurt.

Wanda wouldn't admit it right there and then, but her heart stopped beating and then it actually shrank in pain. The young woman tried to offer a defiant stance but she could feel her lower lip quivering, you sighed closing your eyes for a moment before opening them again.

“Look, I was as fucked up as you are right now. We all are at some point. But what makes a difference is if we look for help.” You hesitated before grabbing your phone, with a quick sequence of tapping you sent her a message that soon was making Wanda’s phone vibrate. 

Wanda frowned confused, you went back to your seat.

“When you decide you have hit rock bottom, call him.” 

“What…”

“I am not qualified to help you, and you just said you don't want my help even if I was.” You said softly. “He is good, and he helped me at some point. It is your choice, Wanda.”

Wanda left without saying goodbye, and you waited until she was safely inside the building before igniting the gear and driving away.

The flat was dark and cold, Wanda sat on the sofa with her eyes on her mobile. For a brief moment she entertained the idea of just turning it off and leaving, but her hand twitched and she grabbed it again. This time around, however, instead of going to her conversation with Jarvis, she went to chat with you.

For the first time ever, she paid close attention to your picture, your grin while wearing a gladiator helmet with a redhead standing behind you smiling as well. Wanda couldn’t help but match the smile, you looked so childishly happy, as if you had done a great deed wearing an oversized metal helmet meant for a roman soldier and not a woman of your size.

Then, her gaze drifted to the message.

Doctor Robert Reynolds DipPsych - Sentry Institute

Another message.

Wanda could see the beginning of Jarvis' demands; he was still adamant on Wanda meeting with him that day. The young woman could feel her resolution breaking, her heart and body needing the comfort and the control Jarvis usually had over her. Closing her eyes Wanda put a hand on her mouth holding back a sob.

She hesitated before leaving the phone on the coffee table, standing up and going to her room the events of that night, your words dancing inside her head. The last thing she thought as she was falling asleep was that, pretending with you had not been so bad at all.

______________________________________________________________

Y/N rested one hand loosely on the steering wheel, the other near the radio, eyes scanning the dimly lit street. The glow of the dashboard lights reflected faintly off her jawline—calm, controlled, focused.

Dispatch crackled through the speaker. “Unit 24, we’ve received a disturbance call. Possible loud argument, 400 block of Sycamore. Any unit nearby?”

Y/N glanced at the street sign she had just passed and pressed the radio button. “This is unit 24. I’m two streets over. I’ll take it.”

“Copy that.”

She turned the cruiser smoothly, lights flashing briefly before she shut them off near the address—no need to escalate unless necessary. The house was quiet from the outside. Large windows, warm lighting inside. No shouting. No visible signs of damage. Still, protocol.

She stepped out of the cruiser, boots hitting the pavement with quiet authority. The cool air brushed against her uniform as she approached the front door and knocked firmly.

A pause. Then footsteps.

The door opened—and for half a second, Y/N forgot why she was there.

Elizabeth Olsen stood in the doorway, barefoot, wearing an oversized sweater that slipped slightly off one shoulder. Her hair was loose, slightly messy, like she’d run her fingers through it in frustration. Or distraction.

Her eyes flicked to the badge on Y/N’s chest, then up to her face. “Oh,” Lizzie said softly.

Professional. Stay professional.

“Good evening, ma’am,” Y/N said calmly. “I’m Officer Y/F/N. We received a call about a disturbance.”

Lizzie leaned lightly against the doorframe, looking slightly amused. “A disturbance?” she repeated. “That’s interesting.”

“Neighbors reported raised voices.”

A small smile tugged at Lizzie’s lips—not embarrassed, almost playful. “Well,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “I do talk to myself when I’m reading scripts.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked past her shoulder, scanning the living room. No overturned furniture. No broken glass. No sign of anyone else. “Anyone else inside?” she asked.

“Just me.”

There was something about the way Lizzie held eye contact—confident, curious, studying her.

Y/N shifted her stance slightly. “Mind if I step in and take a quick look, just to confirm everything’s alright?”

Lizzie hesitated for a second, then stepped aside. “Of course, Officer Y/F/N.” The way she said it lingered a little longer than necessary.

Y/N stepped inside, senses alert despite the quiet house. The place smelled faintly like vanilla and something floral. Soft music hummed somewhere deeper in the house. Lizzie closed the door behind her.

“Like I said,” she continued casually, “no fight. Just me being dramatic.”

Y/N walked through the living room, eyes trained, taking in every detail out of habit. Everything looked normal.

When she turned back, Lizzie was watching her—not nervously, but openly.

“You always this serious?” Lizzie asked.

“Comes with the job.”

Lizzie took a small step closer—not enough to invade her space, but enough that Y/N noticed the warmth coming from her. “And what if I said I feel much safer now?” she murmured.

Y/N’s jaw tightened slightly. “Safety’s the goal,” she replied evenly.

Lizzie’s smile deepened. “Well then, Officer… I suppose I should thank you for responding so quickly.”

Y/N held her gaze for a second too long before stepping back toward the door. “This is just a warning check. If neighbors call again, we’ll have to escalate.”

Lizzie nodded slowly. “I’ll try to keep my dramatic monologues quieter.”

A beat of silence hung between them—charged.

Y/N reached the door. “If there’s nothing else—”

Lizzie moved to open it, but paused with her hand resting on the knob. “There is one thing,” she said.

Y/N raised a brow slightly.

Lizzie looked up at her, eyes bright with mischief. “Will I be seeing you around again, Officer Y/F/N?”

And there it was—not accidental, not innocent.

Y/N kept her voice steady. “That depends on whether you keep causing disturbances.”

Lizzie’s smile turned playful. “Maybe I will.”

Y/N stepped outside, composure intact—barely. She didn’t look back, but she could feel Lizzie watching her from the doorway. And as Y/N slid back into the cruiser, something told her this wouldn’t be the last time she was called to this address.

Not by accident.

---

The next time Y/N saw Elizabeth Olsen was in the last place Y/N expected herself to be.

Comic Con.

The convention center was louder than a stadium. Thousands of fans packed the halls, many dressed as superheroes, villains, or characters from every universe imaginable. Bright lights flashed from camera phones while excited voices echoed off the high ceilings.

Y/N stood near the barricade separating the main walkway from the celebrity panel stage, arms folded loosely behind her back. Her uniform was crisp, badge catching the overhead lights as she scanned the crowd with practiced focus. Security for large events wasn’t unusual for the department—extra presence kept things organized. Still, this wasn’t exactly her usual patrol.

A group of cosplayers rushed past dressed as Avengers, plastic shields and foam hammers bouncing as they laughed. Y/N barely reacted. Professional. Alert. Calm.

After nearly an hour on her feet, she finally stepped away for a moment, heading down the quieter hallway that led backstage. The noise of the convention faded behind the heavy doors, replaced with muffled chatter and the distant hum of equipment. She pushed open the restroom door, splashed some cold water on her face, and straightened her uniform before stepping back into the hallway.

That’s when someone tapped her shoulder—light, deliberate.

Y/N turned immediately, instincts sharp.

And froze.

Elizabeth Olsen stood there, smiling. Not the casual, teasing smile from the doorway of her house—this one was warmer, like she’d been hoping it would be Y/N.

“Well,” Lizzie said softly, tilting her head slightly, “if it isn’t Officer Y/F/N.”

For a moment, Y/N said nothing.

Lizzie was dressed for the event—fitted jeans, boots, and a simple black jacket. A convention badge hung around her neck, and a few strands of her hair had escaped the loose ponytail behind her head. But it was her eyes that caught Y/N again—bright, curious.

“You’re the disturbance from Sycamore Street,” Y/N finally said.

Lizzie laughed quietly. “That’s how you remember me?”

“It’s in the report.”

Lizzie stepped a little closer, clearly amused. “I didn’t realize you worked events like this.”

“Extra security detail,” Y/N replied. Her posture remained straight, hands resting casually near her belt, though she was suddenly very aware of how close Lizzie was standing.

Lizzie’s gaze flicked over the uniform—slowly. “You look good in it,” she said.

Y/N’s expression barely changed, but the corner of her jaw tightened. “It’s a uniform.”

“Still,” Lizzie shrugged lightly, “not everyone makes it look that intimidating.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I’m not trying to intimidate anyone.”

Lizzie smiled knowingly. “You intimidated me a little.”

“Did I?”

“A little,” Lizzie admitted, her voice softening slightly. “But I also kind of hoped I’d run into you again.”

That caught Y/N off guard more than she expected. “You intentionally came over here?”

Lizzie lifted one shoulder. “I saw you from the hallway. Hard to miss the tall officer standing by herself watching the crowd like she’s guarding the President.”

“That’s my job.”

Lizzie leaned lightly against the wall beside her. “Well, Officer Y/F/N… I’m glad your job brought you here today.”

A group of staff members walked past down the hallway, briefly interrupting the moment. Neither of them moved.

“You here for a panel?” Y/N asked.

Lizzie nodded. “Marvel panel in twenty minutes.”

Of course.

Y/N had suspected, but hearing it confirmed made the situation feel slightly surreal.

Lizzie studied her again for a moment. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I never properly thanked you.”

“For what?”

“For making sure I wasn’t getting into trouble that night.”

Y/N huffed faintly. “You weren’t in trouble.”

“Not yet.”

That teasing tone was back—and somehow even more distracting in person.

Lizzie pushed herself off the wall. “Well,” she said, glancing toward the direction of the stage entrance, “I should probably go before someone comes looking for me.”

She took a step away, then paused, turning back toward Y/N. “You still on patrol tonight, Officer Y/F/N?”

“Yes.”

Lizzie’s smile returned—slow, slightly mischievous. “Good.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly. “Why?”

Lizzie took another step backward down the hallway. “Just wondering,” she said lightly, then added, almost like an afterthought, “Maybe I’ll cause another disturbance.”

And with that, she turned and disappeared down the hallway toward the stage.

Y/N stood there for a moment longer than she should have. Then she exhaled quietly and adjusted the collar of her uniform. Somehow, the convention suddenly felt much louder again. And something told her that Elizabeth Olsen was about to become a very regular part of her patrol route.

---

The rest of the convention passed without incident—mostly. Y/N remained stationed near the barricades for the Marvel panel, eyes scanning the crowd out of habit. Fans cheered loudly when the actors stepped onto the stage, cameras flashing like lightning across the hall. From where she stood, Y/N could see Elizabeth Olsen on stage—smiling, laughing with the other cast members, answering questions from the moderator. To everyone else in the room, she looked completely at ease.

But once—just once—Lizzie’s gaze drifted toward the side of the stage. Toward the security area. Toward Y/N. The look lasted barely a second. Still, Y/N noticed.

She forced herself to look back at the crowd. Professional. Focus on the job.

---

Y/N shift ended a few hours later.

By the time she got back into her patrol car, the sky had darkened completely, streetlights flickering on across the quiet neighborhood streets. For a while, nothing happened—just routine patrol. Checking intersections, driving past closed stores, responding to a minor parking complaint.

Then the radio crackled again.

“Unit 24, disturbance complaint. Loud music reported, 400 block of Sycamore.”

Y/N froze for a split second.

Sycamore.

Dispatch continued, “Neighbors reporting excessive noise.”

Y/N pressed the radio button slowly. “Unit 24… I’m nearby.”

A pause. Then—“Copy that.”

Y/N exhaled through her nose.

Unbelievable.

She turned the cruiser down the familiar street, headlights sweeping across the quiet houses. Sure enough, the music was audible before she even parked—not blaring, just loud enough that the bass carried across the neighborhood.

Y/N stepped out of the cruiser, already knowing exactly whose house she was walking toward. The same warm lights glowed from the windows. The same porch.

She knocked. Once. Twice.

The music stopped almost immediately. Footsteps approached. The door opened.

Lizzie stood there again.

This time wearing soft lounge pants and a loose tank top, hair slightly messy like she’d just taken it down from a ponytail. Her smile was completely unapologetic.

“Well,” she said softly, leaning against the doorframe again, “Officer Y/F/N.”

Y/N crossed her arms slowly. “We need to stop meeting like this.”

Lizzie bit back a grin. “Do we?”

“Your neighbors filed another complaint.”

Lizzie glanced back inside casually. “Oh.” Then she looked at Y/N again. “Was it too loud?”

“Yes.”

Lizzie nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll turn it down.”

She didn’t move.

Y/N raised an eyebrow.

Lizzie’s lips curved. “You came pretty fast,” she added.

“I was nearby.”

“Convenient.”

Y/N stared at her for a moment. “You knew I was on patrol tonight.”

Lizzie didn’t even try to deny it. “Maybe.”

Y/N exhaled slowly. “You can’t call noise complaints just to see me.”

“I didn’t call it,” Lizzie said innocently. “My neighbors did.”

A pause.

Then Lizzie tilted her head slightly. “And… who said I wanted to see you.” She say with a smirk. 

Y/N ignore her comment and rubbed her temple briefly. “This is not a good use of police resources.”

Lizzie stepped a little closer, lowering her voice. “And yet you’re here.”

Y/N met her gaze. “Because it’s my job.”

Lizzie held eye contact. “And because you wanted to see if it was me.”

That landed closer to the truth than Y/N liked.

She didn’t respond.

Lizzie’s smile softened just a little. “You could come in, you know,” she said quietly.

Y/N immediately shook her head. “No.”

“It’s just music.”

“Still no.”

Lizzie leaned against the frame again. “Coffee, then?”

“I’m on duty.”

“You’re very difficult, Officer Y/F/N.”

“I’m professional.”

Lizzie studied her for a long second, then sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

She reached back into the house and turned the music completely off. “There,” she said. “Disturbance resolved.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you.”

She started to turn toward her cruiser.

“Wait.”

Y/N paused.

Lizzie stepped forward onto the porch. “You never answered my question earlier.”

Y/N looked back at her. “What question?”

Lizzie crossed her arms lightly. “Will I be seeing you around again?”

Y/N considered her for a moment, then said calmly, “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you keep causing disturbances.”

Lizzie smiled slowly. “Well,” she said, “I suppose I’ll just have to behave then.”

Y/N nodded once and walked back toward the cruiser.

But as she opened the door—

Lizzie called out behind her. “Goodnight, Officer Y/F/N.”

Y/N paused, then glanced back over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Ms. Olsen.”

Lizzie’s smile lingered long after the cruiser disappeared down the street.

And for the first time that night—The house on Sycamore was completely quiet.

---

One Week Later

A week passed without another call from Sycamore Street. No loud music. No disturbance complaints. Which, if Y/N was honest with herself, was… slightly disappointing.

Tonight, however, she wasn’t on patrol. The club was packed, music vibrating through the floor and up into the walls. Colored lights flashed across the dance floor while people crowded the bar, shouting orders over the bass. Y/N leaned back in her chair at a small table with three other officers from her precinct. Her uniform was gone for the night, replaced with dark jeans, boots, and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her forearms—still unmistakably cop energy.

One of her coworkers, Marcus, raised his glass. “To surviving another week of paperwork and noise complaints.”

Y/N smirked faintly and lifted her own drink and they clinked glasses.

“Speaking of noise complaints,” another officer said with a grin, “didn’t you get called to some celebrity’s house last week?”

Marcus leaned forward immediately. “Oh yeah, that story! The actress, right?”

Y/N took a slow sip of her drink. “It was a routine call.”

Marcus snorted. “Sure it was.”

Y/N ignored him.

After a while, the group decided to grab another round. Y/N pushed her chair back and stood. “I’ll go.”

Marcus handed her his empty glass. “Bring back something strong.”

Y/N made her way toward the bar, weaving through the crowd. The bass was loud enough that she could feel it in her chest. She reached the counter just as someone else stepped into the space beside her.

Both of them spoke at the same time. “Can I get—”They stopped.

Y/N turned her head. And there she was.

Elizabeth Olsen

Lizzie blinked in surprise before a slow smile spread across her face. “Well,” she said over the music, “Officer Y/F/N.”

Y/N raised a brow, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Ms. Olsen.”

Lizzie’s gaze moved slowly over her outfit. “You’re not in uniform tonight.”

“Nope,” Y/N replied, relaxed against the bar. “Off duty.”

Lizzie tilted her head slightly, clearly taking that in. “Interesting.”

The bartender approached.

“Tequila,” Lizzie said.

“Whiskey,” Y/N added.

A moment later, the drinks slid across the counter. Lizzie picked up her shot glass but paused, eyes drifting back to Y/N. “You clean up well, Officer.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “You’re still flirting.”

“Maybe.”

Y/N leaned one elbow on the bar, looking directly at her now. “Well,” she said calmly, “I’m off duty tonight.”

Lizzie’s brows lifted slightly. “Oh?”

Y/N lifted her whiskey glass, taking a slow sip before answering, “So technically… I’m allowed to flirt back.”

Lizzie laughed, clearly pleased. “Good. Because I was starting to think you just enjoyed pretending you weren’t interested.”

Y/N smirked. “I don’t need to pretend now.”

That made Lizzie pause—only for a second. Then she took her tequila shot and set the glass down. “My friends dragged me here after filming wrapped today,” she said, glancing over her shoulder toward a table where a group of actors sat laughing.

Y/N followed her gaze. “Co-stars?”

“Unfortunately.”

Y/N chuckled.

Lizzie turned back toward her. “And you? Who are you here with?”

“Coworkers.”

Lizzie’s eyes sparkled slightly. “Police officers?”

“Yeah.”

She leaned a little closer so she wouldn’t have to shout over the music. “That explains the intimidating table in the corner.”

Y/N laughed under her breath. “They’re harmless.”

Lizzie studied her for a moment, then smiled slowly. “You know,” she said, voice softer now, “you keep showing up in places I’m not expecting.”

Y/N shrugged. “Maybe you just have a habit of running into me.”

Lizzie leaned her shoulder lightly against the bar. “Maybe I do.”

A brief silence settled between them as the music pulsed through the room. Then Lizzie tilted her head. “If you weren’t here with coworkers,” she said, “I’d probably try to steal you for a dance.”

Y/N met her gaze without hesitation this time. “Who says you can’t?”

Lizzie blinked. “You’d abandon your colleagues?”

“They’ll survive.”

Lizzie laughed again, clearly enjoying this new version of Y/N. “You’re very different when you’re not in uniform.”

“Less rules,” Y/N said simply.

Lizzie took a small step closer. “And what other rules disappear when you’re off duty, Officer Y/F/N?”

Y/N leaned closer as well, voice low enough that only Lizzie could hear. “Depends who I’m talking to.”

For the first time since they’d met—Lizzie looked slightly flustered. Then she recovered with a grin. “Well,” she said, “maybe we should test that theory.”

Y/N picked up the drinks she’d ordered. “Let me drop these off first.”

Lizzie crossed her arms casually. “I’ll be right here.”

Y/N stepped away, weaving back through the crowd toward her table. Marcus immediately leaned forward when she arrived. “Why did that take so long?”

Y/N set the drinks down. “Line was long.” Marcus glanced toward the bar, then his eyes widened. “Wait… isn’t that—”

Y/N grabbed her whiskey. “Don’t start.” Marcus grinned. “Oh you are absolutely leaving this table again.”

Y/N shook her head but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. Because across the room—Lizzie was still standing at the bar. And she was watching her. Not casually either.

Her arms rested lightly against the counter, one shoulder leaning into the bar as if she had nowhere else to be. Her eyes stayed fixed on Y/N through the shifting crowd, the corner of her mouth tilted in a knowing smile.

Marcus followed Y/N’s line of sight to check the girl properly. Then he choked on his drink.

“Holy—”

Y/N set the glasses down on the table. “Don’t.”

Marcus pointed toward the bar. “That’s Elizabeth Olsen!”

Another officer turned around immediately. “No way.”

Y/N grabbed her own whiskey glass and took a quick sip. “Relax.”

Marcus leaned closer. “Relax? She’s staring at you.”

Y/N glanced back again. Lizzie hadn’t moved. If anything, the smile on her face had gotten slightly more amused.

Marcus slowly looked back at Y/N. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Why are you still here? She’s waiting for you!”

Y/N shrugged casually. “If you stop talking to me, I would be there already!”

Marcus dropped back into his chair dramatically. “This is the best night of my life.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, finishing the rest of her drink. “Don’t wait up.” Before anyone else could say anything, she turned and started walking back toward the bar. The crowd shifted around her as she crossed the dance floor, lights flashing across the room in bursts of blue and red.

Lizzie noticed immediately. Her smile widened just a little as Y/N approached.

“Took you long enough,” Lizzie said.

Y/N stopped beside her, leaning one forearm against the bar. “Had to make sure my coworkers didn’t follow me.”

Lizzie laughed softly. “They seemed very interested.”

“They’re nosy.”

Lizzie studied her for a moment. “You came back.”

“You said you’d be here.”

Lizzie lifted a brow. “And you always do what people tell you?”

Y/N smirked. “Only when I want to.”

Lizzie tilted her head slightly, clearly enjoying the shift in tone. “So,” she said, glancing briefly toward the dance floor, “were you serious earlier?”

“About what?”

“The dancing.”

Y/N looked toward the crowded floor—bodies moving under flashing lights, music pounding through the room—then back at Lizzie. “You still trying to steal me?”

Lizzie stepped a little closer. “Maybe.”

Y/N pushed herself off the bar. “Well,” she said calmly, “let’s see if you can.”

Lizzie blinked, then laughed. “You’re challenging me?”

Y/N held out her hand slightly. “Thought you wanted a dance.”

Lizzie didn’t hesitate. She placed her hand in Y/N’s—her fingers warm—and Y/N led her through the crowd toward the dance floor.

As soon as they stepped into the lights, the bass vibrated through the floor beneath them. Lizzie moved closer so they could hear each other. “You know,” she said, smiling up at her, “this is definitely not how I expected our third meeting to go.”

Y/N’s hand rested lightly at her waist as the music pulsed around them. “Disappointed?”

Lizzie shook her head slowly. “Very much the opposite.”

The space between them grew smaller as people moved around them, the dance floor pulsing with bodies and flashing lights, bass rolling through the club like a heartbeat. At first, they danced close but still respectful—Y/N’s hand steady and warm at Lizzie’s waist, Lizzie moving easily with the music, occasionally glancing up at her with a playful look that made Y/N’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the noise or heat.

Then the song changed. The beat dropped into something slower. Heavier.

The kind of song that made the crowd instinctively press closer together.

Lizzie looked up at Y/N, eyes sparkling with mischief. Before Y/N could ask what that look meant, Lizzie turned around, catching Y/N’s hand and guiding it more firmly to her waist.

The message was clear.

Don’t move it.

Y/N’s fingers tightened slightly where they rested against Lizzie’s side.

Lizzie leaned back against her, body fitting easily as she began to move with the rhythm—hips rolling slowly to the beat, controlled, confident, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

And maybe she did.

Y/N swallowed, her other hand instinctively settling more securely at Lizzie’s waist to steady her as the space between them disappeared completely.

Lizzie kept moving against her—slow, deliberate. Y/N started to move as well.

Lizzie reach a hand up, hooking on y/n neck as she turn her head to whisper in Y/N ear, “you dance well officer.” 

Y/N squeeze lightly Lizzie’s waist, making the latter smile wider. Lizzie continue to roll her hips back, still in the beat. 

Then suddenly—She stilled.

Just for a second.

Lizzie glanced down slightly, brows knitting in confusion. Then she turned, stepping close enough that Y/N could feel her breath when she leaned up toward her ear.

“Are you packing?” Lizzie murmured, voice teasing over the music.

The question hit Y/N like a spark. Heat rushed up her neck. Y/N shook her head quickly. “No,” she said quietly, leaning down so Lizzie could hear her over the bass. “I’m… intersex.”

For a second, Lizzie just looked at her. Her eyes widened slightly—not shocked, more surprised in a way that made curiosity bloom across her expression.

Then something in her gaze shifted.

Something bold. Something intrigued.

Before Y/N could read it fully, Lizzie grabbed her hand.

“Come on.”

Y/N blinked. “Lizzie—”

But Lizzie was already moving, weaving through the crowd while still holding her hand tightly. People parted as they pushed their way off the dance floor.

“You do realize,” Y/N said with a breathless laugh as she followed, “you’re dragging a police officer out of a club.”

Lizzie glanced back with a grin. “You’re off duty.”

They burst through the doors and out into the cool night air. The sudden quiet after the pounding music made the moment feel almost surreal.

Lizzie didn’t slow down. She lifted her hand, flagging down a cab pulling up to the curb.

The taxi stopped.

Lizzie opened the door and pulled Y/N inside with her. They slid into the back seat together. Lizzie leaned forward. “400 block of Sycamore, please,” she told the driver. The cab pulled away, city lights sliding past the windows.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Lizzie leaned back against the seat, turning slightly toward Y/N—her hand still wrapped around Y/N’s. She didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she did. Her eyes drifted slowly over Y/N again—the dark shirt, the strong line of her shoulders, the way she filled the seat beside her.

Lizzie smirked softly.

Slowly, almost absentmindedly, she shifted closer. The cab wasn’t big to begin with, but somehow the space between them shrank even more.

Her hand slid from where it had been resting on Y/N’s.

Lower. Not rushing. Just exploring. Her fingers brushed along Y/N’s thigh first, light and curious, as if testing whether Y/N would stop her.

Y/N didn’t move. If anything, she leaned back deeper into the seat, watching Lizzie with a calm that didn’t quite match the heat building in her chest.

Lizzie’s hand moved a little higher along Y/N’s thigh, stopping just short of the obvious tension beneath the dark fabric of her jeans.

Close. Very close.

Her fingers hovered there for a moment before resting lightly against Y/N’s leg.

And all Y/N could think about was how far Lizzie’s house was—because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold back. 

---

The cab ride felt like an eternity, the hum of the engine and the flickering streetlights providing a rhythmic backdrop to the tension thick enough to touch. By the time the taxi screeched to a halt in front of the familiar house on Sycamore Street, the air between them was practically electric.

The moment the front door clicked open, all pretense of patience vanished. Y/N didn’t even have the door fully closed before Lizzie’s hands were in her hair, pulling her down. They collided in a kiss that was frantic and hungry, a desperate release of the tension that had been building since that first disturbance call. It wasn't polite; it was a collision of teeth and tongues and stifled groans.

Lizzie didn't break the connection for a second. She moved backward into the darkened foyer, her hands gripping the collar of Y/N’s button-down to pull her along. Y/N followed blindly, her foot hooking the door and slamming it shut with a heavy thud before her hand found the deadbolt, locking the world out without ever taking her eyes off Lizzie.

The moment the lock clicked, Lizzie shifted. With a surge of energy, she jumped, her arms winding tightly around Y/N’s neck. Y/N reacted instantly, her hands sliding under Lizzie’s thighs to catch her, hoisting her up and pinning her against the closed door.

Lizzie’s legs wrapped firmly around Y/N’s waist, her body molding perfectly against the officer's strong frame. The friction was immediate, a sharp reminder of the confession in the club that had sent them spiraling toward this moment.

Lizzie pulled back just an inch, her lips swollen and her breath coming in ragged hitches. Her eyes were dark, blown wide with a mix of adrenaline and pure, unadulterated want.

“Upstairs,” Lizzie whispered against Y/N’s lips, her voice a low, gravelly command that sent a shiver straight down Y/N’s spine. “Second room on the right.”

She didn’t wait for an answer before diving back in, her kiss even more demanding than the last. Y/N didn't need to be told twice. Keeping her grip secure on Lizzie’s thighs, she began to navigate the hallway, her boots heavy on the hardwood as she carried the actress toward the stairs, neither of them willing to break the contact for even a heartbeat.

Each step up the stairs felt like a challenge. Y/N tried not to bump as she navigated the climb without breaking the kiss. Lizzie was a whirlwind in her arms—fingers tugging at Y/N’s hair, her chest heaving against Y/N’s as they crested the landing.

When they reached the second door on the right, Y/N didn’t bother with finesse. She nudged the door open with her shoulder, the moonlight from the large windows spilling across a messy bed and a discarded script on the floor.

Y/N carried her straight to the mattress, lowering her down but never fully letting go. As Lizzie’s back hit the soft linens, she didn't pull Y/N down with her—not yet. Instead, she sat up on her elbows, her eyes tracing the silhouette of the officer hovering over her. “The uniform was good,” Lizzie breathed, her voice dropping into that sultry, deliberate tone she used on stage, but this time, it was entirely real. “But I think I like this version better. The one who doesn't follow the rules.” Y/N reached down, her thumbs tracing the line of Lizzie’s jaw. The "professional" facade had been stripped away, replaced by a raw, focused intensity.

"You've been asking for a disturbance all week, Ms. Olsen," Y/N murmured, her voice vibrating low in her throat. She leaned in, her lips hovering just a breath away from Lizzie’s ear. "I'd hate to disappoint a citizen."

Lizzie let out a shaky laugh that turned into a gasp as Y/N’s hands moved from her jaw down to the hem of her tank top. Lizzie arched her back, helping Y/N slide the fabric up and over her head, throwing it blindly toward the corner of the room.

The playfulness from the club was gone, replaced by a heavy, magnetic pull. Lizzie reached for the buttons of Y/N’s black shirt, her fingers fumbling slightly in her haste. Y/N took over, snapping the buttons open with efficient, practiced movements until the shirt was tossed aside, leaving her in just her undershirt, her physique highlighted by the pale moonlight.

Lizzie’s breath hitched as she looked at her—really looked at her. Her hands came up to rest on Y/N’s shoulders, feeling the solid heat of her skin. “No more talking,” Lizzie whispered, pulling Y/N back down into the pillows.

Lizzie’s hands locked behind Y/N’s neck, pulling her down with a strength born of pure desperation. The kiss was no longer a tease; it was a battle. Their tongues tangled and fought for dominance, a feverish exchange that tasted of whiskey, tequila, and the sharp electricity of the last two weeks. Lizzie let out a muffled moan against Y/N’s lips, her back arching off the mattress as she sought more friction, more contact.

Y/N’s free hand didn’t stay still. It wandered with a slow, agonizing intent along the curve of Lizzie’s ribs, her fingertips dancing over the sensitive skin and making Lizzie shiver violently. The touch was grounding yet localizing the heat, moving upward until Y/N’s palm finally cupped the soft weight of Lizzie’s breast.

The sensation made Lizzie’s breath hitch, her rhythm breaking for a split second as she melted into the touch. Y/N finally broke the kiss, her breathing labored as she trailed a path of wet, searing heat down Lizzie’s throat. She moved lower, her nose brushing against the lace of Lizzie’s bra. With a steady, practiced hand, Y/N hooked her fingers under the edge of the cup, slowly peeling the fabric back.

The lace gave way, revealing Lizzie’s breast to the pale moonlight. Her nipple was already peaked, a testament to the chill in the air and the fire in the room. Lizzie’s head fell back into the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a long, shaky exhale. “Y/N...” she whimpered, her fingers digging into Y/N’s shoulders, "Please."

Y/N didn't make her wait. She leaned down, her warm breath ghosting over the bared skin for a heartbeat before she swirled her tongue around the tip, savoring the way Lizzie’s entire body jolted at the contact.

Lizzie’s fingers tangled deep into Y/N’s hair, her knuckles white as she held Y/N’s head against her chest. A choked, breathless curse left her lips—something raw—as Y/N’s tongue continued its deliberate, swirling torture. The contrast of Y/N’s warm mouth against the cool night air sent waves of heat crashing through Lizzie, making her toes curl into the expensive silk sheets.

"Oh god, Y/N," Lizzie gasped, her hips rolling up instinctively, seeking the solid weight of the woman above her.

Y/N didn’t let up. She increased the pressure, her tongue flicking across the sensitive peak before she drew the entire length into her mouth, sucking firmly. The sound of it, wet and intimate in the quiet room, broke whatever was left of Lizzie’s composure. Her back arched violently, her breath hitching in a high-pitched whine as she pressed Y/N closer, as if she were trying to pull the officer right through her skin.

Y/N’s hand, still cupping Lizzie’s other breast, began to knead the soft flesh, her thumb mimicking the rhythm of her mouth on the opposite side. The double assault was too much. Lizzie’s hands shifted from Y/N’s hair to her shoulders, her nails digging in slightly as she tried to find some kind of anchor in the storm.

"You're... you're doing this on purpose," Lizzie managed to ground out, a shaky, desperate laugh bubbling in her throat even as she shivered.

Y/N pulled back just enough to look up, her eyes dark and heavy with a focus that was far more dangerous than any professional stare she’d given on the street. A stray drop of moisture glistened on her lower lip, and the sight of it made Lizzie’s heart skip a beat.

"I just can’t stop," Y/N murmured, her voice a low, gravelly vibration that Lizzie felt in her very bones. “You taste so sweet."

Y/N leaned up, capturing Lizzie’s lips in a kiss that was slower this time, deeper—tasting the surrender in Lizzie’s breath. It was a silent promise of what was coming next. As they pulled apart, Y/N’s gaze lingered on Lizzie’s flushed face before she began her descent, her lips trailing a path of fire down the center of Lizzie’s stomach. Each kiss was a deliberate mark of intent. Lizzie’s breath came in short, jagged hitches, her hands clutching at the blankets as Y/N moved lower.

When Y/N reached the waistband of the lounge pants, she didn't hesitate. Her hands hooked into the fabric, and with a smooth, firm tug, she pulled the pants and the thin lace beneath them down Lizzie’s long legs. The cool air hit Lizzie’s skin, but it was immediately replaced by the radiating heat of Y/N’s presence.

Lizzie felt completely exposed, the moonlight illuminating every curve, but the way Y/N looked at her—with a raw, hunger-filled reverence—made her feel powerful instead of vulnerable.

Y/N knelt between Lizzie's knees, her hands sliding up to grip Lizzie’s thighs, spreading them slightly. The sight of her there, the "intimidating" officer now completely focused on Lizzie’s pleasure, made Lizzie’s head light.

"Y/N," Lizzie breathed, her voice a mix of a plea and a command.

Y/N looked up, a dark smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You wanted to see the off-duty version of me, Lizzie," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous level. "I think it’s time I showed you exactly how I handle a certain disturbance." She leaned forward, her breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of Lizzie's inner thigh, making the actress cry out and arch her back in anticipation.

Y/N didn’t make her wait another second. She leaned in, her tongue finding the center of Lizzie’s heat with a slow, broad stroke that made Lizzie’s entire body go rigid. A sharp, broken gasp escaped Lizzie’s throat, her fingers instantly finding Y/N’s hair again, but this time her grip was frantic, pulling her closer.

Y/N let out a low, vibrating moan against Lizzie’s skin, the sound muffled by the intimacy of the act. "God, Lizzie," Y/N breathed, the heat of her words ghosting over the sensitive folds. "You taste so sweet... better than I imagined."

She dove back in, her pace picking up. Y/N used her tongue with the same practiced focus she used for everything, but there was a raw hunger here that was anything but professional. She licked deep and rhythmic, swirling around the hypersensitive peak before dragging her tongue back down.

Lizzie was coming apart. Her head thrashed against the pillows, her hips rolling and lifting off the bed in a desperate attempt to get more of Y/N. The sound of wet, rhythmic sliding filled the quiet room, punctuated by Lizzie’s high, melodic whimpers.

"Y/N... please, oh god," Lizzie sobbed out, her nails scratching lightly against Y/N’s scalp.

The air in the room was thick with the scent of vanilla and the raw, heavy musk of desire. Y/N ignored the frantic tugging on her hair, her focus narrowing down to the center of Lizzie’s heat. With a steady, deliberate motion, Y/N used her thumbs to spread Lizzie’s folds, exposing the glistening, sensitive skin to the moonlight. Lizzie let out a broken sound—half-gasp, half-sob—as the cool air hit her, but the chill didn't last long.

Y/N leaned in, her tongue sliding deep into Lizzie’s entrance. The contact was electric. Lizzie’s back arched so violently her shoulders almost left the mattress, her fingers digging into Y/N’s scalp as she tried to anchor herself. Y/N didn’t pull back; she moved with a rhythmic, taxing pressure, her tongue mimicking the slow, deep slide Lizzie had been begging for.

As she worked, Y/N’s nose brushed against the swollen bud of Lizzie’s clitoris. The accidental friction sent a jolt straight through the actress.

"Y/N! Right there," Lizzie screamed, her voice cracking.

Recognizing the shift, Y/N pivoted. She kept her tongue moving deep inside, but began to rhythmically flick her nose upward, catching that hypersensitive peak with every stroke. It was a dual assault that Lizzie wasn't prepared for. Her legs shook, her knees threatening to give out even as she lay flat, and her hands moved from Y/N’s head to the sheets, gripping it so hard that her fingers became white.

Lizzie was no longer the composed movie star; she was a live wire, sparking and crashing under Y/N’s expert touch. "I can't... I’m going to—" Lizzie’s voice trailed off into a series of incoherent stutters as her internal muscles began to clamp down around Y/N’s tongue, the first ripples of a massive climax beginning to take hold.

Just as Lizzie reached the precipice, the sudden absence of Y/N’s tongue made her let out a whimper of pure, frustrated protest. Her eyes snapped open, hooded and glazed with heat, ready to beg—but the words died in her throat.

Y/N stood at the edge of the bed, the moonlight carving out the sharp, powerful lines of her silhouette. With a fluid, athletic motion, she gripped the hem of her undershirt and pulled it over her head, discarding it along with her bra.

Lizzie’s breath hitched. She had seen Y/N in the uniform, and she’d seen the hints of her strength in the club, but the reality of Y/N’s bare skin—the broad shoulders and the lean, functional muscle of her torso—was almost too much to take in.

Y/N didn't waste a second. Her fingers flew to the button of her jeans. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet, and from there a small, foil square, which she brought to her mouth, catching the edge of the condom pack between her teeth. There was something undeniably primal about the gesture, her dark eyes never leaving Lizzie’s as she gripped the waistband of her denim and boxers together. With one firm tug, she kicked the clothes away.

Lizzie’s hands instinctively slid down her own damp inner thighs, her fingers tracing the skin Y/N had just been worshipping. Her gaze was locked on Y/N, taking in the sight of her, fully aroused and undeniably ready. The weight of the moment shifted; the playful teasing of the past week had finally culminated in this raw, physical truth.

Lizzie didn’t wait for Y/N to move. Fueled by a sudden, bold surge of adrenaline, she crawled across the mattress toward the edge of the bed where Y/N stood. Her loose hair fell forward, framing her face as she leaned in, her tongue darting out to lick the tip of Y/N’s length. She didn't break eye contact, her gaze simmering with a mix of mischief and pure hunger.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her hands finding purchase in Lizzie’s hair as she let out a low, guttural groan. Lizzie didn't stop there; she leaned in further, bobbing on Y/N’s length a few times, the sensation and the visual of the famous actress so completely devoted to her pleasure nearly breaking Y/N’s resolve.

Then, Lizzie pulled back and rose to her knees, bringing them eye-to-eye. She reached out and took the foil packet from Y/N’s mouth, her teeth catching the edge to rip it open with a sharp snap. She moved with a slow, deliberate confidence, rolling the rubber down Y/N’s length until she was fully protected and ready.

The moment it was on, Lizzie lunged forward, capturing Y/N’s lips in a kiss so hungry it felt like she was trying to consume her. Y/N met her with equal fervor, her arms wrapping around Lizzie’s waist to lift her back onto the center of the bed. They tumbled onto the pillows, a tangle of limbs and frantic heat, the kiss never breaking as Y/N settled between Lizzie’s spread legs.

The playful banter of the street and the club was a distant memory. Y/N reached down, her fingers steadying her member as she guided it to Lizzie’s entrance. The contact was electric, both of them gasping into the kiss at the first touch of friction.

"Look at me," Y/N whispered against her lips, her voice thick and commanding. Lizzie’s eyes flew open, bright with tears of anticipation, as Y/N began to push forward, slowly merging their bodies into one.

The sensation was overwhelming. As Y/N pushed forward, the slow, steady stretch forced a long, broken moan from Lizzie’s throat. She arched her back, her fingers digging into Y/N’s biceps, feeling every inch of the connection as they became one. It was a perfect, tight fit. 

Y/N stayed still for a moment, buried deep, her forehead resting against Lizzie’s. Both of them were breathing as if they’d just run a marathon, their hearts hammering a frantic rhythm against each other’s chests.

"You okay?" Y/N rasped, her voice thick with the effort of holding back.

Lizzie answered by wrapping her legs around Y/N’s waist and pulling her closer, her heels digging into Y/N’s lower back. "Don't you dare stop," she hissed, a desperate, beautiful command.

Y/N didn't. She began to move, pulling back until she was almost all out before driving back in with a soft thud of hips meeting. The rhythm was slow at first, deliberate and agonizingly deep, each thrust drawing a high, melodic sob from Lizzie.

"Y/N... oh god, Y/N," Lizzie chanted, her head tossing from side to side on the pillow. The pace shifted as the friction built. Y/N gripped Lizzie’s hips, her thumbs pressing into the skin to hold her steady as the movements became faster, more urgent. The sound of their bodies meeting and the soft, wet friction filled the room, a private symphony of the disturbance they had both been craving.

The slow, deep rhythm fractured into something far more primal. Y/N’s grip on Lizzie’s hips was bruisingly firm, her thumbs anchoring into the dip of Lizzie’s waist to meet every frantic roll of her hips. Each thrust was punctuated by the wet, slapping sound of skin on skin, a steady beat that matched the hammering of their hearts.

Y/N leaned down, capturing Lizzie’s mouth in a kiss that was less of a greeting and more of a claim. Their tongues clashed, sliding against one another as they traded gasps and broken moans. Amidst the chaos of the kiss, Y/N’s hand moved upward, her palm grazing over Lizzie’s ribs before cupping one breast. She squeezed the soft weight, her thumb flicking repeatedly over the already sensitive nipple until Lizzie let out a high-pitched whine against her lips.

Breaking the kiss, Y/N trailed her mouth down Lizzie’s throat, leaving a line of searing heat before she latched onto the bared nipple. She sucked hard, her tongue swirling and teasing the peak while she continued to drive into Lizzie with a relentless, punishing pace.

"Y/N... please, please," Lizzie sobbed, her back arching so high her chest pressed harder into Y/N’s mouth.

Y/N suddenly shifted. She pushed herself up, sitting tall while still buried deep inside Lizzie. The change in angle hit a spot that made Lizzie’s eyes roll back into her head. Y/N gripped Lizzie’s waist with both hands, using her strength to lift and pull Lizzie’s hips up to meet her as she accelerated.

The movement was blistering—fast, deep, and rhythmic. Y/N watched Lizzie’s face in the moonlight, seeing the raw vulnerability and the sheer pleasure written in the tension of her jaw. Lizzie’s hands flew to her own stomach, her fingers digging in as her internal muscles began to pulse and clamp around Y/N in a rhythmic, desperate squeeze.

"I'm—I'm going to—" Lizzie’s voice broke into a series of jagged cries as she spiraled over the edge, her body shuddering with the force of a massive, toe-curling climax.

Y/N didn't stop, but she leaned down, her chest heavy against Lizzie’s as she slowed her hips to a grinding, agonizingly deep pace. She captured Lizzie’s mouth again, kissing her deeply, their lips bruising as they shared the taste of the salt on their skin. The kiss was hard, desperate, a silent conversation between the officer and the woman who had finally caught her.

As the waves of Lizzie's release began to settle into a soft tremor, Y/N felt her own limit approaching, but she paused for a moment, her forehead resting against Lizzie’s, both of them panting in the heavy, scented air of the room. Lizzie didn’t let her stay still for long; she reached up, her fingers tangling into the short hairs at the nape of Y/N’s neck, pulling her down into a kiss that was surprisingly soft, slow, and devastatingly intimate.

It was the kind of kiss that shifted the room from a frantic disturbance to something deeper. Lizzie’s lips moved against Y/N’s with a lingering hunger, her tongue tracing Y/N’s bottom lip as if she were trying to memorize the sensation.

"Y/N," Lizzie breathed against her mouth, a soft, shaky whisper.

Y/N reluctantly broke the kiss, the separation of their lips feeling like a physical pull. She withdrew slowly, the sudden absence of her weight making Lizzie let out a small, needy sound of protest. But the protest died in her throat as she watched Y/N move in the moonlight.

Y/N didn't go far. She shifted her weight, the bed creaking under her athletic frame as she moved to the center of the mattress. She reached out, her hands firm yet gentle as she gripped Lizzie’s waist, silently guiding her.

Lizzie understood the unspoken command immediately. She moved with a fluid grace, turning over until she was on her hands and knees, her hair spilling over her shoulders like a silk curtain. The view from behind was devastating—the curve of Lizzie's back, the flush of her skin, and the way she looked back over her shoulder with an expression that was half-dazed and entirely expectant.

Y/N leaned down, her hands sliding over the smooth curves of Lizzie’s thighs to pull her back just an inch further. With a low, appreciative hum, Y/N used her fingers to spread the delicate skin of Lizzie’s core, exposing the glistening heat she had just been worshipping.

The cool air of the room hit Lizzie first, but it was immediately replaced by the searing warmth of Y/N’s tongue. Y/N licked her with long, slow strokes, tasting the sweet, salt-slicked reality of her. Lizzie’s breath hitched, her fingers digging into the pillows as her back arched into the contact.

"You taste so good, Lizzie," Y/N murmured against her skin, her voice a rough, gravelly vibration that made Lizzie’s knees tremble. "I could stay right here all night."

Lizzie let out a broken, needy sound, her head falling forward as she struggled to keep her balance. "Y/N... please... I need—"

Y/N didn't let her finish. She stood back on her knees just enough to position herself, her hands returning to Lizzie’s hips with a grip that was steady and grounding. With one smooth, powerful surge, she slid back in from behind.

The depth of the new angle was staggering. Lizzie let out a sharp, high-pitched cry that was lost in the quiet house, her body yielding to the intrusion as Y/N filled her completely. Y/N didn't give her a second to adjust before she began to move, her chest pressing against Lizzie’s back, her hands sliding up to lock onto Lizzie’s waist to drive the rhythm home.

The sound of their bodies meeting was louder now—rhythmic, wet, and relentless. Y/N buried her face in the crook of Lizzie’s neck, inhaling the scent of vanilla and sweat as she picked up the pace, determined to bring Lizzie to the edge one more time, and this time, herself as well. 

The rhythm became a frantic, desperate thing. Y/N’s hands moved from Lizzie’s waist, one sliding up to grip her shoulder while the other reached forward, her fingers finding the sensitive, swollen bud of Lizzie’s clitoris.

The double friction was the breaking point. Y/N began to drive into her with a relentless, heavy pace, each thrust bottoming out and sending a jolt through Lizzie’s entire frame. The sound of wet, rhythmic contact filled the room, a private symphony of the "disturbance" they had both been chasing since that first night.

"Y/N, I'm—I can't—!" Lizzie’s voice was a ragged, high-pitched sob. Her head thrashed against the pillows as she tried to find air, her internal muscles pulsing and squeezing around Y/N in a rhythmic, desperate trap.

Y/N groaned, the sound deep and guttural, vibrating through her chest and into Lizzie’s back. She didn't slow down. She leaned forward, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Lizzie’s shoulder as she delivered several hard, final thrusts.

"Go for it, Lizzie," Y/N rasped, her voice thick with her own looming release. "Come for me."

Lizzie screamed into the pillow, her body stiffening as she spiraled over the edge. The tremors started in her core and radiated outward, her legs shaking so violently she could barely stay upright. Seconds later, Y/N followed her into the abyss. She buried herself deep one last time, her muscles locking as she poured everything into the condom. 

The room fell into a heavy, ringing silence, broken only by the sound of their labored breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Y/N didn't pull away immediately. She collapsed forward, her weight pressing Lizzie into the mattress, her face buried in the crook of Lizzie’s neck. They stayed like that for a long time—two bodies tangled and cooling in the moonlight—while the adrenaline slowly bled out of the air.

Lizzie was the first to move, her fingers reaching back to weakly stroke Y/N’s arm.

"So," Lizzie whispered, her voice a beautiful, wrecked mess. "Should I... call dispatch and tell them the disturbance has been handled?"

Y/N let out a low, tired chuckle against her skin. "I think the report is going to be a little late tonight."

---

The shift in their relationship was as sudden as it was intense. What started as a "neighborhood disturbance" evolved into a covert, high-stakes arrangement. Elizabeth Olsen, the world-famous actress, and Y/N, the steady-handed police officer, found a rhythm that existed entirely in the spaces between Lizzie’s filming schedule and Y/N’s patrol shifts.

One time was during Lunch Break.

Lizzie had a rare afternoon off during a local shoot. Y/N was halfway through a double shift when her personal phone vibrated in her pocket.

Lizzie: I'm reading a script for a horror movie. I think I heard a "suspicious noise" in the kitchen. Better come investigate. Now.

Y/N showed up twenty minutes later in full uniform. She didn't even make it past the foyer. Lizzie met her at the door wearing nothing but one of Y/N’s discarded gym shirts. The "investigation" took place against the closed front door, Y/N’s utility belt clinking rhythmically against the wood as Lizzie wrapped her legs around her waist, demanding a different kind of service. Y/N had to straighten her tie and check her face for stray lipstick in the cruiser mirror before heading back to the precinct.

Another time was right before one of Lizzie’s Red Carpet. 

Before a major premiere, Lizzie’s house was a whirlwind of stylists and publicists. Y/N stayed tucked away in the bedroom, watching the chaos from a distance. Once the glam squad finally cleared out, Lizzie ducked back into the room, looking breathtaking in a floor-length, backless silk gown.

“I have ten minutes before the car gets here,” Lizzie whispered, backing Y/N up against the bed.

Y/N’s hands were careful not to wrinkle the designer fabric as she hiked the skirt up just enough. The contrast of the high-glamour gown and the raw, frantic pace they shared was a dizzying rush. When Lizzie walked out to the waiting limo, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, leaving Y/N to catch her breath in the quiet house.

Sometimes, it wasn't about the heat—it was about the comedown. After a particularly grueling shift for Y/N, she’d arrive at Sycamore Street at 3:00 AM. Lizzie would be awake, waiting with two glasses of wine or a pot of tea.

They’d sit on the oversized couch, Y/N’s head in Lizzie’s lap. Lizzie would run her fingers through Y/N’s hair, listening to the mundane details of the shit shift Y/N had and the paperwork she had to do after that, while Lizzie talked about the pressures of the industry. These nights usually ended in slow, languid movements under the heavy duvet—intimacy that felt less like a "disturbance" and more like a sanctuary.

---

They crossed paths again at another convention, but this time, the secret was theirs. As Y/N stood post near the green room, Lizzie walked past with her entourage. She didn't stop, but as she brushed past, her hand "accidentally" grazed Y/N’s hand, her pinky hooking Y/N’s for a split second.

Lizzie leaned in as if to ask a security question, her voice a low purr:

“I’m thinking about that night in the cab. You’re wearing the boxers I like today, aren't you?”

Y/N had to maintain a stone-faced professional expression while her heart hammered against her ribs, watching Lizzie walk away with a triumphant sway in her hips.

---

Two months later

It was barely 1:00 PM, and the sun was beating down on the pavement outside, but inside the house on Sycamore, the curtains were drawn, and the air was thick with the sound of heavy breathing and the rhythmic creak of the sofa.

Y/N had a sixty-minute lunch window. She had spent ten of it driving and another five simply trying to get her boots and utility belt off as Lizzie practically pulled her through the front door.

Now, Y/N was sitting on the edge of the plush living room sofa, her uniform shirt unbuttoned and hanging open. Lizzie was straddling her, her knees tucked into the cushions on either side of Y/N’s hips. Lizzie’s head was tilted back, a long, shaky moan escaping her as Y/N’s hands gripped her waist, lifting and lowering her with a focused, relentless pace. "You're... you're going to be late," Lizzie panted, her fingers digging into Y/N’s shoulders, her nails scratching lightly against the skin.

"Then stop moving like that," Y/N rasped, her voice dropping into that low, authoritative register that always made Lizzie’s pulse spike.

Y/N leaned forward, burying her face in the crook of Lizzie’s neck, inhaling the scent of expensive perfume and the salt of her skin. She increased the tempo, her hips snapping upward to meet Lizzie’s downward slide. The friction was perfect, a wet, sliding heat that made the rest of the world—the precinct, the paperwork, the city—feel like a distant memory.

Lizzie’s hands shifted from Y/N’s shoulders to her face, cupping her cheeks and pulling her into a kiss that tasted of desperation. They were right on the edge, the tension in Lizzie’s thighs tightening as she prepared to shatter.

Then, the sharp, digital chirp of Y/N’s department radio cut through the air like a siren.

“Unit 24, come in. We’ve got a 10-16 at the station, Sergeant needs eyes on that evidence log immediately. Break your 10-7 and head back.”

Y/N froze, her forehead resting against Lizzie’s. She didn't pull out, but the rhythm stopped.

"Ignore it," Lizzie whispered against her lips, her hips giving a small, hopeful hitch.

“Unit 24, Y/F/N, you copy? I know you’re on lunch, but this is a priority.”

Y/N let out a long, frustrated groan that sounded more like a growl. She pulled back, looking at Lizzie—whose hair was a mess, lips swollen, and eyes wide with interrupted bliss.

"I have to go," Y/N said, the words tasting like lead.

"You're joking," Lizzie gasped, her hands still locked behind Y/N’s neck. "You are literally inside me, Officer. That has to be a higher priority than a logbook."

Y/N let out a rough chuckle, reaching up to gently detach Lizzie’s hands so she could lift her off. "If I don't answer, they'll send a supervisor to check my GPS. And as much as I like this house, I don't think we want the Sergeant seeing the 'disturbance' I'm currently handling."

Reluctantly, Y/N stood up, her body aching with the sudden lack of contact. She reached for her radio, keyed the mic, and kept her voice remarkably steady despite her racing heart.

"Unit 24. Copy that. Heading back now. Ten minutes out."

Lizzie stayed on the sofa, slumped back against the cushions, her shirt rumpled and her legs still draped over the edge. She watched with a mix of amusement and genuine frustration as Y/N hurriedly buttoned her shirt and tucked it back into her pants. "This is police brutality," Lizzie teased, though her voice was still thick with desire.

Y/N leaned over, pinning Lizzie’s wrists to the sofa for one last, searing kiss that promised a very long night later.

"Leave the door unlocked at 10:00 PM," Y/N murmured against her lips. "I’ll finish the report then."

---

The clock on the dashboard of the cruiser ticked over to 21:58 as Y/N pulled onto the station. 

She rushed inside to get her things. She didn’t even change. She only put on a jacket over the uniform and ignored everybody who tried to talk to her. In 10 minutes she was back at the Sycamore Street for the third time that week. This time, she wasn’t responding to a call; she was finishing what the department had so rudely interrupted.

She killed the engine and the lights. She through the jacket to the back seat before stepping out into the cool night air. True to her word, the front door was unlocked. The house was quiet, lit only by a few low lamps that cast long, amber shadows across the hallway.

Y/N didn't even make it to the stairs before she was intercepted. 

Lizzie appeared from the shadows of the living room, already moving toward her with a predatory grace. She was wearing a silk robe that looked like it would slide off with a single breath. The moment they collided, it was a mess of hands and teeth, the frustration of the afternoon boiling over into a frantic greeting.

"God, I've been thinking about this since one o'clock," Lizzie breathed against Y/N’s neck, her hands immediately going to Y/N’s uniform shirt.

Y/N groaned, her hands finding Lizzie’s waist and hoisting her up onto the heavy oak dining table. The wood groaned under the weight, but neither cared.

"You have no idea how hard it was to sit through a briefing after leaving you like that," Y/N rasped.

Lizzie’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of the shirt, her eyes roaming over the crisp lines of the dark fabric, the silver badge, and the way the sleeves hugged Y/N’s forearms. She paused for a heartbeat, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her lips.

"You know," Lizzie murmured, her voice dropping into that low, enchanting tone she used when she wanted something, "I know I teased you about the 'seriousness' of it all, but you look so incredibly good in this uniform. It makes me want to break every law just to see you come after me."

Y/N let out a rough laugh, her hands moving to her belt. "Is that so? Well, consider yourself under arrest."

They moved to shed the layers, but as Y/N’s hands reached for the heavy utility belt, she paused. The metallic clink of the equipment reminded her of the one thing that didn't belong in a moment this intimate.

She pulled back for a second, the heat between them momentarily suspended as she unholstered her sidearm. With a practiced, heavy thud, she placed the gun on the far end of the dining table, followed by her handcuffs and radio. The silence that followed was heavy, the sight of the weapon on the table serving as a stark reminder of the world Y/N had just stepped out of.

Lizzie stared at the equipment for a second, then looked back up at Y/N, her eyes darker than before. The transition from "Officer" to "Y/N" was complete.

"Now," Lizzie whispered, reaching out to grab Y/N’s tie and pulling her back into the space between her knees. "No more interruptions."

Y/N didn't need to be told twice. She stripped the uniform shirt off, the buttons straining before the fabric hit the floor, and she dove back into the heat of Lizzie’s kiss, finally delivering the "full report" she had promised.

---

Next Morning

The next morning felt strangely quiet.

Y/N had barely slept. After leaving Elizabeth Olsen’s house just after sunrise, she’d driven home with the windows down, the cool air doing little to calm the restless energy still humming through her body.

Now she stood in her apartment bathroom, toweling off after a quick shower. The hot water had helped clear her head—at least a little.

She pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a simple black shirt, running a hand through her still-damp hair before grabbing the things she always carried before a shift: keys, badge, gun. She checked the chamber automatically before holstering it, years of routine making the motion second nature.

Then she reached for her phone, but the counter was empty.

Y/N frowned.

She checked the kitchen table. Nothing. The couch. Still nothing.

Then it hit her.

“Damn it.”

Lizzie’s house.

She must have left it there sometime during the chaos of the night before. Y/N glanced at the clock. She still had time before reporting to the station. With a quiet sigh, she grabbed her jacket and headed back out to the car.

---

Sycamore Street looked peaceful in the morning light. Birds chirped somewhere in the trees as Y/N pulled up in front of the now very familiar house. She stepped out of the car and walked up the path to the front door. For a brief second she hesitated—then she knocked.

A few seconds passed. Footsteps approached. Then finally the door opened.

“Hey, Liz! Sorry I forgot my phone here last night and—” The words died in Y/N’s throat.

A man stood in the doorway.

Y/N froze immediately.

He looked just as surprised to see her. Tall. Well-dressed. Early thirties, maybe. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged in Hollywood circles.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then the man tilted his head slightly. “Uh… may I help you?”

Y/N straightened instinctively. “I was looking for Lizzie. Is she home?”

The man nodded casually. “She’s in the shower.”

Something in Y/N’s chest tightened slightly.

She kept her face neutral. “I left my phone here last night.”

“Oh.” The man glanced briefly over his shoulder into the house. “Alright. I’ll grab it.” He stepped back and closed the door.

Y/N stood there on the porch. Waiting.

The quiet morning suddenly felt heavier than it had a few minutes ago.

After a couple minutes, the door opened again. The man stood there holding her phone. He handed it to her. “Here you go.”

Y/N took it slowly. “Thanks.” 

The man gave a polite nod. “No problem.” Then—He closed the door. Right in her face.

Y/N stood there for a moment, staring at the door. Her jaw tightened slightly. Inside her chest, something unfamiliar twisted. Not anger. Not exactly. Something closer to confusion. Maybe even disappointment.

After a few seconds, she exhaled quietly and slipped the phone into her pocket, then turned and walked back to her car. As she drove away from Sycamore Street—for the first time since meeting Elizabeth Olsen—Y/N realized she had no idea what she actually was to her.

---

Later That Day

The precinct locker room smelled faintly of detergent, metal, and the lingering exhaustion of a long shift. Y/N shut her locker with a dull metallic clang and sat down on the bench in front of it, rubbing a hand over the back of her neck.

It had been a long day. Paperwork. Patrol. A minor traffic accident. Two noise complaints that had nothing to do with Sycamore Street. Which, strangely enough, had bothered her more than she expected.

She finished changing out of her uniform and into her normal clothes—dark jeans, boots, and a loose gray shirt. Her badge and gun rested on the bench beside her while she organized her things back into her bag.

Her phone buzzed. The vibration echoed slightly in the quiet locker room.

Y/N glanced down. The name on the screen made her chest tighten.

Lizzie.

She stared at it for a moment. Then she let out a quiet sigh and locked the screen without opening the message.

Across the bench, one of her coworkers—Marcus—noticed immediately. He leaned back against his locker with a grin. “Problem in paradise?”

Y/N slid the phone into her pocket. “Don’t start.”

Marcus raised both hands innocently. “I’m just asking.” He nodded toward her pocket. “That the actress again?”

Y/N grabbed her jacket. “Drop it.”

Marcus smirked. “Ah. So it is.”

Y/N shot him a look.

Marcus laughed. “Okay, okay. Relax.” He grabbed his own bag but couldn’t resist adding— “Still… if Elizabeth Olsen is texting you and you look that annoyed about it, something interesting definitely happened.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead she reached into her pocket and pulled the phone out again.

The screen lit up.

Lizzie: Is your shift over?

Y/N stared at the message for a moment. Earlier that day Lizzie had already texted her.

Can you come over tonight?

Y/N had replied shortly and simply.

Busy. Can’t.

At the time she hadn’t trusted herself to say anything else. Now the phone felt heavier in her hand.

Marcus noticed immediately. “Well?” he asked, leaning against the hallway wall as officers passed by them.

Y/N exhaled slowly through her nose. “She’s asking if my shift is over.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “That sounds pretty harmless.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

Marcus studied her face for a second. “Okay… what happened?”

“Nothing.”

Marcus crossed his arms. “That is definitely not a ‘nothing’ face.”

Y/N locked the phone and shoved it back into her pocket. “Drop it.”

Marcus tilted his head. “Did you two fight or something?”

“No.”

“Did she ghost you?”

“No.”

Marcus frowned slightly. “Then what?”

Y/N stopped walking. For a moment she looked like she might say something. Then she just shook her head. “Forget it.”

Marcus squinted at her. “You’re acting like someone kicked your puppy.”

Y/N scoffed quietly.

“Relax.” Marcus leaned closer. “Did you find out she’s seeing someone else?”

The words landed a little too close. Y/N’s jaw tightened for half a second.

Marcus noticed instantly.

“Oh.”

He straightened slightly.

“Oh.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You done?”

Marcus lifted both hands. “Hey, I’m just connecting dots.”

Y/N started walking toward the exit again.

Marcus followed. “So… what are you gonna do?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not gonna ask her about it?”

“No.”

Marcus laughed. “You’re terrible at this.”

“At what?”

“Communication.” Y/N pushed open the precinct door and stepped outside into the evening air.

Marcus stepped out beside her. “So the plan is just… pretend it doesn’t bother you?”

Y/N leaned against the side of her car. “It doesn’t.”

Marcus stared at her. “Sure.”

Her phone buzzed again.

Marcus pointed at her pocket immediately. “There it is.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment. Then she pulled the phone out again. The screen lit up.

Lizzie: I wanted to see you tonight.

Marcus leaned slightly, trying to peek.

Y/N turned the screen away instantly.

Marcus groaned. “Rude.”

Y/N stared at the message. Something complicated twisted in her chest.

Marcus waited. “So?” he asked.

Y/N locked the phone again. “I told her I was busy.”

Marcus blinked. “You’re seriously not answering that?”

Y/N opened her car door.

Marcus leaned on the roof. “You realize ignoring people usually makes things worse, right?”

Y/N paused. For just a second. Then she slid into the driver’s seat.

Marcus knocked lightly on the window before she closed the door. “You like her,” he said through the glass.

Y/N didn’t answer.

Marcus grinned. “Oh you definitely like her.”

Y/N started the engine.

Marcus stepped back from the car. As she pulled out of the lot—Her phone buzzed again in the passenger seat.

As Y/N drove, the phone continued to buzz on the passenger seat. She kept her eyes on the road for a moment, jaw tight, fingers drumming once against the steering wheel before she finally glanced down at the screen during a red light.

Another message.

Lizzie: Did I do something?

Y/N stared at the words.

The light turned green. She drove another block before pulling into a quiet parking lot across from a closed café. The engine idled as the city moved around her.

Her phone buzzed again.

Lizzie: You’ve been acting weird since this morning.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment, her thumb hovering over the screen. For a second she considered just ignoring it again. But that would only make it worse. With a quiet sigh, she typed back.

Y/N: Just stuck at work.

The typing bubbles appeared almost immediately.

Lizzie: Your shift isn’t supposed to be this long.

Y/N leaned back in the driver’s seat, staring at the dashboard as the engine hummed quietly.

Y/N: Things came up.

Another pause. Then—

Lizzie: Are you sure that’s all it is?

Y/N rubbed her temple with one hand. She could almost hear Lizzie’s voice in her head saying it. Soft. Curious. A little suspicious.

Y/N: Yeah.

The reply came slower this time.

Lizzie: You’re a terrible liar.

Y/N huffed quietly under her breath. Her fingers hovered over the screen again. Before she could respond—Another message popped up.

Lizzie: Did something happen this morning?

Y/N’s jaw tightened slightly. For a moment she didn’t type anything. Instead she locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. The car was silent except for the faint ticking of the engine. She stared through the windshield for a long moment. Then, the phone buzzed again beside her.

Y/N glanced at it but didn’t pick it up right away. She knew who it was. After a few seconds, she finally grabbed the phone and unlocked the screen. Another message from Lizzie.

Lizzie: Y/N… talk to me.

Y/N stared at the words, her jaw tightening slightly. For someone who spent most of her job questioning people, she suddenly had no idea what to say. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Finally she typed.

Y/N: I told you. I’m at work.

The reply came almost instantly.

Lizzie: You’re not.

Y/N frowned slightly. Another message appeared.

Lizzie: Your friend told me your shift was over.

Y/N blinked.

Marcus.

It had to be Marcus. Her phone buzzed again.

Lizzie: You’re avoiding me.

Y/N leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes for a second. She typed slowly this time.

Y/N: Not avoiding you.

Three dots appeared again almost immediately.

Lizzie: Then come over.

Y/N opened her eyes and stared at the message. Outside the windshield, the evening traffic moved steadily down the street. Her fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel.

The phone buzzed again.

Lizzie: Please.

That word landed differently. Y/N stared at the screen for a long moment, the soft glow lighting up the inside of the car. Her jaw tightened slightly as she leaned back against the seat. She could ignore it. It would be easier.

Cleaner.

But the truth was… she already knew she wasn’t going to. Y/N let out a quiet sigh and dropped the phone onto the passenger seat.

“Damn it.”

She started the engine. The car pulled out of the parking lot and merged into the evening traffic, city lights flickering across the windshield as she drove.

The route to Sycamore Street was familiar now. Too familiar. Every stoplight felt longer than usual. Every slow driver in front of her made her grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Her mind kept replaying the morning. The door opening. The man standing there.

Y/N exhaled sharply through her nose and pushed the thought away.

Ten minutes later she turned down the quiet street. Lizzie’s house sat exactly the same as always—warm light glowing through the windows, the porch light casting a soft halo over the front steps.

Y/N parked at the curb and sat there for a second. Her phone buzzed again. She didn’t even need to check. Another sigh left her as she opened the car door and stepped out. The night air was cool against her skin as she walked up the familiar path. This time she knocked.

A few seconds passed. Footsteps approached from inside. The door opened and Lizzie stood there. Barefoot. Hair loose around her shoulders. Wearing an oversized sweater that looked suspiciously like one of Y/N’s.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

Lizzie studied her face carefully.

“You came.”

Y/N crossed her arms lightly.

“You said please.”

Lizzie’s lips twitched faintly at that. “Yeah.”

Another small silence stretched between them.

Then Lizzie stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Y/N hesitated for half a second before walking inside. The door closed quietly behind her.

Lizzie turned to face her again. “So…” she said gently. “You gonna tell me what’s actually going on?”

Y/N looked at her for a moment. Then she said flatly—“I came by this morning.”

Lizzie blinked. And then—realization hit her face all at once.

“I came to get my phone that I forgot…” Y/N continue. “…and you had a guy over.” Y/N looked at her for a long moment. Then she ran a hand through her hair and looked away toward the living room instead of Lizzie.

“I know I don’t really have a right to say anything,” she started, her voice lower than usual.

Lizzie stayed quiet.

Y/N continued, words coming slower now. “We never talked about it. About… whatever this is.” She gestured vaguely between them. “So you can see whoever you want. That’s not supposed to be my business.”

Lizzie’s expression softened slightly, but she still didn’t interrupt.

Y/N exhaled slowly. “And I know what this probably looks like from your side,” she went on. “We hook up. We have fun. That’s probably all it is.”

She let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re probably thinking I’m stupid for catching feelings over something like that.”

Lizzie’s brows pulled together immediately. “Y/N—”

But Y/N kept talking, like if she stopped now she wouldn’t finish. “I walked up to your house this morning thinking…” she shook her head slightly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Her jaw tightened a little.

“Then some guy opens the door and tells me you’re in the shower.”

A small silence filled the room.

Y/N finally looked back at Lizzie. “So yeah,” she said quietly. “That threw me off a little.”

Lizzie stared at her for a moment. Then she let out a breath. “First of all,” she said, stepping closer, “you’re not stupid.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

Lizzie folded her arms loosely. “And second… that guy was my publicist.”

Y/N blinked.

“My publicist,” Lizzie repeated. “He came over early because we had to go over press stuff for a project.”

Y/N studied her face, trying to read whether she was joking.

Lizzie gave a small, incredulous laugh. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You got jealous.”

Y/N scoffed automatically. “I didn’t—”

“You absolutely did,” Lizzie said, though her tone wasn’t mocking. If anything, it sounded… a little pleased.

Y/N rubbed the back of her neck again. “That’s not the point.”

Lizzie tilted her head slightly.

“Then what is?”

Y/N hesitated. “The point is… I didn’t expect it to bother me.”

Lizzie watched her carefully.

“And now?”

Y/N met her eyes again. “…Now I know it does.”

For a second the room was completely quiet. Then Lizzie took another step closer. Close enough that Y/N could see the faint smile tugging at her lips. 

“Well,” Lizzie said softly. “That’s interesting.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “How is that interesting?”

Lizzie shrugged slightly. “Because I thought I was the only one catching feelings.”

Y/N frowned slightly. “You?”

Lizzie gave a small, almost shy shrug. “Yeah. Me.”

Y/N looked genuinely confused now.

Lizzie leaned back against the edge of the table behind her, crossing her arms loosely as she watched Y/N process that. “You think I’ve been inviting you over every chance I get just because the sex is good?” Lizzie asked.

Y/N opened her mouth—then closed it again.

Lizzie laughed softly. “Okay, don’t answer that.”

Y/N rubbed the back of her neck again, suddenly looking less like the confident officer and more like someone who’d just realized she’d misread the entire situation. “I just assumed…” she muttered.

“That I do this with everyone?” Lizzie finished.

Y/N immediately shook her head. “No… of course not,” she said quickly. She looked down for a second, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. “I just… I just…” she exhaled softly. “I don’t know.”

Lizzie waited.

Y/N rubbed the back of her neck again, clearly uncomfortable now. “You’re famous,” she said finally. “You can date anyone you want.” She gestured vaguely toward Lizzie. “Actors. Models. Directors. Whoever.”

A small, awkward shrug followed. “I didn’t think you’d actually be interested in someone like me.”

Lizzie blinked at her. “Someone like you?”

Y/N nodded once. “Yeah.”

Lizzie stared at her for a moment like she was trying to process what she’d just heard. Then she pushed herself off the table and stepped closer again. “Okay,” she said slowly. “We need to unpack that sentence.”

Y/N frowned slightly. “What sentence?”

“The one where you somehow decided you’re not interesting enough for me.”

Y/N scoffed quietly. “I didn’t say that.”

Lizzie pointed a finger at her. “You absolutely implied it.”

Y/N opened her mouth—then stopped.

Lizzie folded her arms. “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You’re a almost six-foot tall, police officer who literally walked into my house during a noise complaint and somehow managed to flirt with me while telling me to behave.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I did not—”

“You did,” Lizzie cut in. A small smile crept onto her face. “And then you showed up at a convention looking like you stepped out of some ‘hot cop’ fantasy and acted like you weren’t aware of it.”

Y/N looked mildly offended now.

“I was working.”

Lizzie ignored that.

“And then,” she continued, stepping even closer, “you danced with me at a club and had me leaving with you in a cab ten minutes later.”

Y/N coughed lightly.

Lizzie tilted her head. “And somehow you think I wouldn’t be interested in you?”

Y/N shifted her weight slightly. “When you say it like that…”

Lizzie leaned forward just enough that their faces were close again.

“I’m saying it exactly like that.”

Y/N studied her for a moment. Then she muttered quietly, “…You could still do better.”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Oh really?”

Y/N shrugged.

Lizzie reached up and grabbed the front of Y/N’s shirt again, pulling her closer until they were almost chest to chest. “Listen carefully, Officer Y/F/N,” she said softly.

“I’m the one who gets to decide who I want.”

Y/N held her gaze.

“And right now,” Lizzie continued, “that person is you.” A small silence settled between them.

Then Lizzie smirked slightly. “Also… for the record?”

Y/N raised a brow.

“You’re ridiculously attractive.”

Y/N let out a quiet huff of amusement to hide her smile.

“Good to know.”

Lizzie smiled. “Very.”

Y/N shifted slightly, clearly gathering the courage to say something. Her hand rubbed the back of her neck again—a habit Lizzie was starting to recognize whenever she was nervous.

“So…” Y/N began.

Lizzie watched her with quiet curiosity.

“If I asked you on a real date…” Y/N said slowly. “Wi—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Lizzie reached up, pulling Y/N down into a kiss.

The words disappeared against Lizzie’s lips. For a second Y/N froze in surprise, then immediately kissed her back.

Lizzie pulled away just barely—close enough that their noses brushed—her lips still hovering against Y/N’s.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Y/N blinked.

“You didn’t even let me finish the question.”

Lizzie smiled, still holding onto her shirt. “You were going to ask me on a real date.”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“That confident, huh?”

Lizzie nodded once.

“Very.”

Y/N chuckled softly under her breath. “Alright then.”

Lizzie tilted her head. “Alright what?”

Y/N slipped one arm around Lizzie’s waist, pulling her a little closer.

“Friday night,” she said. “Dinner.”

Lizzie pretended to think about it. “Hmm.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Don’t start.”

Lizzie grinned. “I’m a very busy actress, Officer.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I might need convincing.”

Y/N leaned down slightly, her voice lowering just enough to make Lizzie shiver. “Dinner,” she repeated. “No disturbances.”

Lizzie smirked. “That sounds suspiciously boring.”

Y/N shrugged. “You asked for a real date.”

Lizzie looked at her for a moment. Then she leaned in again and kissed her—slower this time. 

When she pulled back, she smiled. “Friday night,” she agreed. “But I’m picking the place.”

Y/N nodded. “Deal.”

Lizzie studied her face for a moment before teasing. “You know,” she said softly, stepping closer again, “for someone who acts so confident on the street… you’re surprisingly shy when it comes to this.”

Y/N scoffed lightly. “I’m not shy.”

Lizzie raised a brow. “Really?”

Before Y/N could answer, Lizzie grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the hallway. “Hey—” Y/N laughed quietly, letting herself be dragged along. “Where are we going?”

Lizzie glanced back over her shoulder, her smile mischievous. “Well,” she said, “you did just come straight from work.”

Y/N frowned slightly.

“And?”

“And you probably smell like the inside of a patrol car.”

Y/N looked offended. “I do not.”

Lizzie laughed. “Relax, Officer.” She tugged Y/N a little farther down the hall toward the stairs. “Why don’t you take a shower,” Lizzie said, her tone softer now. “And then come to bed.”

Y/N stopped halfway up the stairs, raising an eyebrow at her. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re trying to skip the whole ‘date’ thing.”

Lizzie stepped up one stair so they were nearly face to face. Her fingers slid into the front of Y/N’s shirt again. “Friday is the date,” she said quietly. Then she leaned up, brushing a quick kiss against Y/N’s lips. “Tonight,” she added with a small smile, “you’re just staying over.”

Y/N studied her for a second. Then a small smirk tugged at her mouth. “Bossy.”

Lizzie shrugged. “Confident.”

Y/N shook her head slightly but let Lizzie pull her the rest of the way upstairs.

At the top of the stairs, Lizzie pointed toward the bathroom. “Shower,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am” Y/N smile.

---

A little while later, the bathroom door opened. Steam drifted softly into the hallway as Y/N stepped out, drying her hair with a towel. She had changed into the only clean things she could find in her bag—just a pair of dark boxers and a black sports bra. Comfortable. Casual.

Very much not trying to impress anyone.

“Hey, Liz,” Y/N called as she walked toward the bedroom. “Do you know where the shirt I left the other night is? The gray one?”

She stepped into the room. And stopped.

Lizzie was sitting on the bed, legs folded under her, flipping lazily through a script. But she wasn’t wearing her sweater anymore. Instead—she was wearing Y/N’s gray shirt.

The one Y/N had just asked about.

The sleeves hung a little long on her arms, the fabric loose and soft against her frame, clearly much bigger on her than it had been on Y/N.

Lizzie looked up slowly. A small, guilty smile tugged at her lips. “Oh,” she said casually. “This one?”

Y/N stared at her for a second. “…You stole my shirt.”

Lizzie glanced down at herself as if noticing it for the first time. “Huh,” she said thoughtfully. “I guess I did.”

Y/N crossed her arms, trying very hard not to smile. “You were supposed to give that back.”

Lizzie shrugged lightly, completely unapologetic. “It’s comfortable.”

“It’s mine.”

Lizzie tilted her head. “You weren’t using it.”

Y/N shook her head, walking a little closer. “That’s not the point.”

Lizzie closed the script and set it aside, watching Y/N approach. “You want it back?”

Y/N stopped at the edge of the bed.

“Yes.”

Lizzie hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm.” She leaned back slightly on her hands. “But I kind of like it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’re unbelievable.”

Lizzie grinned. “Or,” she said slowly, “you could just come to bed and remove it from me.”

Y/N tried to maintain a serious expression. It lasted about two seconds. Then she huffed out a quiet laugh. “You’re impossible.”

Lizzie patted the mattress beside her. “Come here.”

Y/N climbed onto the bed beside her, shaking her head. As she settled in, Lizzie leaned slightly against her shoulder, the oversized shirt shifting softly with the movement. Y/N glanced down at it. “…You’re definitely keeping that, aren’t you?”

Lizzie smiled sleepily. “Probably.”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “I’m never getting that shirt back.”

Lizzie looked up at her. “Nope.”

Then she added, softer this time—“It’s mine now, just like it’s owner.”

---

“Death is not cruel,” Rio said. “But it is precise.”

She stepped closer, until Y/N could feel the cold certainty radiating from her.

“You may not take what belongs to me,” Rio continued. “But there are… exceptions.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

“Exceptions?” she repeated.

Rio smiled—not kindly this time.

“Every resurrection has a cost,” she said. “And the universe always collects.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate.

“Name it.”

Rio’s eyes flicked—not to Y/N’s body, but somewhere deeper.

“Careful,” Death murmured. “You might already be paying it.”

The air shifted.

And for the first time since this began, Y/N realized—

She had found what she was looking for.

And it terrified her.

---

Y/N returned to the compound before dawn.

The building was quiet in that hollow way it only ever was when the world hadn’t woken up yet—lights dimmed, footsteps absent, even the air feeling heavier. She moved through the halls like a ghost, jacket still smelling faintly of cold and something else she couldn’t name.

She didn’t stop at her room.

She went straight to Wanda’s.

Y/N stood in front of the door longer than she meant to. Her hand hovered, fell, clenched into a fist, loosened again. For a moment she almost turned away—almost decided that Wanda’s silence was answer enough.

Then she knocked.

Once.

Nothing.

She knocked again, a little firmer this time.

Footsteps shuffled on the other side. The door opened just enough for a tired, irritated Wanda to peer through.

And then she saw her.

For a split second—just a heartbeat—relief crossed Wanda’s face. Raw, unguarded. Like she had been afraid Y/N wouldn’t come back at all.

Then it vanished.

Her jaw tightened. Her eyes hardened.

“What do you want?” Wanda snapped. “I told you to leave me alone.”

She started to close the door.

“Wanda—wait.” Y/N’s voice cracked just slightly. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to see me. I just… I need to show you something.”

Wanda scoffed. “Show me what? Another apology?”

Y/N shook her head. “Please. Just—trust me. Once.”

Silence stretched between them. Wanda searched Y/N’s face like she was looking for a lie, or a weakness, or a reason to say no.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, she stepped back and pulled the door open.

“Five minutes,” she said coldly. “That’s all you get.”

---

They moved quietly through the compound. Wanda didn’t say a word, arms crossed tightly over her chest, bare feet padding against the floor. She was still in her pajamas—thin fabric, no jacket.

They reached the exit.

Y/N stopped suddenly.

“What—?” Wanda began, irritated.

“You’ll feel cold,” Y/N said softly.

Before Wanda could argue, Y/N slipped off her own jacket and stepped closer, gently draping it around Wanda’s shoulders. Her hands brushed Wanda’s arms—warm, familiar.

Wanda froze.

Heat crept up her neck, color blooming across her cheeks despite herself. She hated that her body still remembered Y/N so easily. Hated that she still leaned into the warmth before she could stop herself.

Y/N didn’t notice.

She was already turning toward the car, keys in hand, like this was the most natural thing in the world—like she hadn’t been treated like a stranger for weeks.

That hurt more than Wanda wanted to admit.

---

The drive was quiet.

Too quiet.

Wanda watched the city blur past the window, unease crawling under her skin. “Where are we going?” she asked finally.

“You’ll see,” Y/N replied.

“That’s not an answer.”

Y/N tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Just—please. Stay with me.”

When the car pulled into the motel parking lot, Wanda lost it.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she snapped, yanking the door open. “Why the hell would you bring me here?”

Y/N stepped out quickly. “Wanda, calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Wanda shouted, magic flaring faintly at her fingertips. “You disappear for days, ignore everything I say, and then drag me to some rundown motel in the middle of nowhere?”

“Wanda, please—”

“No. I’m done listening—”

“You don’t have much time, Y/N.”

The voice was smooth. Amused.

Both of them turned.

A woman leaned casually against the motel railing, dark hair falling loose around her shoulders, eyes sharp and far too knowing. The air around her felt wrong—like the world bent slightly in her presence.

Wanda’s stomach twisted instantly.

“Who is that?” Wanda demanded, stepping closer to Y/N, jealousy blazing hot and sudden. “And why does she feel like that?”

Y/N swallowed. “Wanda—”

Wanda’s glare snapped back to the woman. “Who the hell are you?”

The woman smiled lazily. “Oh, I’m nobody you need to worry about.”

Y/N turned to her quickly.

“Rio—I’m sorry. Thank you. Really.”

Rio’s gaze softened, just a fraction. Something old and endless flickered behind her eyes.

“You’re welcome, darling.”

Wanda stiffened instantly. “Darling?”

Y/N rushed on, words tumbling over each other, heart pounding. “Um—about the payment, what should I—”

Rio moved.

One moment she was an arm’s length away, the next she was right in front of Y/N, fingers curling into the front of Y/N’s shirt as she pulled Y/N down without warning.

The kiss wasn’t brief.

It was claiming. Overwhelming. The kind of kiss that stole breath and thought alike, heavy with intent and something far deeper than affection. Y/N’s body went rigid in shock, mind blank, hands frozen uselessly at her sides. She didn’t respond—couldn’t—but she didn’t pull away either.

Time fractured.

Then Rio pulled back just as suddenly.

Y/N stood there, stunned, lips parted, chest rising too fast. She blinked like she’d just been dropped back into her body.

Behind her—

Wanda’s magic erupted.

Red energy flared violently around her hands, raw and uncontrolled, grief and jealousy and fury crashing together in a single, devastating wave.

“What,” Wanda said, voice shaking with rage, “did you just do?”

Rio smiled slowly, unbothered, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She glanced at Y/N once more, almost fond.

“That will do,” she said lightly. “Payment accepted.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “That’s… that’s it?”

“For now.” Rio’s gaze flicked back to Wanda, amused. “Remember—forty-eight hours.”

She stepped back—and then she was gone. No smoke. No sound. Just absence.

Wanda surged forward. “Get back here—!”

Nothing.

Silence slammed down around them.

Wanda turned on Y/N so fast it felt like being struck.

“What. Was. That.” Wanda demanded.

Y/N finally found her voice, small and shaken. “Wanda, I swear—I didn’t know she would—”

“Oh, don’t,” Wanda snapped, eyes blazing, pain cracking straight through her anger. “Don’t stand there like you didn’t let her. Like you didn’t just—”

Her voice broke. Her fists clenched, red magic trembling violently around her hands, unstable and dangerous.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N blurted out, stepping closer. “I am. But—we don’t have time for this. Please.”

Wanda laughed harshly. “You think you get to decide that?”

“Wanda,” Y/N said urgently, “we really don’t have time. You need to come inside. Now.”

“I am not going anywhere with you,” Wanda snapped, trying to shove past her. “You’re going to listen to me for once—”

Y/N didn’t argue.

She turned abruptly and walked toward the motel room, key already in her hand.

“Hey!” Wanda followed immediately, fury propelling her forward. “Don’t you dare walk away from me—Y/N, listen to me!”

Y/N unlocked the door and stepped inside without another word.

Wanda stormed in after her, ready to scream—

And froze.

The room was dim, curtains drawn halfway. The air felt heavy, charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.

And standing in the middle of the room—

“Pietro…?” Wanda whispered.

Her knees nearly gave out.

He looked the same. The same crooked grin tugging at his lips. The same familiar stance, weight shifted onto one foot, arms crossed loosely like he’d just walked in late and expected a lecture.

“Hey, sis,” Pietro said softly.

Wanda’s breath hitched violently. The world tilted.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No—this isn’t funny. This isn’t—”

She took a step forward.

Then another.

Her hand lifted, trembling, hovering inches from his arm. She was terrified to touch him. Terrified that he’d vanish the second she did.

“You’re dead,” she breathed. “I felt you die.”

Pietro’s expression softened, all teasing gone, replaced by something achingly gentle.

“I know.”

A broken sound tore out of her chest.

Wanda surged forward and wrapped her arms around him, clutching him like she could fuse him back into existence if she just held on hard enough. Her face buried against his shoulder as sobs wracked through her, raw and uncontrollable.

“I’m here,” Pietro murmured, arms coming around her automatically. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

Wanda shook violently in his arms. “I thought—I thought I lost you. I didn’t protect you. I—”

“Hey,” Pietro whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “None of that. I chose it. You know that.”

Her fingers twisted into his shirt like an anchor.

Behind them, Y/N stood silently near the door.

Her chest ached so badly she thought it might split open. Tears blurred her vision as she watched Wanda cling to her brother, watched the grief that had frozen Wanda for so long finally crack open and spill free.

This was why she’d done it.

This moment.

Y/N wiped at her eyes quietly, careful not to make a sound. She took one last look—at Wanda holding Pietro like he was the only thing keeping her alive—and then turned toward the door.

Pietro noticed.

His gaze lifted over Wanda’s shoulder, meeting Y/N’s. Recognition flickered there. Gratitude. And something else—something heavy.

He nodded once, subtle.

Thank you.

Y/N swallowed hard and slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

The hallway was empty.

She leaned back against the wall, pressing her fist to her mouth as a silent sob tore through her chest.

Forty-eight hours.

That was all he had.

That was all she’d bought him.

And somehow, it still didn’t feel like enough.

---

The door clicked shut softly behind Y/N.

Wanda barely registered the sound.

She was still holding Pietro, arms locked around him like if she loosened her grip even a little, reality would remember what it was supposed to be and tear him away again. Her hands shook against his back. His heartbeat—real, solid—thudded under her palm.

She pressed her face harder into his shoulder.

“You’re warm,” she whispered, like it was a revelation. “You’re real.”

Pietro let out a quiet breath, one hand rubbing slow circles into her back, grounding her the way he always used to when nightmares woke her up in Sokovia. “Yeah. Guess death didn’t cool me off much.”

A weak, broken laugh escaped her, immediately turning into a sob.

“I hated you,” she confessed shakily. “After you—after you died, I hated you for leaving me. And then I hated myself for it.”

Pietro pulled back just enough to look at her, thumbs brushing away her tears. “Wanda… you don’t get to carry that. Not this.”

“You saved her,” Wanda said, voice cracking. “You died saving Y/N.”

He nodded once. “I would do it again.”

Wanda’s fingers tightened in his shirt. “Are you—” Her voice trembled. “Are you back? For good?”

The question hung between them, fragile and desperate.

Pietro’s smile softened, and that was answer enough before he even spoke.

“Unfortunately… no.”

Her heart dropped straight through her chest.

“How long?” she whispered, already knowing she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Forty-eight hours,” he said gently. “That’s all I get.”

Tears welled up instantly, spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them. “No. That’s not fair. You can’t just— you can’t come back and then leave again.”

“I know,” he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. “Trust me, if I had a vote, I’d complain.”

She let out a shaky, broken sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“I just got you back.”

“And you’ve got me,” he said firmly. “For two whole days. That’s more than zero, yeah?”

Wanda shook her head, grief clawing its way back up her throat.

Before she could spiral, Pietro gently grabbed her hands.

“Hey,” he said, squeezing them. “No wasting time crying about the clock. We’ve done enough of that.”

She looked at him, eyes red and glassy.

“We make the most of it,” he insisted. “Deal?”

She hesitated.

He raised a brow. “Maximoffs don’t waste second chances.”

That did it.

Wanda let out a slow, trembling breath and nodded.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Good,” Pietro said, relief flashing across his face. Then, with sudden familiar energy, he tugged her toward the bed. “Now sit. I need updates.”

Despite everything, she huffed out a quiet laugh as he pulled her down beside him.

“Updates?” she repeated.

“Yes!” he said, eyes bright in a way that made her chest ache. “I die, and suddenly the world keeps going without me? Rude. I want details.”

She stared at him, overwhelmed by how him he still was.

“Tell me everything,” he said, leaning back against the headboard like they were kids again in Sokovia, whispering under thin blankets. “What happened after? Did we win? Did you become terrifyingly powerful? Did anyone finally admit I was the better twin?”

She sniffed, wiping her face with the sleeve of her pajama top. “We stopped Ultron.”

He nodded approvingly. “Good. I always knew we would.”

“And yes,” she added softly, “I became terrifyingly powerful.”

He grinned. “I never doubted that either.”

Her voice grew quieter. “We joined the Avengers.”

His brows lifted. “You? Living in a big shiny tower with Americans?”

She rolled her eyes faintly. “It’s not a tower anymore.”

“Disappointing.”

Despite the ache twisting inside her, she found herself talking. About missions. About learning control. About how strange it felt to be trusted by people who once feared them. About Vision—carefully, briefly.

Pietro listened like someone starving for stories, eyes wide, interrupting occasionally with dramatic reactions or exaggerated offense.

“And Clint?” he demanded. “Is he still grumpy?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“And Steve?”

“Still noble.”

“Annoying.”

Wanda smiled through her tears.

Pietro watched her carefully as the smile lingered a little too long before fading.

“And Y/N?” he asked casually.

The question hit differently.

Wanda’s shoulders tensed.

Pietro caught it immediately.

“What?” he pressed, brows lifting. “Don’t tell me I die and you two don’t at least get dramatic about it. Are you engaged already? Secret wedding? Tiny Maximoff-L/N babies running around?”

Despite herself, Wanda let out a small, watery laugh. “No.”

Pietro leaned back against the headboard, folding his arms. “Hmm.”

She looked down at her hands.

“It’s not like that,” she said quietly.

His tone softened. “Then what is it like?”

Wanda swallowed.

“We were… good,” she admitted. “After Sokovia. After everything. She was always there. Always beside me.”

Pietro nodded knowingly. “She’s good at that.”

“I wasn’t,” Wanda whispered.

He didn’t interrupt.

“I shut her out,” she continued. “When you died, I couldn’t look at her without seeing…” Her voice cracked. “Without seeing you.”

Pietro’s jaw tightened slightly, but he stayed silent.

“I blamed her,” Wanda confessed. “I told her I wished it had been her instead of you.”

The words hung heavy between them.

Pietro inhaled slowly.

“Sestra,” he sighed.

Not angry.

Not disappointed.

Just… tired.

Wanda couldn’t look at him.

“I know,” she whispered quickly. “You don’t have to say it. I know it was horrible. I know I—”

“Hey.” His voice was firm now.

She finally looked up.

“I don’t need to scold you,” he said gently. “You’ve been punishing yourself enough.”

Her eyes filled again. “I was drowning.”

“I know.”

“I saw you die in her arms,” Wanda continued, the memory ripping through her all over again. “And she was alive. And I hated that she was breathing when you weren’t.”

Pietro’s jaw tightened, but he reached out anyway, brushing a tear from her cheek.

“You were grieving,” he said. “Grief makes you cruel sometimes. Especially to the people who are still there.”

“She didn’t deserve it.”

“No,” he agreed quietly. “She didn’t.”

The honesty stung—but it didn’t wound.

Wanda’s hands trembled in her lap. “She looked at me like I’d shot her,” she whispered. “And she still stayed.”

Pietro huffed a small, sad laugh. “Of course she did.”

Wanda glanced at him.

“She’s always loved you like that,” he said. “Like you hung the moon and she was just lucky to see it.”

Her chest ached.

“I told her to leave me alone,” Wanda admitted. “And she listened.”

Pietro tilted his head. “And how did that feel?”

She hesitated.

“Empty,” she said finally. “I kept telling myself it was better. That I didn’t need her hovering. That I was stronger without her.”

“And?”

She swallowed.

“I wasn’t.”

Silence settled over them again, softer now.

“You know why I ran toward those bullets, right?” Pietro asked quietly.

Wanda’s throat tightened. “Because you’re reckless.”

He snorted faintly. “Also true.”

Then his expression turned serious.

“I ran because she would’ve done the same for me,” he said. “For you. For anyone she loves.”

Wanda’s breath hitched.

“You think I don’t know what I was doing?” he continued gently. “I saw her moving. I saw the angle. I made a choice.”

His gaze locked with hers.

“It wasn’t her fault.”

“I know,” Wanda whispered.

“Do you?” he pressed softly.

She nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“I was just so angry,” she admitted. “At the world. At Ultron. At myself. And she was the only one close enough to hurt.”

Pietro leaned his forehead lightly against hers, the way he used to when they were children hiding from bombs.

“Then stop hurting her,” he murmured.

Wanda’s breath trembled between them.

He hesitated only a second before continuing.

“I’m here,” he said quietly, “because Y/N made a deal with Death.”

The words didn’t make sense at first.

“With… what?” Wanda whispered.

“Death,” Pietro repeated, calm but serious. “Not a metaphor. Not magic gone wrong. The real thing.”

Wanda pulled back slightly, eyes widening.

“She found death and asked for me,” he continued. “Argued with her. And pleaded for me to return.”

Wanda’s chest tightened painfully.

“What did she give?” she asked, already afraid of the answer.

Pietro exhaled slowly.

“She offered her life.”

The room went completely still.

“No,” Wanda breathed.

“She said take me instead,” Pietro said softly. “Bring him back. Let him stay. Let Wanda have her brother.”

Wanda’s vision blurred instantly. “No,” she repeated, shaking her head harder. “She wouldn’t—”

“She would,” Pietro corrected gently. “You know she would.”

Her knees weakened.

“I refused,” he said quickly, steadying her before she could spiral. “I told her absolutely not. I’m not trading my idiot sister’s girlfriend for myself.”

Despite the devastation, a faint, watery huff escaped Wanda.

“She argued,” Pietro went on. “For a while.”

Wanda could almost picture it—Y/N standing stubborn and desperate in front of something ancient and inevitable, refusing to back down.

“When I wouldn’t accept it,” he said, “she begged for something else. Temporary time. Forty-eight hours.”

Wanda’s throat tightened painfully.

“And Death agreed?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“But… for what?” Wanda pressed.

Pietro’s jaw shifted slightly.

“That,” he admitted, “I don’t know.”

Silence fell heavy.

“She didn’t tell you?” Wanda asked.

“She didn’t know yet,” Pietro said. “Death doesn’t always announce the full cost upfront.”

Wanda’s heart pounded violently.

“But it shouldn’t cost her life,” he added quickly. “That was the condition. I made sure of that.”

“Shouldn’t?” Wanda repeated faintly.

Pietro’s expression darkened slightly—not fearful, but wary.

“Nothing involving Death is ever free,” he said quietly. “And nothing involving love is ever simple.”

Wanda pressed her hands to her face, breathing uneven.

“She was willing to die,” she whispered. “For me.”

“Yes.”

“I told her I wished it had been her.”

“I know.”

“I pushed her away.”

“I know.”

“And she still—” Wanda broke off, choking on the weight of it.

Pietro squeezed her hands firmly.

“She loves you,” he said. “Not halfway. Not safely. Completely.”

Wanda looked at him, terror rising in her chest.

“What if the cost is worse than dying?” she whispered.

Pietro didn’t lie.

“It might be.”

Her breathing hitched.

“But you don’t get to undo what she did by pushing her away again,” he said gently. “If she walked into Death itself for you… the least you can do is walk back down the hallway and talk to her.”

Wanda’s gaze flicked to the door.

Forty-eight hours.

Her brother, sitting alive in front of her.

And somewhere outside this room—

The woman who had loved her enough to challenge Death.

Wanda swallowed hard.

Because for the first time—

Her fear wasn’t about losing Pietro again.

It was about what she might lose if she didn’t fix this now.

---

Wanda stared at the door like it might disappear if she looked away.

Forty-eight hours.

Her brother sat beside her, solid and warm and breathing.

And somewhere outside this room was the woman who had stood in front of Death itself and said, take me instead.

Wanda’s chest tightened painfully.

“I told her to leave me alone,” she whispered. “I told her I couldn’t even stand being in the same room as her.”

Pietro didn’t flinch.

“And yet she brought you here,” he said quietly.

Wanda’s hands curled into the fabric of her pajama sleeves.

“I don’t deserve her,” she said.

Pietro huffed softly. “Probably not.”

She shot him a look through her tears.

He softened immediately.

“But love isn’t about deserving,” he added. “It’s about choosing. And she keeps choosing you.”

Wanda swallowed hard.

“She offered her life,” she repeated faintly, like saying it again might make it less real.

“Yes.”

“And you refused.”

“Of course I did.” He nudged her lightly. “What kind of brother would I be if I let your girlfriend die for me?”

A shaky breath escaped her.

“I don’t even know what the cost is,” she said. “I felt something when that woman—when Death—was near. It wasn’t over. It was just… waiting.”

Pietro’s expression grew thoughtful.

“Then you don’t waste time,” he said.

Wanda looked at him.

“You don’t spend the next forty-eight hours drowning in guilt,” he continued. “You spend them living. With me. And fixing what you broke with her.”

Her throat tightened.

“What if she doesn’t want me anymore?” she whispered.

Pietro stared at her like she’d just said something ridiculous.

“Wanda,” he said gently, “she crossed realms for you.”

The words settled deep.

“She still loves you,” he added. “That part was very obvious.”

Wanda let out a weak, tearful laugh. “How?”

“The way she looked at you before she left the room,” he said softly. “Like she was afraid you’d wake up from a dream.”

Wanda’s heart clenched.

“The way she looked at you before she left the room,” Pietro repeated softly. “Like she was afraid you’d wake up from a dream.”

Wanda blinked back fresh tears.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she admitted.

Pietro studied her for a moment, then gave her shoulder a small nudge.

“You start by walking out that door and talking to her,” he said gently. “Not tomorrow. Not after I’m gone. Now.”

Wanda’s stomach twisted.

“And you don’t get dramatic about it,” he added quickly. “No tragic speeches. Just honesty.”

She let out a shaky breath.

“But,” Pietro said, suddenly brightening, “before any of that… I am starving.”

Wanda stared at him.

“I died,” he reminded her. “That’s a lot of calories.”

Despite herself, she huffed a laugh.

“You’re impossible.”

“And hungry.”

Right on cue—

There was a soft knock at the door.

Both of them turned.

Wanda’s heart jumped into her throat.

The door opened slowly, cautiously.

Y/N stepped inside, arms full of paper bags, the smell of takeout filling the small motel room. She hesitated just past the threshold, eyes flicking between them like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to be there.

“Sorry for interrupting…” she said quietly.

Her gaze landed on Pietro, then shifted to Wanda, careful. Guarded.

“I thought maybe… breakfast?”

There was something painfully tentative in her voice.

Like she was bracing herself to be told to leave again.

Pietro’s face lit up instantly.

“You,” he said, pointing dramatically at the bags. “Are my favorite person right now.”

Y/N blinked, startled. “Uh… thanks?”

Wanda stood slowly.

For a second, she didn’t know what to say. The memory of their fight, of the kiss, of everything she’d thrown at Y/N, hovered heavy between them.

But Y/N didn’t push.

She simply stepped forward and set the bags down on the small table, movements careful, almost distant.

“I didn’t know what you’d want,” she said softly. “So I got… everything.”

Pietro leaned over eagerly, peeking into a bag. “This is true love.”

Wanda didn’t laugh this time.

She was watching Y/N. Watching the way her shoulders stayed slightly tense. The way she avoided standing too close. The way her eyes lingered on Wanda for only a second too long before dropping away.

She looks tired, Wanda realized.

Not physically. Emotionally.

Y/N cleared her throat softly as she finished setting out the food.

“I’ll… I’ll leave you two alone after you eat,” she said, keeping her tone neutral. “I just wanted to make sure you had something.”

Wanda’s chest tightened.

“Y/N—” she started.

Y/N glanced up quickly, almost startled to hear her name.

“It’s okay,” Y/N added quickly. “I can go now if you’d prefer.”

The words were gentle. Prepared. Like she’d rehearsed them.

Pietro’s brows shot up.

“Excuse me?” he said, looking between them. “Absolutely not.”

Y/N blinked. “I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Pietro cut in lightly.

Y/N hesitated, then looked at Wanda.

Not long. Just enough. A silent question.

Is it okay if I stay?

Wanda’s throat closed.

She wanted to say yes immediately. Wanted to cross the room and pull her close and undo weeks of damage in a single breath.

But the words stuck.

Before the silence could stretch too far—

Pietro moved.

In a blink, he was across the room, wrapping his arms around Y/N in a tight, dramatic hug. Y/N let out a startled sound, then laughed softly as she hugged him back just as tightly.

“I missed you,” Pietro said into her shoulder.

Y/N’s arms tightened for a second, emotion flickering across her face before she managed to steady it.

“I missed you too,” she whispered.

Wanda watched them carefully. The ease between them. 

The history. The love.

And she saw it then—clearly.

Pietro wasn’t just her brother. He was Y/N’s best friend.

They pulled apart slowly.

Pietro clapped his hands once. “Now that we’ve established I am beloved by all, can we eat?”

That finally earned a real laugh from Y/N.

They sat together—awkward at first, a triangle of history and hurt and second chances. But as Pietro tore into the food with exaggerated enthusiasm, the atmosphere began to shift.

“Remember that time,” Pietro said between bites, “when Y/N tried to teach us how to steal bread and we both got caught?”

Y/N groaned. “You both ran.”

“You said run!” Wanda protested weakly.

“I said wait,” Y/N corrected.

Pietro grinned. “Details.”

Wanda found herself smiling despite the ache in her chest.

“And then you came back for us,” Wanda added quietly.

Y/N shrugged lightly. “Of course I did.”

“After getting yelled at by that shopkeeper,” Pietro added.

“You deserved it,” Y/N shot back.

“You stole cheese.”

“It was good cheese!”

Wanda laughed—really laughed this time—and for a moment, the motel room didn’t feel small or fragile or temporary.

It felt like Sokovia.

Like broken rooftops and shared blankets and whispered plans about futures they weren’t sure they’d live to see.

Pietro leaned back in his chair, satisfied.

“We were unstoppable,” he said proudly.

Y/N smiled softly. “We were reckless.”

“Same thing.”

Wanda looked between them, heart full and aching all at once.

Because this—

This was what she had been missing.

Not just Pietro.

Not just Y/N.

But the three of them.

Together.

And as they talked about cold nights on the streets and terrible stolen meals and the way Y/N always pretended she wasn’t scared—

Wanda realized something else.

The forty-eight hours weren’t just a gift.

They were a warning.

Time was precious.

And she had already wasted too much of it.

---

When they finished eating, the room grew quieter—not heavy, just aware.

Pietro leaned back in his chair and clapped his hands once. “Alright. Enough sitting around. I have been dead. We are doing something.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “What do you want to do?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I want to see the States. Properly. Not just through battlefields and briefings.”

Wanda’s lips curved softly. “We could.”

And just like that, the decision was made.

A few minutes later, they were on the road—Y/N behind the wheel, Pietro in the passenger seat, Wanda in the back at first before Pietro insisted she switch so he could “supervise navigation.”

They started with New York. No disguises beyond sunglasses and hoodies, no grand plans. Just driving through the city, pointing at landmarks, laughing at how unimpressed Pietro pretended to be.

“So this is the famous skyline?” he said, squinting. “Sokovia had charm.”

“It also had bombs,” Y/N replied dryly.

“Details.”

They walked through Central Park, grabbed street food, took ridiculous photos with tourists who had no idea who they were. Pietro insisted on racing taxis down short blocks just because he could. Wanda’s laughter came easier than it had in months.

From there, they didn’t stop.

Y/N booked flights on impulse. LA next. Then San Diego. Then San Francisco. The Golden Gate Bridge at sunset. The ocean wind tangling Wanda’s hair. Pietro standing on the beach with his arms wide like he was greeting the entire horizon.

They took photos constantly—selfies crammed together, blurry shots from Pietro moving too fast, quiet candid moments Y/N captured when Wanda wasn’t looking.

They ate too much. Slept too little. Talked about everything and nothing.

Forty-eight hours was cruelly short.

But they stretched it thin, filled every second with movement, with laughter, with life.

By the time they reached the final hotel, exhaustion had settled into their bones. The city lights outside the window glowed softly, indifferent to the ticking clock none of them mentioned out loud.

There were only a few hours left.

The air felt different now—thinner somehow.

Y/N stood in front of Pietro, eyes shining but steady.

He smiled at her, softer than before.

“Hey,” he said lightly. “No crying yet.”

She huffed a quiet breath that almost became a laugh. Then she stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

“I love you,” she said against his shoulder. “You were the best brother and the best friend the universe could ever give me.”

Pietro’s arms wrapped around her firmly. “I know,” he teased gently, but his voice was thick. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him. “Thank you. For choosing me that day. Even if I hate that you did.”

He squeezed her hand once. “Always.”

Y/N swallowed hard, then nodded to Wanda.

“I’ll give you two some time,” she said quietly.

And before she could lose her composure, she turned and walked out onto the balcony, closing the door softly behind her.

Wanda didn’t move when Y/N stepped out.

She stayed wrapped in her brother’s arms, her forehead pressed against his chest like she was trying to memorize the rhythm of his heartbeat. The room was dim, quiet except for the distant hum of the city outside and the slow, inevitable passing of time.

They talked softly at first—about childhood.

About the apartment in Sokovia. About the cracked tiles in the kitchen. About the way Mama used to hum while she cooked, even when there wasn’t much to cook. About Papa’s terrible jokes that only he found funny.

Wanda laughed through her tears. “He thought he was hilarious.”

“He was,” Pietro insisted. “We just lacked taste.”

Silence settled for a moment, warm and heavy.

Then Pietro grew thoughtful.

“I saw them,” he said quietly.

Wanda pulled back slightly. “What?”

“Mama and Papa,” he clarified. “On the other side.”

Her breath caught.

“You’re lying,” she whispered, half afraid to believe it.

“I’m not,” he said gently. “Time works differently there. But sometimes… they look in.”

Wanda stared at him, stunned.

“They watched us?” she asked softly.

“From time to time,” Pietro said. “When we were little. When things were hard. They couldn’t interfere. But they were there.”

Wanda’s throat tightened painfully.

“And now?” she whispered.

“They check on you,” he said with a small smile. “Especially you.”

Her eyes filled instantly.

“They’re proud of you, Wanda,” Pietro continued. “Despite everything. Despite the mistakes. Despite the anger. They see how hard you fight. How much you love.”

A sob tore from her chest.

“I’ve done terrible things,” she cried. “I lost control. I hurt people.”

Pietro cupped her face gently.

“You survived,” he said firmly. “You grew. That’s what matters.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks freely now.

“They’re not disappointed?” she asked, voice trembling like a child’s again.

“Never,” he answered without hesitation. “They know how much you carry. And they are proud of the woman you became.”

Wanda broke then, pressing her face back into his shoulder as she cried openly, the kind of crying she hadn’t allowed herself since she was a teenager.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered.

Pietro held her tighter.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’ll miss you too.”

The clock ticked on.

But for that moment—

She was just a sister in her brother’s arms again.

---

The last hour felt different.

Quieter.

Like the air itself knew.

Wanda stayed close to Pietro, fingers curled tightly in his shirt as if she could anchor him through sheer will. Neither of them mentioned the time anymore. They didn’t need to.

Then—

There was a knock at the door.

Soft. Deliberate.

Wanda’s body went rigid.

The handle turned, and Y/N stepped inside first, eyes already red, jaw set in that way it did when she was trying to stay strong.

And behind her—

The woman from the motel.

Wanda’s eyes flashed instantly, anger flaring hot and instinctive.

“You!” she snapped, stepping forward.

Magic sparked at her fingertips—

But Pietro caught her wrist gently.

“Easy, sestra.”

Wanda’s glare burned into the woman. The memory of that kiss flashed sharp and ugly in her mind.

Rio met her gaze calmly. Unbothered. Ancient.

“Good evening,” Rio said mildly.

Wanda’s jaw tightened.

Y/N swallowed and spoke quietly. “Wanda… this is Rio.”

“I know who she is,” Wanda bit out.

Rio tilted her head slightly. “Death,” she corrected gently.

The word settled heavily in the room.

“It’s time,” Rio said, not cruelly. Not kindly. Just certain.

Wanda’s fingers tightened around Pietro’s sleeve.

“No,” she breathed, though she had known this moment was coming.

Pietro turned fully toward her.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Her composure cracked again, tears spilling freely.

“I’m not ready,” she whispered.

“You were never good with goodbyes,” he teased gently.

She laughed through her tears.

They wrapped around each other tightly, desperate and unashamed.

“I love you,” Wanda choked out.

“I love you too,” Pietro answered immediately. “Always.”

She pressed her forehead to his one last time, memorizing every detail—the warmth of his skin, the curve of his smile, the sound of his voice.

He pulled back slowly.

Then his eyes found Y/N.

She was standing a few steps away, hands clenched at her sides to keep them from shaking.

He walked to her and pulled her into a firm hug.

“You kept your word,” he murmured.

Tears slid down her cheeks freely now.

“I will always keep it,” she whispered.

He pulled back just enough to look at her. “Protect her.”

Y/N nodded, voice breaking. “Always.”

Pietro smiled at both of them one last time.

Then he stepped toward Rio.

Rio offered her hand—not commanding, just waiting.

Pietro took it.

They walked toward the door together.

Wanda held her breath.

Y/N stepped closer to her side without thinking, their shoulders nearly brushing.

When Pietro crossed the threshold—

He didn’t fade.

He didn’t crumble.

He simply… disappeared.

Rio with him.

The door swung gently shut.

Silence filled the room.

Wanda’s knees trembled—but she didn’t collapse.

She didn’t scream.

She didn’t break.

She stood there, tears streaming down her face, but steady.

Because this time—

She had been able to say goodbye.

---

Silence lingered long after the door had closed.

The room felt larger now. Emptier.

Y/N stood still for a moment, giving Wanda space, watching carefully in case the grief hit too hard. But Wanda remained upright, breathing unevenly, eyes fixed on the place where her brother had vanished.

After a few seconds, Y/N stepped closer—slowly, cautiously.

“Wanda,” she said gently.

Wanda didn’t look at her.

“We can… stay here tonight,” Y/N continued hesitantly. “Or we can drive back to the compound now. Whatever you want. I’m fine either way.”

Still silence.

“I got another room,” Y/N added quietly. “For myself. So you don’t have to worry. I just thought—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Wanda crossed the distance in two quick steps and wrapped her arms tightly around Y/N.

The force of it made Y/N stumble slightly.

“Wha—”

Smack.

Wanda hit her chest—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to sting through fabric.

“You idiot,” Wanda breathed, voice thick with tears.

Y/N blinked, confused. “What?”

“You absolute idiot,” Wanda repeated, hitting her chest again lightly.

“I don’t understand—”

“I heard,” Wanda cut in. “From Pietro.”

Y/N went still.

“He told me,” Wanda said, her voice trembling. “You offered your life.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. She didn’t deny it.

“You offered to die for him,” Wanda pressed. “For me.”

“It made sense,” Y/N said quietly.

Wanda stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “You think that’s noble? You think that fixes anything?”

“You told me,” Y/N said suddenly, voice breaking, “you wished it had been me.”

Wanda froze.

“You said you wished I had died instead of him,” Y/N continued, tears spilling freely now. “So I thought… maybe I could fix it. Maybe I could give you what you wanted.”

Horror washed over Wanda’s face. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” Y/N whispered. “But you said it. And I would have done it.”

Her voice steadied, even through the tears.

“For you, I would do anything.”

The words landed heavy.

Wanda’s hands trembled against Y/N’s chest.

“And you think I could live with that?” Wanda demanded, voice cracking. “You think losing you would heal me?”

Y/N’s expression shifted—something fragile surfacing.

“You wouldn’t have been alone,” she said quietly.

Wanda blinked. “What?”

“You have Vision,” Y/N continued, forcing the words out even though they tasted like glass. “I’ve seen the way you are with him.”

Wanda’s face fell.

“He makes you calm,” Y/N went on. “You talk to him. You let him in. You don’t look at him like he’s a reminder of everything you’ve lost.”

“That’s not—”

“I saw it,” Y/N interrupted gently. “The way you chose him on that mission. The way you stopped choosing me.”

Wanda’s breath caught.

“I know you don’t love me anymore,” Y/N said, voice trembling but steady in its pain. “Not the way you used to.”

“That’s not true.”

“And Pietro…” Y/N swallowed hard. “Maybe he was wrong.”

Wanda’s eyes flashed. “Don’t.”

“He saved me,” Y/N said softly. “But you needed him more than I did. You still do.”

The words were quiet.

Devastating.

“I thought,” Y/N continued, “if I could trade places, if I could give him back to you permanently, then you’d be whole again. And maybe… maybe that was the right thing.”

Wanda stared at her like she’d been struck.

“You think I need Pietro more than you?” she whispered.

Y/N looked away for a second, jaw tight. “He was your twin. Your other half. I’m just—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Wanda snapped, gripping her shirt.

Y/N’s voice broke anyway. “I’m just the girl you loved before everything fell apart.”

Silence crashed down between them.

“You saw me with Vision and decided that meant I stopped loving you?” Wanda asked, disbelief mixing with hurt.

Y/N’s eyes filled. “You stopped looking at me.”

“Because it hurt!” Wanda shot back. “Because every time I looked at you, I saw the moment I lost him!”

“And I saw the moment you wished I had died instead,” Y/N whispered.

That stole the air from the room.

Wanda’s grip loosened slightly.

“You don’t get to decide what I feel,” Wanda said more softly now, but no less intense. “You don’t get to rewrite my love because you’re scared.”

Y/N’s shoulders sagged, exhaustion finally breaking through.

“I’m not scared,” she said quietly. “I just… didn’t want to be the reason you kept hurting.”

Wanda stepped closer, forcing Y/N to look at her.

“You are not second to my brother,” Wanda said firmly. “You are not replaceable. And Vision—”

She took a breath, steadying herself.

“Vision is a good listener,” she continued. “A friend. He was… calm. Safe. Nothing more than that.”

Y/N’s eyes searched hers, uncertain.

“I talked to him because he didn’t carry history,” Wanda admitted. “He didn’t carry guilt. But that was never love. He was like my therapist.”

Her voice softened.

“Pietro was my twin. My blood. My first home,” she said gently. “But he was not my other half.”

Wanda’s hand came up, cupping Y/N’s face.

“You are.”

The words landed between them, heavy and certain.

“I was grieving,” Wanda continued, tears slipping freely now. “And I know that’s not an excuse. It doesn’t justify what I said. It doesn’t undo the way I treated you.”

Y/N’s breath trembled.

“I was scared,” Wanda whispered. “Scared that if I let you close, I’d lose you too. Scared that loving you meant watching you die like everyone else.”

Her thumb brushed gently under Y/N’s eye.

“But pushing you away almost cost me you anyway.”

Y/N’s composure cracked, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I will spend the rest of my life apologizing for what I said,” Wanda said fiercely. “For telling you I wished it had been you. For making you feel like you weren’t enough.”

Her voice broke.

“But I need you,” she finished softly. “Not as a hero. Not as a sacrifice. I need you alive. Here. With me.”

Silence hung between them, fragile but real.

“I don’t want a world where you trade yourself away,” Wanda whispered. “I want a world where we fight for each other. Together.”

Y/N’s hands came up slowly, resting against Wanda’s waist like she was afraid she might vanish.

“You really mean that?” she asked, voice small.

Wanda didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, forehead falling gently against Wanda’s.

“I thought I’d already lost you,” she admitted.

“You didn’t,” Wanda said. “And you won’t. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

They stood there, holding each other—not out of desperation now, but choice.

And for the first time since Sokovia—

The space between them didn’t feel broken.

It felt like something being rebuilt.

Wanda rested her forehead against Y/N’s for a moment longer, breathing her in like she needed to anchor herself.

“Thank you,” she whispered suddenly.

Y/N blinked. “For what?”

“For bringing him back,” Wanda said, voice trembling. “For giving me those two days. I don’t care how temporary it was. You gave me a chance to say goodbye.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “You deserved that.”

Wanda pulled back slightly, searching her face.

“What was the cost?” she asked quietly.

The fear in her eyes was unmistakable.

Y/N hesitated.

“I… think it was the kiss,” she said slowly, brows knitting together. “I’m not entirely sure. Rio just— she said that would do.”

Wanda went very still.

“The kiss,” she repeated flatly.

“I didn’t promise that,” Y/N added quickly. “I didn’t know she was going to—”

Smack.

Wanda’s palm hit her chest again.

“Wanda—”

“How,” Wanda demanded, jealousy flashing hot and unfiltered now, “did you end up kissing another woman as payment?”

“I didn’t promise to kiss her!” Y/N protested. “I asked about the cost and she just— she stepped forward and—”

Smack.

“You still let her!” Wanda snapped, red energy flickering faintly at her fingertips. “You just stood there!”

“I was in shock!” Y/N shot back. “She’s literally Death!”

“That doesn’t mean she gets to put her tongue in your mouth!” Wanda burst out.

Y/N stared at her, caught between exasperation and disbelief.

“I did not participate,” she insisted. “I was too stunned to breathe!”

Wanda hit her chest again—less forceful now, more flustered than furious.

“She called you darling.”

“That was not my fault!”

“And you thanked her!”

“Because she gave you your brother!”

Wanda huffed in frustration, hands coming up again—but this time Y/N caught her wrists mid-swing.

“Okay,” Y/N said, breath uneven. “You need to stop.”

“I will not stop—”

Y/N kissed her.

Not gently.

Not carefully.

Just enough to shut her up.

Wanda froze instantly, eyes wide, magic flickering out in surprise.

For a split second, everything stopped.

Then Y/N seemed to realize what she’d done.

She pulled back quickly, releasing Wanda’s wrists. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have— I just—”

Before she could finish—

Wanda grabbed her shirt and pulled her back in.

This time, the kiss wasn’t accidental.

It was deliberate.

Wanda kissed her hard, months of anger and fear and jealousy pouring into it. Y/N let out a soft, startled sound before melting into her, hands instinctively sliding to Wanda’s waist.

Wanda deepened the kiss without hesitation, one hand tangling into Y/N’s hair like she was afraid she might disappear again.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard.

“Don’t,” Wanda said, voice low and shaking, “ever apologize for kissing me.”

Y/N blinked, stunned.

“I am still yours,” Wanda continued, forehead pressing to hers. “And you are still mine…right?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she nods.

“And if Death thinks she gets to mark you like that,” Wanda added fiercely, “she can get in line.”

A shaky laugh escaped Y/N before she could stop it.

Wanda kissed her again—softer this time, slower, intentional.

Not out of jealousy.

Not out of fear.

But because she chose her.

And this time—

Y/N didn’t pull away.

---

They didn’t argue anymore that night.

There were no more dramatic declarations, no more jealousy, no more shouting. Just quiet. Just closeness.

They stayed in the same room.

At first, it was tentative—Wanda sitting beside Y/N on the edge of the bed, neither quite sure who should move first. Then Wanda simply slid under the covers and reached for her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N didn’t hesitate.

She wrapped her arms around Wanda immediately, pulling her close, careful but firm—like she was afraid that if she loosened her grip, Wanda might slip away again.

Wanda tucked herself against Y/N’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Familiar. Safe. Alive.

“I’m here,” Y/N murmured sleepily into her hair.

Wanda tightened her hold in response.

And for the first time since Sokovia—She slept. Not the shallow, restless drifting she’d grown used to. Not the kind where nightmares waited just beneath the surface. She slept deeply.

When morning light filtered through the curtains, Wanda stirred slowly.

For a second, she panicked—disoriented, expecting emptiness.

Instead, she found Y/N still there. Arm draped securely around her waist. Face relaxed in sleep. Breathing slow and even.

Wanda stayed still, studying her.

The faint crease between her brows that only appeared when she was exhausted. The softness in her expression that she never let the world see.

This is what I needed, Wanda realized.

Not distance.

Not punishment.

Not silence.

This.

She cursed herself quietly for pushing her away. For convincing herself she didn’t need this closeness when it had been the only thing grounding her all along.

Carefully, Wanda pressed a gentle kiss to Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N stirred but didn’t wake, her hold tightening instinctively. Wanda smiled softly.

They stayed two more days at the hotel.

Not dramatic. Not world-shaking.

They ordered food. Walked along the shoreline. Talked about Pietro—this time without collapsing under the weight of it. They took a few photos together, just the two of them. No ghosts. No time limits.

Wanda reached for Y/N openly now. In public. In quiet moments. Without fear.

And Y/N—Y/N stayed exactly where she had always been.

Beside her.

When they finally packed up to return to the compound, it didn’t feel like running away from something.

It felt like walking back together.

Hand in hand.

---

Five Years Later.

Morning sunlight spilled softly through the kitchen windows, warming the wooden floors and catching in the faint swirl of flour in the air.

Y/N shuffled into the kitchen, hair still messy from sleep, wearing one of Wanda’s oversized sweaters. She paused in the doorway for just a second—taking in the sight.

Wanda stood at the stove in soft pajama shorts and a loose top, humming under her breath as she poured pancake batter into the pan with careful precision. Domestic. Calm. Safe.

Y/N crossed the room quietly.

She slipped her arms around Wanda’s waist from behind and pressed a slow kiss to the side of her neck.

Wanda squealed in surprise. “Y/N!”

But the protest melted into a soft sigh as Y/N continued kissing along her neck and shoulder, still half asleep and clearly not planning on stopping.

“Good morning,” Y/N mumbled against her skin.

“You’re going to make me burn breakfast,” Wanda murmured, though her hands relaxed over Y/N’s arms.

Y/N just hummed in response, pressing another lingering kiss just below her ear.

Wanda shivered slightly. “You are impossible before coffee.”

Y/N’s only reply was another kiss.

With a small laugh, Wanda poured a fresh batch of batter into the pan, flipped the pancakes, then gently untangled herself just enough to turn around.

She cupped Y/N’s face and kissed her properly—slow, deep, familiar—arms wrapping around Y/N’s neck as she leaned into her.

Y/N immediately responded, hands sliding to Wanda’s hips, grounding her.

When they finally pulled apart, Wanda rested her forehead against Y/N’s.

“Could you go wake up Pietro?” she asked softly.

Y/N smiled, brushing a thumb over Wanda’s cheek. “Yeah.”

She leaned in for one more quick peck before heading upstairs.

The house was quiet except for the faint sizzle from the kitchen below.

Y/N pushed open the bedroom door gently.

Little Pietro was still asleep, curled on his side, clutching his plushy tightly against his chest. His dark hair was a soft mess against the pillow, lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks.

Y/N leaned against the doorframe for a moment, just watching him.

Three years old. Safe and loved.

She crossed the room quietly and sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her fingers gently through his hair.

“Hey, speedy,” she whispered softly. “Time to wake up.”

He stirred, blinking sleepily.

“Mama?” he mumbled.

Y/N’s heart melted.

“Yeah,” she said gently. “Mommy made pancakes.”

His eyes opened a little wider at that.

“Chocoate chif?” he asked hopefully.

Y/N grinned. “Of course.”

He rolled toward her, arms reaching up instinctively. Y/N scooped him into her arms easily, pressing a soft kiss to his messy hair before standing.

“Ready to race downstairs?” she asked.

He nodded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around her neck.

Y/N carried him down the stairs, his sleepy giggles echoing through the house.

In the kitchen, Wanda’s smile widened the moment she heard them.

She wiped her hands quickly on a towel and turned around dramatically. “Where’s my baby?”

Pietro squealed happily in Y/N’s arms. “Mommy!”

Wanda laughed and stepped forward, gently taking him from Y/N. She peppered his cheeks with kisses, making him squirm and giggle.

“You smell like sleep,” she teased, kissing his forehead again.

Y/N pressed a kiss to Pietro’s hair and another to Wanda’s cheek before sliding back into place at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease.

“Go sit,” she told them softly. “I’ve got this.”

Wanda carried Pietro to the table, settling him into his chair while he excitedly narrated everything he was going to do that day—run fast, draw fast, eat fast.

“Not too fast,” Wanda warned playfully. “We like keeping you in one piece.”

Y/N brought the stack of pancakes over, setting them down with a small flourish. “Breakfast for the fastest Maximoff in the house.”

Pietro beamed proudly.

Wanda looked up at Y/N over their son’s head, eyes warm and steady in a way they hadn’t been years ago. There was no fear in them now. No distance. Just love—grounded and sure.

As they ate, Pietro insisted on telling them a story about a dream he’d had, full of superheroes and flying and “Grandma and Grandpa and uncle P watching from the clouds.” Wanda’s hand stilled for a moment at that, and Y/N’s gaze met hers across the table.

They didn’t say anything.

They didn’t have to.

After breakfast, Pietro ran off to grab his favorite toy car, zooming it across the living room floor. Wanda leaned against the counter, watching him with soft awe.

Y/N stepped up behind her again, this time resting her chin on Wanda’s shoulder without startling her.

“I love you,” Y/N murmured.

Wanda smiled, turning her head to kiss her gently.

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

Outside, the world kept moving. Missions still happened. Responsibilities still waited. But inside this house, there was warmth. There was laughter. There was a small boy racing toy cars across hardwood floors.

And there were two women who had once challenged Death itself—

Now standing in a sunlit kitchen, choosing each other in the quiet ordinary of every day.

Wanda reached back and laced her fingers with Y/N’s.

No fear.

No grief.

No ticking clock.

Just this.

And this was enough.

---

She had ducked into a small, warm café off the main street to escape the drizzle, the kind of place that smelled like roasted beans and cinnamon and felt like time moved slower inside. Wanda was distracted—thinking about deadlines, about everything and nothing at once—when she turned too fast and collided with someone solid.

Her coffee flew.

It splashed right onto the front of Y/N’s shirt.

“Oh my God—I’m so sorry!” Wanda blurted out immediately, panic flaring as she looked up, already reaching for napkins. “I wasn’t paying attention, I—”

Y/N looked down at her now-ruined shirt, then back at Wanda. For half a second, Wanda braced herself.

Then Y/N laughed.

“It’s okay,” she said easily, taking the napkins and blotting at the fabric. Her voice was warm, amused rather than annoyed. “I’ve survived worse tragedies than coffee.”

Wanda stared at her, stunned. Tall, relaxed in a way that felt natural rather than forced. Girl? Boy? No! Girl!—Y/N met her eyes with a calm confidence that made Wanda’s cheeks heat up even more.

“I really am sorry,” Wanda insisted. “Let me… I don’t know, do something? Buy you another drink? Or lunch? Or—something.”

Y/N tilted her head, considering her for a moment. Then a slow, playful smile curved her lips.

“Well,” she said, “we could grab coffee or lunch sometime. That’d make us even.”

Wanda blinked. “…Sometime?”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, unfazed. “Like, on purpose. Not involving coffee-related violence.”

That made Wanda laugh—soft and surprised. She nodded quickly. “I’d like that.”

They exchanged numbers right there, fingers brushing briefly as Wanda handed over her phone, her heart doing something unfamiliar in her chest.

A few days later, they met for lunch.

It wasn’t fancy—just a cozy place with mismatched chairs and big windows—but Wanda found herself oddly nervous anyway. Y/N showed up early, already seated, and stood when Wanda arrived, offering a smile that made her stomach flutter.

They talked easily. About favorite foods, music, the café where they’d met. Y/N listened like she genuinely cared, like Wanda was the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

When the check came, Wanda reached for it immediately.

“I’ve got it,” Y/N said, already handing over her card.

Wanda frowned. “No—absolutely not. I spilled coffee on you. I insisted on making it up to you.”

Y/N just grinned, that same smooth, infuriatingly charming grin. “Then you can pay next time.”

Wanda froze.

Next time.

She looked up, caught the way Y/N was watching her—not smug, not pushy, just hopeful. Wanda felt her face warm as she smiled shyly. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Next time.”

And that was how it started.

Dates slipped into their lives like something natural. Coffee walks. Late dinners. Wandering bookstores. Sitting close but not quite touching until the tension became impossible to ignore.

On their fifth date, they were sitting on a park bench as the sky dimmed into evening. Y/N had gone quiet, fingers laced together, gaze fixed somewhere distant.

Wanda noticed. She always noticed.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked gently.

Y/N inhaled, then looked at her. “I like you,” she said simply. “A lot. And I was wondering… if you’d be my girlfriend.”

Wanda’s heart skipped—and then stumbled.

“It’s just…” she hesitated, chewing on her lip. “It feels early.”

Y/N nodded immediately. “That’s okay. I don’t want to rush you. I just wanted to be honest.”

Wanda studied her.

Y/N wasn’t pressuring her. Wasn’t trying to convince her or fill the silence with promises. She was just there—open, steady, giving Wanda space without pulling away. It was something Wanda wasn’t used to. Usually there was urgency, expectation, the unspoken so what are we? hanging heavy in the air.

With Y/N, there was none of that.

“I like you too,” Wanda admitted quietly. “You feel… different.”

Y/N smiled, softer this time, like she was careful with the moment. “Good different, I hope.”

Wanda let out a small laugh under her breath. “Yeah. Good different.”

She hesitated, then reached out, fingers brushing Y/N’s before fully curling around her hand. The contact grounded her, steady and warm.

“I’m not ready to say yes,” Wanda said honestly, eyes lifting to meet Y/N’s. “Not yet.”

Y/N didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away.

“But,” Wanda continued, squeezing her hand gently, “I want to keep seeing you. I want… this. Whatever this is.”

For a heartbeat, Y/N just looked at her. Then she nodded, a slow, genuine smile spreading across her face.

“That’s more than enough,” she said. “We’ll go at your pace.”

The relief that washed over Wanda surprised her. She leaned a little closer, shoulder brushing Y/N’s arm, and stayed there—comfortable, unhurried.

And in that quiet moment, Wanda realized something she hadn’t expected at all:

For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t afraid of where something might lead.

---

Two months later

Y/N’s POV

Y/N woke up slowly, the morning light spilling in through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold. She lay there for a moment, half-asleep, staring at the ceiling—until the familiar buzz of her phone pulled her fully awake.

She reached for it without thinking.

And then she saw the name on her screen.

Wanda ❤️

A stupid, unguarded smile spread across Y/N’s face instantly, the kind she never managed to stop when it came to Wanda. Her thumb hovered for a second before unlocking the phone, like she wanted to savor the moment just a little longer.

Good morning, babe.

I’m really sorry, but I might be a little late tonight. Work might take long again. I’ll come as soon as I can, I promise.

Y/N let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she reread it. Two months in, they’ve been officially dating for a month, and Wanda still apologized like being late was a crime. It was one of those little things Y/N adored—how much Wanda cared, how she always worried about inconveniencing her.

She typed back, still smiling.

Hey. It’s okay. Don’t stress about it.

Dinner and movie night isn’t going anywhere. I’ll keep it warm.

A few seconds later, the typing bubbles appeared.

You’re too good to me, Wanda replied. 

Thank you. I’ll make it up to you.

Y/N snorted softly. She always says that, she thought fondly.

She set the phone down on her chest, staring at it like it might light up again just from how much she was thinking about Wanda.

The date had been planned for days—Wanda coming over to Y/N’s place, Y/N cooking dinner, and maybe a couple of movies after. Nothing fancy. Just them. Simple. Domestic. Perfect.

The morning passed quietly. Y/N spent a few hours in her home office, answering emails, getting through just enough work to justify fully checking out for the rest of the day. Every so often, her eyes flicked to her phone on the desk, half-expecting Wanda’s name to pop up again.

By the time the clock crept toward four, Y/N closed her laptop with a satisfied hum.

That was her cue.

She moved into the kitchen, tying on an apron, music playing low as she started cooking—chopping, stirring, tasting. The familiar rhythm settled her, excitement simmering just beneath the surface. Wanda would be late, but Y/N didn’t rush. She took her time, making everything just right.

Because some things were worth waiting for.

---

Wanda’s POV

7:00 p.m.

Wanda was rushing—again.

She moved from the bedroom to the living room and back, phone in hand, mentally checking off everything she still needed to do. Keys. Bag. Jacket. Phone charger. Her heart was already halfway out the door, even if her body wasn’t.

From the couch, a small pair of eyes followed her every move.

“Mama?” Alina’s voice was curious, sing-song, the way it always was when she sensed something different.

Wanda stopped and turned, softening immediately. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Where are you going?” Alina asked, swinging her legs gently, her stuffed animal tucked under her arm.

Wanda crouched in front of her, bringing herself to Alina’s level. “Mama’s going to meet a friend tonight.”

Alina tilted her head. “A friend?”

“Yes,” Wanda said with a small smile.

“Can I come?”

Wanda’s heart squeezed. She brushed a curl away from Alina’s face and shook her head gently. “Not tonight. Next time, okay?”

Alina pouted for half a second before Wanda leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Be good for your uncle, yeah?”

Alina giggled and nodded.

By 7:30, the doorbell rang.

Wanda straightened immediately. “That’ll be Uncle P,” she said, already moving. She opened the door to find Pietro standing there, jacket half-zipped, hair slightly windblown.

“You’re late,” Wanda said without missing a beat.

Pietro scoffed. “I’m five minutes late.”

“That’s late,” she insisted, stepping aside to let him in. Immediately, she launched into instructions. “Dinner’s in the fridge—she eats the pasta first, no juice after eight, one movie only, then bedtime. Brush teeth, two stories, not three, and—”

“Wanda,” Pietro interrupted, holding up his hands. “I got it.”

She paused.

“I’m her uncle,” he added. “Relax.”

Wanda exhaled, nodding, though she still looked like she wanted to add ten more rules. She turned back to Alina instead, crouching again and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Love you,” she murmured.

“Love you, Mama,” Alina replied, hugging her tight.

Wanda grabbed her coat and bag, already heading for the door.

“You look pretty,” Pietro called after her, smirking. “I really need to meet this Y/N.”

Wanda’s cheeks warmed as she pulled the door open. “Don’t give Alina sweets anymore!” she shouted back as she rushed out.

The door closed behind her.

Pietro looked down at his niece, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous grin.

“…Who wants chocolate?”

---

Wanda’s heart was still racing by the time she reached Y/N’s place.

Part of it was the rush—traffic, the clock, the way she hated being late. But another part was deeper, settling low in her chest. That familiar mix of excitement and nerves that only ever showed up when Y/N was involved.

She paused outside the door, straightening her coat, smoothing her hair. One quiet breath.

The doorbell rang.

On the other side, Y/N heard it instantly. She wiped her hands on a towel, shoulders rolling back as she crossed the room. When she opened the door, Wanda was there—slightly flushed, eyes bright, lips parted like she’d been holding something in.

“You made it,” Y/N said, voice warm, steady.

“Barely,” Wanda laughed breathlessly. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Y/N didn’t scold her. Didn’t tease. She simply stepped forward, one hand settling at Wanda’s waist—firm, sure, guiding her inside like it was the most natural thing in the world. Before Wanda could even finish taking off her coat, Y/N leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate.

Just confident. Gentle. Claiming in the quiet way that made Wanda’s knees soften.

“I missed you,” Y/N murmured, her forehead resting briefly against Wanda’s.

Wanda smiled as she kissed her back, hands curling lightly into Y/N’s shirt. “I missed you too.”

The door closed behind them, shutting out the world. Y/N’s hand lingered at Wanda’s waist a second longer—protective, grounding—before she stepped back just enough to look at her properly.

“Come on,” she said, thumb brushing Wanda’s side as she took her coat. “Dinner’s ready. Or as ready as it can be without you.”

The apartment was warm, dimly lit, filled with the smell of food and something else—comfort, care. Wanda slipped off her shoes, tension melting from her shoulders.

“It smells amazing,” she said softly.

Y/N gave a small, knowing smile. “Good. I was hoping you’d like it.”

They ate together, easy and close. Y/N listened the way she always did—focused, patient, making Wanda feel like she had all the time in the world. When Wanda spoke, Y/N’s attention never drifted. When Wanda laughed, Y/N’s mouth curved like she’d won something.

After dinner, Y/N stood and began clearing the table before Wanda could even offer to help.

“Hey,” Wanda protested lightly, reaching for a plate.

Y/N shook her head, already stacking dishes. “You cooked last time and cleaned. This one’s on me.”

She carried the plates toward the kitchen, then paused and glanced back over her shoulder, a playful spark in her eyes. “Pick a movie. Whatever you want.”

“Anything?” Wanda asked, already grabbing the remote.

“Anything,” Y/N confirmed. “I’ll grab ice cream.”

Wanda curled into the corner of the couch, pulling the blanket over her legs as she scrolled through options. She pretended to be focused, but her attention kept drifting toward the kitchen—toward the soft sounds of Y/N moving around, the low hum of the freezer opening, the quiet domestic normalcy of it all.

It felt… safe.

Y/N came back carrying two bowls, handing one to Wanda before sitting down beside her. “Chocolate chip,” she said. “Your favorite.”

Wanda looked up at her, touched despite herself. “You remembered.”

Y/N shrugged, but her smile was fond. “Of course I did.”

They settled in, shoulders brushing, knees touching just enough to be intentional. As the movie started, Wanda slowly leaned into Y/N’s side, her head resting against her shoulder like it belonged there.

Y/N adjusted without a word—an arm coming up and around Wanda’s back, pulling her in just slightly, steady and warm.

Wanda sighed softly, melting into her. The ice cream slowly forgotten in her hand, the movie fading into background noise.

She shifted just enough to look up.

Y/N was already looking at her.

There was something unspoken there—quiet, charged. Y/N’s gaze flicked to Wanda’s lips, then back to her eyes, giving her time. Always giving her time.

Wanda didn’t hesitate.

She leaned in, their lips meeting in a slow kiss at first—soft, familiar, full of all the things they didn’t say out loud. Y/N’s hand slid from Wanda’s back to her waist, firm but gentle, anchoring her there.

The kiss deepened naturally, heat building without urgency. Wanda’s fingers curled into Y/N’s shirt as she shifted closer, until she was straddling Y/N’s lap, knees settling on either side like it was the most natural place to be.

Y/N let out a quiet breath against her lips, hands steady at Wanda’s hips—not rushing, not pushing, just holding her like she mattered. Like this moment mattered.

Wanda rested her forehead against Y/N’s for a second, smiling softly, breath uneven.

“Hi,” she whispered.

Y/N smiled back, thumb brushing along Wanda’s side. “Hi.”

The movie kept playing, forgotten entirely, as they stayed there—close, warm, wrapped up in each other like the rest of the world could wait just a little longer.

They kissed again.

This time there was no hesitation.

Wanda moved first, hands sliding up to Y/N’s neck, fingers threading into her hair as she pulled her closer. The kiss turned hungry—deeper, more desperate—like something that had been building all night finally broke free.

Y/N responded instantly, a low breath leaving her as her hands tightened at Wanda’s waist. Not controlling. Not rough. Just sure—grounding Wanda even as the heat between them spiked. She tilted her head, meeting Wanda kiss for kiss, unhurried but undeniably intense.

Wanda pressed closer, hips settling fully into Y/N’s lap, the closeness making her dizzy. Her hands stayed at Y/N’s neck, thumbs brushing along her jaw, like she needed to keep contact everywhere at once.

The air in the room seemed to thicken, the sound of the movie fading into a distant, rhythmic hum that was entirely eclipsed by the sound of their shared breaths.

Wanda’s fingers tightened in Y/N’s hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, gravelly sound from Y/N’s throat—a sound that vibrated right through Wanda’s chest. It was the sound of restraint finally fraying, and it sent a jagged bolt of heat straight to Wanda’s core. She didn't just want the kiss anymore; she wanted the friction, the weight, the sheer presence of Y/N surrounding her.

Y/N’s hands, usually so patient and steady, began to roam with a new, urgent hunger. One hand slid upward from Wanda’s waist, the heat of her palm seeping through the thin fabric of Wanda’s top, mapping the curve of her ribs before settling firmly against the small of her back to pull her flush against her.

"Wanda," Y/N murmured against her lips, her voice a rough, beautiful wreck of its usual calm.

Wanda didn't answer with words. She broke the kiss only to bury her face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, inhaling the scent of her—cedar, warmth, and that clean, unique scent only Y/N had that Wanda had become addicted to. She nipped at the sensitive skin of Y/N’s pulse point, her tongue tracing the line of her jaw, and she felt Y/N’s entire body shudder beneath her.

Y/N’s other hand found the back of Wanda’s thigh, hiking her up higher, her touch possessive and sure. She didn't just hold Wanda; she claimed her space, her strength providing a solid anchor for Wanda’s mounting desperation.

"You have no idea," Y/N rasped, her lips finding the sensitive spot just below Wanda’s ear, "how long I've wanted to have you right here."

Wanda arched her back, a soft, broken moan escaping her as Y/N’s mouth trailed down her throat. The gentleness from dinner was gone, replaced by a raw, magnetic intensity. Y/N was usually the one who waited, the one who gave space, but now she was taking—taking the lead, taking the air from Wanda’s lungs, and Wanda had never felt more alive.

Wanda’s hands moved frantically now, sliding under the hem of Y/N’s shirt to find the smooth, warm skin of her back. She needed to feel her, skin-on-skin, without the barrier of clothes.

Y/N pulled back just an inch, her eyes dark and heavy with a heat that made Wanda’s breath hitch. She looked at Wanda like she was the only thing in the world that held any weight, her thumb tracing the swollen line of Wanda’s lower lip.

"Is this okay?" Y/N asked, the gentlewoman in her flickering through the haze of desire, her voice deep and vibrating with the effort of checking in.

Wanda’s response was to grab the collar of Y/N’s shirt and pull her back into a bruising, deep kiss that tasted of chocolate chip ice cream and pure, unadulterated want.

"More," Wanda whispered against her mouth, her hips moving instinctively against Y/N’s, seeking that friction. "Don't stop. Please."

Y/N didn't need to be told twice. She stood up with a sudden, powerful grace, her arms hooking under Wanda’s legs to keep her wrapped around her waist. Wanda gasped, her legs locking behind Y/N’s back, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Without breaking the kiss, Y/N began to move toward the bedroom, her stride confident and unwavering, carrying Wanda into the darkness where the only thing that mattered was the fire burning between them.

The bedroom was bathed in the soft, blue-silver glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between them. Y/N lowered Wanda onto the mattress with a deliberate slowness, her movements fluid and powerful, yet careful, as if she were handling something priceless.

As Y/N hovered over her, bracing herself on her forearms, she didn’t immediately move to close the distance. Instead, she took a shaky breath, her eyes scanning Wanda’s face, searching for every flicker of emotion in the dim light.

"Can I take this off?" Y/N whispered, her voice thick and low, her fingers hooking gently under the hem of Wanda's top.

Wanda couldn't find her voice; she simply nodded, her breath hitching as Y/N slowly pulled the fabric over her head and tossed it aside. Y/N didn't rush to the next step. Instead, she sat back on her heels, her gaze traveling over Wanda with an expression that was nothing short of reverence.

"You are so beautiful, Wanda," Y/N murmured, sounding almost breathless. “Can I… Can I just look at you for a second?"

Wanda felt a flush that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. "Yes," she breathed, reaching out to trace the line of Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N leaned down, but rather than a kiss, she pressed her forehead against Wanda’s stomach, exhaling a long, ragged breath. Then, she began to work her way up. She started at Wanda’s ankles, her large, warm hands wrapping around them with a grounding pressure.

"Is it okay if I kiss you here?" Y/N asked, her lips brushing the sensitive skin of Wanda’s inner thigh.

"Please," Wanda urged, her fingers tangling in the sheets.

Y/N took her time. She treated Wanda’s body like a sacred map, marking every inch with soft, lingering kisses and the occasional, light graze of her teeth. She moved to Wanda’s hips, her thumbs tracing the pelvic bones with a feather-light touch.

"And here?" Y/N’s voice was a ghost of a sound against Wanda’s skin.

"Yes... Y/N, yes."

Every move was preceded by a look, a quiet question, or a touch that waited for Wanda to lean into it. It wasn't just about the heat; it was about the worship. Y/N’s hands were steady and sure, yet she touched Wanda with a gentleness that felt like a silent promise.

When Y/N finally moved back up to Wanda’s chest, her gaze was dark and focused. She leaned in, her nose brushing against Wanda’s.

"I want to taste you," Y/N rasped, her thumb grazing Wanda’s nipple through the lace of her bra. "Can I?"

Wanda arched her back, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the sheer weight of Y/N’s devotion. "Whatever you want, Y/N. Everything is yours."

Y/N’s smile was small, private, and incredibly sexy. She reached for the clasp of the bra, her eyes never leaving Wanda’s. "I'm going to take my time with you, love. We have all night."

The blue-silver moonlight caught the sharp line of Y/N’s jaw as she surged back up, her mouth finding Wanda’s in a kiss that was deeper and more demanding than before. There was no hesitation now, only a focused, steady intent. While their tongues tangled, Y/N’s hands found the swell of Wanda’s breasts, her thumbs catching the peaks through the thin, scratching lace of the bra. She dragged her thumbs back and forth with a rhythmic, torturous pressure that had Wanda whining into the kiss, her back arching off the mattress.

Y/N broke the kiss, but only to trail her lips down the column of Wanda’s throat. She nipped at the cord of her neck, her hot breath fanning over skin that was already sensitized to the point of aching.

"You're so soft," Y/N growled, the vibration of her voice rumbling against Wanda's collarbone.

She moved lower, her kisses becoming more deliberate, more searing. She traced the line of the lace with her tongue before hooking her fingers into the edge of the cup. With a slow, steady pull, she peeled one side of the bra away, baring Wanda to the cool air for only a heartbeat before her mouth replaced it.

Wanda’s head tossed back, a sharp, broken gasp escaping her as Y/N took her into the heat of her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming—the contrast of the cool room and the scorching wetness of Y/N’s tongue. Y/N swirled her tongue around the peak, drawing it in deep, her hand moving to the other breast to keep teasing the nipple through the lace, ensuring Wanda was caught in a crossfire of sensation.

After a long, indulgent moment of worship, Y/N pulled back just far enough to look up at her. Her eyes were dark, blown out with desire, but they still held that core of steady care.

"Was that okay?" she rasped, her thumb tracing the damp curve of the skin she’d just been tasting.

Wanda’s fingers dug into Y/N’s shoulders, her breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. "Yes... God, don't stop. Please don't stop."

Y/N’s gaze dropped to the remaining side of the bra, her hand moving to the clasp at the back. Her voice dropped an octave, becoming something rough and commanding. "I’m taking the rest off now. I want all of you."

She didn't wait for a verbal answer; the way Wanda leaned into her, desperate and open, was answer enough. 

Y/N sat back for a brief heartbeat, her hands reaching for the hem of her own shirt. In one fluid, athletic motion, she pulled it over her head and tossed it into the shadows, her bra followed. When she leaned back over Wanda, the sensation was electric—the friction of skin meeting skin.

A low, appreciative groan vibrated in Y/N’s throat as she settled her weight between Wanda’s thighs, her forearms bracing on either side of Wanda’s head. She didn't rush. She looked down at Wanda, her eyes roaming over the curves she had finally uncovered, her expression one of pure, unadulterated hunger.

"You are perfect," Y/N whispered, her voice dropping into that low, husky register that made Wanda’s stomach flip.

Y/N lowered herself, her mouth finding Wanda’s breast again, but this time there was no lace to act as a barrier. She started at the base, tracing the underside with her tongue, moving in slow, agonizing circles that drew the tension in Wanda’s body tighter and tighter. She used her hands to cup and lift, her thumbs constantly working Wanda’s nipples, rolling them gently until Wanda was sobbing out her name.

Then, Y/N took one nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before drawing it in deep. She used just the right amount of suction, her teeth grazing the sensitive tip just enough to make Wanda gasp and arch her hips upward, seeking more of that delicious friction.

"Y/N... please," Wanda whimpered, her hands finding Y/N’s back, her nails digging slightly into the muscles of Y/N’s shoulders.

Y/N didn't speed up; if anything, she slowed down, determined to savor every reaction. She moved to the other side, her breath hot against Wanda’s skin before her lips followed. She flicked her tongue over the peak, teasing it until it was a hard, sensitive point of fire, before devouring it with a low growl.

She was relentless, her hands wandering down to Wanda’s waist and back up again, her touch firm and possessive. She treated Wanda’s breasts like they were the most precious things she’d ever held, alternating between soft, worshipful kisses and a deeper, more demanding hunger that left Wanda breathless and shaking.

Every time Wanda thought she couldn't take any more, Y/N would shift her focus, blowing cool air over the damp skin before taking her back into the heat of her mouth, driving Wanda higher and higher.

Y/N pulled back just enough to look at her, her face flushed, her lips glistening. She reached down, her hand sliding over the silk of Wanda’s skirt, her palm coming to rest flat against her stomach.

"I've been thinking about this since the moment I met you in that cafe," Y/N rasped, her eyes burning into Wanda’s. "And it’s so much better than I imagined."

The air in the room felt thick with the scent of them. Y/N’s hand stayed flat against Wanda’s stomach, feeling the way it fluttered with every ragged breath.

"The rest, Wanda," Y/N murmured, her voice like velvet over gravel. "I want to see all of you."

She moved with a slow, deliberate grace, sitting up just enough to reach the fastening of Wanda’s skirt. Her knuckles brushed against Wanda’s skin, a casual contact that sent sparks through Wanda’s nervous system. With a deft flick, the fabric was loosened, and Y/N began to slide it down. She didn't just pull it away; she let her hands follow the curve of Wanda’s hips, her palms mapping the smooth transition from waist to thigh with a reverence that felt like a prayer.

Once the skirt was discarded, Y/N’s gaze returned to Wanda. She looked at her not just with lust, but with a profound, quiet awe that made Wanda feel seen in a way she never had before.

"Permission to take these off too?" Y/N asked softly, her fingers hooking into the waistband of Wanda’s lace underwear.

Wanda’s response was a breathless, "Please, baby. Yes."

Y/N stripped her with an agonizing slowness, her eyes tracking the movement as the lace fell away. When Wanda was finally, completely bare beneath her, Y/N didn't immediately move to close the gap. She stayed back for a moment, her hands resting on Wanda’s knees, her thumbs tracing the sensitive skin there.

"You are a vision, Wanda," she whispered, her voice thick. "I'm going to take so much time with you."

Y/N moved back over Wanda, Her breasts settling against Wanda’s once more, the weight of her body a grounding, perfect pressure. Y/N’s hands slid down to Wanda’s inner thighs, gently urging them apart, her touch firm and sure. She began to work her way down again, her mouth returning to Wanda’s breasts for one last, lingering graze before her kisses trailed lower.

Y/N kissed the soft dip of Wanda’s navel, then the sensitive skin of her hip bones, her tongue flicking out to taste her. Every inch was a new discovery. Y/N moved lower still, her breath hot against the junction of Wanda’s thighs, her hands sliding under Wanda’s glutes to lift her slightly, tilting her up.

"Y/N..." Wanda’s voice was a broken plea, her fingers tangling in Y/N’s hair as she felt the first, light brush of Y/N’s lips against her most sensitive part.

"I've got you," Y/N promised, her voice muffled against her skin. "Just feel me, love. I've got you."

Then, she lowered her head, and the world narrowed down to the sensation of Y/N’s tongue—expert, devoted, and relentlessly patient—as she began to worship Wanda in the most intimate way possible.

The first touch of Y/N’s tongue was broad and wet, a slow, languid stroke that made Wanda’s entire body go rigid. Y/N didn’t rush; she explored every fold with a maddeningly patient rhythm, alternating between soft, fluttering licks and a deeper, more insistent suction. Wanda’s hands flew to the headboard, her knuckles white as she gripped the wood, her head thrashing against the pillow.

"Y/N, oh my god," Wanda sobbed, her breath coming in short, sharp hitches.

Recognizing the shift in Wanda's tone, Y/N shifted her focus. While her tongue continued its relentless work, she slid two fingers inside Wanda. They were warm and slick, moving with a sure, practiced confidence. The combination was devastating. Y/N used her thumb to maintain a steady, circular pressure on Wanda's clit while her fingers curled, finding that perfect internal spot and rhythmically driving into her.

Wanda was unraveling. The world outside the room—the café, Pietro, the deadlines—all of it ceased to exist. There was only the feeling of Y/N’s mouth, the stretch of her fingers, and the low, growling hum Y/N made against her skin as she felt Wanda begin to pulse around her.

"That's it, love," Y/N murmured against her, her voice a deep vibration that Wanda felt in her bones. "Give it all to me. Just let go."

Y/N picked up the pace, her tongue flicking faster, her fingers thrusting deeper and more urgently. She was relentless, refusing to let the tension break until it was unbearable. Wanda’s hips began to buck instinctively, her heels digging into the mattress as she chased the peak that Y/N was so masterfully building for her.

The climax hit like a tidal wave. Wanda’s voice broke into a high, keening cry as her muscles slammed shut around Y/N’s fingers. Her vision sparked white, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Y/N didn't pull away; she stayed right there, her mouth maintaining its gentle suction and her fingers continuing to move slowly, carrying Wanda through the long, shaking aftershocks of the release.

Slowly, the room came back into focus. The silence that followed was heavy and sweet, broken only by the sound of Wanda’s ragged, uneven breathing.

Y/N moved with a slow, worshipful grace, her lips trailing back over the terrain of Wanda’s body—the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, and the swell of her breasts—until she finally reached Wanda's mouth. When they connected, the kiss was deep and intoxicating. Wanda let out a low, broken moan as she tasted the salt and sweetness of herself on Y/N’s tongue, the intimacy of it sending a fresh jolt of electricity through her sensitized nerves.

The kiss reignited instantly, shifting from tender to hungry. Wanda’s hands, still trembling slightly, left Y/N’s hair and began a frantic descent. Her nails grazed over Y/N’s shoulders and down the firm, defined lines of her toned abs, leaving faint red tracks on the heated skin.

Wanda’s fingers then hooked into the band of Y/N’s gray sports bra, tugging at the tight fabric with an impatient jerk. She broke the kiss just enough to press her forehead against Y/N’s, her breath hot and shallow.

"Take it off," Wanda whispered against Y/N’s lips, her voice a raw, commanding thread. "I want to see you. All of you."

Y/N didn't hesitate. She sat back, the muscles in her arms rippling as she crossed them to grab the hem of the sports bra. In one swift movement, she pulled it over her head and tossed it blindly into the room. She stood just long enough to hook her thumbs into the waistband of her pants and underwear, kicking them away with a fluid, athletic ease that left her standing completely bare in the moonlight.

She looked powerful—all lean muscle and soft curves, a perfect balance of strength and vulnerability.

When Y/N climbed back onto the bed, she didn't just crawl; she loomed over Wanda, her gaze heavy and dark with a renewed fire. The skin-on-skin contact was total now, the heat of Y/N’s bare body pressing Wanda down into the mattress.

Wanda didn’t give Y/N a chance to say another word. She reached up, her fingers tangling firmly in Y/N’s hair, and hauled her down into a kiss that was pure, unadulterated fire. If the first round had been a slow-burn worship, this was the wildfire.

Their bodies collided with a soft thud, skin sliding against skin, perfectly matched and desperate for the friction. Wanda’s legs wound around Y/N’s waist, pulling her flush against her, wanting to erase every microscopic bit of space left between them. The taste of their shared heat, the scent of sweat and arousal, and the sheer weight of Y/N pressing her into the sheets made Wanda’s head spin.

Y/N groaned into Wanda’s mouth, a deep, guttural sound of surrender. Her hands broke free from Wanda’s wrists to cup her face, her thumbs sweeping over Wanda’s cheekbones with a possessive intensity. She kissed Wanda like she was trying to memorize the very soul of her, her tongue deep and demanding, setting a pace that was frantic and hungry.

"Wanda," Y/N rasped against her lips, her breath hitching as Wanda’s nails dragged down her back, "you're going to be the death of me."

"Then let's go together," Wanda whispered back, her eyes dark and blown wide as she shifted beneath Y/N, her hips searching for that perfect, grounding contact.

Y/N didn't need any more encouragement. She moved with a renewed, predatory grace, her hands sliding down to grip Wanda’s thighs, holding her open and vulnerable as she began to drive them both toward a second, even more explosive peak. There was no more waiting, no more cautious questions—only the rhythmic, primal pull of two people who had finally found exactly what they’d been looking for in the middle of a rainy afternoon.

The night stretched on, the movie long since finished and the ice cream melted, but inside the room, time had stopped entirely.

---

The night blurred together in warmth and closeness, kisses and whispered laughter giving way to something deeper—private, unspoken, meant only for the two of them. When sleep finally claimed them, it did so gently, limbs tangled, the world narrowed down to shared breath and steady heartbeats.

Morning came quietly.

Wanda stirred, half-asleep, instinctively snuggling closer to the warm, bare body beside her. She smiled before she even opened her eyes, cheek pressing against Y/N’s chest, one arm draped comfortably over her waist like she’d always belonged there.

Above her, Y/N was already awake.

She had been watching Wanda for a while—taking in the relaxed softness of her face, the way her lashes rested against her cheeks, the way she fit so perfectly against her. When Wanda shifted closer, Y/N’s arm tightened around her automatically.

“Good morning,” Y/N murmured, voice low and fond as she pulled Wanda in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Wanda hummed sleepily. “Mm… morning.” Her eyes fluttered open slowly, unfocused but content. She tilted her head back just enough to look at Y/N. “What time is it?”

Y/N glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Ten.”

The effect was immediate.

Wanda jolted upright with a gasp. “Ten?—shit.” She ran a hand through her hair, panic flashing across her face as reality rushed back in. “Oh my God, I wasn’t supposed to stay over. I was supposed to be home already.”

Y/N sat up quickly too, concern replacing the lazy warmth in her expression. She reached out, wrapping her arms around Wanda’s shoulders, pulling her back against her chest.

“Hey,” she said gently. “Hey. Relax. It’s okay.”

Wanda shook her head, already spiraling. “No, I—”

“Wanda,” Y/N interrupted softly, resting her chin against her shoulder. “It’s Saturday.”

She held her there, steady and grounding, rubbing slow circles into her arm. “No one’s rushing you. You’re safe. Breathe.”

Wanda’s breath stuttered, then slowly began to even out as she leaned back into Y/N’s hold—torn between comfort and the urgency pounding in her chest.

And Y/N, completely unaware of the reason behind Wanda’s panic, just held her closer, doing what she always did best—being calm, present, and there.

Y/N felt the tension in Wanda’s body and instinctively moved closer, arms tightening around her from behind. She pressed a soft kiss to the side of Wanda’s neck—slow, grounding, meant to soothe rather than ignite.

Wanda’s breath caught anyway.

She swallowed, forcing herself to stay focused. “I—I really have to go,” she said, even as her body betrayed her by relaxing into Y/N’s hold. “I have an appointment around lunch.”

It was a lie, and it tasted strange on her tongue.

She turned carefully, facing Y/N, and leaned in to give her a quick peck—sweet, apologetic—before shifting to stand.

She didn’t make it far.

Y/N’s arms wrapped around her again, playful strength pulling her back until they both fell onto the mattress with a soft bounce. Wanda let out a surprised laugh as she landed on top of Y/N, hands braced on either side of her shoulders.

“Hey,” Wanda protested, though she was smiling despite herself. “I really need to go.”

Y/N looked up at her, eyes warm, teasing, utterly unbothered. One hand rested at Wanda’s waist, steadying her there.

“Then,” Y/N said calmly, “I want a proper kiss first.”

Wanda hesitated—just for a second—before her resolve wavered. She shook her head lightly, lips twitching. “You’re impossible.”

“And you like me anyway,” Y/N replied, grin lazy but fond.

Wanda sighed, defeated, and leaned down—intent on giving her that one last kiss.

It started slow, her lips brushing Y/N’s like a promise rather than a goodbye. Y/N’s hands came up instinctively, resting at Wanda’s sides as she kissed her back just as softly at first. Then the kiss deepened—not rushed, not desperate, but full. The kind that lingered, that said *I’ll see you soon* even as it made leaving harder.

When Wanda finally pulled back, her forehead rested against Y/N’s for a brief moment, both of them breathing a little unevenly.

“Okay,” Wanda murmured. “Now I really have to go.”

Reluctantly, she slid off the bed and started gathering her clothes. Y/N watched her move around the room, utterly unashamed as she pulled on her boxers and a shirt before sitting back on the bed, elbows resting on her knees, eyes never leaving Wanda.

There was something quietly intimate about it—morning light spilling over Wanda as she dressed, Y/N’s gaze warm and appreciative without ever feeling intrusive.

Once dressed, Wanda turned back to her. She crossed the room, hands coming up to cradle Y/N’s face as she leaned in and kissed her again—shorter this time, but no less tender.

“I’ll text you,” Wanda promised softly.

Y/N smiled, brushing her thumb along Wanda’s jaw. “I’ll be waiting.”

They walked to the door together. Y/N held it open, leaning against the frame as Wanda stepped outside. One last look, one last smile—and then Wanda was gone.

Y/N stood there until she heard the car start. She watched from the window as it pulled away, a stupid, unmistakably happy grin spreading across her face.

Only when Wanda disappeared down the street did Y/N finally close the door—still smiling, already looking forward to the next time.

---

Wanda’s POV

The drive home felt longer than usual.

Wanda’s hands stayed tight on the steering wheel, her thoughts still tangled in warm sheets and gentle hands and the way Y/N had smiled at her like mornings were meant to be shared. She shook her head slightly, trying to focus, but the small smile on her lips refused to fade.

When she pulled into the driveway, the house was already awake.

She stepped inside—and froze.

Pietro was in the kitchen, coffee in hand, very much dressed like someone who had been there all night.

He looked up.

Then slowly looked at the clock.

Then back at Wanda.

“…Wow,” he said, dragging the word out. “Next-day arrival. That’s new.”

Wanda groaned immediately. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely starting,” Pietro replied, grinning. “You left yesterday evening and came back this morning. Should I mark this in the calendar?”

“Mama!”

Alina’s voice cut through the teasing as she came running down the hallway. Wanda dropped her bag and crouched just in time to catch her.

“Hi, my love,” Wanda breathed, hugging her tight, pressing a kiss to her curls. “Did you behave?”

“Yes!” Alina declared proudly. “Uncle P gave me chocolate.”

Wanda shot Pietro a look over Alina’s head. “You promised.”

“She smiled at me,” Pietro said innocently. “I’m weak.”

Wanda stood, Alina still clinging to her, and sighed. “Thank you for staying.”

Pietro waved her off. “Anytime. Especially if this means you’re finally having fun again.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “So… was it worth it?”

“Pietro.”

“That’s a yes,” he concluded smugly.

Wanda felt her cheeks heat as she carried Alina to the couch, settling down with her curled comfortably against her chest. Pietro grabbed his jacket, still smiling to himself.

“I expect to meet her,” he added at the door. “The woman who kept you out all night.”

“Go home,” Wanda said flatly.

He laughed and left.

The house finally quieted. Alina relaxed against her, sleepy and warm, grounding Wanda instantly. Her phone buzzed softly in her hand.

Y/N: Home safe?

Wanda smiled, heart tugging in two directions as she typed back.

Just got home. Thank you for last night.

She added a heart before she could stop herself.

As Alina drifted off against her, Wanda leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

Soon, she knew, the teasing would be the easy part.

Telling Y/N the truth—that was the part she wasn’t ready for yet.

---

Y/N’s POV

The apartment was quiet except for the soft rush of the shower fading behind her.

Y/N stepped out, towel slung low around her hips, steam still clinging to her skin. She reached for a shirt—and paused.

There, draped neatly over the back of a chair, was Wanda’s coat.

Y/N blinked. Then smiled to herself.

“Of course,” she murmured fondly.