#emo wanda

The black rope was Wanda's work, and she was proud of it.

She ran her fingers along the knot at your wrists first. Pressed her thumb along the inside of each loop, checking the tension, making sure the rope held without cutting. It was good rope—thick and smooth, expensive, the kind that kept its shape. Several loops over your crossed wrists. A knot placed exactly where you couldn't reach it. You'd tested that twice. She'd watched you test it both times with the same expression: patient, faintly amused, entirely unsurprised.

She moved to your ankles.

You were on your knees on the bed with your face turned into the pillow. Your ankles were tied to your thighs—folded up and held there, the black rope looped several times over each ankle and up around each thigh. No way to extend your legs. No way to straighten. No way to do anything with your lower body except stay exactly as she'd arranged you.

She checked the ankle knots the same way she'd checked your wrists. Thumb along the inside. A small adjustment to the right one. Then she ran both palms up the backs of your thighs, feeling the tension of the rope, feeling the warmth of your skin under her hands. She took her time with this part. She always took her time with this part.

"Good," she said to herself, satisfied.

She moved up the bed. Her fingers found the rope at your wrists again and she checked it one more time—not because she doubted her work, but because she liked doing it. Liked the feel of it. Liked knowing it was right. Her rings grazed your forearms as she moved and the metal was cool against your skin. She pressed her thumb once more along the inside of the loop.

Perfect.

The gag came last. A clean fold of rope between your teeth, tied at the back of your head with careful hands. Not tight enough to hurt. Just enough to take your words away completely. You'd made a sound when she put it in place—something between protest and not-protest—and she'd smoothed your hair back from your face and looked at you for one long moment. Dark eyes. The smear of her lipstick already at the corner of her mouth from earlier.

She hadn't said anything. She'd just looked, and she’d been satisfied by what she saw.

Now all you had were sounds.

Wanda sat back on her heels and looked at what she'd made.

She was in her black bra and panties, her dark hair loose in waves around her face. The room was warm and she'd worked up a heat with the ropes—the patient effort of it—and some of her hair was sticking to her cheeks, pressed against her skin. Her eyeliner was sharp at the outer corners. Her dark lipstick was smeared at the corners of her mouth and transferred in dark streaks across your back and shoulders from every time she'd pressed her lips to your skin before the ropes went on. The marks ran from your shoulder blades down toward your spine. She'd made them deliberately. She hadn't been careful and she wasn't sorry.

The pink wand vibrator was tied to your inner thigh.

She'd angled it up and held it in place with the black rope, the head pressed directly against your clit. Your thighs were bound apart by the configuration. No way to press them together, no way to shift the wand's angle or ease its contact. It was tied there. Running. And there was nothing inside your cunt—nothing at all—and Wanda had been watching the way you kept clenching around nothing with an attention that had not wavered once.

She looked at you for a long moment. Taking inventory of everything she'd made. The rope. The wand. The lipstick on your back. Your hands grasping at nothing behind you.

Then she pressed her lips to the center of your back.

Her dark lipstick dragged as she moved down—she wasn't being careful, she'd decided hours ago not to be careful—and she kissed slowly down your spine. Warm mouth against warm skin, deliberate pressure at each vertebra, leaving dark marks in her wake. You shivered. She felt it against her lips and kept going. She kissed to the small of your back and stayed there for a moment, her mouth resting against your skin, feeling the tension held in the muscles beneath.

She moved lower.

She kissed the top of your right asscheek—pale and unmarked, untouched yet—and she did it gently. Barely any pressure at all. The softest possible contact.

You jerked.

A full-body flinch, your hips driving forward with nowhere to go, a muffled cry through the gag that had real shock in it. She lifted her mouth and looked at the dark smear of lipstick she'd left. She looked at it for a moment.

She smiled.

"Oh," she said softly. "Interesting."

She did it again. Same spot. Same gentle press of her lips.

You jerked harder—your hands pulling at the ropes, your back arching off the pillow—and the muffled sound through the gag was higher this time, more desperate, the sound of someone whose body was making decisions without consulting them. The wand shifted fractionally with the movement and you made another sound entirely.

Wanda sat back and looked at you with dark, delighted eyes.

"You are very sensitive," she said pleasantly. "We have barely started and you are already—" She tilted her head, watching your hips make their small involuntary movements. "Like this."

She moved her lips to your other cheek. The same barely-there pressure.

You flinched hard. She felt it and she felt the clench of your cunt around nothing and she watched both happen with the focused attention of someone cataloguing something for future use.

"I am going to enjoy tonight very much," she said. To herself, mainly, as a simple statement of fact.

She sat back and brought her palm down on your left asscheek.

The crack of it filled the room. You cried out through the gag—the sound going up and up—and your hips snapped forward, the wand catching at the new angle, and you produced a second sound that was entirely different from the first. She pressed her palm flat over the heat she'd made. Held it there, feeling the warmth bloom under her hand.

"You clenched," she said. She sounded like she'd confirmed something she'd been wondering about. Her palm rubbed a slow circle. "Every time I do that. Did you know?" Her rings left cool impressions against the heat. "Probably not. You are a little occupied."

She pressed her lips to the spot she'd just struck. She was gentle, tender and loving, and she adored how she could feel you jerk violently at the contrast. The hum she let out was entirely satisfaction.

"Good," she said against your skin. Then she sat back up and brought her palm down on the right side.

Your back arched hard. The rope at your wrists pulled taut. Your fingers spread wide grasping at nothing behind your back and found nothing and kept grasping anyway. She rubbed slow circles over the right cheek, her palm warm and thorough, and then she kissed that spot too—her lips soft against the heat—and felt you try to pull away from the gentleness of it with the same desperation you'd tried to pull away from the impact.

She laughed.

A real laugh, brief and bright, surprised out of her. 

"You cannot decide," she said, delighted. "The hit or the kiss—you do not know which is worse." She ran her palm over both cheeks, feeling the warmth. "I find that very funny. And very useful."

She kept going.

She was methodical, returning to spots that made you make the sounds she liked best. She'd bring her palm down and then immediately follow it with her lips, soft against the heat, and watch you jerk and strain at the contrast. The crease where your thigh met your ass. The tenderest part of your left cheek. She catalogued everything. She was completely unhurried about all of it, stopping occasionally to run her palms over the heat she'd made, occasionally pressing her mouth to your spine above your ass where you were unmarked and feeling you shudder.

"You are turning such a pretty color," she observed at one point, looking at both cheeks with genuine appreciation. "Both sides." She ran her thumb lightly across the left one and felt you clench. "I like this very much. I want to remember this."

She brought her palm down harder—harder than any of the ones before, right at the tenderest spot—and you screamed through the gag, muffled and wrecked. She smoothed her palm over the heat immediately, pressing it in, and felt you tremble under her hand.

"There," she said, satisfied. "There it is."

She placed both hands at your hips.

Both palms, firm, fingers wrapping around the curves of your hipbones. She held you completely still.

You immediately tried to move.

She felt your whole body strain against her grip—your hips pushing forward and back, trying to find any angle with the wand, some relief or more or anything at all—and she held on without giving you any of it. Immovable, without mercy. Her thumbs pressed into the muscle of your hips and she felt every futile push your body made against her hands.

"Oh," she said, like she'd discovered something wonderful.

She could feel everything from here. Every tiny movement against her grip. The strain of your thighs against the ropes. The way your hips kept pushing and finding nothing and pushing again. Her thumbs moved slowly, pressing in, feeling the effort underneath them—the continuous, futile effort of a body that could not stop trying even when trying got it nowhere.

"You cannot stop," she said softly. "Even when you want to." Your hips drove against her grip and she held steady. "Your body has stopped listening to you." Her thumbs pressed in deeper. "It is just asking. Over and over." She watched you clench around nothing again. She felt it from outside your body through the tension of your thighs. "And there is nothing there." A pause. "There will not be anything there until I decide."

She held you there for a long time.

She held you against the wand and felt your body fight her grip, and she talked to you in that low warm voice. She told you what she was watching. She told you that she could feel the clench of you from outside your body and that she found it beautiful. She told you that you were being very good.

She meant all of it.

You started crying and didn’t even realize it.

Your eyes filled, spilling over and soaking into the pillow. A sob came through the gag that was completely real and completely unmanaged, and you didn't have anything left to stop it with.

Wanda felt the change move through you under her hands. The sob moving through your body. The shudder of it.

She released your hips, moving off the bed. You heard her cross the room. You heard her pause. Then she came back and the mattress shifted and she settled somewhere behind you at the foot of the bed.

You knew the sound of her bra coming off. You knew it well by now. The soft snap of the clasp. The shifting as it caught on her pierced nipples. You knew those sounds. And you knew the sound of her panties being pulled down her thighs slowly, teasing you even though you couldn’t even see.

You heard an exhale—long and slow—and the quality of it was different from anything she'd made all evening. Something turned inward. Something that was for herself.

"I want you to hear this," Wanda said. Her voice had dropped a register. Warm in a different way now—the warmth of something she'd stopped managing. "I want you to hear exactly what you have done to me tonight."

You sobbed into the pillow again, the relentless buzzing of the vibrator on your clit driving you close to orgasm but not letting you get it. You realized that the only thing you could do was listen, and that must’ve been her plan all along.

Her hands moved over her own skin. You heard the sound of her palms against herself, the quiet friction, and then the small catch in her breath when she found what she was looking for. Her breasts first. Her hands moving over them, her rings against her own warmth, and then the sharp small sound she made when she found her right nipple—the silver barbell—and rolled it between her fingers.

She made that sound twice. Let you hear it both times.

"So sensitive," she murmured. "They have been like this since before the ropes." Her breathing was already slightly unsteady. "I kept thinking about this while I was tying you. About exactly this." Her thumb moved over the piercing again and she moaned, biting her lip. "Having you here. Like this."

One hand moved lower.

The slick sound of it reached you. Unmistakable. A soft sound as her fingers found her clit and she inhaled sharply.

"Bože," she breathed. God. Low and unbidden.

She held there for a moment. Then her fingers began to move.

"I am so wet," she said. The words came out slightly uneven now—the effort of talking while her fingers worked. "I have been wet since I put the gag in. Since I heard the sound you made." Her fingers worked slow circles and the sound she made had you crying again, your body desperate for anything. "That sound."

She touched her piercing again with her free hand. The sharp inhale. A curse in Sokovian, soft and fervent.

“Fuck,” she breathed out, building her rhythm.

"I keep looking at your back," she said, between shorter breaths. "All my lipstick on you. I did that." Her fingers moved and she made another sound, less managed. "And your ass—" A breath. "Both sides. So red." The slick sound of her hand reaching you clearly from the foot of the bed. "You will feel it tomorrow. Every time you sit. And you will think of tonight. You will think of me. You will—fuck—”

She stopped talking because she didn't have breath for words anymore.

What came through was just sound. The sound of her fingers and her breathing losing their shape together. Small sounds that were entirely hers and entirely unperformed. The rhythm of her hand getting faster. A curse in Sokovian, followed by English, and then everything ragged.

"Ah—"

She shuddered through it quietly. You knew she had cum, could hear her start to settle. 

The room held her silence, just the sound of your cries and the vibrator. 

She came around the side of the bed, phone in hand, and she looked at you—at your face, still turned into the pillow, tear tracks drying on your cheeks, rope gag at your mouth, eyes red—and something warm and deeply satisfied moved across her face.

"I need to remember this," she said.

She crouched beside the bed and brought the phone to your face. She looked at you through the screen and then at you directly and then at the screen again.

"Look at me," she said.

Somehow, you managed to lift your head and look at her. How you did this despite the constant stimulation on your clit and the desperation your body was barely handling, you didn’t have the capacity to question.

The shutter clicked. Of course she had the sound turned up. Just another way for her to let you know she was in control.

She took several of your face—close, the tear tracks and the gag and the wrecked expression—then pulled back for a wider shot. She moved behind you and documented your back: the lipstick marks down your spine, the shape of them, how far they went. She took a close-up of your reddened ass that made her make a quiet sound of satisfaction when she looked at it on the screen. Then she crouched at the foot of the bed.

She took her time here.

She photographed the wand tied against your thigh, the head of it against your clit, the way your thighs were bound apart by the black rope. She photographed the slick that had gathered on your inner thighs. She photographed the way your cunt kept clenching around nothing while the wand ran.

"Beautiful," she said quietly, looking at the screen. "Absolutely beautiful."

She stood and came back to your face.

"Smile," she said, her voice lilted like a song.

A sound came through the gag that was not a smile.

"I know," she said, conversationally. "You are very busy.” She patted your cheek affectionately. “Smile anyway."

She took the picture, looking at it for a long moment. Then she set the phone aside and reached up and untied the gag, drawing the rope carefully from your mouth. She worked the knots at your ankles next, easing your legs flat, running her palms up and down your calves with steady pressure. Your wrists last, the knot releasing, and she brought your arms slowly around to your front and rubbed warmth back into them.

She turned you over.

One hand at your shoulder, one at your hip, and you were on your back looking up at her. She was kneeling over you—fully bare now, her dark hair falling around her face, rings on every finger, the smeared lipstick—and she looked down at your face with an expression that was open in a way she didn't often allow herself to be open.

She reached out and touched your cheek.

Her thumb moved under your eye, along the track a tear had made. She looked at what was on her thumb. Then she leaned down and put her tongue to your cheek and licked—slow, the flat of her tongue dragging from your jaw to the corner of your eye—and when she pulled back the sound she made was low and quiet.

She looked at your face. At what she'd reduced you to.

"Perfect," she breathed.

She sat with that for a moment. Then her hand moved to your inner thigh, adjusting the vibrator.

Your whole body went rigid.

"Wanda—" Your voice was barely a sound. Raw. "Please—I'm done—I can't—"

She looked at you, tilting her head.

"Are you?" She asked softly. She made a cooing noise, something sympathetic, but she pressed her palm flat against your cunt without any care for how you cried again.

The full warm weight of her hand. You were soaked and swollen, impossibly sensitive. She held her palm there and felt you against it—felt the heat of you, felt how wet you were, felt you clench against nothing under her hand.

She leaned down, her lips finding your ear. Her hair fell cool against your jaw. Her voice, when she spoke, was a whisper.

"We are just getting started, darling."

“Hello.” You awkwardly reach out to shake the younger Wanda’s hand while you introduce yourself. She studies you, gaze intense. The way she looks at you…yeah, definitely Wanda.

“So…” you don’t know what to do with your hands, “What’s happening?”

The younger Wanda turns to your Wanda.

“I was looking for something in her universe. She slipped through instead,” your Wanda says. 

You have to figure out another way to think about them. Emo Wanda? Alternative Wanda? Or maybe a nickname for your Wanda. She’d recently earned the title Scarlet Witch. Scarlet is a pretty name. There’s no protest from your Wanda, mentally or verbally, so decision made. You watch curiously as they return to the conversation you interrupted. Wanda’s eyes flick to you every few moments like she’s trying to take you in, or study you, surreptitiously. She’s failing horribly but you appreciate the effort.

And then you’re suddenly realising there’s two Wanda’s in the same room as you. That this is a quiet fantasy you’ve shared with your wife in the late hours of the night, when Scarlet had your brain so fuzzy you were willing to tell her anything. The memory turns from a hazy impression to a sharp image and you know Scarlet is in your mind, encouraging the thought to continue. 

You swallow and try to shift subtly on your feet, resisting the urge to squeeze your thighs together. Wanda sends you a curious look but continues talking to Scarlet. Another memory comes forward of a different night, one where Scarlet held you down and whispered every dirty thing two of her could do to you. How you’d be so helpless against them, how you’d beg for more. 

Scarlet makes the memory so vivid you whimper, loud enough for Wanda to hear. Her head snaps towards you and you can feel her concern as her mind enters yours. It’s rude but it’s Wanda so you can’t find it within yourself to truly mind, even if embarrassment rises. Wanda pokes the memory curiously and heat floods you as you gasp. She makes it a bit too real and you no longer feel the floor under you. You’re lying back on the bed, Scarlet hovering over you as she buries her fingers inside your cunt and tells you how pretty you’d look filled by two of her.

“That’s enough,” Scarlet says.

Wanda turns to her with a raised eyebrow. It looks like they’re communicating telepathically but you’re too busy trying not to hump the air to care. To go from being fucked to having to stand calmly is too much and you’re quickly losing your shame. You have just enough time to notice a smile curl around Scarlet’s lips before you’re all in the bedroom. A gentle caress against your mind from Scarlet tells you they haven’t transported you back into your memories. 

You’d landed on the edge of the bed but Scarlet curls her fingers and you’re dragged to the middle, gentle magic pushing you to lay down. Your clothes disappear and you gasp as cool air rushes to meet your skin. You lift your head when no one immediately joins you on the bed and the heat builds when you see both of them already naked. Scarlet is gently caressing Wanda’s cheek and you realise Wanda is nervous. You go to reassure her, or try to with your already fuzzy brain, but an impression from Scarlet’s mind tells you she wants you to be quiet. Wanda is only slightly nervous because of how fast things are moving.

“She wants it,” Scarlet murmurs, “Desperately.”

You can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. Your want is obvious. Moments later Wanda is climbing onto the bed, a strap-on slowly materialising from a swirl of red around her hips. You open your legs wider, your mouth dry. Scarlet follows behind her and curls her hands around Wanda’s waist.

“You want this?” Wanda asks and you relish the way her voice rasps.

You nod eagerly, hands reaching out to tug her closer. Red immediately wraps around your wrists and pushes them back into the bed. You pout at Scarlet but she only smiles back at you. Wanda doesn’t seem to mind. Her eyes run down your body. You squirm at the inspection. Her hands hesitantly land on your stomach before gliding lower.

“So pretty,” she murmurs and you try not to preen. You mustn’t be too successful since Scarlet sends a pulse of amusement to you. One of Wanda’s hands dips towards your heat but Scarlet clicks her tongue and tugs on the harness around Wanda’s waist. Wanda stills and she looks hesitant. “I don’t know how…”

“I’ll help you,” Scarlet says.

You don’t risk pointing out how badly she wants this. Wanda nods and allows Scarlet to guide her until her hands are beside your head and she’s hovering over you.

“Gentle,” Scarlet murmurs as she guides Wanda’s hips. Her strap finally enters you and you lift your hips to try and her deeper inside of you. You’re not sure what Scarlet is playing at. She hasn’t been gentle with you in a long time and having a strap slowly open you up instead of filling you in one thrust is torture. Scarlet clicks her tongue in disapproval and red slams your hips back against the bed.

“Be good for our guest,” she says and you nod hurriedly. The last thing you want is for this to stop while she punishes you.

“She is so desperate,” Wanda says wonderingly. Scarlet hums her agreement. Wanda stops her movements, ignoring Scarlet’s hands. You whine and tug at the magic ropes. You don’t dare move your hips.  Wanda looks like she’s drinking you in, the dark eyeshadow making her eyes glow. You’d squirm if she wasn’t already half inside you.

“Don’t tease,” Scarlet says and uses her grip on Wanda’s hips to force her the rest of the way inside of you. You cry out and instinctively try to arch away. Wanda moans lowly in your ear and you almost melt. The stretch fades away as you realise you’re having your first time with Wanda again. The desperate look on her face, the complete lack of control of the situation. For a second you almost wish Scarlet wasn’t here. It’s been a long time since you’ve had control of Wanda in the bedroom. Scarlet pinches your thigh and you twitch. Not fair, you think to her. She doesn’t deign to respond.

Wanda continues to show her complete lack of control by barely moving her hips before pushing back inside of you. She does it again and again and soon she’s rutting inside of you. Her eyes have shut and she’s moaning freely. It’s a relief and a disappointment not to have her intense gaze on you. She’s entirely lost in the feel of you. 

Red wraps around you both and your heart pounds. Scarlet does not like to lose control. Nor does she like to be ignored. Wanda has now done both and you’ve done nothing to stop her.

“You need to be gentle,” Scarlet’s voice is hard. Wanda’s chest heaves above you and it’s a struggle to focus on anything else. Scarlet’s voice turns smooth and warm. “We don’t want to hurt her.”

You try to protest but find yourself unable to open your mouth.

Wanda, you whine in your head.

You know what your mouth is for, her voice curls around the fog in your mind. Then a memory is shoved to the forefront and something heavy and smooth sits on your tongue. You moan and try to take it deeper. Wanda makes a confused noise and you’re pulled from the memory. Your mouth is still firmly shut. You whine again since Scarlet won’t let you beg.

Behave and you’ll get exactly what you always want, the taste of her fills your mouth and your eyes roll back.

“What are you— “ Wanda cuts herself off with a moan. “How do you keep control when she is like this? Her mind…” her hips jut mindlessly. Scarlet hums.

“You’ll get used to how desperate she is, and how powerful that makes you feel. She turns all dumb. It’s quite easy,” she says and you shouldn’t love how she talks like you aren’t there. 

Scarlet takes control of Wanda’s hips again but this time she uses her magic. Her hands settle on your lower legs. It’s not a particularly sensitive spot but you missed the connection.

Scarlet pulls Wanda back, the tip of the strap is barely inside of you, before shoving her hips forward. You and Wanda moan in unison. Scarlet keeps the a steady, tortuous pace. Wanda’s breath is hot against your ear. You aren’t used to the lack of her lips against you but her smell surrounding you is enough to increase the haze. 

A second after you have the thought her lips skim your cheek, and then down to suck at that sensitive spot on your neck. A moan turns into a whine and you wish Scarlet would let you beg.

“I’m not stopping you, dearest,” Scarlet says, not bothering to speak into your mind since Wanda has entered it too. But she is stopping you. She won’t let anything other than desperate sounds escape your lips. You resort to begging in your mind.

Please, please, please, please, I’ll be so good I’ll make your favourite sounds. Please, please-

It’s hard to think of anything properly, to promise anything tantalising, while Wanda’s strap is hitting that spot deep inside of you over and over again.

“What do you think?” Scarlet asks Wanda. “Should our girl be allowed to cum?”

“Yes,” is Wanda’s instant response. Scarlet huffs a laugh. “I want to see her as she comes.”

“She’s quite pretty when she does. It makes me want to…” her nails press harshly into your skin. Her cute aggression became apparent to you early on in your relationship.

Please, please, please, please-

“She liked that,” Wanda says curiously.

Scarlet chuckles lowly, “She likes much more than that.”

Memories fill your mind of your pleasure and pain mixing together to give you extreme highs. They cut off abruptly.

“Ah, ah,” Scarlet says, “She’s close. You need to focus on her, especially if you want to watch her come. You can look later.”

Wanda’s intense gaze returns to you and Scarlet speeds up, no longer taking the whole strap out as you get closer and closer to your peak.

“What a good girl we have,” Scarlet says and your toes curl. “So obedient for us, so desperate. I bet I could stop holding you down and you’d be just as still.”

You nod hurriedly. It’s a game you’ve played before, and lost many times, but Scarlet loves the complete control she has over you and how desperately you try to stay obedient. It always ends in pleasure.

“See, Wanda? We don’t need our powers to control someone,” Scarlet says. 

You doubt Wanda is truly paying attention. The face she’s making is a familiar one. She’s about to come. The idea that fucking you is turning her on so much that she’s reaching the edge so fast pushes you over too. White hot pleasure flashes through you and Scarlet allows Wanda to rut inside of you. Wanda comes down first, laying on top of you as you continue to twitch around her length. She nuzzles at your neck while you come down.

“What a pretty image my girls make,” Scarlet says. Her hands skim from Wanda’s back to your sides and you shiver. She uses a hand to leverage herself over Wanda to be able to cup your face. “I want you to take her down your throat next, okay baby?”

You nod obediently. Her thumb finds your mouth and your lips open without thought. She gently run her thumb over your tongue and whatever few thoughts you had managed to gather slip away.

“Such a good girl,” she says and you can feel Wanda shiver.

“Her mind is so empty,” Wanda says, her accent strong. Scarlet moves to lay on her side next to you both so Wanda can kneel over you again.

“Like yours was, a few moments ago. Poor baby just can’t recover as fast,” Scarlet says like she isn’t pressing down on your tongue and making your eyes rolls back. “And maybe a few hypnotic suggestions,” she adds with a small smirk.

“And she is ours,” Wanda’s voice has gone from wondering to possessive. Her hand creeps towards your neck but Scarlet grabs her wrist.

“Not yet, we don’t want her too dumb when taking your strap. She’ll choke,” Scarlet says.

“She won’t now?” Wanda says doubtfully. 

Scarlet hums and removes her thumb. You whine at the loss.

“Don’t doubt our girl. She has quite the fixation on things in her mouth. It proves very…motivating,” her hands don’t leave your skin. “One more moment, darling,” she says to you. “Then I want you on your knees.” You manage to make an agreeing sound. You can’t wait to have Wanda in your mouth again. 

Scarlet encourages Wanda to stand. You don’t take the extra time she’s trying to give you to recover. You practically scramble off the bed in your eagerness. Scarlet huffs a laugh behind you but Wanda looks at you with something wary and fragile. It’s rare for someone to approach her with such eagerness. You stop in front of her and brush a gentle kiss against her lips. Wanda deepens it immediately, her hand fisting in your shirt. Your resulting smile ruins the kiss.

“Let me make you feel good,” you murmur and she nods, pupils blown.

You slowly lower yourself to your knees. Wanda’s eyes don’t leave yours. Your wrap your hand around the base of her wet strap and guide it to your waiting month. You taste yourself and moan as you take it deeper. Wanda gasps and her hips twitch. You begin to move your hand up and down and Wanda’s hips push forward again. Red surrounds Wanda’s hips with an accompanying careful from Scarlet. Her voice is too thick with lust to sound angry, let alone particularly warning. You suck and Wanda moans.

“How does that feel?” Scarlet asks. A faint, wet noise tells you she’s started to play with herself.

“Feels good,” Wanda mumbles, eyes half-lidded as she watches you.

“Yeah? You like how our girl sucks you off?”

Wanda moans again and her hand gently grabs the back of your head. 

“I don’t need to ask how our pretty girl likes it. She always enjoys having our cock in her mouth. Isn’t that right?”

You try to make an agreeing sound around the strap. Wanda moans and tries to push deeper. You need to pull back for air a few moments later. Wanda’s eyes stay fixed to the string of spit connecting your lips to her strap. It snaps and red fills your vision. A moment later you’re splayed back on the bed, Wanda hovering over you with red eyes. Her strap nudges your entrance and you’re arching to welcome her back in. A deeper red flares and Wanda is forced still.

“Why?” her voices comes out as a whine.

“All of that and you think I don’t deserve a turn?” Scarlet asks.

“You’ve been enjoying it plenty,” Wanda snaps.

You turn curious eyes to Scarlet. You can always feel each other’s presence in a room, and you have no doubt she’s always within your mind, but you only feel the emotions she sends you. She hasn’t been broadcasting how much this is affecting her but it seems Wanda is feeling it all the same. Is this purposeful to keep trust or do their magics recognise them as one being?

If Scarlet hears the thought, she doesn’t answer you. Wanda is tugged off of you with a surprised yelp and left to hang in the air. She struggles for a few moments before turning a glare on Scarlet. One that hovers dangerously close to a pout. Scarlet ignores it, a skill you do not have. You reach for Wanda without really thinking about it. It’s Wanda. If she doesn’t want to be up there then you’ll help her. You don’t get far. Scarlet reminds you what situation you’re in by clearing her throat. 

Turning, your brain reorients itself upon finding her. She’s moved to lean against the headboard and she pats the side of her thigh twice. You immediately move to rest your chin against it, looking up at her. Her hand tangles in your hair and she drags you to her centre. You move so you’re between her legs and eagerly nose at her soaked curls. She lessens her tight hold and you can feel her relax back further with the shift in her thighs. You barely resist indulging yourself early.

“Enjoy your reward,” Scarlet tells you, “And if the young one behaves herself she can have one too.”

You’re too excited to try and guess what she means. Your tongue immediately presses into her wet heat and you drink from her eagerly. Scarlet moans lowly above you and Wanda makes a choked sound. You don’t realise what’s happening, too focused on your task, until Scarlet shows you an image of Wanda in your mind. She’s squirming mid-air, face scrunched in pleasure. You lightly suck Scarlet’s clit and Wanda arches. You groan as you realise you’re pleasing them both at the same time. It only makes you more eager. 

You’re soon surrounded by the sound of pleasure. Breathy noises from Scarlet and continuous moans from Wanda. It’s a struggle to stay focused, to not let your brain slip away in a haze. A part of the connection between Wanda and Scarlet breaks away and Wanda makes a desperate noise. She can’t feel the way you’re eating Scarlet out anymore.

“You could have felt everything if you had contained yourself,” Scarlet tells her. Her tone is noticeably weaker with how close she’s getting. A hypocritical thing to do but that seems to be her theme tonight. 

You don’t direct the stray thought at her but she must still catch it because nails are suddenly digging into your scalp. Thankfully, your transgression isn’t bad enough for her to pull you away. Losing her taste when she’s so close to coming would be truly devastating. You lightly scrape your teeth across her clit before she can use that thought against you. Scarlet’s thighs tense around you and her grip tightens in your hair again as she comes with a long, low moan. You watch her face, warm pleasure filling you, as you lap up the mess you made. A gentle, mental nudge has you pulling back slightly, Scarlet clearly needing a moment of respite. You blink slowly up at her, pleased. She runs a gentle hand through your hair.

“Wanda deserves a treat for taking her punishment so well, hmm?” Scarlet purrs to you.

Wanda’s quiet grumbling and a pulse of her power tells you she doesn’t appreciate it being called a punishment, but it seems she doesn’t want to risk whatever reward is on the table since she doesn’t say or do anything else. Hands grip your ankles and you squeak in surprise when you’re pulled down the bed. Wanda’s weight settling behind you stops you from crawling back to Scarlet but you still pout. You’re much too far to nose into her soaked curls. Scarlet sends a flicker of amusement towards you which only makes your pout stronger. It quickly disappears when the tip of Wanda’s strap starts nudging your entrance. She hesitates and you whine quietly.

Scarlet flicks her wrist, “Fuck her however you like.” She once more lounges against the headboard, her heavy gaze on you. Wanda starts like Scarlet had shown her, with long and slow strokes. It doesn’t last long. Her self-control snaps and her nails sink in as she grips your hips tight, holding you still as she ruts into you. You’re soon gasping under her. Sensitive and needy, already so close after so much attention. Wanda’s quick orgasm might have been embarrassing if it weren’t so hot. Her grunts and moans as she fucks into you spurring you on. You’re a squirming mess as you feel her hips stutter, her orgasm taking over. It’s not quite enough. A few more seconds and you would’ve been right there with her. 

The familiar feeling of Scarlet’s magic curls around your clit and the pressure inside of you bursts. You look up to Scarlet as you cry out, Wanda moaning against your neck as your cunt squeezes her. Scarlet’s eyes are half-lidded as she works two fingers in and out of herself. You buck helplessly under Wanda as your orgasm continues to wash over you. Scarlet comes with a quiet noise, the sight of both you and Wanda too much to resist. 

You come down slowly. Wanda nuzzles the back of your neck and mumbles what sounds like reassurances in Sokovian. She settles against your back. You luxuriate in the weight of her even as you reach for Scarlet. She gently lifts you both with her magic and pulls you both forward to lie between her legs. She’s shift a bit further down the bed so you can comfortably rest your head on her stomach. Her hand gently pushes back some hair from Wanda’s face before moving to gently run through your own.

After the fallout of New York, Loki’s scepter vanished off the map, and HYDRA settlements started cropping up everywhere. Eventually, Thor had tracked the scepter to a fortress situated in Eastern Europe, smack dab in the middle of Sokovia. It was an operation so simple it was practically textbook. Get in, locate the scepter, neutralize all targets, and get out. Banner, Nat, Clint and Steve took out the first wave outside the stronghold, while you and Stark slipped inside. From there, it was almost too easy. Floor by floor, none of them ever stood a chance. You cleared them out with the shocking precision you’d trained for.

“I’m going for Strucker, check the east wing for any strays,” Steve’s voice rang out over the comms. You fired off a couple bullets at an incoming HYDRA agent.

“Copy,” You replied, grunting as you took down a couple of agents who attempted to attack you from behind.

You turned the corner of another hallway, before you heard a resounding thud come from the next set of stairs down. You peered down the dark corridor, searching for the source of the noise. Instead, you spotted a girl. She couldn’t have been a year older than you. The first thing you noticed was her eyes. They had a subtle crimson glow that shone through the dark shadows of the corridor. Smudged black eyeliner sat around her eyes; and the glow was now gone and replaced with a piercing shade of green. Then, she spoke.

“Get out of my way,” she said, her hands coming up in front of her. Around them swirled red spirals of energy, glowing from within. It matched the glow in her eyes.

“Absolutely not,” It went without questioning, there’s no way you’d ever let a potential threat out of your sight. You stepped forward, staring her down.

“Hm. Well that’s a shame, you seem nice,” She replied, almost tauntingly. Her hands flicked upwards, shooting tendrils of red energy towards you. The next thing you felt was the cold stone of the wall, as the air was forced from your lungs. You fell to the ground, letting out a wince as you tried to get back up. She looked at you with a mocking sort of pity, before fleeing out of the doors. You let your head fall back against the wall, groaning in what was a mixture of frustration and pain. She got away, and you let her. That never happened. You could only wallow in your disappointment for so long, before Steve’s voice shot through your earpiece.

“Hey, you still with us?”

“I’m fine, but there’s a second Enhanced in the building. Female. Watch out,” The least you could do was warn your fellow Avengers about this girl. Who was she?

“You’ve met her too?” Steve asked, chuckling a little bit, “Yeah, she got to me first. Shoved me down a set of stairs and everything. Never seen anything like it.

You both could agree on that. She truly was like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

On the ride back to Avengers Tower, you couldn’t shake the mental image of the girl. The sound of her voice echoed in your head. She had a heavy accent, Sokovian most likely. It suited her quite nicely. You remembered the shape of her hands, the ones wrapped in glowing red light. They were clad with multiple silver rings. It was laughable actually, how you could remember all of that, but you remained clueless as to how you managed to slip up so bad. It wasn’t like you, you hardly ever made mistakes. Especially not ones as big as that.

“Hey, what happened back there?” Natasha’s question shook you out of your thoughts. She knew you better than anyone on that team. Which means she knew it was strange of you to make such a large blunder.

“I don’t know. She got the jump on me I guess,” You replied flatly. The truth was, you didn’t know why you were so thrown off your game by her. She was Enhanced, sure, but it was almost too easy for her to knock you down.

“I wouldn’t sweat it,” Nat reassured you, a wry smile playing at her lips, “Clint got his ass kicked by the other one.” You heard Clint protest somewhere at the front of the jet.

“Wow, I feel so much better now,” The sarcasm in your voice was evident, earning yet another scoff from Clint.

“Happy to help,” Nat said, patting you on the shoulder before heading over to talk to Banner. Once again, you were left alone with your thoughts, currently occupied by a certain brunette Enhanced that you just couldn’t get rid of.

The days following the encounter, you made it your personal mission to find out who exactly your mystery girl was. Fairly quickly, a pretty clear picture started to form. Her name was Wanda Maximoff. She was orphaned by a bomb that struck her building, leaving her and her twin brother to fend for themselves. Despite your disdain for her, you felt for Wanda. Her and her brother probably joined those trials looking for a way out. Maybe they thought it was their only option? Whatever the case, some part of you wanted to help her. Without fail, Wanda Maximoff stubbornly refused to leave your head. She haunted you, like an annoying, albeit pretty, ghost. You found yourself sketching her face into the blank margins of notebooks, which you quickly buried under your bed, like a shameful secret for your eyes only. You told yourself your fascination with the Maximoff girl was only because she got the better of you when no one else could. Maybe if you told that lie enough you’d convince yourself to believe it. It was a far better fate than any alternative imaginable.

Post the disaster that was Stark’s party, and the now emerging threat of Ultron on the rise, you were (thankfully) forced to set aside all thoughts and daydreams of your horrible, horrible distraction. Ultron had killed Strucker, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slightest hint of satisfaction that he was dead. The team had traced Ultron’s next target back to a South African arms dealer, who dealt with Wakandan exports. A couple of the Avengers chattered about their next moves, and suited up for the possible fight to come

“I can deal with the speedster, but what about the nutcase in red?” Stark said, reloading some of the weaponry on his suit.

“There’s really no good way to neutralize her, she’s-” Bruce started, before you interjected.

“Neutralize? She’s a person Bruce, not some weapon of mass destruction or a ticking bomb for you to diffuse,” You felt weirdly defensive over Wanda. Sure, you weren’t on the same side here, but why didn’t she deserve a chance too. She’s a good person, you were sure of it. You also knew that good people were sometimes put into bad situations. You hoped that was her case.

“Yeah…sorry,” Bruce trailed off, going back to tinkering with whatever he was doing on the computer. An awkward silence fell over the room, as some of the Avengers shared looks with each other, like they knew something you didn’t.

After tracking down Ultron to a grounded cargo ship, the Avengers came face-to-face with a shiny new Ultron. And you were once again faced with your tormentor. She stared at you with what you can only assume was hatred in her eyes. Even in light of that, you still couldn’t help but notice certain things about her. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail. It looks nice like that. Her necklaces somehow laid so perfectly on her neck. What a weird thing to notice about someone. You were so engrossed with her that when all hell breaks loose against Ultron, it takes you a second to snap back into reality. Something is seriously wrong with you. You dodge a couple of Ultron’s murder bots, as you notice Wanda slipping away. You weren’t going to let her get away again. You trail Wanda back into a small walkway. The rusted metal creaks under your footsteps, and she turns around. Her gaze hardens at the sight of you. 

For a second, you both stare at each other. For that second, you almost forget that you two aren’t on the same side. You snap out of it soon enough. This time, you were sure you were going to change her mind.

“Wanda, please listen. Ultron is lying to you and your brother. Don’t listen to him-” You began, trying to reason with her.

“And then what, we join your side? Because Stark is such an honest man, right?” Wanda retorted, her eyes flashing that familiar shade of red. Unfortunately, she did have a point. It was his lies that started all of this in the first place.

“Whatever Ultron is promising you, it’s not true. He’s playing you. All he’s done is hurt people, how does any of this save the world?” You take a step closer to her. You’re practically begging her to hear you out here, but all she does is scoff.

“Why would I ever listen to you?”

“You just have to trust me,” You understood better than everyone that trust is something not easily given, but for her sake, you had to try.

“Trust is a luxury I cannot afford.” She replies coldly, as she once again raises her hands. The red glow returns, but in a split second, a flash of blue zips by, sweeping you off your feet. Your head collides onto the floor, and your vision immediately starts to blur at the edges. Distant rings echo in your ears, as you lie limply on the ground. Wanda stares at you for a second, before turning her back and running away. She doesn’t make it very far before she runs into Clint. You crane your neck up in an attempt to see what’s happening. Clint slams one of his stun arrows onto Wanda’s forehead, and you watch her crumple to the floor. Momentarily, you feel a pang in your chest. But, in another flash of blue, she’s gone again. You let your head fall back onto the floor of the corridor, as you groan to yourself. You failed her. Again. Your thoughts trail off, as your eyes shut, and everything fades to black.

You wake back up on the floor of the Quinjet, a thin blanket draped over you. You try to blink away the persisting headache, and glance around. Scattered around you, the Avengers look wholly defeated. You get up off the ground, and make your way to the front of the cockpit. Clint was the only one up there, and you sat in the seat next to him.

“What happened…?” You asked tentatively.

“That girl, Wanda, she got into our heads. Messed us up. Hulk ripped apart half of the city,” Clint said solemnly, flipping a couple switches on the dashboard. He turned towards you.

“You got knocked out by her brother. I hit Wanda with the stun arrow, and then the twins vanished,” He continued, “And now we’re heading to a safe house to lay low, at least until Ultron pops back up on the map,”

You nodded, staring out the window of the cockpit.

“I’m curious though. I saw you up there, with the girl. You could have taken her out, why didn’t you?” Clint asked. The memories of the encounter flashed through your head. You pleaded with her, for what? To get knocked on your ass? She simply didn’t want to listen. Another horrible mistake, all because of one girl.

“I wanted to make her see that Ultron wasn’t the good guy. I thought she might listen,” You started, before trailing off, “Maybe it was a mistake.”

“No. You wanted to help. She’s probably scared. People like that sometimes just need a little push,” Clint replied, his eyes flicking back to Nat. She sat in the back, staring blankly at the floor. You knew their history. It gave you hope that if Nat could be saved, maybe Wanda could too.

The next morning, you landed at the “safe house” Clint was talking about. It was a humble little homestead ranch. Soon enough however, you figured out this was Clint’s actual home. He had two young kids, and his very kind wife. You peered around the home curiously. Crayon drawings were hung up on the walls, toys were scattered around the floor. It was so perfectly domestic. It was the kind of life you would have liked, in the event you weren’t an Avenger. Maybe in another life. Then again, maybe in another life you would have fallen for a girl that wasn’t the enemy.

Speaking of the enemy, Wanda Maximoff was quickly starting to take up an uncomfortable amount of space in your mind, more than she already did. You were plagued by visions of her in your dreams, with those ethereal green eyes. In those dreams, she stared at you with her green eyes full of love, not hate. You often woke up in a cold sweat, the harsh reality hitting you in an instant. You truly hated how much you thought about her. It was hardly conducive to Avenging when your opposition was that distracting. When Fury stopped by the Barton house to fill in the Avengers, you sat at the table. Fury’s words flowed in one ear and out the other. Instead, you doodled little cartoonish drawings of Wanda onto a pad of sticky notes. You swiftly crumpled them up and chucked them into the trash. Because nobody could ever know that you were infatuated with Wanda Maximoff. It was painful enough coming to terms with that yourself, so what would the team think? 

That night, Nat cornered you in the kitchen. You had offered to wash the dishes, just to do something to keep yourself busy. She slid over to the counter, drying a couple damp plates.

“I saw your little sketches. Of the Maximoff girl,” Nat said, casting a knowing glance your way. You froze, and the only sound in the room was the noise of the running faucet.

“It’s not what it looks like-” You immediately began, before Nat shushed you.

“Uh-huh. I’m sure it’s not,” she said sarcastically, “Look, I don’t care about any of that. But I need to know, if it comes down to it, can you do your job?” Nat looked at you seriously, her hands drumming on the counter.

“Yes. Absolutely,” You said quickly, nodding vigorously, “You can trust me.”

“I know I can.”

You dried your hands off and bolted to the bathroom. The door shut behind you, and you set your hands on the counter. Your heart pounded in your ears, as you fought back the moisture in your eyes that you’d never dare let become tears. You told Nat that you could be trusted to do your job, and up until recently, you were positive you could. You’d screwed up twice already because of Wanda, how could you ever promise her that you wouldn’t do it again? Honestly, you couldn’t. All you ever wanted to do was help Wanda, who could blame you for that? Whether it was for your own selfish reasons, or truly honorable reasons, it didn’t matter. God, you hated loving Wanda. She was every reason why you swore to never let anyone worm their way into your heart like that. She hated you anyways, so why couldn’t you do the same? You came to the conclusion you were simply pathetic. A pathetic fool who couldn’t be trusted to grow up and do the job she signed up for. What was wrong with you?

The days flew by after that. Nat never brought up the conversation you and her had that night. Before you knew it though, you were once again suiting up to face off against Ultron. And the twins. You made a point to suppress the slight spark of hope at the prospect of seeing Wanda again.

The next time you saw her, you weren’t throwing punches at her, or firing bullets in her direction. Finally, you were working with her. She had discovered the truth about Ultron’s goal for the world, and wasted no time in abandoning his cause, along with her brother. It was humiliating how overjoyed you felt, to say the least. Your excitement was fleeting however, seeing as Ultron had successfully derailed a passenger train in the struggle. Steve directed Wanda to stop the train, while it was up to you and Pietro to usher civilians out of the way. Once people were clear, you glanced back at Wanda, who was absorbed in her efforts to stop the train. She was so, so beautiful. Her ability to distract you was probably the most magical thing about her.

Her efforts were successful, and the train skidded to a halt. You, Wanda, and Pietro all met Steve, where he was coordinating what to do with Ultron’s latest project. From what it sounded like, Ultron made an attempt to create a physical body, harnessing the power of some foreign stone found in Loki’s scepter.

“Stark’s taking care of the Cradle now,” Steve told you three. Wanda raised an eyebrow, interjecting.

“No, he won’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Stark’s not crazy,” Steve replied, almost incredulously. You stepped forward, opening your mouth to say something, before Wanda spoke again.

“He will do anything to make things right,” Wanda said, casting a glance over to you, “Ultron can't tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it. Where do you think he gets that?”

Steve looked at you three blankly, before sighing. You heard Clint’s voice over your earpiece, and paused. He sounded stressed.

“Anything on Nat?” Clint asked. When you looked over at Steve, he explained that Ultron had taken Nat with him. You felt sick.

“We’re on the way back to the Tower now, we’re bringing along the twins,” Steve said grimly, beckoning the three of you to follow him. 

Exhausted, the three of you return to the Tower, where you find Stark and Banner fiddling around with the Cradle.

“Shut it down Stark,” Steve said sternly, staring down Stark, “You don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“And you do? Are you sure she’s not in your head?” Bruce remarked, his tone accusatory as he stared down Wanda.

“Cut it out Banner,” You retorted sharply, glaring at him.

“I know you’re angry,” Wanda began calmly, before Banner cut her off again.

“We’re way past that, I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade-”

“I said cut it out Bruce!” You snapped, as Bruce scoffed and turned his attention back to his computer.

Everyone’s voices grew louder as they bickered amongst each other. In the fray, Pietro had run around the lab, unplugging all of the equipment.

“Go on, you were saying?” Pietro asked innocently, smirking. A loud pop resounded through the lab, as the glass shattered underneath Pietro and he fell through the floor. Wanda screamed and ran towards Pietro, as a full on brawl broke out among the Avengers. Bruce grabbed Wanda, locking her in a chokehold.

“Go ahead, piss me off,” He hissed, before you pried him off of her.

“What the fuck are you doing Bruce?” You yelled, stepped in front of Wanda, “I mean seriously what were you thinking-” You never got to finish your sentence, before Thor burst through the window. He landed on top of the Cradle, before slamming his hammer down onto the lid. As electricity ran through the case, the lid blew off. A purple-ish man burst from the Cradle, slamming down Thor and flying through the air. He seemed to come to his senses, as he returned to the ground. Thor explained that the gem from Loki’s scepter was some sort of power source, called an Infinity Stone. And now the purple man had the capacity to end the world with his power. Clearly, there were some questions. He, or apparently the Vision, asserted that he was very much not on the side of Ultron (thankfully) and agreed that he should be stopped.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, you all were preparing for the fight to come. You stayed with Pietro and Wanda. Despite the previous animosity towards them, all of that was in the past. Besides, it wasn’t often you met very many people that were like you your age. Even on the Quinjet, on the way to Sokovia, you sat by Wanda. You racked your brain for a way to approach conversation with the girl you previously had fought (and also just so happened to be borderline obsessed with). Of course, you settled for the smoothest option.

“Hi…” you said, breaching the awkward silence between you two,

“Hello?” Wanda replied, almost suspiciously as she eyed you. You felt strangely exposed. Your heart felt like it was in your throat as you wrung your hands nervously.

“I don’t think we’ve actually talked, at least not without-”

“Without me kicking your ass?” Wanda offered up helpfully, smirking. You laughed, a feeling of success blooming in your chest. She wasn’t entirely opposed to friendly conversation with you, that was better than nothing, right?

“I wouldn’t say you kicked my ass necessarily…” You said. Even you sounded unconvinced, “I think we’re a pretty equal match actually.”

“Hm, whatever you say лепа,” She shrugged, smiling at you slyly. You weren’t quite sure what she said, seeing as your Sokovian was fairly rusty, but her slight smile and glint in her eyes was enough for you to not worry too much about what she said.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

The fight against Ultron was exhausting. He was gone, at long last. The battle was not without its losses though, as Sokovia was long gone. At the end of it all, you found Wanda leaning against the wall of one of the SHIELD carriers, covered in dirt and grime. Still, she had never looked more beautiful to you. You sat down next to her, sighing.

“You ok?” You asked Wanda, nudging her shoulder slightly. She turned her head to look at you, giving you a small smile.

“Yes, I’m fine. Very tired,” She remarked, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. You could agree, your bones physically ached from exhaustion at this point. You were itching to ask Wanda something though, despite the pit of anxiety crawling around in your stomach.

“Hey, Wanda? Y’know, maybe when we get back, do you want to grab coffee sometime? In the event we’re not faced with a world-ending crisis?” You asked, bracing yourself for the answer.

“You do know I can read minds right?” Wanda asked you, craning her neck to look at you. The smirk on her face could only be described as devilish. You could feel your face heat up at her answer (and it’s unfortunate implications).

“So is that a yes or no?” You replied, laughing awkwardly.

The room buzzed with a relaxed, lively energy, the kind that paired perfectly with the faint chill creeping in from the late hour. Unfortunately for Wanda, your animated conversation with Yelena seemed destined to stretch into eternity—or at least until the yawning hours of the morning. And, according to Wanda’s resolve, it was already late enough for her to contemplate the sweet relief of her bed.  

You threw your head back in laughter, your carefree joy radiating through the room as you sipped your drink. Every now and then, your gaze flicked toward Wanda, scanning for her familiar figure. When you spotted her lingering at the edge of a small demilune table, you gestured for her to come closer. But she just pointed toward the couch where the rest of your friends were perched, and you nodded, giving her a quiet, reassuring smile.  

Your friends had practically staged an intervention to convince you to bring Wanda to your group’s monthly reunion. Sure, she’d bumped into some of them before—an impromptu chat here, an accidental coffee shop encounter there, maybe a party or two—but being submerged in the full, unfiltered chaos of your entire friend group was a whole different beast.

 It wasn’t that Wanda didn’t like them or that they didn’t like her. They got along quite well, and to Wanda’s surprise, they actually had some interesting things to talk about and fun stories to share. The problem was just… people.  

Even if your group was as friendly and easygoing as they came, they were still people. And that didn’t make them any less exhausting.  

Wanda handled it all as the night stretched on. Polite conversations, a few strategically timed smiles, more small talk than she could ever count. She kept her drink alcohol-free, making sure to stay in condition to drive both of you back. But a woman can only handle so much. She quickly found her brief moments of relief by sneaking off to the bathroom, where she’d check her phone—just long enough to catch her breath before re-entering the chaos. When that didn’t suffice, she’d quietly gravitate toward you, slipping her hand gently around your waist. It wasn’t to draw attention or interrupt; just a quiet connection, a grounding touch that offered her comfort without taking too much of your focus, letting her steal a few moments of peace before braving the crowd again.  

At some point, she even got roped into a game with two boys named Billy and Tommy, her competitive streak sparking a few rare grins. But soon enough, the buzz of social interaction began to drain her reserves. By the time you and Yelena’s gossiping marathon was winding down, Wanda had settled into her default role as the quiet observer, her emerald eyes trailing you across the room like a moth drawn to its flame.  

When you finally made your way back to her, you leaned in to press a kiss just behind her ear, instantly switching her attention to a more interesting subject: you.

Wanda’s focus shifted instantly, her gaze snapping to you as quickly as her hand placement now, a possessive grip on your thigh. She had long stopped pretending to listen to Kate Bishop’s rambling. The words coming from Kate’s mouth were nothing compared to the sight of you. Your skirt, the way it clung to your skin despite the cold, was far more interesting than… well, she really had no idea what that girl was saying.  

It didn’t take one with powers to be able to read your girlfriend. Wanda’s forest-green eyes, though soft and subtle, practically screamed, Please, let’s go home. Her social battery was drained down to fumes, and the longing for the quiet solitude of her own space was undeniable.  

When you leaned closer and murmured, “You’re ready to go. Aren’t you?” your words were laced with humor, teasing her indirectly for her lack of love for people. The spark in her eyes flared to life, a silent but emphatic yes. With a quiet chuckle, you nodded, rising from your seat and signaling the end of the night.  

Both of you offered your goodbyes to the group, earning a chorus of exaggerated complaints about how the night was still young—even though the clock had struck 2 AM half an hour ago. You smiled apologetically, tossing out an excuse about needing to get up early, even if everyone knew it was only half true. Wanda appeared beside you just in time, draping her leather jacket over your shoulders—because, naturally, you hadn’t thought to bring one yourself.  

A few quick waves later, you were stepping out into the crisp night air, Wanda’s hand finding its place on your lower back, gently steering you toward the car. You glanced up at her, smiling softly, and her lips curved into a smirk before she leaned in, stealing a quick kiss. Your surprised giggle encouraged her, and she peppered your lips with more playful pecks all the way to the car. Once there, she opened the door for you, her touch lingering as you settled into the passenger seat.  

The drive home was nothing unusual for Wanda, though her mind wandered. If it were up to her, you’d be spending the night at the tower, wrapped up in her until morning. But she knew better—your schedule was packed, and persuasion, no matter how charming, wouldn’t change your mind. Believe her, she’d tried before, and you were infuriatingly stubborn.  

“I’ll pick you up at 7 PM then,” she said as you unbuckle your seatbelt, her tone firm with a touch of affection.  

“Okay, but text me when you’re leaving the tower,” you replied, grabbing your purse.  

Wanda hummed her agreement, though her focus had already shifted. Her fingers trailed teasingly along your thigh, drawing your attention back to her. You tilted your head, leaning slightly against the seat as you flushed under her gaze. Without hesitation, Wanda’s hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss that was far more intense than you’d expected. A quiet moan escaped you, caught off guard by the heat of it.  

That sound was all it took for Wanda to tug you into her lap, her hands firm on your hips, drawing you closer with every second. One hand wandered upward, settling confidently on your neck as the kiss deepened. When you finally broke apart, breathless and grinning, you murmured, “I need to go hooome.”  

Wanda’s response was a low murmur against your neck, followed by a series of distracting kisses. “And?” her tone lazy and unbothered, her lips never straying far from your skin created goosebumps all over your body. The sheer audacity of it made you groan, tilting your head back. You knew what she was doing.  

You giggled softly, shaking your head at her antics, the warmth of the moment lingering between you. Placing your hands gently on her shoulders, you immediately drew Wanda’s attention. Before she could dive back toward your neck, you leaned in, pressing a light peck to her lips, halting her progress.  

“As much as I love this, and as much as I love you. I really, really need to go.”  

Well, that wasn’t what she was expecting at all. Her expression softened as she let her hand wander, her thumb tracing slow, deliberate strokes along your hip. Brushing her other thumb against your skin with an affectionate rhythm as her eyes met yours.  

“But you’ll stay tomorrow at the tower,” she said, and you knew better than to take that as anything other than an affirmation.  

Either way, you nodded, a faint smile curving your lips at her certainty. The two of you lingered in each other’s arms for a while longer, chatting about silly, inconsequential things, along with Wanda’s now-and-then complaints about people, in general.  

Maybe it was because Wanda grew up with only her brother by her side, her world small and quiet, that adjusting to life with far more people than she’d ever anticipated felt like stepping into chaos. It explained a lot about her demeanor—your girlfriend was, without a doubt, the definition of a black cat. From her emo wardrobe to her piercingly observant nature, right down to that deadly tilt of her head, she carried an air of mystery and quiet defiance that was entirely her own.  

A mystery that she was letting you slowly resolve.  

But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Wanda walked you to your door, her hand resting snugly against your lower back, and stole one last kiss for the night. Alright, she stole three kisses… maybe four before she said goodbye.  

--- 07:13 PM, Saturday.

Wanda knew countless ways to show you love. She absolutely hated those five love language quizzes. But took every possible quiz known to mankind, because it made you happy. To her, there was no point in defining her love when her goal was simple: to love you in every imaginable way known to humanity.  

Take words of affirmation—Wanda had mastered them. Sometimes she’d leave you anonymous notes tucked in unexpected places, filled with songs, poems, or plain “I love yous” scribbled all over the paper. Of course, those notes often came paired with flowers, seamlessly tying into her “gift-giving” love language.

 Or she would whisper sweet things in your ear, maybe after fucking you into the mattress to a point that your legs simply decided against working; or during a cozy cuddle session, that she was so overwhelmed to the thought of loving you that expressing what her heart felt was the only way to breathe.

But Wanda had her personal ranking system, and in her imaginary list, the “best love language of all time” title went to a combination of three: acts of service, quality time, and physical touch. It might seem odd if you thought about it. Because as much as she loved her brother and cherished the company of the team, Wanda Maximoff was known as the ultimate lone wolf; who cherished her independence and had always preferred her space. But who now, lived for your presence.  

The once-solitary soul found herself missing you in your absence, casually touching you whenever you were close, and pouting—yes, pouting—when you weren’t. She’d found herself wanting to do anything and everything for you, from tying your shoelaces to painting your nails, actions that spoke volumes without a single word.  

And tonight, you realized she’d be using all three in full force the moment you shut your front door. Wanda leaned against her car casually, exuding an effortless confidence that made it look like she owned the world. Her combat boots gave her a slightly taller stance, her short black skirt was just enough to drive you insane, and her crimson lace corset hugged her waist with a perfection that could make statues weep.  

Topping it all off was her signature leather jacket, the one both of you knew would end up draped over your shoulders by the end of the night, as it always did.

She greeted you with a sweet pet name, her tone soft as she guided you to the passenger seat. Then, as soon as she got in, she kissed you—a teasing, gentle press of her lips that left your lipstick intact but made your heart flutter in the way only Wanda could.  

Too wonderstruck by Wanda’s presence to notice at first, it wasn’t until you glanced around the car that something seemed off. A frown slowly crept onto your face as you noticed the unfamiliar vehicle: a pickup truck you were certain Wanda didn’t own.  

“This is not your car,” you stated, turning to her with a puzzled look, silently asking for an explanation.  

“It’s Clint’s. And I’ll say no more because it’s part of your surprise,” she replied with a sly smirk, clearly enjoying your confusion.  

She tried to steer your attention elsewhere, initiating a conversation about anything but cars or dates. Soon enough, the two of you were caught up in the comfort of your usual rhythm. Wanda shared new stories about the team and Pietro that you hadn’t heard before, and you found yourself revealing snippets of your life before her, the kind of details you didn’t usually think to share but felt natural with her.  

Of course, curiosity got the best of you, as it always did. You tried again, your tone playfully insistent. “Where are we going?” But Wanda wasn’t budging.  

“I’m not saying. You’ll just have to sit there and look pretty,” her smile only making you more curious.  

Resigning to the mystery for now, you shifted your focus to the little comforts inside the car. You picked the music—your shared playlist, the one you’d made together late at night before you’d even started dating—and absentmindedly played with the rings on Wanda’s right hand, the same hand that rested comfortably on your thigh.  

The conversation, once again, changed to random facts, half-formed ideas, and musings stories that hadn’t come up before. But neither of you cared; every small discovery about each other felt like another thread tying you closer together.  

Then the car slowed. Wanda stopped near a gate, grabbing a set of keys and tapping your leg as she stepped out. It wasn’t until she walked toward the gate—a sophisticated, intricately designed one—that your curiosity turned into full-blown amusement.  

When she returned, you tilted your head at her with a half-smile, your curiosity now brimming. “Wanda… what is that?”  

She giggled, looking up dramatically as if in thought, before you poked her side, your need to know finally winning out.  

“I was talking to Clint about taking you on a date, like that movie we watched. But I didn’t have a place, and the park just wasn’t it. So, welcome to Anthony Stark’s country house,” she said casually.  

Your eyes widened in disbelief, a startled laugh escaping you as you processed her words. “Stark?! How?”  

If it had been Clint offering, it would’ve made more sense. He was practically Wanda’s surrogate father figure, even if she refused to admit it. But Tony? That was a different story.  

“He offered,” she said with a shrug. “Said it’s a family property he barely uses. I wasn’t going to take him up on it, but Barton called me out. And, well… it’s for you.”  

Her voice softened on the last words, and she looked away, parking the car near a tree. Even in the dim light, you could see the faint blush dusting her cheeks, a blush too strong to go unnoticed.  

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you reached out to her, feeling overwhelmed by the gesture. Wanda Maximoff, the girl who claimed she didn’t need anyone, had gone through all this trouble just to give you something special.  

“You’re too good,” you murmured, the words spilling out unfiltered, your heart feeling fuller than ever.

Wanda’s smile was a perfect blend of shyness and confidence, like she knew exactly what she was doing but still couldn’t quite believe she was pulling it off. She parked the car under the shelter of a sprawling tree, its branches reaching out like they were trying to touch the stars. And oh, the stars—countless, glittering, and impossibly bright against the deep blue canvas of the night sky.

You stepped out of the car, immediately captivated by the celestial display, your head tilting back, trying to watch it closely. You turned, ready to gush to Wanda about how breathtaking it all was, but your words caught in your throat. She wasn’t there.

Your eyes darted around, and there she was—Wanda, already moving with purpose, shutting the backseat door and making her way to the truck bed. Curiosity piqued, you followed, your footsteps crunching softly on the gravel.

What was she up to now? Your mind raced, but nothing could have prepared you for what you saw next.

The truck bed looked like a scene straight from a rom-com, but this was real, and it was all yours. Blankets and pillows were spread out neatly, candles flickered softly, and a few containers sat nearby, hinting at snacks waiting to be discovered. There was also a wooden board, though you didn’t know what it was for yet. 

And then, of course, there was Wanda. She sat on the edge of the truck bed, her dark brown hair catching the soft candlelight, her eyes shining with a mix of mischief and warmth. She stood there, effortlessly magnetic and, but her smile? always sweet.

Suddenly, the constellations above you felt insignificant, obsolete.

Why gaze at distant stars when the most radiant being in the universe was standing right in front of you? And then, like a quiet ripple in your memory, you thought back to the first time you saw Wanda.

It was a Friday night, and you were out with your friends after a long week. The local club was packed, as it always was on weekends, but the drinks were good enough to make the crowd bearable. You weren’t there for anything in particular—just to unwind, sip on a drink, and enjoy the company of your closest friends. The music pulsed through the room, and you found yourself laughing, dancing, and letting the night carry you along. That’s when you noticed her, in the middle of it all. 

Her hair tied up in a ponytail, wearing a sleek black short skirt and tall boots that added an air of elegance to her presence. There was something about her—the way she carried herself, the way she seemed to glow even in the dim light of the club—that made it impossible to look away. Your first thought was that she reminded you of a constellation. Hard to find, but impossible not to search for it.

Astronomers might say that constellations are only hard to find if you don't know what you're searching for; you didn’t know much about stars—you could barely find the three stars of the Orion Belt—but spotting her in that crowded room felt as natural as finding the constellation Cassiopeia.

But as far as looking goes, you didn’t approach her. You wanted to, but the moment never felt right. By the time you gathered the courage, she was gone, disappearing into the night like the stars fading at dawn. And there goes your North Star…

Later, after you’d been talking for a couple of weeks, Wanda confessed something that surprised you. She had noticed you that night too. In fact, she had stared at you the whole night. To the point where Pietro - her twin brother, who practically forced her out of her room that night - teased her about the intense and long stares she was giving you, saying you would soo call the cops on her ass if she continued to look like a creep.

 But she didn’t care. She was drawn to you, too busy admiring you. 

That is, until she saw Kate - your overly affectionate, completely wasted friend - throw her arms around your shoulders and drag you onto the dance floor. Wanda spent the rest of the night pouting like a child, downing a few more shots, and probably plotting Kate’s demise. 

Now, standing here with her, the stars above seem dim in comparison. Wanda is luminous, magnetic, and real—not some distant, untouchable light in the sky. And in this moment, no constellation could ever come close to her.

There was once a constellation named Felis. Created by a French astronomer in 1799 who felt sorry that there wasn’t a cat among the constellations (though that was not entirely true, because the constellation Lynx was formed by another astronomer in 1687). The constellation could be found between the constellations of Antlia and Hydra, a small cluster of stars meant to honor the elegance and mystery of a feline.

You chuckled at the cat-loving astronomer, amused by their dedication to carving out a place for a cat in the vast night sky. But at the same time, you couldn’t blame him when you, yourself, would create a constellation for Wanda. A cat, as well, because she more than half of the time took pride in her black cat personality. 

When finding yourself sad on the news that the Felis constellation has become obsolete, you decided that Wanda Maximoff would be your new Felis. Something you never got the courage to mention to her, but a silly nickname that found its way into your diary every single time you wrote about her

So as you stared at the woman in front you, your brain short-circuited. Though it always did when “Wanda Maximoff” was involved. The first thought that popped into your head was, “I’ll never get over her if we ever break up.” Because how could you? Who else would go to such lengths to make you feel like the center of the universe?

You pouted at her, your face a mix of disbelief and awe. No words came out—just a soft, overwhelmed exhale. The kind of exhale that comes when you realize just how loved you are. 

“Wands…” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda’s smile widened, and she patted the space beside her, a silent invitation. “You’re just going to stand there like a dork or will you join your girlfriend?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes full of affection.

Girlfriend. That word never fails to make your heart skip a beat. You giggled, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside, and quickly climbed into the truck bed. You settled onto the blanket, draping another one over your legs as Wanda handed it to you. 

“This is… wow,” you said, still taking it all in—the stars, the candles, the tree, her. “I mean… you are wow.” Wanda chuckled, the sound warm and low, and leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek before pulling you closer.

The night unfolded in the most perfect way. You lay there together, staring up at the stars, trying to spot the Orion’s Belt as Wanda tried to explain to you how easy it was to find it - you called her crazy right after. The sound of a nearby river added a soothing soundtrack to the moment, its gentle babble mingling with the occasional rustle of leaves. At one point, you gasped, noticing the strings of light bulbs hanging from the tree above. They cast a soft, golden glow, and you realized that’s where the light had been coming from all along. 

After a while, Wanda’s gaze shifted from the stars to you. She had this habit of staring, and while it used to make you blush furiously, you’d grown to find it endearing. You stared back, holding her gaze as long as you could, until the intensity became too much and you had to look away, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“Are you hungry?” Wanda asked, breaking the silence out of sudden, another habit she had.

“Right now? Hmm, not really,” you replied, though your stomach might have disagreed if it weren’t so busy being distracted by the romance of it all.

Wanda nodded, but then, she quickly slid off the truck bed and disappeared toward the backseat. You frowned, curious, and watched as she reappeared with a bottle of wine and two glasses; the wooden board now serving as a perfectly sized table for two. She balanced it between you two, one leg on your side and the other on hers, and then, like some kind of romantic magician, produced two drawing books and a set of crayons.

“What is happening right now?” you asked, half-laughing, as she handed you a half-glass of wine. She poured herself a glass of water, explaining that she’d be the designated driver tonight, as it usually happened. After all, someone had to sneak you both back into the tower and find the way to her room without raising suspicion.

You took a sip of the wine, the rich flavor warming you from the inside out, and glanced at the drawing book in your lap. “So… are we having an art night under the stars?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

And it was exactly that. Wanda had planned a cozy little coloring and drawing session just for the two of you. You leaned partially against her, finding the most comfortable position possible, and your cheeks warmed up when she casually draped her leather jacket over your shoulders. She made sure to tuck the blanket snugly around your waist, making sure that you stayed warm and cozy. You silently thanked her with a shower of soft kisses, making her giggle as she playfully tried to wiggle away—though you both knew she wasn’t actually trying to escape.

Just when you thought she couldn't possibly outdo herself, she hit you with the ultimate surprise: a container of your favorite cookies. Yes, your favorite cookies. Freshly baked. Homemade. You stared at her, eyes practically glistening, and the look you gave her in that moment was so full of love that Wanda was convinced she could die happy, right then and there.

And so, the two of you stayed like that for hours—though it felt like mere minutes. Coloring, talking, kissing, eating, just loving

At some point in the night, when your wine glass had been emptied, with not a single drop to be found and the cookies had long since disappeared, you noticed Wanda giving you a look. That look. You couldn’t pinpoint what was happening inside her head at that moment: after all, you haven't yet got the time to figure out the meaning behind Wanda Maximoff’s indecipherable gazes. And that woman had an entire collection of unreadable expressions.

You weren’t the only one who noticed, though. A lot of people thought Wanda was “cold” or “distant” because of the way she carried herself—her infamous resting bitch face and her preference for not engaging in unnecessary small talk. But you knew better.

You wished people could see Wanda through your eyes. See how thoughtful she was, how much effort she put into the things and people she loved. But at the same time, there was a selfish part of you that liked keeping this version of Wanda all to yourself. You liked having this Wanda just for you. For your eyes to see, your heart to hold, and yours to have..

Especially now, when she was looking at you like that - a “that” that you didn’t even know what it meant or how you could begin to describe it -, her fingers idly tracing up and down your neck, a habit she had picked up a few weeks ago.

“I have another thing for you,” she murmured, her voice so quiet it felt like speaking any louder would disturb the peaceful bubble you had built around yourselves.

“Wanda…” You groaned, though the smile stretching across your face completely betrayed your attempt at scolding her. “You’re spoiling me too much.”

She just shook her head, a smirk playing at the edge of her lips; the red lipstick now smeared on her glass.

You giggled as she helped you hop off the truck bed, steadying you with a firm but gentle grip. But when she led you to the car and opened the backseat door for you, you couldn’t help but frown in confusion.

Settling into the seat, you looked up at her, curiosity swimming in your eyes. Wanda simply closed the door behind her, a small smirk playing on her lips. You didn’t have much time to admire her, though, because in the next moment, you realized you were trapped. Wanda had you against the door, your back somehow comfortably resting against it as she crawled closer and closer to you, until she was hovering over you, her body caging you in.

You turned your head to the side, blushing under the weight of her full and undivided attention. But Wanda wasn’t having any of that. She reached out and gently grabbed your chin, supporting herself with her other arm as she leaned in closer. 

“What? You’re too shy to look at me?” she teased, her face carrying a curious expression, though her voice betrayed her with a mock tone. “You didn’t even drink that much wine.”

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. “I had enough,” you replied, your voice soft but playful, an intense blush quickly growing on your cheeks. Wanda’s smirk grew wider, and she raised her eyebrows at you, humming in acknowledgment. 

Her thumb traced a slow, deliberate path from your chin to your jaw, then down your neck, before returning to where it began. Finally, she moved her thumb to your lips, tracing your bottom lip gently. The touch was feather-light, sending a shiver down your spine.

As she leaned down, it became clear that Wanda just wanted to kiss you right there in the back seat - that’s what she had stored for you there. You smiled up at her, your cheeks burning with a scarlet red shade as you looped your arms around her shoulders, gently pulling her closer. Wanda smiled back, her lips brushing against yours in a way that was soft and teasing, her quiet laugh escaping as she playfully poked your sides.

You kissed her lightly, quick little pecks that made her grin, but Wanda wasn’t satisfied with just that. She cupped your cheek, her touch warm and steady, and paused for a moment, her eyes holding yours - you could lose yourself in her eyes, the soft green piercing into yours with a tenderness so profound it felt almost unbearable, an intensity that seemed to pull at the very core of your being, leaving you breathless and exposed.

She leaned in, and the kiss started slow—gentle, almost hesitant, like she was savoring the feel of your lips against hers. It was sweet, unhurried, and you felt yourself melting into her, your fingers lightly threading through her hair. But the pace changed, the kiss growing more urgent, more intense. Wanda’s hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer. Her other arm tightened around your waist, holding you firmly against her. The softness gave way to something hotter, hungrier, her lips parting as the kiss turned breathless, consuming. 

You stayed there, kissing, for what felt like an eternity—minutes, hours, it didn’t matter as long as Wanda was with you. You could only focus on the way her lips moved against yours, soft and sure at first, then growing deeper, more insistent. Her tongue brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine as she reached down to grab your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your fingers tangled in her hair, gripping lightly as if to anchor yourself, but it only seemed to spur her on.

Every now and then, the kiss would break, just for a moment, as one of you pressed a wandering kiss to the corner of the other’s mouth, or along their jaw, or to the soft spot just below their ear, or just a playful bite at their bottom lip. 

Her lips trailed down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp, and you could feel her smile against you before she returned to your lips, hungry and demanding, exploring and claiming, as if she couldn’t get enough of you. And you couldn’t get enough of her. 

You stayed like that, kissing, touching, completely lost in each other. The world outside the car seemed to fade into the background, and all that mattered was her—the way her hands held you like you were something precious, the way her lips moved against yours with a quiet intensity that made your heart race.

The night stretched on, neither of you noticing the passage of time, too wrapped up in each other’s embrace to give the rest of the world a second thought. But the moment was interrupted when Wanda’s phone slipped from the seat and hit the car floor with a loud thud. The sound startled you both, and you broke the kiss, laughing as you craned your necks to see where the phone had landed.

When Wanda picked it up, you gasped at the screen—3:45 AM glared back at you. “Oh my god… I had no idea it was that late,” you said, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. 

Wanda chuckled softly, the vibration of her laughter against your skin making you smile. Her free hand found its way to your hair, fingers casually twirling a strand or scratching gently at your scalp in a way that made you melt.

After a few minutes like that, you reluctantly pulled away, insisting that the two of you should pack up and head home. Wanda groaned, complaining about how she never wanted to leave, but she eventually caved, giving in to your logic. 

Soon enough, everything was packed and ready to go.

The drive back to the tower was peaceful in a way you hadn’t expected. You never knew a a relationship could be so intense and sweet at the same time. Wanda’s hand rested on your thigh most of the time, her fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns just for the comfort that the action offered. The shared playlist playing softly in the background once again, filling the occasional silences that didn’t really need to be filled.

Sleep was already tugging at both of you, soft yawns escaping more frequently as Wanda drove. But maybe it was the music—one of your favorite songs had come on—or the way her fingers were laced with yours, your index finger idly playing with the rings on her hand, that kept you from drifting off completely.

You sighed, the idea of finally getting the sleep you so desperately graved feeling just out of reach.

“What was that for, sweet girl?” Wanda asked gently, her hand already resting on your thigh giving it a light poke.

“I was so sleepy, but now I don’t think I can sleep at all,” you complained, pouting up at her. Wanda chuckled at your dramatics, reaching over to grab the garage remote from the car door.

“We’ll find your sleep, my love. Don’t worry,” she reassured you, her voice soft and teasing. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, nodding along to her words even though you weren’t entirely convinced.

Now, here’s where things started to get a little tricky. It was well past 4 AM, and the two of you were trying to sneak into the tower as quietly as possible. But there were two problems: 1) some of the Avengers, like Steve Rogers, were known to be up before the sun, and 2) others, like Natasha Romanoff and Bucky Barnes, seemed to have a sixth sense for every single movement in the tower, even when they were supposedly asleep.

As much as Wanda loved her teammates—her ugh, she’d have to admit it—found family, she wasn’t exactly in the mood for a full interrogation about why she was coming back so late, why she looked like she’d been “attacked by a bear” (messy clothes, wild hair, and all), or why her girlfriend looked equally disheveled. So, she did her best to walk as lightly as possible, her footsteps barely making a sound.

But, for some reason, the absurdity of the situation had both of you stifling laughter. 

It all went downhill when her jacket, which was still lazily draped over your shoulders, slipped off. The zipper hit the floor with a loud clink, echoing through the quiet hallway like a gong. You promised yourself you wouldn’t laugh. You really did. But the sight of your usually cool, collected, and slightly emo girlfriend tiptoeing through the tower like a spy on a mission just to get away from nosy adults was too much. The contrast between her usual nonchalant demeanor and the sheer ridiculousness of the moment had you biting your lip to keep from bursting out laughing.

Wanda shot you a look, half exasperated, half amused, as she quickly scooped up the jacket. “You’re not helping,” she whispered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

“I’m trying!” you whispered back, your shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Wanda rolled her eyes, though the smile on her face gave her away. She held your hand tightly, quietly dragging you down the hallway as if you were on some top-secret mission. 

When a door near her room clicked open, Wanda quickened her pace, pulling you along with her. You couldn’t help but giggle at her exaggerated urgency, even though you knew it was completely unnecessary.

She practically yanked you into her room, instantly closing the door behind you. You immediately threw yourself onto her bed, burying your face in the pillows to muffle your laughter. Wanda stood there, arms crossed, looking completely unamused—though she was trying so hard not to laugh.

Once the laughter finally died down, you rummaged through her drawer and pulled out one of her oversized shirts to wear as pajamas. The familiar comfort of her clothes wrapped around you, and you felt the pull of sleep creeping back in. You and Wanda stood side by side in the bathroom, lazily brushing your teeth, the quiet hum of the tower settling around you.

Wanda finished first, and before you could even ask her to stay with you, she hugged you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. She let out a long, dramatic sigh, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off her shoulders. You couldn’t help but smile, leaning back into her for a moment before finishing up. You kissed the side of her face as you set your toothbrush next to hers—a small but meaningful gesture that made your heart swell. 

It was your turn to sigh when you finally curled up in Wanda’s arms, her soft blankets draped over you both. Your arms wrapped around each other, and for a moment, you just lay there, breathing in the quiet comfort of being together.

You shared a conversation that might’ve lasted three minutes—less maybe. As one of you  finally dozed off, and the other followed soon after, finally giving in to the exhaustion of the night. You smiled in your sleep, somewhat feeling the steady rise and fall of Wanda’s chest and the warmth of her arms around you, pulling you into the deepest, most peaceful sleep you’d had in a while.

Before you started dating, Wanda had quickly noticed your insatiable curiosity. You were always asking her questions—about her life, her thoughts, her experiences—and she found it endearing. You’d dive into every little detail she shared, researching things she mentioned just so you could come back with more to talk about. It was cute, the way you were so eager to know every part of her.

So, it wasn’t a surprise to Wanda when she woke up to find you standing in the middle of her room, intently studying the little photo mural she had near her study table. She watched you for a moment, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable as you analyzed every corner of her space.

You’d been in her room a few times before, but most of those visits had been in the dark—escaping from a party she’d convinced you to attend, too caught up in  kissing and taking each other’s clothes to notice the little details. Now, in the soft morning light, you were finally taking it all in: the guitar leaning against the wall, the painting supplies tucked neatly next to her wardrobe, the little trinkets scattered across her shelves.

“You’re very nosy, you know,” Wanda said, her voice soft but teasing, breaking the silence.

“Hm?” You turned to face her, a smile spreading across your face despite the faint pink tinting your cheeks. You hadn’t expected her to be awake.

Wanda grinned at your slightly embarrassed expression, propping herself up on one elbow as she watched you. “You’re being nosy,” she repeated, her tone playful.

“That’s a love language, you know,” you shot back, walking over to the bed with a smirk.

“What? Stalking?” she quipped, raising an eyebrow to tease you further. You nodded, climbing onto the bed beside her. “Yes. It means I like you.”

She let out a fake, dramatic gasp, clutching her chest as if wounded. “Like me?! And here I was thinking you loved me.”

You laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek, then her nose—which made her scrunch it up in that adorable way you absolutely adored—before finally pressing a soft peck to her lips. Wanda smiled, her hands instinctively finding your waist as you settled into her lap.

“So, you’re nosy, a stalker, and a thief?” she teased, her eyes scanning you from head to toe. She made no effort to hide the fact that she was checking you out, her gaze lingering on the way her gray sweatpants and black tank top hung loosely on your frame. Even your damp hair smelled like her shampoo.

“You knew all of that before you started dating me,” you fired back, grinning sweetly at her

Wanda chuckled, her hands moving to your hips as she gently swayed you from side to side, her touch playful and affectionate.

“I can’t run away now, hm?” Wanda teased, arching her eyebrows at you with that playful smirk you loved so much.

You quickly shook your head, grinning from ear to ear. “Nooo, no! You can’t,” you replied, leaning in to kiss her again, as if to seal the deal.

Before Wanda could fire back with another quip, a slightly robotic voice interrupted the moment. It was Jarvis, the ever-helpful A.I. that seemed to know everything happening in the Avengers Tower.

“Miss Maximoff, you have been requested in the kitchen for breakfast. Miss Y/L/N as well,” 

You blinked, surprised. “They know I’m here?” you asked, turning to Wanda with wide eyes. Wanda shrugged, her expression a mix of amusement and nonchalance. 

It didn’t take long before the two of you were heading to the kitchen—after Wanda’s whole morning routine, of course, and a few (okay, maybe more than a few) kisses in between. 

You were kind of used to walking around the tower by now—not enough to feel completely at ease wandering alone in the massive building, but enough to find your way to Wanda’s room, the gym, and the garden without getting lost.

But here’s the thing: even though you were somewhat familiar with the place, you’d never been in a room with all of the Avengers at once. Sure, after Wanda dragged you to one of Stark’s infamous parties, you’d met a few of them. There was Clint, who somehow always gave off “cool dad” vibes. Natasha, who you still couldn’t figure out—did she hate you, or was she just like that with everyone? (Wanda assured you it was the latter.) And, of course, Tony Stark himself, the party host. You’d exchanged polite smiles with a few others, but that was about it.

Being in a room with all of them, casually having breakfast? That was an entirely different beast.

You expressed your nerves to Wanda as the two of you walked down the hallway, your fingers tightening around hers. “What if I say something stupid? Or, I don’t know, spill coffee on Captain America?” you whispered, only half-joking.

Wanda chuckled, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “You’ll be fine,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “They’re just people. And besides, you’ve already survived a Stark party. This is nothing.”

You weren’t entirely convinced, but the way Wanda laced her fingers with yours and gave you that soft, encouraging smile made it a little easier to breathe. Still, as you approached the kitchen, you couldn’t help but feel like you were walking into a lion’s den.

But right now, as you sat at the table with a cup of coffee poured by Tony Stark himself, a stack of pancakes offered by Bruce Banner, and an excessive amount of chocolate syrup drizzled over your plate by none other than the God of Thunder, Wanda found herself feeling increasingly uneasy. 

Everything was about you. They wanted to monopolize your time, your attention, your breakfast. They bombarded you with questions: about your life before Wanda, your life with Wanda, your thoughts on global warming, and even your theories on what lies beyond a rainbow. They wanted to know every single little thing about you, it was like they’d collectively decided you were the most fascinating person in the world, and Wanda couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

She tried, though. Oh, she tried. She crossed her arms, pouting like a child, and reached for you every chance she got—your thigh, your arm, your waist, your hands—but every time she managed to steal even the tiniest bit of your attention, someone else would jump in with a question or a story or a joke.

For heaven’s sake, you were her girlfriend. You were in the tower because of her, to have breakfast with her. And now it was all about them.

Even Natasha, who had always been hard to read, seemed to have taken a sudden liking to you. She poured you more coffee, for crying out loud! And Bucky—ugh, don’t even get Wanda started on Bucky—the man who had been silent all breakfasts until the present day, suddenly became way too curious about your life. Wanda made a mental note to hide his fake arm later.

When Sam teased Wanda about “losing her girlfriend to the team,” her eyes flickered red, jealousy flaring up like a wildfire. Sam laughed, clearly getting the reaction he wanted, but he quickly assured her he was just joking. It didn’t help. Wanda gave up on her nearly finished breakfast and decided to keep both hands firmly on your upper arm, as if claiming you back.

But even that wasn’t enough. After a few more minutes of watching you laugh and chat with everyone, Wanda had had it. She stood up abruptly, sighing heavily.

“The questionnaire time is over,” she announced, her voice loud and clear. “If you’ll excuse me, she’ll spend her time alone with me now. Because she’s my girlfriend.”

Her jealous tone made you chuckle, but you didn’t argue. You waved goodbye to the table as Wanda dragged you down the hallway, her grip firm but not unkind. Before you even made it to her room, Wanda had you pinned against the wall in a dimly lit hallway—somewhere you were pretty sure you’d never been before.

She kissed you like her life depended on it, her hands gripping your waist as if to remind you who you belonged to. You smiled into the kiss, knowing full well this was her way of reclaiming you.

“I can’t believe they took all of my breakfast time,” she complained between sweet, lingering pecks on your lips.

“You know I’m all yours,” you smirked, trying not to laugh at the adorable jealousy she couldn’t quite hide.

She nodded, burying her face in your neck, her arms tightening around you. “Mine,” she muttered, her voice muffled but firm.

But as possessive as she was, Wanda couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness underneath it all. She hadn’t planned on introducing you to her found family like this—not so early in your relationship—but seeing how easily you fit in, how naturally you charmed everyone, made her heart swell. You had a way of making her feel comfortable, of making her feel like she belonged, even in her own chaotic world.

As she’d watched you at the table, your lips smudged with chocolate syrup and your hand lazily wrapped around your coffee cup, she realized something: she could never, ever let you go. 

How could she, when you made her feel like a perfect, solved puzzle—like everything in her life finally made sense?

Because when she was with you, she didn't care if things made sense, they always did if she had you by her side.

✄╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

You've known Wanda almost all your life. From hesitant neighbors to fast friends, you simply clicked together. Where she went, you followed.

When Wanda started dressing more emo, you had noticed the change in her style, slowly, from the dark jackets and shirts to the red dress that contrasted. The thing you noticed the most was the uptick in rings Wanda started wearing, first one, then two. Though not much jewelry, you'd watch the way she'd twist the little metal loops around her fingers when bored, a minor detail.

This small detail had led to you gifting her more rings, more than the two she'd normally wear. More so that she'd have some variety of choice to play with.

It started off with one, a matching pair. Her eye brow raised as she tilted her head at you, confusion clear on her face when you held out the set, saying it was a friendship ring since you couldn't find any necklaces that felt right. She made a joke of how she wasn't going to marry you but took the ring anyways, slipping it onto her finger.

Over time, you'd gift her more. Offhandedly making comments about how you saw it in a shop and thought it would be perfect for her. She never complained about it, just each time making the same joke of not marrying you.

Over time, your feelings for her grew. More than platonic, but the worry in your heart that she didn't feel the same kept you silent. Unaware that Wanda felt the same.

One day, she had come up to you holding the first ring you had given her. The one you said was a friendship ring long ago. The matching one you wore on a chain around your neck. She held it between her fingers and looked at you. Her eyes held uncertainty, but then determination set in. She held it out to you that day, saying she couldn't keep it anymore. At her first words, your world felt like it was knocked off balance. You get handed the ring despite everything in you, not wanting to take it. Had she figured out your feelings?

She continues on unaware of your internal turmoil, "Listen, I like you a lot, but I just dont think I can see you as a friend..." Your world felt like it was slowly crumbling beneath you with each word... she probably knew, and this was her way of rejecting you. She must not want to be around you and

"cause I think i see you as something more," your ears catch during your internal meltdown

You look up to her eyes. They were hesitant, unsure, searching into yours.

"W-what?" Tumbles from your mouth like you weren't sure you heard her correctly, confusion and the distress from earlier probably bleeding onto your face

Wanda seems to see this, too. She bites down on her lip and seems to try to gather the courage behind her next words, "I don't think I can keep this ring anymore, cause what I feel for you is something more than a friend or a best friend" she looks away at her next words," I like you alot and I just dont think this ring would be the right one for me"

All the air returns to your lungs as you realize your feelings are reciprocated. She likes you back. She doesn't meet your eyes, though, and it's then you realize you haven't spoken much if at all to let her know you reciprocate her feelings. She looks torn and ready to leave before you grab her hand.

With all the courage you can muster, placing the ring back into her palm you ask if she won't take it as a ring of friendship, then what about something more...what about as a promise ring?

She looks surprised at that, but what shines through the surprise is hope. Telling her you like her too, she finally smiles the radiant smile you fell in love with.

From that point on, a ring that started out as a friendship ring morphed into a promise ring, a symbol for your new relationship forward as girlfriends.

Over the years of your relationship, you'd still get her rings for every anniversary, among other gifts. She'd happily take it from you, slipping it onto her fingers before saying she won't marry you...yet. the first time she had spoken the yet had arose a blush in both of you. Wondering when she might say yes in the future.

Now, after years of dating and a collection of rings she still puts on to this day, you two were off to an anniversary dinner. Your promise ring still on a chain around your neck, keeping you steady in your next step.

Tucked into your pocket, a box, heavy, as much as the question that would come from your lips later in the night, hoping she would say yes.