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Chapter Text

Wanda was supposed to be in bed by 10 PM, but instead, there she was in the middle of a dance floor at a club she didn’t even recognize, dancing her heart out at 12 AM. Her arms were flailing, and her hips were swaying to the beat, showing no signs of weariness even after the fourth song. She had lost count of how many men had attempted to maneuver behind her to grab her waist and start their pitch to get into her metaphorical pants. She was wearing the skimpiest black dress she had managed to pack, with her mentor's help, before being shipped off to New York to join her mentor's magician boyfriend.

If Agatha saw her at that moment, the woman would likely have a heart attack and would engage in a long argument with her strange boyfriend, whose last name was strangely Strange.

Wanda had successfully fended off all the men who tried to approach her, although she had to admit that many of them were quite attractive. Nonetheless, Wanda had chosen to reserve her attention for the man seated at the bar who had been eyeing her for some time. Even in the dim lighting, she could clearly see that he was tall, muscular in all the right places, and strikingly handsome—he put everyone else around her to shame. His blue eyes flared amidst the flickering lights, which were the only source of illumination in the club.

The man was quietly sipping his drink, occasionally stealing glances at her whenever he thought she wasn't paying attention. She was growing impatient; her feet began to ache from the towering heels she had chosen to wear. At 5'7", she wasn't considered short, but she liked to appear taller, as it made her feel sexier.

Wanda finally quit dancing and decided that if her target wasn't going to make a move, she would take the initiative. It's nice to hear that you're beautiful from time to time; it really boosts one's confidence. And Wanda had always been regarded as beautiful.

Her gaze met the man's before he hurriedly looked away as she approached him.

As she reached his side of the bar, she leaned her elbow on the counter and stood just a few inches away from him. Gently, she poked him on the shoulder to get his attention. When he turned to look at her, her breath caught in her throat. She found herself wondering if there was a word even beyond "gorgeous" to describe him.

His eyes widened at the sight of her, but he worked hard to conceal his surprise. He discreetly cleared his throat before offering her a shy smile. It was endearing. Wanda had a weakness for shy types, and the man in front of her had no business to be so coy.

"Are you going to buy me a drink soon?" she asked him, her voice too loud, as even she could not hear herself think from the music booming in the club.

Wanda rasped when she noticed the man toiling to find his words; her question seemed not to register in his mind.

"You've been looking at me all night; surely you have plans?" she added.

"I wasn't staring at you," he denied. Wanda raised an eyebrow at him, giving him the "yeah, right" look. "I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable; you just looked really happy up there."

"That's what clubs are for. So, drink for the pretty lady that caught your eye?"

"Sure, would you like a Sprite?" Wanda chortled in disbelief. No one had ever offered her soda at a club, of all places.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm gonna need to see an ID before I offer you any alcoholic drinks, Ma'am." Wanda's brows furrowed. Was that supposed to be a pick-up line? Cute.

"How do you think I got here if I'm not over 21?" she retorted, her voice low as her throat parched from all the dancing.

"IDs can be falsified," he replied. Wanda was surprised that he had even heard her. Sharp hearing and a baritone voice —could he be any more perfect for her?

"Do you have a girlfriend?" He was clearly taken aback by her question, almost choking despite not having a drink.

"No, I don't." He quickly affirmed.

"Good. Because I'm flirting with you." Even in the darkness, Wanda could see the flush that swept across his face. Surely, the man had been hit on quite often; he should be used to it by now. Adorable.

"Do... do you have a boyfriend?" he hesitated to ask.

No, she had been single for about two months now. It was a toxic relationship that began as a bizarre encounter. No wonder the sex was really good; her ex was a psycho.

"I do not," she hollered, feeling satisfied at the grin that curled up his lips.

"I still need that ID, though," he mumbled.

"If I show you my ID, would you take me somewhere quiet?"

***

"Satisfied? Is 24 old enough for you?" Wanda teased as the man inspected her ID, even raising it above his head to check for any signs of forgery. "What, are you a police officer or something?"

"Not really, but I'm kind of close to that," he said as he returned her ID. "You have a beautiful name, Wanda Maximoff. Do you enjoy wandering?"

"Huh?"

"Your name has Slavic and German origins; it means wanderer." Oh, so he's a nerd. Well, Wanda could still work with that.

"I guess, I don't really like staying in the same place for long. Does that count?"

"Sure, that counts," he chuckled. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Either your place or mine, I don't mind. Just don't be a serial killer," she half-joked as they walked through the congested parking lot.

Her companion suddenly stopped and quickly faced her. "I'm sorry?" Wanda also halted and looked at him.

"Your place or mine." She shrugged; she would make sure they ended up in his place anyway.

"I heard you, but what do you mean?" Wanda was genuinely perplexed, and she started laughing at him. Either he was being dense or trying to play hard to get. Regardless of which it was, she was determined to end the night on top of him.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?"

"Why are we going to mine or yours?"

"Are you serious?" he nodded.

"What do you think I'm doing here?" She crossed her arms, her cleavage accentuated, but he didn't even glance. His gaze remained fixed on her eyes.

"You wanted us to go somewhere quiet," he mumbled.

"And that means?"

"I really don't understand. Was there something that I was supposed to read between the lines?"

"I'm trying to hook up with you, genius. The shy-boy charm already works okay? You don't have to up the ante even further." But when Wanda stared at him again, she realized that he was genuinely flabbergasted.

"I think we had a bit of miscommunication." Wanda bit her lip, excitement rushing within her; she had found herself a gentleman after all.

"I told you I'm flirting with you, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"We were at a club."

"Yes."

"And now, I'm in the middle of a dark parking lot, alone with you. Where's the misunderstanding?"

"I thought you just wanted to hang out?"

"I do, with a little less clothes involved." She said, winking at him.

"Why? You don't even know me?" Wanda sighed; she was losing interest in the persistent questioning.

"What's your name, then?"

"Steve Rogers."

"Okay, now shall we proceed? Steve Rogers?"

"I'm sorry, I... I don't do that."

"Oh, too bad." Perhaps she had misread the situation; annoyance rose inside her. If her maniac of an ex-fiancé hadn't stolen her powers, she would have been able to read Steve's mind. "Why were you at the club?"

"My friend Sam brought me along. I just relented because he's been asking me every day. Then, he met a woman and disappeared."

Wanda gaped at him quizically. There was no chance in hell that she would not go home with him. She stepped closer, bringing herself just inches away from him. Delicately, she placed her hands on his chest and looked up at him, her eyes flickering between his lips and his eyes, giving him a hint of her intentions.

Steve remained motionless as a rock, giving Wanda a heated look, confirming her suspicion that he was attracted to her.

"Do you want to kiss me, Steve?" she whispered. His breath hitched. "You do, don't you? I won't do anything unless you reach out yourself."

"But we just met." His warm breath brushed against her skin, making her want him even more.

"So?"

"That's not right," Steve professed, although his tone revealed a hint of wavering in his conviction.

"We're not in the 1940s anymore; you need to adapt to the times. Are you concerned because you think I’m such a slut? Would it make a difference if I told you that I don't typically behave this way, even though my actions might suggest otherwise?"

"I don't think you are... That vile word you mentioned." Wanda grinned at his words.

She was not a slut, yet. Steve will be her first casual fling in her quest to whore around to numb her stupidly broken heart that would not stop beating for the man who attempted to rule the world and stole her magic from her.

A rejoicing smile grazed Wanda's lips as she felt strong, large palms pressing at the small of her back, pulling her into his solid body. Yep, she still had it, she thought to herself.

Steve's eyes silently questioned her once more as he slowly leaned in closer. She gave him a short nod to let him know that he could go ahead and claim her lips. If she were to verbalize it, she'd probably say, "Just fucking do it." But she kept her aspirations to be a slut of a mouth shut and waited.

When his lips finally brushed against hers, she heard a soft moan escape his chapped, yet tender lips. She snaked her arms around him and deepened their kiss. She discovered that he was inexperienced, but he quickly followed her lead, his movements fervent and eager. His hand cradled the back of her neck and pulled her closer to him.

He was no longer just following her lead; he was acting according to his rising need. Her hand began to rub against his hardened flesh, teasing the area poking at her thigh.

"Take me to your place," she muttered, breaking their kiss. The protest was apparent on his face at her action.

He released her and examined her from head to toe, his gaze free of any hint of lust; instead, he appeared concerned.

"I don't think you're dressed for my ride. Are you cold?" Before she could respond, he removed his leather jacket and draped it around her.

"Why?" Instead of answering her question, Steve intertwined their fingers and led her away.

Upon reaching his spot, he walked sheepishly to his parked motorcycle and gestured as if to explain himself. However, Wanda didn’t find anything concerning.

"Maybe you can sit princess style? I'm a careful driver."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you are." Wanda had no distrust about his mode of transport, as she was accustomed to the fastest vehicle on earth, her speedster twin brother, who was left behind in Sokovia with Agatha.

"You can take my helmet," the fool couldn't stop smiling. Wanda was silently praying that she didn't fish a virgin fish.

***

The moment they stepped into Steve's apartment, Wanda couldn't help but feel like she was not inside a bachelor's pad but someone's grandfather's place. She had to give him credit—he was very neat. In contrast, her brother Pietro was the exact opposite; he lived like a toddler, leaving messes everywhere. This was always a point of contention between them.

"Make yourself comfortable," Steve called from his small kitchen, insisting on making her a cup of tea even though she had declined.

Wanda walked around his cozy living room, using her fingers to comb through her tangled hair. "Books, books, newspapers, old appliances... oh, more books," she mumbled to herself. She noticed that there were no photos of him on display. The space was too dim for her liking, with an overwhelming amount of brown everywhere. Even the art hanging on the walls seemed to reflect his interests; it appeared that the man had a fascination with old wars.

She sat on his couch and picked up the sketchbook on the coffee table. "Did you draw all this?" she asked, flipping through the pages.

"Yeah," he responded with hesitance.

"What? These are nice. Do you like architecture?" she asked as he sat beside her, handing her the cup of tea. "Thanks."

"I guess I am, I just draw whatever I like."

"You mentioned that you're somewhat of a police officer. What do you do?" Steve looked at her in astonishment, leaving her muddled.

"You really don't know me?"

"Should I? Are you famous? Are you an actor? Because that will make a lot of sense." Steve chuckled.

"No, definitely not an actor. I appreciate the compliment, though."

"You're welcome," she said, wincing at the bitter taste of the absent leaves.

"Do you want some sweetener?"

"Do you have any? You look like someone who drinks coffee without sugar." Steve grinned, bobbing his head. "So you don't have anything then? Why did you even ask?"

"I could quickly run to the store for you, it's just a few blocks away."

"There's no need," Wanda gently placed the cup on the table and pulled him close, sinking her lips to his, which he eagerly welcomed.

Her fingers hurriedly fumbled with the buttons of his dress shirt, which he wore under his leather jacket that she abandoned the moment they got inside. Who knew that the combination could make someone look so attractive, even with his slacks hanging a little too high on his hips? The moment her tongue slipped into his mouth, Steve clutched her hips and pulled her onto his lap, his hands avidly probing her thigh.

As she removed his shirt, she trailed wet kisses down his jaw to his neck, sucking on his skin. He tasted salty and smelled of citrus, which was not what she had expected his scent to be.

He held her face and pulled her close, kissing her lips again, this time with a sense of urgency. Not so shy after all, she thought. Her hands wandered his hardened chest, her nails lightly scratching his skin as she ventured lower, grinning to herself when she felt the pack of abs on his midsection.

Steve suddenly pulled away from their kiss and looked up at her, breathing heavily. He appeared reluctant.

"What?" she asked, also attempting to catch her breath.

"Are we... Can I go beyond?"

"Beyond what?" Wanda didn’t physically do it, but she was crossing her fingers, hoping that he wouldn’t ask her for butt stuff. A novice slut like her still wanted to keep it traditional.

"I wanna kiss you everywhere," his tone was rough.

"Oh. I thought we had established that the moment you pulled me onto your lap, but okay, yeah, sure. Are you going to ask for my permission the entire time? Because that's going to make me dry as a desert." She felt a gush of heat pooling inside her underwear, causing her thighs to tauten.

His cheeks flushed with warmth. Damn, a blushing maid. "I just wanted to make sure."

"I'm not gonna accuse you of rape the next day if that's what you're worried about."

"No, not that," he chuckled. "I told you, I don’t do this; I don’t really understand the mechanics." Wanda felt the same way; everything she knew, she had learned from a magazine article. Googling how to be a slut isn’t exactly a fruitful search.

"Well, one of the mechanics is less talking and more canoodling."

"You look more beautiful up close. I love hearing your accent," he suddenly whispered, staring at her with warm tenderness, which made her feel peeved. Loki always looked at her that way, making her believe that he truly loved her—that bastard.

"Sure," she crashed her lips to his again to shut him up.

His hand rested on her thigh, just above her knee. His other hand lay on her shoulder, the least sensual touch of her life.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked, her tone filled with irritation.

"I do. Why?" His concerned expression only added to her frustration.

"Your lips are moving, but your hands are stuck. You just asked me if you could kiss me everywhere, that includes your hands." She impatiently took his hand and placed it on her breast. His eyes widened at her movement.

"You can nip it," she brazenly affirmed. She was well-endowed; the back pain was annoying, but she still viewed her ample globes as an asset.

Steve followed the instructions he was given, gently fondling her bust that seemed to fit his hand just right. She wondered how those long digits would feel inside her. Her breathing became shallow at his touch. Her buds peaking through the thin padding of her bra, and the warmth that had been fading due to her earlier irritation began to return. With each stroke, his eyes darkened with desire. Wanda kissed his temple and let out a moan, voicing how much pleasure he was giving her.

His lips finally made their way to her neck, sampling her by placing soft kisses before ultimately lapping at her skin, her groans of delight growing louder to the heat of his mouth. When his tongue flicked against her sensitive spots, she felt like she was going to combust, particularly when he began slurping her. His hands locked her tightly against his body; the grumble of his craving made her eyes roll behind her sockets.

As if the heavens had decided to intervene, Wanda's eyes snapped open when she remembered the matter of protection. In a hurry, she pulled away from him and returned to her previous spot on the couch.

"What now?" He whined. Cute.

"Do you have condoms?"

He looked away, staring into the distance. "No," he responded, not glancing her way.

"Why? You're a grown man, for crying out loud."

"Because--"

"You don't do this, yeah, yeah," she interrupted. "We're not going further unless you have rubber." She demanded. She can kiss her slutty dreams goodbye if she fell pregnant with Saint Steve Rogers's baby, who she was sure would not be able to pull out in time. Although it would probably feel so delicious to have him explode inside her. The thought made her tingly.

"I'll run to the store, I'll be back, don't move." He said briskly as he put his shirt back on. He leaned in to give her a short peck on the lips before darting outside. Just before reaching the door, he remembered his wallet and awkwardly flashed it at her as he continued on his way. She couldn't help but smile at his bashful demeanor.

Wanda, however, made her biggest misstep of the night when she took her phone out of her purse and checked it. She saw that she had fifty-five missed calls from Stephen Strange, and her phone was currently buzzing with yet another call from him. He was the ultimate slut-blocker of all time.

"Hey," she answered in a cheerful, sing-song voice.

"Wanda Maximoff! Where are you?" he shouted, making her pull the phone away from her ear.

"I'm in my room. Why?" she softly murmured, offering a Hail Mary excuse even though she knew she had been discovered.

"I was on the brink of calling 911 to report you as missing!"

"He already called 911, actually," she heard Wong yell in the background.

"I'm fine, Stephen. I just... took a walk," she said through gritted teeth, already dreading how many chores Stephen would make her finish later as punishment.

"Do you understand how dangerous New York can be for newcomers? What will Agatha do to me if she finds out I lost you?"

"She'll skin him alive, and worst, break up with him." Wong chimed in.

"Get back home. Now!"

"Okay, okay, I will, I'll be home in an hour." That should be enough for her to get her fill.

"I said, now! Or I'll use my portal and get you. You don't want to be picked up like a toddler, do you?" Nope, not at all. Goodness!

"Relax! I'm coming!" she yelled back, hung up the phone, and fixed herself before deciding to go home. She was already hot and bothered for Steve! She should've just risked it and jumped on him.

Shame, she was really hoping to complete her self-initiation to becoming a slut. With dismay, she gazed over Steve's apartment again before closing the door behind her.

"Bye-bye, Steve, it's your fault for being as slow as a snail."

Chapter Text

"Wanda!"

Wanda rolled her eyes at the roaring summoning of Stephen. She couldn't even catch a break; she had been cleaning the dusty attic for three days now as her penalty for escaping. She had been playing the role of a good wench for three days, the most dreadful three days of her life. But later in the night, Wanda will resume business. She may have lost her magic, but she was still a witch raised by a dinosaur witch; she still had a spell that would put Dr. Weird to a long slumber.

"What now?" She quietly snarled. When she looked up, though, she found herself on all fours, not in the attic, but in the living room. She was on her knees in front of Stephen, as if she were a servant bowing to her master. She was certain he had done that on purpose.

"Why do I see a two-hundred-dollar charge from Forever 21? What have you been buying with my credit card? And why do you even have my credit card?" he asked, sipping his tea with his legs crossed and his pinky raised.

"I needed new clothes." She shrugged. "What do you want me to look like, a Victorian child, while I'm in New York? And Agatha told me that you offered, so I just took your card." Living with Agatha Harkness was akin to living in the olden times; she and Pietro looked like the ghosts in all those horror movies she had seen.

Stephen sighed, his expression softening at the mention of his girlfriend, whom Wanda knew had no interest in him at all. "The card was in my wallet, and my wallet was inside my jeans," he calmly ascribed.

"Your jeans that I had to wash. By happenstance, I came across them. I didn't want to disturb you because being a Sorcerer Supreme is not an easy job." It was a complete lie; she had taken them from him while he was still wearing them. Wanda had the bright potential to mug people. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

"Return them."

"I ordered the clothes online, Wong taught me, it's more convenient that way." She knew that a cheeky riposte would get her into more trouble, but the veins popping in Stephen's face were truly worth all the drama.

"Two hundred dollars? What do you think, I can just create money out of thin air?" he gritted.

"You can't? Agatha can." She needled. And no, Agatha can't, out of principle, not skill.

"Stop mentioning Agatha!" he yelled again, shutting his eyes to control his temper. Wanda, however, was not worried at all; she still considered him one of the nicest people she had ever met—a nice, love-struck pet for one creative Salem Witch. "You keep using her name to get what you want. I bet she didn’t even tell you any of this," he grumbled.

"You can ask her," Wanda suggested. But as far as she knew, Agatha wouldn’t even respond; their relationship felt one-sided. Just then, knocking at the main door interrupted their talk and rescued her from her crime. "Look, I'd like to stay and chat, but somebody's at the door, and it's my responsibility to get that door."

She stood up without waiting for his response, slinging the rag she had been holding over her shoulder. When she opened the door, she saw a dark-haired man, likely in his late forties, and a red-haired woman, whom she assumed was in her mid-thirties. Wanda thought to herself that the woman was very attractive.

"Hi, I'm Tony Stark, and this is Natasha Romanoff. We're here to see Dr. Stephen Strange." The man grinned at her, openly staring at her; well, who wouldn't? Wong made her wear a peasant's dress for the vibes.

Wanda glanced back and saw Stephen signaling her to say he wasn't there; she smirked at him.

"Yes, my lord. My master is around; it's his tea time, you see," Wanda said, doing her best impression of Dobby from Harry Potter. She held the door wide open, and the pair awkwardly stepped inside. The exchanged looks between their guests did not go unnoticed by her.

When she looked at Stephen again, he was glowering at her— the highlight of her otherwise boring day.

"May I offer the kind gentleman and his lady some refreshments?" Wanda asked, her head hung low in submission.

"What are you doing to this girl?" Natasha asked, her tone dripping with disdain. "You didn’t traffic her to be your slave, did you?"

"No!" Stephen vehemently protested. "Wanda, stop that!"

The man named Tony cackled. "Hey, girl, do we need to call the authorities? Are you being held here against your will?"

"Shut up, Stark! She's our guest here; she's been causing trouble, so she's on time-out." Stephen clarified.

"She's definitely here against her will. Strange won't let her out." Wong strolled from wherever he came from, munching on an apple. "Right, Wanda?"

"I'm not sure, Master Wong. I'm still waiting for Master Stephen to give me a sock so I can be free," she responded, and their guests burst into laughter.

"Cap should have come with us; he wouldn’t believe this if we just told him," Tony said, wiping a tear from too much laughter.

With a snap of Stephen's fingers, Wanda found herself falling behind him, landing with a loud thud on her bottom.

"That really hurt. You selfish prick!" Wanda shouted as she held Wong's extended arm to help her up.

"That behavior is unbecoming of a future Avenger, Strange. You should be thankful their captain isn't here; I'm certain he would make you sit in a corner to reflect on your actions," Wong condemned with complete nonchalance.

"Well, who said I want to be an Avenger anyway? Why do you think they're here? They are trying to persuade me to join them." Stephen defiantly crossed his arms.

"What's an Avenger?" Wanda asked Wong.

"You haven't heard of us?" Tony asked.

"She's lived a sheltered life in the hills," Stephen explained.

"Earth's mightiest heroes. They are the ones who defeated you know who when he tried to conquer the world," Wong elucidated, his eyes shifting away from her at the reminder of her crazy ex.

"Loki. Loki is you know who," Natasha added. A moment of silence fell over them all, making the two Avengers confused.

Stephen cleared his throat to divert the sudden awkwardness. "I still have the same answer, I'm afraid. I'm too busy here to join your group."

"You haven't even heard our new pitch," Tony argued. "There are many benefits to becoming an Avenger."

"What, my face on lunch boxes, ice cream flavors named after me, and a billboard? No thanks," Stephen declared, raising his palm to emphasize his refusal.

"What do you guys do?" Wanda asked.

"I think there's an attic waiting for you," Stephen interjected.

"Save the world. It's a busy chore, but it's worth it." Natasha responded, offering her a charming smile. The woman exuded a natural sultriness that Wanda hoped to achieve.

Busy chore.

Wanda suddenly struck an idea: if Stephen were occupied, he would spend less time pestering her, giving Wanda more freedom to be wherever she wanted. She could finally whore around New York with no regard for bedtime.

"Oh! The Avengers!" Wanda exclaimed, barely aware of who they were but already on their side. "Agatha loves the Avengers," she spoke dramatically while patting Stephen's shoulders. "She even has a crush on the... Captain," she had no idea who that Captain was, but with Wong's characterization, he sounded like somebody Agatha could get attracted to. That woman had a penchant for self-reflection. "She thinks it's the sexiest job ever—saving the world!"

Stephen's shoulders tensed, and his ears turned red. "Gotcha," she whispered.

***

As Wanda examined herself in the mirror, she came to one conclusion: she was hot! Drunk, but hot!

The red dress she wore left little to the imagination; it hugged her curves even better than her asshole of an ex ever did. Her milky complexion was a slight drawback, but she would consider spray tanning soon. She acknowledged that the length of her dress was a tad too short, but she had a good pair of legs to show off. And she will show them off.

After reapplying her favorite scarlet lipstick, she puckered her lips and took one last look at herself in the mirror before leaving the powder room. She strode across the narrow hallway to resume her party girl persona.

When she returned to the dance floor, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, cheering her on. She busted out her best moves and reveled in the feeling of temporary independence, beaming at the handsome man approaching her.

"Hi, you're on fire!" He murmured as he held her waist and swayed with her.

"I know! You're tall and brawny, my type," the man chuckled in her ear, their bodies brushing against each other. "I love men with dark, long hair."

"I like women who know what they want."

"Yeah? And you? What do you want?" She asked.

"I think you."

"Good! Do you have a girlfriend?" Wanda needed to confirm; a good slut wouldn’t steal someone else's partner. Probably.

"No. You?"

"Single," she enfolded her arms around his neck. He was tall, and Wanda had chosen to wear lower heels since she planned to spend the entire night at the club. "I'm Mandy," she decided to use a fake name from then on. Handing her ID over to the first man she met was a rookie mistake.

"I'm Bucky, let me buy you a drink. I'm with my friends actually, maybe you'd want to join us?"

"I would love that." Wanda socializing with men would be the bane of her brother, that is, if he found out. Bucky then laced their fingers together and led her to his table.

When they reached his spot, however, a painfully familiar set of stunned blue eyes stared back at her. "Shit." Was New York really that small? She should have renounced her sloth and gone to a different club. "You're so stupid, Wanda!" she internally berated herself.

"Everyone, this is Mandy, my new friend." Bucky rested his arm on her shoulder. She looked at everyone except Steve Fucking Rogers, hoping that he wouldn't react.

"Hi! I'm Sam, nice to meet you." Before Wanda could exchange pleasantries with Sam and the rest of Bucky's party, however, she felt a tight, large palm seize her forearm. When she looked up, to no shortage of surprises, she was met by a stern-looking Steve.

"Yo, do we snatch other people's friends now?" Bucky playfully asked.

"She was my friend first," Steve said as he yanked Bucky's arm from around her. Wanda tilted her head at Steve, giving him an amused look. It seemed she found herself a territorial fling. Steve's list of endearing attributes was growing. "Let me steal you for a second, Mandy." She shrugged and allowed him to lead her away, not even bothering to look back.

"Hey! Long time no see," she mumbled when they arrived at the same parking lot where they had first fooled around, a grin spreading across her face as she looked at their intertwined fingers. "I didn’t expect to see you here. So, that was Sam? Did he really force you to come back here again?" She spoke in a teasing tone, mimicking baby talk. He stopped and finally turned to face her.

"Do you just go with any man you meet?" He angrily asked.

That was the plan. "No. Unless they're handsome," she responded, beaming at him.

"So, you would've gone home with him, too?"

"Probably. Jealous?" She giggled.

"You're drunk, aren't you? Don't even try to deny it, your eyes say it all. Did you come with friends, at least?" She batted her lashes to flash him her greens.

"I have friends," two men in their forties who kept making her clean their enormous mansion could count if she wanted it to.

"That's not the question. You're not alone, are you?"

"I'm a lone wolf," she tiptoed and kissed him on the cheek; his face eased right away. He's so easy.

"It's dangerous to get drunk and be out here alone," he continued. She rolled her eyes at him. If he continued to be so uptight, she would really go home with that guy whose name she had already forgotten.

"I can take care of myself. Yes, I'm drunk, but I know how to kick men in the nuts if they annoy me." She placed her hands on her hips. "I look so hot, don't you think? This hotness deserves to stay out a bit longer." She flicked her curled, dyed auburn locks, but he just glanced away.

"You just disappeared," he murmured after a while.

"Something came up."

"You didn't even leave a note. I worried about you."

"Bed empty, no note, car gone!" She laughed, leaving Steve bewildered. "Molly Weasley? I'm channeling my inner Dobby tonight." Steve furrowed his brows in response. "Haven't you seen Harry Potter?"

"No, I saw documentaries about girls who went missing, though. Look, if you didn’t want to continue that night, all you had to do was be honest. You didn’t have to ghost me like that." He sulked. Cute!

"I feel like you just learned the word ghosting; it doesn't suit you." She chuckled again, scrunching her nose.

"Where do you live? I can take you home." He removed his jacket and draped it around her, but she quickly shrugged it off, letting it fall to the ground, prompting him to pick it up.

When Steve stood back up, Wanda took hold of his face and kissed him ardently. His hands instinctively wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer as their lips eagerly probed each other. Her fingers tangled in his hair as their tongues began to twist in a dance.

"You sure?" She dared him when she pulled away.

"I'm sure," he stated, although he didn't sound the least bit certain.

"Your friend says no," she squirmed against the mound inside his pants. But instead, Steve held her hand again and started to walk, taking her along.

"What happened to your motorcycle? What's up with the boring car?" she commented dryly when they reached his zone.

He opened the passenger door for her and beckoned her to get in; she complied, of course. Before leaving her side, he mantled his jacket over her legs, gently closed the door, and hopped into the driver's seat.

"I'm the designated driver," he explained, handing her a bottle of water. She took it and gulped, savoring the sweet taste of water as it flowed smoothly down her throat.

"You're just leaving your friends? You're a good lad. That was good," she rasped.

"They can take care of themselves. Give me your address, I'll drive you home."

She grumbled with irritation. "You're boring." She said to him with pure frankness, making sure her face conveyed her sentiment.

"I've heard that before."

"I came out tonight looking like this to have fun, and you're not being fun." She tried to open the door but failed. "Childlock? Seriously? This is kidnapping, you know?"

"Might as well, then."

***

"Drink this; it's hot coffee," Steve offered. Wanda just glared at him, crossing her arms as she sat on his couch with her legs crossed.

After nearly an hour of his attempting to convince her to give up her address, he eventually conceded and decided to take her back to his place. However, it wasn't to pick up where they had left off; instead, it was to help her sober up.

"There's sugar in this," he said as he sat beside her, placing the mug on the table. "Why are you mad at me? I'm just trying to help."

"I didn't ask for help," she retorted. She considered removing the blanket he had placed over her legs, but it honestly felt cozy.

"Well, forgive me for being concerned."

"If you wanna fuck me, just fuck me. We don't have to go through this charade of chivalry. You're honestly wasting my time."

"How am I wasting your time?"

"Before you took me here, you threatened to hand me over to the police to be claimed by my parents! Like I'm some underaged brat."

"Yeah, because you wouldn't let me take you home."

"Honestly, you're an idiot. What do you want me to do? Jump on your dick? Because I'll do that." She proposed, smirking at him.

Steve snorted and looked away, grinning like an idiot. "Are you really that riled up?"

"Aren't you?" she shot back. "I need to get laid as soon as possible. But I'm also picky, and you've been nothing but a dull grump who keeps showing up."

"Why are you in a rush? Are you... Is it because you're ovulating? I read that that's one of the effects."

"Oh my god! You're killing me! Can you just give me Nikki's number?" She half-yelled. Yet, a part of her liked that he was using science to understand her behavior, not just assume that she was some horny lass. She was horny, but at least he didn't point it out.

"Who's Nikki?"

"You're friend, the one you stole me from."

"Bucky."

"Whatever."

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Fine!" she exclaimed, standing up and grabbing her purse. "I'm not drunk anymore. May I be excused?" Steve just looked up at her. "What?"

"I don't know why you're being like this, but I hope you're not on a path of self-destruction. I can be your friend if you want me to be."

"No, I only want a lot of your parts." Steve sniggered in resignation.

Wanda tossed her purse onto the couch and uncrossed Steve's hands, then settled herself onto his lap. She rested her arm on his shoulder and kissed his cheek, causing his eyes to close at their touch. He gently clasped his arms around her waist.

"Steve, whatever is happening to me," she murmured. "It's none of your business—enough with your pompous concern. At the end of the day, we both know what you want. If you hadn't been so annoying, you could have gotten lucky the moment we stepped in." Her gaze darted to the unopened box of condoms innocently sitting on top of his TV. Her mouth watered when she noticed the size printed on it: extra-large.

She felt Steve's hand tighten around hers. When she glanced down, she saw that he was gazing at the box as well.

"Really? A box? Were you planning to keep me here for a few days?" She teased.

"I just... I just grabbed it. I didn't think there were individual packets." He cleared his throat.

"Why don't we use it?" She brushed his lips that were stained with her lipstick using her thumb.

Steve's breath became strained. "You're drunk. That's not right."

"Not drunk anymore," she muttered, her tone hoarse and filled with want. She learned that Steve Rogers had a unique appeal that stirred her senses. He could infuriate her one moment and leave her yearning for him the next. Just like what a boyfriend does, she realized bitterly.

"It’s getting late; let me drive you back now," he mumbled. His skin charred her. She held his face and kissed him, tenderly this time.

Tenderness lasted for only a few seconds, though. Wanda was thirsty for connection, but Steve proved to be thirstier, his lips demanding more of her. He even held the back of her head to pull her closer than she already was, as if nothing would be enough. Proving her point.

His hands wandered freely across her exposed skin, gently pinching and kneading. For the first time that night, Wanda let out a soft moan, and her anticipation of his next move rose. She contemplated whether to remain still and wait for him to take the lead or to take control herself.

She decided to wait and was rewarded by his scalding tongue on her neck, assaulting the spot of one of the fading bruises that he left on her that she covered with concealer. His teeth lightly nibbled at her flesh, and she gasped at the prickling needles of lust that he was delivering her. She started fumbling with his buttons when he suddenly stopped.

"What now?" She demanded.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that." He huffed.

"What?"

"You're--"

"Don't you dare say drunk." She warned.

"Intoxicated."

She whined and stood up, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. She had had enough of the toying and had no patience with indulging him anymore.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" she asked, exasperated. The idiot just gaped at her with puppy eyes. "What? You're not a virgin, are you?"

"No," his tone was barely audible. "But I might as well be."

Wanda scoffed. He was the most frustrating man she had ever dealt with, which was saying something considering her past relationship. "What does that mean?" she questioned, sitting back down on the couch and putting some distance between them this time.

"I haven't done it in a very, very long while."

"So?"

"I've only done it once... Before I went to war."

Wanda sighed—just her luck. "So, you're a soldier?" He nodded. "And you were with your first love, I assume." He nodded again. "Then what's wrong?"

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, his tone filled with embarrassment.

"No. You know what to do. It felt like you did. Just think of it like you're riding a bike, or swimming, even if you haven't done it for god knows how long, you'll find your way eventually. You're too hot to be acting like this. What do you want me to do? Tell you to believe in yourself?"

"It doesn't feel right."

"It doesn't have to! That's why it's a hook-up—scratching a mutual itch! You know what, leave me alone, okay? Don't give me bullshit. I'm obviously not drunk now, because I'm seething with rage and pent-up energy. So I'll go. Give me a pen and paper."

"Huh?"

"Just do it!" Steve scrambled and gave her what she requested.

She leaned on the table and wrote her number down, sealing the paper with a kiss, her lips ingrained on the paper, and slammed it against his chest. Steve quickly secured it to his hand.

"Only call me when you're done acting like a baby."

Chapter Text

"You promised to take me shopping," Wanda complained to Wong, dragging her feet as she pushed their cart from one kiosk to another.

"This is shopping," he shrugged, his ever passive expression making her want to kick him down a few flights of stairs.

"This is the grocery store!" She motioned, immediately earning a scowl from a woman standing a few paces away from them. She raised an eyebrow at the woman, who stepped away in response. "That's right, walk away, Grandma."

Wong jiggled his head in dismay at her insolence. She had been nice during the first few days of her stay; however, New Yorkers can be a tough crowd, so she adjusted.

"And what do people do in grocery stores?" Wong retorted.

"You had me believe that you're gonna buy me a dress for that fancy party that Tony Stark will host to welcome Stephanie."

"No. I said, 'You're going to need a dress, Wanda. Hey, do you want to join me shopping?' That's what I said."

Wanda sighed in concession. "I hate you," she muttered.

"I'm still a better companion than Strange."

"That's why you're breaking my heart. I thought we were allies."

"We are, but women's dresses are expensive. Why do you even want to go? I'm not going. We can watch TV all night."

"One, my name was on the invitation. Two, I wanna see the entire Avengers Team. Pietro will be so jealous."

"You don't even know the Avengers. You've already seen two; that should suffice." No, it would not.

Wanda learned that Thor was one of the Avengers. If she gets to meet him, maybe she can get information about that monster's whereabouts. She had no plan yet about what she would do to him, but as they say, one step at a time.

"Can't you just conjure something for me? Use your magic," she asked. She used to do it often, but now she was unfortunately bound.

"We don't use magic for leisure, Wanda."

"Say that to my bruised ass. Stephen has been transporting me all over your haunted mansion, which sounds a lot like leisure to me." Wanda glared at Wong when he started chortling. She was half Stephen's age, yet that grown man continued to spar with her as if they were only a few years apart. Wong should have been the Sorcerer Supreme instead of him.

"You keep annoying him."

"Yeah, but it's funny," Wanda chuckled at herself. Meanwhile, Wong laughed heartily. He loved watching Stephen grumble in umbrage at her stunts.

"It is. Especially every time... You steal money from... Him. He even had to use a spell to hide his wallet from you." Wong said, barely managing to finish his sentence. The man was quite a sadist, Wanda thought to herself.

"It's because you don't give me an allowance. I'm a grown woman; I need spending money, and since I'm here as a tourist, I can't work." Everything she needed, Stephen provided for her, except for money.

"You're not even a tourist, you're technically an illegal alien. Portals are not a legal mode of transport."

"Exactly. I need those Benjamins!"

"How do you get into those clubs if you're so broke? They’re so expensive! And you always come home smelling like the entire bar," Wong remarked.

Wanda's great friend, Wong, had been patiently waking up at dawn to open the door for her whenever she returned home from her nights out. As for why he chose to help her, Wanda had no idea, and she didn't really care to find out. A friend is a friend, after all.

"My face is my currency." She proudly affirmed.

Wanda didn't have to wait in line to get into the clubs; all she had to do was approach the person managing the lines, bat her eyelashes, and thank them in the cutest way she could muster. As for the drinks, she didn't even know that she needed to pay; the shots just kept coming her way. Sure, she almost got in trouble with some of the men and women she turned down, but she was a good runner.

"Hmm." Wong stroked his beard thoughtfully while gazing at her. "Finding a sugar daddy is the best option."

Wanda cringed at his suggestion. "Ew. I don't date grandpas. I still have standards. And it's in two days; where can I get a sugar papa that quickly? Come on, Wong."

"You just need a dress, just charm someone into buying you what you need."

"Hmm. What if they wanted me to sleep with them?" Wong was surprisingly easy to talk to; she shared everything about her quest to explore her sexuality, and he didn’t even flinch.

"Isn't that what you want?"

"Yeah, but I don't wanna sleep for the benefits of getting something, that would make me a hooker."

"Change your mindset. At least sex workers are sharing their bodies to gain profit. If you’re just sleeping around without getting anything out of it, it puts you lower on the food chain." He had a valid point, Wanda realized. However, ever since she arrived, she hadn’t even slept with anyone.

Steve Rogers was a menace to her plans. She hadn't seen him since her last visit to his apartment and had deliberately evaded returning to that club in case she bumped into him again. But the truth was, she hadn’t met anyone else who captured her interest.

"You know what, you're right. That's a genius plan, Master Wong. Maybe Dobby could find a sock from another master." Wong's face wrenched in revulsion; he was always peeved whenever she made herself sound like Dobby. And it's precisely why she kept doing it.

"I am the smart one between Stephen and me." He chose to say instead.

"Yes, you are, but aren't doctors smart? Even if he doesn't practice anymore, he still has the title."

"He joined the Avengers simply because he thought Agatha might like him more if he did. That woman wouldn’t even read his texts." Wong debated. "He even used the magic stones in case it was just a signal issue."

Wanda laughed at the absurdity of it all. Sometimes she felt a little sorry for Strange, but the moment he opened his mouth, any sympathy she had for him vanished.

"Love makes people crazy, Wong, you just haven't found yours, that's why." Sadly, Wanda knew that all too well.

She truly believed that Loki was the one for her. Once upon a time, she fell in love, but ultimately found herself falling apart, much like a song that captured her feelings. That infuriating adopted Asgardian claimed her as his bride without her even asking for it. Yet, villains are villains for a reason; they are charismatic and have a way of bending people to their will. And that was exactly what he did.

Loki even vowed to take her to Asgard, where she would be a princess. He even introduced her to his brother, bringing her one step closer to meeting his parents. And now sex was the only good memory left. That man was a mammoth in bed; she'll probably never feel that fire in her loins ever again.

"Fuck you, Loki." Her knuckles tightened.

***

Wanda grinned when she saw "Man From Club 1" appear on her caller ID. She had been serious when she told Steve not to call her until he got his act together days ago, but it hadn't even been a day before he started trying to reach her.

He called her daily, making at least three attempts to reach her. He kept texting her, sending good morning messages and other notes, but she didn't bother to pick up or read any of them. She didn't like that he either didn't take her seriously or was too desperate for attention to preserve his pride. She was obviously contradicting herself with how she felt at his attempts, but a man who acted like a dog begging for attention was no man for her. And that man needed to learn how to act in accordance with his gorgeous face.

She sat up in her bed and cleared her throat, trying to sound like a sweetheart. The party was tomorrow, and Stephen had no plans to buy her a dress, even though the invitation clearly listed her name—desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Hello?" Steve greeted her right away; he didn't even wait for her to say it first.

"Hey, so sorry I missed answering your calls or replying to your texts. I've been very busy." She twirled her hair around her fingers to focus.

"Of course, I don't mind. How have you been?"

"Hmm, lonely. I've missed you so much." She wanted to gag at herself when she caught herself in the mirror, pouting like a child. Gross.

"Really?" Steve asked, sounding astonished. Wanda couldn't blame him.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

"You were angry when you left."

"Me? Angry? I could never," she said, even though she was seething with rage and abhorrence for him at that time.

How could he be so oblivious? Didn’t he understand how humiliating it was to be rejected? No one had ever told her no before. Well, she had only slept with one man so far, but he had never turned her down.

"Uh-huh." He sounded skeptical, and he had every reason to be.

"Didn't you miss me?"

"I did. I missed you, too," he said after a while. That was sweet, Wanda thought, but then quickly shook her head. What was she thinking? It wasn't sweet—it was icky! "Where have you been? You stopped coming to the club, and I was hoping to see you there."

Huh! What a haughty man. He swore he didn’t like visiting places like that, yet there he was. "Oh, I don't go to clubs anymore, for now, if I'm being honest. I'm doing a cleanse." She responded instead. She didn't think telling him how she decided to go elsewhere to avoid him would work well with what she had in mind.

"That's good. We only have one liver, Wanda. You're young, but that doesn't mean you can abuse your body like that." Wanda fought the urge to sneer at his words; she was in no mood for a lecture. She bit her tongue to suppress her irritation.

"Yeah. You're right. What have you been up to?" She kindly asked.

"Not much, just work." Work? So he's not in New York? Aren't soldiers deployed somewhere?

"And clubbing?" She sprightly gibed.

"No... Uh, I just tagged along. Really." She rolled her eyes at the sound of urgency in his voice. Even if he wound up fucking all the women in New York, she didn't care.

A part of her felt annoyed at him flirting with someone else, though.

"It's fine, Steve. Work could be hectic; there's nothing wrong about unwinding."

"Well, I also watched two Harry Potter movies." He enthusiastically reported. "You don't look like Dobby at all." Wanda wrinkled her nose at his comment. What did he mean?

"When did I say I look like him?" She asked, failing to hide the scorn in her tone.

"In the parking lot." Wow, he had a good memory for worthless facts.

"I said I was channeling," she huffed, realizing that her tone was still sharp.

"Right. Right. Well, if you're really into elves, for me, you look more like an Arwen."

"Who's that?" Goodness, he's wasting her time. Again.

"From Lord Of The Rings. I have the trilogy, if you want, we can watch it together." He explained, making her scoff. Right. 'Watch.'

"I'd love that." Wanda, you have a future in acting, she told herself. "You want to meet up by the way? Not in your apartment. Outside."

"Sure, when?"

"Right now."

"Now?"

"You don't want to?"

"No! It's not that I don't want to. I'm still at work."

"Work? Like, stationed somewhere?" That will be bad for her.

"Sort of." She pulled her phone away from her ear for a moment, confused by his response. What was this man's job? He was too evasive.

"Hmm, too bad. I really missed you. I was really hoping to see you today." She was genuinely disappointed this time.

"What about lunch time? I can pick you up. Just two more hours," he proposed, making her chuckle with relief. He sounded excited to see her, and a pang of guilt struck her black heart.

Black hearts aside, Wanda still needed him to be useful. "That's nice!" She clamored. "You don't have to pick me up; we can just meet somewhere. We can meet at a mall."

"A mall? But that's too crowded."

Steve Rogers had a knack for getting under her skin— and not in a delicious way. "New York is crowded everywhere. Are you trying to avoid being seen in public? You lied about not having a girlfriend, didn’t you? Are you a cheater?" The mere thought of him being with another woman made her... furious?

Wanda, stop that!

"No, no, no, no. No, it's just that..." He immediately clarified, and her stupid lips won't stop smiling at the denial.

"What?"

"It's fine, let's meet at the mall."

"Yay! See you later, then. Kisses!" Before Steve could respond, she hung up the phone.

She can't wear one of her sexy dresses in their meeting in the middle of the day, but that could also be a test of his interest.

***

Wanda was 45 minutes late to the meeting she had set up with Steve. She had no excuse, just a case of indolence. He was patient, though, and didn't even bombard her with questions about her progress. She should feel bad; it was very impolite of her, but he was a pushover, and she hated him for that.

The hate melted as soon as she saw him standing at the spot she had asked him to wait at. He just stood there staring at random things, not even noticing the looks from the women who wanted to get his attention. Too bad for them, the fool was hers for the day.

"What's with the darkest shade of glasses I've ever seen and the ball cap, and the tacky hoodie?" She asked, grinning at his chosen get-up. He looked good, of course, but they were at the mall. He looked weird.

"Hmm? Nothing, it's just the way I dress." He shrugged. Wanda eyed him with distrust. The man was hiding something, or someone!

"You're married!" She declared, pointing at him.

"No!"

"Fugitive?"

"No."

"Take it off then," she challenged, crossing her arms.

"Please. Just... let this pass, okay?" he implored.

"You're 17, are you? How long have you been 17?"

"What?"

"Twilight. You haven't seen it yet? The hot vampire? Sexy wolves? Lip-biting brunette?" That was a famous movie; had he been living under a rock?

"I haven't even finished Harry Potter," he whined.

Her brows crumpled. "Why do you sound like I asked you to watch it?"

"Because I'm having a hard time understanding your references."

Wanda shook her head in awe. "You're so cute." She reached out and pulled him in for a quick peck on the lips, resting her hands on his toned shoulders. "If that's your attempt at a disguise, you're failing miserably. You stand out. You look so fucking hot."

"Language."

"Language?" She pulled away from him, her face reddened with offense.

"You curse too much," his tone was gentle, yet she took it as a reproach.

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings? Should I keep my mouth shut now like a good girl? But I feel like you'll prefer it open soon." She chided, looking away in bitterness.

"Fine, say whatever you wanna say," he said, pulling her into him and gently caressing her back.

"You still like me? With my jeans and stupid shirt?" Tony Stark sent a bunch of merch items, so she chose to wear the Iron Man shirt that caught her eye.

"You'll look good in anything," he mumbled. "I heard the Captain America shirts are better, though."

"I don't even know who that is. I hate wearing jeans."

"Then why did you wear it?"

"I don't like being ogled in the daytime. I have no energy for catcalling. But who am I kidding? Regardless of what anyone wears, if a dick is a dick, they'll act like a dick. Oh, pardon me, asshole." Instead of calling her out again for her foul mouth, he looked concerned instead.

"Who does that? Show me," he urged.

She rolled her eyes at him and pulled away again. "Why? You're gonna throw punches?"

"Maybe more."

"Aw, how sweet."

"I'm serious."

"Look, I've been a girl for 24 years, I can manage." She could more than manage. Well, that was before. She'll just run.

"I can teach you some self-defence. I'm quite good at fighting."

"Nah. You can take me to bed and show me what those hands can do, though," she suggested, her insides tugging at the thought. She clung to his waist when she noticed some girls eyeing him again.

"Wanda," he groaned.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it. You look hot round the clock."

"You keep ignoring my calls and my messages, and you say all that to me. Forgive me for being confounded."

"I was not ignoring you; I was swamped." Her voice came out too high for the lie she was selling.

"Right. Busy." He even made air quotes with his fingers. She could use those fingers for better endeavors.

"Why Steve? You want me that bad? You should've had me when you got the chance then," she teased.

"I wasn't calling for that."

Wanda giggled. He's too adorable for his own good. "What? Say the word."

"No."

"Say it. Say you didn't call for sex," she demanded, her lips curling into a stupid grin.

"I didn't call for intimacy."

"God. Stop acting like that. The hickeys on my neck are still glaring if not for my makeup skills." Her words painted his face red.

"I left hickeys on your neck?"

"Yes. A bitter reminder of what could have been."

"Sorry. I'll be careful next time."

"Bold of you to assume that there will be a next time." Good for Wanda, though, the ship was still sailing.

"Sorry, that's not what I meant."

"Really? What else could you have possibly meant?"

"I really wasn't calling to take advantage of you. I just wanted to hear your voice."

No. Wanda didn't like what he said at all. She walked away from him and leaned on the banister. He followed her right away, standing beside her, stupidly unaware like an idiot. She wanted to yell at him.

"Steve. Just take advantage of me. I'm not looking for anything other than sex with you."

"Why not? We have chemistry." He remarked playfully, which made her even more sullen.

She had to break it to him then. "Chemistry? No. We have sexual tension. Keep your heart in your chest, not your dick." If she was reading his face right, he looked hurt.

"Where do you want to eat?" he asked instead. That was good; it was becoming too uncomfortable.

She gasped when she suddenly remembered what she wanted from him. "Actually. I have a favor to ask." She beamed at him again.

"What is it?"

"Promise me you won't get mad?"

"Depends?"

She reached up and kissed him again on the lips, for luck. "That's fair. Well, there's this party that I really want to attend. But I'm broke. Buy me a dress. And not just any dress. I need to look hotter than hell."

"So... You just called me here to make me pay for your shopping?" he asked, disappointment evident on his face.

She felt bad. But it was better that way. "No. I called you here to... Yeah." She conceded. "Please, I really wanna be at that party. I'm so bored out of my mind, and I can't even find work because I'll get deported."

"You don't live here?"

"Thought the accent would give it away. I'm a foreigner, here for vacation."

"Where are you from?"

"That's personal."

"You keep trying to get in bed with me, but I can't ask you where you came from?" he snorted, hopefully recovered from whatever he felt.

"Just help me this one time. I promise I'll owe you. Let me pay with my body, though, because I'm penniless."

"Wanda. Do you hear yourself?" He sounded incensed, and it caught her off guard.

"I do. Why?" She understood what he was trying to convey, but she's good at pretending to be dumb.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. He didn't just sound angry; there was something else she didn't want to scratch the surface of.

"It's none of your business. If you don't want to buy me that dress, then don't." She started walking away, but he grabbed her arm and faced her toward him.

"I didn't even say no. I will buy you that dress. But I'm really concerned about why you keep doing this to yourself."

"I don't know, I just like it." Her heart was pounding; it was better when he was busy trying to dodge her advances. "I was chatting with my friend yesterday, and he suggested a sugar daddy. You're the only one that came to mind."

"Sugar daddy?" The phrase sounded sexy from his lips. "That's not a good friend, you're getting yourself a pimp."

Wong, a pimp. The image of him made Wanda burst out laughing. Out of anything that Wong could be, a pimp was never on her bingo card; she almost sounded hysterical with her wheezing.

"No, not at all." She waved her hand at him, wiping the tears in her eyes. "It will be funny, though," she moaned.

"Fine. What will I get out of it?" Steve questioned, and he even sounded serious.

"I already told you, me!"

"I want something bigger."

What the hell? She wasn't enough? The best answer for the crawling sensation of embarrassment was a scathing rejoinder. "I have big boobs, and perky too."

"Wanda," he said in that dire tone again.

"What? You can't even take a joke? Although I meant every single word."

"No." He suddenly locked her in his arms like some cheesy RomCom, gazing at her intently. "Watch the rest of the Harry Potter movies with me."

She was baffled, but whatever floated his boat. "That's it? That's too easy."

"And read my texts at least. Maybe answer some of my calls, and stop talking to me like a sex doll," he was sulking again—that whiney tone of his that made her feel bad for him.

"You're weird, you know that? You're gorgeous, but you act like you've never been with a woman before." She nestled his face and pulled him towards her for a brutish kiss that he eagerly embraced. Making out in the mall was not part of the plan, but his tongue on her throat was a good dish for lunchtime. "You're so cute, Steve. You make me sick."

Chapter Text

The charm of cunningly achieving her goal felt extrinsic to how Wanda's afternoon was unfolding.

There she was, straddling Steve in the reclined driver’s seat, her shirt tossed aside. Their tongues reeling with haste, completely lacking regard for the fact that they were in his car in a dark corner of the mall parking lot. Well, Steve was cognizant of their surroundings, but his apartment was thirty minutes away, and Wanda proclaimed it jinxed, considering the two past incidents that had ended poorly there. So, Wanda's will pushed through.

His large hands gripped her waist tightly while hers were busy yanking at his hair and groping the mound hidden in his denim jeans. She shuddered with heat as his lips traced her cleavage. The clasp of her bra was within reach; all he had to do was flick it. But he didn't. It was agonizing, yet she held her tongue, too caught up in the moment to speak as her hips rocked against his swell.

"Wanda, we can still drive back," he said softly against her skin, surely leaving another set of marks with the way he was ravishing her.

She ignored him and unbuttoned his jeans, releasing his roaring ridge for her. He caught his breath and momentarily froze in anticipation of her next move. Wanda enjoyed complicating things, so she stared at him, daring him to subdue her. However, his eyes conveyed everything she needed to know.

She deliberately slid her hand inside his underpants, their croaks of lust resonating in the confined space. Steve's head fell back against the cushioned seat. His eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open.

"You're killing me," he grumbled when she began stroking him, her palm instantly familiar with what made him shiver. 

"At least you'll die with a smile."

She leaned against the steering wheel to give herself more space, relishing the sight of him mumbling in delirium with her rhythm. He seemed not to know what to do with himself anymore, his hands aimlessly fondling any part of her as his hips jolted to her touch.

He was bigger than she had envisioned, and that made her want him more. The thought of riding him until her legs went numb brought down the deluge of heat between her thighs that were already dripping. She needed more.

Wanda sprang off of him and bent over to his side, leaning on his thigh. She took his length out of the fabric, and he didn't disappoint. She slowly circled him with her hand as she looked up at him. His eyes were wide open again because of her absence.

"Do you know what I'm gonna do?" she asked, hastily tying her hair to keep it out of the way, her throat dry from her rising need.

"You don't have to," he whispered.

"You sure about that?" The question hung in the air, but even amidst his daze, he maintained his obstinate inclination to be a gentleman. "I'm pretty good at this, you know." She lowered her head to lick the glistening proof of his arousal. Her tongue daintily circled the tip.

Another groan of strangled breath escaped him, thrilling her ears. He tasted sweet and tangy, the scent of musk tickling her nostrils, but she was determined not to give in easily. Her grip tightened around him, moving slowly up and down as she waited for him to regain his serenity.

Their gazes locked with one another. Perhaps he didn't even realize he was doing it, but his hand slipped inside her bra, cupping one of her breasts. He made her tits seem small in his palm, which compelled her to drone at his touch. She could see the satisfaction in his eyes, and it stirred an overwhelming sensation within her that she hadn't experienced in a long time.

"Steve," she moaned. "You like what you see, so just take it," her voice was raspy as his thumb flicked on her hardened bud.

Everything happened so quickly. Suddenly, the passenger seat dropped to its lowest position, and Steve managed to flip her over so that she was lying on her back, with him on top of her. His weight pinned her deliciously beneath him, her bra ripped apart. And his mouth, that glorious mouth, lapping on her nipple.

She no longer recognized the noises they were making. They were two starved bodies preying on one another. His mouth suckled on her peak, as if he were deprived. His hand was charring her other orb as he aggressively seized it. He cornered her; all she could do was submit to his every caprice.

This is what she craved from him: to be overpowered and helpless to his will. He could command her to apologize for every vitriol she had ever directed at him, and she would willingly do so, as long as she could persist in reveling in the fervency he radiated towards her.

Darkness engulfed Wanda as she lay there, erratically caressing his back, grappling with his hair while he continued to delight her with his mouth. His tongue scrumptiously lathered her nipples, seeming to be too eager and resentful that he couldn't taste both at the same time.

"Oh, god, you make me feel so good," she whimpered, her body convulsing against him. "I want you so bad, Steve."

He looked up and stared at her, arrogantly walloping her bud with his tongue. A smirk on his face told her that he had more to give. And she had no doubt that he did. She could ask nicely, too, if he wanted.

"You're all mine now, Wanda. If you do this with someone else, you wouldn't like what I will do." His teeth lightly grazed her nipple.

She was unable to respond, her eyes scrutinizing his with desperation. People often say anything in the heat of the moment, but his words felt like a solemn vow. He was revealing a sense of danger within him, but instead of feeling fear, she was swallowed by anticipation.

She held his face and motioned for him to come closer. When he did, she crashed her lips against his. They both exhaled as their mouths opened and tongues weaved together. She finally had space to grab his member that somehow became ampler to her touch. 

"I didn't think you had it in you," she stammered as his lips brushed against her neck, making her produce guttural noises she hadn't made in a while. He was intoxicating her, and her hand seemed to have a life of its own, tirelessly pummeling his rock-hard rod.

"You sure you wanna keep doing that to my cock? You're gonna make this end too soon," he growled to her ear.

"You have a dirty mouth, Steve. Kiss me with it." And he eagerly obliged. She tasted salt and metal, but was unsure which of them bled. It didn't matter.

They both froze at the screeching ringing that suddenly bombarded their heightened daze.

"Fuck," Steve groused.

***

"Cap, it's been hours! When are you gonna come back to base? You told me that you were just out getting lunch. Are you planning to get dinner too?" 

"Who's that? Hang up!" Wanda urged, pushing Steve lightly.

"I can't, he's already connected. That's Sam, the guy you met that night. He used the overriding option to contact me. I told him I'll be gone for an hour." What kind of technology was that?

"But, we're not done," she complained. 

They were far from done. Whoever that man booming on the speaker was, Wanda wished that he would sleep with a warm pillow every night for all of eternity, or every time he took a shower, the hot water would run out before he could even start.

"I know," Steve gritted his teeth. The look of vexation on his face was distressingly charming. Gone was the man who threatened to wreak havoc on anyone who stood in his way.

"Cap! I know you're there. If you don't answer, I'm gonna track you down and get you myself. Don't do me dirty, man!"

Wanda started thinking of some potions she could use against her villain. Perhaps a potion that made him sleepy every time he was about to get lucky with his mate.

Steve groaned in aggravation and got up. Suddenly, Wanda felt cold from the absence of his body; she covered her exposed breasts with her hands, like a loser. 

"What?" Steve asked after pressing a button. It was the first time that Wanda heard him raise his voice. She stifled a giggle. "I went home for a bit. I'm not feeling well."

"What do you mean you're not feeling well? You don't get sick. Come on, man, it's your turn to man the tower. Everyone left; nobody else will cover. Bucky peaced out hours ago." The voice on the speaker sounded equally vexed.

"Cover for me, then."

"On my birthday?"

A look of understanding passed between her and Steve. Wanda silently took back her awful wishes for the man, feeling bad for the birthday boy. Steve then handed her her shirt, quietly apologizing for the damage to the garment. He gave her his hoodie to cover her nipples that were peaking through her shirt. She put it on begrudgingly. 

"Right, sorry. I'm coming," Steve conceded, and the line finally disconnected.

"I didn't even get to come yet," Wanda whined, feeling betrayed by the orgasm that never came. She fixed her chair to its original position.

"What if you come with me to my work?" Steve suggested, even having the nerve to sound enthused. It would have been a good idea, except she had to come home and start preparing for her master's dinner.

"Stop saying come. And why would I do that?" She chided. Aggressively combing her disheveled hair with her fingers.

"I'm sorry, rain check?" Steve asked as he started to drive off. "Don't be mad, I'm just as upset as you are."

"I don't know. I'm not even sure if we'll see each other again." She will definitely see him again, but he didn't deserve to know that.

"Come on," he pleaded, resting his hand on her thigh. She quickly swatted him away. Her breasts were still aching, not from the pain but from the bitter disappointment.

"What?"

"It's his birthday."

She glared at him. "Why are you saying that? Did I ask you not to go back to work? Did I ask you to abandon the man on his birthday?"

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. Will you pick up my call later?" His eyes darted between her and the road.

"Why would I?"

"Wanda," he said in that irritating sulking tone again.

"Steve."

"I'll drive you home. Can you finally tell me where you live?"

"That's too personal. No, I'm gonna make you drop me off six blocks from my address. The walk will be good for my stored energy." As soon as she heard herself, she secretly recoiled at how upset she sounded.

"I just saw your perfect bust, and your address is still personal?"

"Say titties like a normal person. Do you realize how old you sometimes act? There are times where I feel like you're fatherly, and I'm not into the daddy stuff." Steve didn't charge back, though, and fell silent.

Wanda squirmed in her seat, crossing her legs and quickly regretting it upon feeling her damp slit. She didn't know how to finish herself off. Growing up in the hills of Sokovia, where doors were nonexistent, was too risky for self-exploration. So, for her, she was reasonably frustrated.

"I think you'll look really beautiful in that dress," Steve remarked after a bout of silence.

"I'd better, that will be two grand down the drain for you." She was pointing at that red dress in the store as a joke, but the idiot took it seriously and made her try it on. And she looked like the dress was made for her, according to the irritating sales associate. That woman was openly salivating at Steve, but still had the nerve to inflate her ego.

If Steve dreaded paying for the dress, he didn't show. His eyes flared the moment he saw her in it, ogling her like she was his meal. And her stupid self fell for it and started lusting over him in the middle of a snooty store, completely ignoring the absurdity of the price tag. However, Steve was still the dumbest since he had willingly swiped his card.

"I'm also attending a party, actually. I don't want to go, but it's work-related." He was attending an event too? He's going to be in a suit that will probably make panties drop, which infuriates her.

"What do you really do for work?" she asked, her eyes stubbornly fixed on the road.

"Tell me where you live and I will," he retorted. 

"Never mind, I realized that I'm not interested."

"What if you come with me to that event?"

Wanda chuckled at the thought. He was evasive about his work, yet somehow willing to take her to an event related to his work. The man needed to pick a lane. "No, not interested."

"I hate to ask, but are you only gonna be nice to me if you need anything from now on?"

"Why? You're taking a liking to the sugar daddy title now?" The look on his face when he threatened her about being with another man flashed in her mind, made her insides tingle. It was juvenile, but she was curious about what he would do.

"I'm not rich. I'm just an employee."

"I heard Tim call you Cap, so you have a rank. That means that you're paid handsomely." Cap was surely short for captain. 

"Who's Tim?"

"The birthday boy."

"Sam."

"Who cares?" Wanda was terrible at names. And yet she remembered Steve Rogers, an annoying part of her brain reminded her.

"Just enough to live. I don't have a family to support; I live on my own. But, I'm not rich."

"I don't need to know anything about you. I don't care. So stop telling me useless facts about you." The less she knew, the higher their walls would be. 

She shouldn't engage too much with him; she's going to leave New York anyway. She didn't know when yet, but she will make sure of it. Thor would be the key, hopefully. Loki's brother was nice to her; he seemed like an honest man, too. But they were still brothers. What if he still decided to cover for that murderer of a god?

There was only one way to find out. She had to speak with him. Otherwise, she would be stuck in her loop of desperation to rid herself of the guilt for the things that happened to her coven.

***

Wong raised the thermometer above his head to read the result. He shook his head at Wanda to affirm that she was sick.

"102.2°F, that's really high," Wong said empathetically.

Perhaps it was caused by how terrible she was feeling at the moment, but Wanda started crying. Not out of sadness, but anger at Stephen, who was standing coyly beside her bed.

"Why am I sick? What have you done to me?" she yelled with her full chest. If he thought she was dumb enough to see through his spell, he was sorely mistaken.

"Me? Why me? I didn't do anything to you," Stephen asked, fixing the hem of his suit to avoid meeting her eyes. 

"Before I went to bed, I was fine as a peach. When I woke up, I was suddenly sick. I know you did this!" she sniffled. The grotesque doctor had to give her a runny nose, too.

"Why the hell would I do that? Do you think I'm gonna waste my time on that trivial matter?"

"Yes! Because you don't want me to go with you."

"Nonsense," he muttered, turning around so that he didn't have to face her.

"You don't want her to go," Wong asserted. He at least made Wanda feel a bit better. "That's a low blow, Strange."

"Wanda, for your own good." Stephen's voice sounded grave this time. "Just stay here."

"I have to be there!" She argued. She didn't know when the next opportunity to see the God of Thunder would arise; it wasn't like these Avengers were the type she could just bump into on the streets.

"Why? To see Thor? Loki is dead, Wanda!" Stephen shouted, facing her again. "Why can't you just accept that?"

"We both know that that's not true." They told her that Loki died in Thor's arms, saving his brother.

Wanda knew that it was all a ruse. Perhaps Thor genuinely believed that he did, perhaps he was covering up for his brother's crimes, but she would never know unless she had the chance to meet him.

"You don't know how I feel, you'll never understand. You just gained your powers. I was born with my magic, Stephen, that's my identity. That's my essence. And when Loki stole my magic, he didn't just break my heart. He killed me, too! How can I go home if I don't kill him myself? I no longer have a face to show my coven sisters. They all hate me. If Agatha hadn't woken me in the middle of the night to sneak me away, I would've burned in the pyre. I miss Agatha! I miss my brother! I want to go home!"

"Just stay here," Stephen affirmed, ignoring everything she said before walking away. He didn't even give Wanda the chance to promise him that she would not cause trouble.

"I'm sorry, Wanda," Wong mumbled, patting her burning arm.

"Leave me alone!" She pulled her blanket to her face and sobbed. A few minutes later, she heard the door to her room close. She quickly got up and grabbed her phone.

She dialed Steve's number, even though she hadn't taken his calls or messages since they parted yesterday. She was tactless and rude, but anyone could be a friend at that moment. She didn't want to be in Stephen and Wong's strangling estate anymore. She hated them both.

"Wanda?" He didn't even make her wait. He picked up on the first ring.

"Sorry, I was not answering. I got busy."

"Why do you sound like that? Are you sick?" The worry in his voice tugged at her chest.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the work event I was telling you about. Are you sick? Do you want soup?"

"I want you. Can you meet me? I'll wait on that street where you dropped me off," her heart pounded. What if he said no? 

"It's cold outside, let me pick you up at your door."

Wanda sighed. Looks like she'll have to stay where she was. "Never mind."

"Don't hang up! Fine, I'll get there quickly, wear something warm."

"Really? You'll come?" This man was really something. She was playing with fire that might be tough to relinquish if she continued to involve herself with him. 

"I'm headed to my car now. I'll see you soon."

Wanda felt a warm jacket cloaked around her. When she looked up from the step she was sitting on, Steve's boyish grin greeted her. The coat was, after all, a suit. She snuggled up to it and stood up, guided by his firm grip. She found herself wrapping her arms around him, finally feeling some semblance of peace. His warm body was comforting.

"You're burning up really badly. Did you wait long?" he asked as he led her to the car.

"I haven't even been there for five minutes. When will you stop acting like a puppy?" She glowered at him. She was offended on his behalf that he just allowed himself to be at the beck and call of a woman who had too much baggage—a stranger.

"Lovely seeing you too, Wanda." He grinned before closing her door and getting to his side. "No wonder you were not responding to me, you should've told me you were sick right away."

Before Wanda could tell him that she just didn't want to talk to him, her attention was caught by a message that flashed on his dashboard from a Sharon Carter, asking him where he had gone and that he looked incredibly handsome in his suit, and to save her a dance. That made her frown.

"Sharon is looking for you," she bitterly said, his eyes fixed on the road.

"That's my co-worker."

She scoffed, 'What a good person Sharon is.' "Co-workers keep tabs on each other's locations now?"

"In our job, yes. I attended the event to welcome a new member with her. There's this filthy rich guy in our team who lives and breathes parties. He takes any excuse he can get just to start a party. I forgot to tell Sharon I left. Don't worry, I'll text her when we get home."

So that girl probably looked her best that night if she was waiting for a dance, presumably even stuck to Steve like a leech the whole time. And Steve was probably just oblivious the entire period because he was too dumb to notice. She shouldn't be investing her ire in nonsensical matters, but she was sick, so she had an excuse. Yes, Wanda, keep lying to yourself.

"I don't care," she muttered.

Steve chuckled. "You sure? You sound like you do. We're just friends, nothing more, nothing less."

Her brows creased at his assumption. "Why would I care? I don't even care about you. I just called you because I can't think of anyone else stupid enough to come rushing to me. You're an idiot." 

"Okay, Wanda."

"Stop fucking smiling!" she yelled. She hated how he enjoyed his incorrect deduction of her reaction to the woman she didn't know. She cursed Stephen again when she let out a sneeze.

"Bless you," Steve hummed.

"What?"

"Bless you."

"Why would you bless me? Are you a god now?"

"Whenever someone sneezes, it's normal to say that. You don't have that phrase in your town?" He asked, still beaming.

"No. Every time I sneezed, no one blessed me. That's probably why the demons have infested my body," Steve laughed at her jest that was half meant.

"You're fine if we go to my apartment?"

"Where else will we go? Anywhere is fine."

"I make a tasty soup, you know. I'll whip up one for you," he said, sounding enthusiastic at the prospect.

There he was again, making her enraged at his kindness. If he could just shut his mouth and be an asshole, things would be easier. Why couldn't he just stop scraping at her heart?

"I hate you. You're the dumbest person I've ever met. You're too desperate for sex that you're willing to act like a puppy," she spat. Steve just laughed harder.

"You're the one who keeps seducing me. I don't mind; I love it. But, I'm just an innocent man, powerless to a bewitching maiden."

"That's why you're dumb. Because you're innocent. And Sharon is a stupid name!"

Chapter Text

"What’s the matter?" Wanda asked Steve, noticing his hand still on the doorknob.

"It's open," he responded, frowning.

"Maybe you forgot to lock it before you left." Too eager to see that Sharon probably.

"No, I'm sure I didn't. Stay here," he instructed. Wanda ignored his request and matched his careful pace as he walked through his apartment.

"I told you he would be here!" a man with jet black hair yelled, startling both Wanda and Steve.

"Jesus. Why are you here?" Steve demanded.

Wanda looked at the two men comfortably seated on Steve's couch, their lips curled into devious smiles as they stared back at her. Unfazed, she held her head high, daring them to continue their gaze. She smirked when both men eventually looked away, though their smiles remained fixed on their faces.

"No wonder you keep going home, huh? Mister 'My Work Is My Home', you used to live in the compound, then suddenly became eager to go back to your apartment." The other man with a buzz cut commented, sipping on a bottle of beer he had been cradling.

When Wanda glanced at Steve, she caught him sighing in concession.

"His eyes are always on his phone. Right, Wilson?" Who wouldn't want to go home when a pretty girl awaits you?" the other guy spoke, staring at Wanda again. He tilted his head as if trying to determine where he had seen her.

"This is an invasion of my privacy; not only that, but you also trespassed," Steve clamored at the men.

Wanda couldn't help but laugh at what she was witnessing. "You called me out for having a questionable friend, but your friends are far worse," she told Steve, eyeing the men with disdain.

"Mandy!" The one with longer hair yelled, marching toward her and gripping her shoulders as soon as he reached her.

"Who are you? Don't touch me," she said, aggressively swatting his hands away from her. She saw Steve glaring at the man, too.

"It's me, Bucky. Don't you remember?"

"No. I don't know you." Wanda looked away, still aggravated by the unwarranted touch. Handsome or not, she decided who could touch her.

"From the club? We were supposed to hang out, but Steve had other plans. I really thought we had a connection there. Come on, Rogers, why are you hiding her from us?"

Wanda scanned his face again, but she still couldn't recall him, even though she remembered finding him good-looking. She beamed at Bucky. Snapping her fingers to feign her recollection. "Right. You took me to your table. Hi, man."

"We met too. I'm Sam." Buzzed cut also sauntered before her, outstretching his arm. 

Wanda couldn't remember meeting Sam, but his familiar voice had ruined her afternoon the previous day. Specifically, it was the other day, as they had already returned to Steve's apartment by then, past midnight.

"Oh, you," she muttered nonchalantly at Sam.

"Stop. You two. This is too much!" Steve growled again. "I can't even have a quiet night without you two pestering me."

"Oh, relax, you're too uptight," she said with a delicate pat on his back as she walked past everyone and sat down on the couch, crossing her legs. Feeling her forehead, she found that her fever had finally gone away. "That fucking spell was too weak; it only lasted until midnight. I'll do you one better, Strange," she whispered to herself. She reached for the beer that Sam had left behind and chugged it.

When she noticed the sudden silence, she looked back at them and saw that they were all staring at her.

"What?" she asked, nonplussed.

"Don't drink that, you're sick. And Sam's drool is all over it." Steve strode towards her and grabbed the beer, but her surprisingly firm grip thwarted his attempt.

"Looks like Mandy and I kissed," Sam sang to annoy them, but they both ignored him.

"Nope, it's all good now. Touch," she tipped closer to him. He placed the back of his hand on her forehead and realized that she was telling the truth.

She inclined back on the couch and resumed drinking her beer. "This is the worst beer I've ever tasted. It's too warm," she complained.

"Uh, I've been holding on to that since we left the party," Sam explained, looking sheepish.

"Well, now that I'm apparently all fine and dandy, I'll go home," Wanda announced, shrugging off Steve’s suit. She was about to stand up when Steve gently held her down by pushing her shoulders back.

"No. You can still burn up later; it's too cold outside. I'll drive you back tomorrow if you insist."

"You have company, and I'm not in the mood to socialize. And I feel icky, I need a hot shower."

Sam cleared his throat and spoke, "Looks like the captain has found himself a captain."

"Really? What are you? Ten-year-olds?" she retorted. "Maybe you need a juicebox instead of a beer." Sam pursed his lips and grimaced at her.

"You're rude." He sulked.

"And you're immature. And you, hot guy," she gazed at Bucky. "Nice seeing you again. Let's catch up," she patted the spot beside her, inviting him to sit down. Bucky grinned and started to move toward her, but Steve stepped in his way. She looked up and noticed that his ears were flushed.

"What?" Bucky asked. "I'm trying to reconnect with my friend."

"I think you two should go home." Steve's tone was too hollow for her to discern.

"No," Wanda protested. She stood beside Steve and said, "Sam can go home; Bucky can stay."

"He drove me here; you want me to freeze out there?" Sam asked, looking even more annoyed.

"Man up," she chided. Sam was clueless, but that didn't stop Wanda from despising the man for what he had done to her afternoon.

"You're mean. Why are you even hanging out with somebody like her? You fit better with the likes of Sharon." Sam's words infuriated Wanda even more. She slammed the beer loudly on the table and glared at him.

"Shut up, Clarence! You went to private school!" she blurted at Sam. The three of them stared at her, dumbfounded. "Haven’t any of you seen 8 Mile yet? You look just like that loser who got squashed by B-Rabbit." Wanda smirked at Sam.

"I've seen 8 Mile, I don't appreciate the comparison." Sam crossed his arms. "And there's nothing wrong with going to a private school!"

"Enough!" Steve yelled, aggressively pushing Sam and Bucky to the door, ignoring their complaints. The two men looked like Dumb and Dumber.

"Let's hang out sometime, Mandy!" Bucky hollered before Steve banged the door in their faces.

Wanda walked toward the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of salt, and sprinkled some into her palm. When Steve faced her with a scowl on his face, she threw the salt from her hand at him.

"Why did you do that?"

"I am cleansing you." She continued sprinkling rock salt onto her palm and tossing it at him.

"Stop," he exhorted, flinching at her incursion. "If you're mad at me, throw something else. Why are you using condiments against me?"

"I'm cleansing you because you're unlucky."

"What?"

"We almost had sex three times, but kept getting cut off. I wanna see if this could work."

"Dump the entire content of that bottle on me," he asked earnestly.

***

When Wanda woke up, she stunned herself by sitting up quickly, panicking at the sight of the unfamiliar place. She took a deep breath when she realized she was not in her own room, but in Steve's. After taking a shower, all the weariness washed over her again, and she fell asleep without even realizing it.

She glanced at the clock beside her and realized that only a couple of hours had passed since she fell asleep. Reaching for the lamp, she turned on the light. The door to Steve's room was slightly open, but he was nowhere to be found. As she stood up, a chill ran through her; she was wearing nothing but Steve's old shirt and boxers, which he had tied with her scrunchie to fit her.

Even after she invited him to sleep beside her in bed, she found him still asleep on his couch. "You prick, you’re even wearing clothes while you sleep?" she whispered, kneeling on the floor so she could gaze at him.

The soft light streaming through the windows perfectly illuminated him; he looked so dreamy even in his sleep. It should be forbidden for someone not to have a bad angle. She leaned over and planted a delicate kiss on his cheek, which stirred him awake, wrong move. His eyes sprang open and met her gaze—perhaps it wasn’t such a wrong move after all.

"Wanda?" he murmured, gently touching her forehead. "Your fever didn't return, which is good. Why are you up? Do you need something? Are you hungry?"

"Yeah."

"I'll get you something." 

Before he could get up, Wanda barricaded both sides of his hips with her legs, perching herself on his crotch that immediately stood to attention. His gasps filled the cold air, gradually giving way to warmth. She leaned her hands on his toned chest.

"You wanna play a game, Steve?" she whispered, her hips slowly rocking on him. 

"What game?" he groaned.

"How long can you last inside me?"

"I get the feeling you'll win that game."

"Let's have a bet on it."

"I think regardless of the outcome, I'll feel like a winner."

Before she could respond, Steve had flipped her onto her back, positioning himself on top of her. He relied on his elbows as he gazed down at her.

"You're so beautiful, Wanda. You frustrate me sometimes."

"Why is that?" She was genuinely curious why he still stuck around. She was not unaware of her own antics; even she had grown to dislike herself.

"Because you make me go against everything I never did before I met you."

"I didn't ask you to," she objected.

"That's why it's frustrating, it's like an out-of-body experience with you. But I can't stop thinking of you."

She slid her hand inside his boxers and gripped his length, making him collapse on top of her. Her hand remained steady under the weight of his body, yet she continued to stroke him gently. When he emerged from his stupor, he resumed his position to accommodate her movements. With his eyes closed, he bellowed in response to the sensations she was sending him.

"Why won't you kiss me?" she rasped, feeling her skin tingle as she watched him lose himself to her.

"Because I chafed your lip," he whispered. 

His thumb gently skimmed against the dried-up wound. She licked his thumb before finally closing her mouth around it. His entire body shuddered, which compelled her to giggle. She removed her hand from his rod despite the silent protests on his face. Pushing him aside, she sat up, kneeling on the couch.

"I've been too mean to you," she spoke softly.

"No, you were not."

"You're a good man, Steve. You're too nice for your own good. If we're doing this, I want you to know that we're not headed anywhere. We're just gonna be two strangers fucking the loneliness out of each other until we decide that we don't need each other anymore."

"It doesn’t have to be that way." His hopeful smile tugged at her heart.

"You can have my body, but never my heart. I won't be your girlfriend or your friend."

"Why not?"

Brutality was the only way to extinguish any hope he had for their affinity, and that was the choice Wanda made. "Because I will never love you. Ever. You can be the nicest man in the world, showering me with all the attention you can give. You can wait until I change my mind, but I will never, ever love you."

The look of despair in his eyes pierced through the darkness that surrounded them both, as if the outside world had merged with his sorrow; the light coursing through his window had also dimmed. Steve sat there, searching her eyes for even a glimmer of hope that she might take back her words. But she never did.

"You won't even give me a chance? Not in the slightest?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I already said why."

"But there's another reason behind everything that you said," he insisted.

Rather than the usual nuisance Wanda felt when he got too close, she found herself reaching out to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. She had done the tango and had no desire to entangle with a new one, worse, a great man like him.

"There's always a reason for everything, Steve. But I'm not telling you, because you're just a stranger to me. You're always gonna be that guy in the club for me."

"That's not fair," he murmured as he hugged her tightly.

"I know. And I will never be fair to you. Remember when you asked me if I'll only be nice to you if I needed something? The answer to that is yes."

***

Wanda saw Steve's reflection through the window; he was sweating and panting from his run. He had been gone for an hour, reasoning he needed to clear his head. Although her body encouraged her to turn around and face him, she stood still by the window, peeking at him instead. She watched as he slowly closed the distance between them. When he reached her, his hands circled her waist, and his chin rested on the top of her head. She leaned against his warmth, her hands clasping his locked arms around her. Yet, she still did not dare to turn around to face him.

"Daylight is coming soon. I should probably get home."

Instead of responding to her, Steve grabbed her hair and set it aside, pulling the sleeve of her shirt to expose her shoulder. His lips made their way to her neck, nibbling on her skin. She tilted her neck and rested her head against him.

"Steve," she muttered, gasping for air. The way he was searing her skin was different from everything he had ever made her feel. There was anger and pining in it.

Her legs weakened to the sensation he was bringing her; she would probably collapse if he were not holding her. His hands snaked their way inside his shirt, roughly massaging her breasts. She reached up and clutched the back of his neck, her back arching to his palms, hanging on to his mercy.

"Steve, I wanna see you," she implored.

His refusal came from his hand making its way inside her borrowed boxers, large fingers gently rubbing on her slick heat, a growl escaping his throat upon feeling the sheen in her folds.

"This is for me, Wanda? Hmm?" he asked, his voice strangled. His fingers glided on her sheath ferociously, almost making her scream in ecstasy. It was all too much. His mouth, his palm squeezing on her breasts, and his fingers tormenting her, it was tipping her sanity.

"Yes, yes, baby."

"What do you want from me?" his thumb began fidgeting on her clit, trifling with her. Her toes curled from the shivers all over her body, her mouth agape. "What do you want from me, Wanda?"

"You, I want you. Oh..." His finger slid inside her, snaring the spot that made her mad and yearning. 

"I'm not as nice as you think. I want you all to myself," he said in that threatening tone again that made her submit. 

Words failed Wanda when he slid another finger in, making her fold as he relentlessly shoved them back and forth, his thumb blazing on her nub. Her hips began rolling to his charge, chasing the high that he was giving her.

"Be a good girl for me, baby, come for me," he commanded, strumming faster as if he could sense the buildup gathering inside her, begging to burst. 

Their eyes met through the reflection of the window, and the look he was giving her was her undoing. She shrieked as she finally reached her release. She caroused in the shockwaves erupting between her thighs. Steve remained a formidable wall as she tumbled to her knees, not letting her fall.

Wanda was a wanton vessel as she felt him carrying her away from the windowpane. He sat her on the couch and hunkered in front of her. She dared to meet his eyes as he haughtily sucked on his fingers that were glistening with her lust for him.

"Are you tired, Wanda?" he asked, lacking any ounce of concern. She nodded her head. Hoping he would give her a moment to reel from the ardor he caused her. "We're not done yet, babe." 

She chuckled at him. "Have you been lying about just doing it once?" She grabbed his hand and put the fingers he's been taunting her with inside her mouth. Her tongue was roving his fingers like it was a popsicle. A smirk curled up his lips.

"You really can't say something nice, could you?" She shook her head no, not allowing him to flounder in his laurels. "Take your shirt off," he ordered. She hastily complied. Her breasts bobbed in front of him, his hands quickly seizing her mounds. "They fit perfectly in my hands," he grumbled. "Look at them all perked up for me."

"Yes, for you." She reached down to kiss him, but he pulled away. She frowned at the refusal, feeling a deep sense of loss in her heart.

"Not until that lip heals."

"It's healed!" She whined. He chuckled before giving her a quick peck on the lips.

"No. You're greedy, aren't you? Hmm?" He asked, his tongue tracing her jaw.

"I am. I want all of you."

"Patience, baby," Steve pushed her to the couch and started ravaging her neck, achingly taking his time as he made his way south. Her body coiled to offer herself more to him, desperately needing him to gorge her. She tugged the hem of his shirt, urging him to raise his arms so that she could touch him all over, but he didn't pay attention.

Any complaints she was about to say fell stuck to her throat when his mouth closed on her nipple, trying to fit her breast in his mouth. His other hand was fondling her other breast. The sight of him drowning his face on her chest made her ache with delirium all over again.

"Steve, I'm gonna go crazy because of you," she bemoaned.

"Good," he murmured, ripping the shorts off her. Wanda stared in awe at his strength.

"Jesus, remind me not to piss you off," she jested.

He just smiled at her and gawked at her gleaming slit before tenderly grabbing her waist, pushing her closer to him. He locked his hands on her thighs, making the pads of her feet rest on his shoulders. "Do you know what I'm gonna do, Wanda?" He brazenly emulated the same question she asked him in his car, and her breath hitched with anticipation.

"I'm praying I do," she mumbled. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed when Steve dipped his head between her thighs, inhaling her essence, his mouth exploring her core.

"You're so sweet, Wanda. Why not match what's on my tongue with how you treat me?"

How could she possibly answer him when all she could do was gasp for air and hang on to his arm for dear life? He was not just blowing her, he was worshiping her with no attempt at tenderness, if that even made sense. 

"Sweet Jesus!" She screamed when he started nibbling on her knob, slobbering her walls. He was moaning like it was him being satisfied, and she felt so beautiful. Her whole body started convulsing again when his sweet, sweet finger slid inside her again, pumping in and out of her.

Wanda felt like she wanted to cry when that addicting tightening between her hips began to wring her again. She did not dare move, afraid that the friction between them would push her further into an abyss she could not recover from. Without realizing it, she had already scratched Steve's neck with how deeply her nails had sunk into his skin. A final pounce of his tongue on her clit sent her to the crackles of yet another climax.

She felt like her soul had left her body as she watched Steve drink her in, downing every bit of her sap, licking the sides of her thighs like she was as sweet as nectar. She raised her arms and rested them on the top of her head, meeting Steve's gaze as he softly massaged her thighs that had gone numb, all her senses gathering on her womanhood. He trailed sweet kisses on her legs, savoring her fragrance.

She reached out and touched his neck, feeling sorry for hurting him, but her eyes widened when he stood up and removed his shirt and sweatpants, yanking his boxers along. His throbbing manhood dangled on her face, making her mouth water. She wanted to take him to her mouth, but he bent over and pressed a lingering kiss on her lips, lightly palming her snatch.

"My sweet Wanda, you look so beautiful with your cheeks flushed from the heat. I won't ever grow tired of taking you in my mouth."

"Let me get a taste of you at least," she beseeched, trying to reach for his length, but he clasped his fingers with hers instead.

"I'm sure you will have me undone in seconds, but it's starting to hurt, baby," he kissed her on the cheek. "I need to be inside you now, hmm?"

Wanda quickly nodded. Her breaths became ragged as she watched him guide his girth inside her; just the feel of his tip touching her walls left her desperate. Steve leaned his forehead on hers, their eyes locked on one another as he buried himself in her hilt. 

They both howled when they finally became one, her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, sinking him further into her core, and she felt like she could combust anytime with how sated she felt. A twinge of pain reared its head on her sensitive, dripping entrance as her muscles contracted to adjust to his size.

"Did I hurt you?"

"You feel so good and you're mine, Steve," she mumbled through her labored breaths. She cupped his face and pulled him down for a kiss. As their lips brushed against each other, Steve began colliding with her. 

He did his best to go slow, but his greed took hold of him, thrusting frantically. "You're so tight, and hot, and perfect. If I knew it would feel this good, uh--" he bit on her lip roughly, she tasted blood again, but Steve lapped it all up. "I'm getting close so soon, baby, I can't hold it," his teeth nipped her jaw.

Wanda didn't care; her nails sank into his back, surely scraping him again. Her hips rolled to meet his tempo, her folds clenching on his shaft, and he grunted on her dance. It was euphoric to watch him go ballistic and lose all his inhibitions because of her. His movements were too rough, yet she melted with every second of his thumping. He looked too titillating in her eyes as his hips bounced between her thighs.

She felt Steve's thick length spasm inside her; his body trembled as she felt a hot gush of liquid spurt inside her.

Steve crumpled on top of her when he had his fill, kissing every inch of her face. Her hands were tracing circles on his arms as they stayed there, lolling in their flame.

Wanda realized that she was in trouble. The fire she thought she would never feel again seemed to be reignited by the man who clearly wanted more than she could offer.

Chapter Text

When Wanda turned around, she found herself back in the Sanctum Sanctorum. She was astonished, not because she had been located, but because it had taken Stephen days to figure it out. The truth was that even she had doubts about whether her spell would work. Each day she spent outside the Sanctum, she prepared for the likelihood that he would break her veil. Unfortunately, that day had finally come.

"Welcome home, Wanda," Stephen greeted her, his face stern as he waved the pebble she had hidden under his bed to conceal her presence from him. "I hope you had fun causing a ruckus and wasting our precious time just to find you."

"I see you've uncovered my little spell. I'm quite sad I didn't get to witness the stupefication on your face," she remarked dryly.

"I didn't know you could still do something like this even without your magic. I must admit, I am impressed."

"Rituals don't require magic. Just a dash of passion and belief. And a lot of hate helped too."

"Agatha taught you well," he said, smirking.

"Yes, she did. It took you three days to find me. Honestly, I thought the Sorcerer Supreme was more skilled than this," she retorted, turning her back to him to hide her discomfort at being taken back in a state of near undress. She was wearing nothing but Steve's shirt and her underwear, comfortably roosting on his couch, waiting for him to return with breakfast. Sadly, their little bubble had finally burst.

"Well played," Stephen expressed sarcastically as he clapped his hands. "I wonder how Agatha had managed to raise you amidst your rebellious nature."

He was mistaken. She was a well-behaved child, simply grateful that a distant relative like Agatha had taken pity on her and her brother, Pietro, rescuing them from their parents. Their parents had been lured into a cult that worshipped a God requiring virgin sacrifices every year. No matter how hard she and her brother tried to accept their circumstances, a persistent yearning remained for their parents to one day open their eyes and recognize the mistakes they had made.

Agatha never allowed Pietro and her to unleash their resentment toward their parents openly. She did her best to elucidate that their parents were also prey, seduced by the promise of deceitful theologies. However, Wanda couldn't understand how her parents could one day voluntarily deliver her to a false god. No one had ever returned after being offered as a tribute; they were all presumed dead. The fellows referred to the sacrifices as the girls ascending to the promised land—a convoluted belief.

"So, what now? How many attics do I clean?" she asked.

"Actually. I have something better."

"Oh, pray tell my lord," she replied, turning to face him again.

"Dobby, you have been too stubborn as a house elf. Therefore, I am grounding you."

Wanda froze in place at his words. For witches and sorcerers, grounding meant something else. It was prison. "You can't ground me!" she protested. "Who do you think you are?"

"I am your protector until such time that Agatha chooses to free me from this nightmare you're foisting on all of us."

"No!"

"Try it."

Heeding his challenge, she sprinted toward the door that had jeeringly opened on its own, revealing the street outdoors. Yet, as soon as she stepped through the doorway, she was abruptly hurled back to the spot where she had been standing just moments before. To make matters worse, Stephen had changed her garments back into the peasant's gown they had made her wear as a lark.

"I hate you!" she clamored, sitting up.

"Agatha didn't ask me to make you like me. Suit yourself," he shrugged, looking away.

Wong approached her and fanned his hand to help her up, but she slapped it away and stood on her own. "Are we really not going to talk about all these bruises on your body?" he asked. "Who hurt you, Wanda?"

Steve Rogers, she thought to herself. During the three days she spent with him, most of their time was spent on fucking. It was great for her, but the soreness between her thighs made her realize that she had awoken a sleeping beast, a delectable beast. If they had opened that box of condoms, out of the pack of 50, only five would have remained. Yes, she counted them because she was astounded by his dash; she wondered if he was even human. The more passionately he desired her, the wilder he became. Just thinking about it made her throat feel dry.

"No. Nobody tortured her. She's seeping with the scent of promiscuity. You just really had to make things worse, did you?" Stephen tolled angrier than she predicted.

"Wanda? Did you really break the inviolable oath of betrothal?" Wong asked, a hint of fear in his tone.

"Why are you asking? You know everything I wanted to do." She crossed her arms in defiance.

"But I didn't think you would actually do it. I thought you were just being a foolish kid."

"So you were playing the good cop, then? I can't believe I fell for that." She felt crossed; she sincerely thought he was her friend.

Stephen marched towards her and halted just hairsbreadths away. "Agatha poured all her efforts into concealing your presence, and you just undid everything she worked so hard for."

Loki claimed Wanda as his bride, which bound them together for life. Unlike ordinary humans, the promise of marriage in their world was a sacred vow that should never be forsaken. If one half broke the vow by straying or giving their heart to another, the wronged half had the right to slay them. The unfaithful half would be marked for retrieval by the wronged one. Now, the mark of the dove was etched on Wanda's wrist, signifying her connection and the stakes of their union, overturning Agatha's protection.

"Why are you worried? Didn't you tell me that Loki is dead?" she mumbled. Even though it was her plan all along, dread still crept inside her.

"Even if the spell is broken now, will he truly come for her?" Wong asked.

"He probably will," Stephen responded, his eyes blazing with intensity as he spoke to her. "She's the only one who can wield Chaos Magic. I'm quite sure the God of Mischief has realized that by now. And now, our sweet little witch has just revealed herself to him."

"You should have taken me to Thor, just as I requested." She was on the verge of giving up on her pursuit after continually failing with Steve, but Stephen was too stubborn to let her go. She felt hopeless and, honestly, she truly just wanted Steve.

"And you should have listened and done what you were told!" Stephen yelled, his voice piercing her ears. "Your selfishness is going to lead to everyone's undoing. That being is going to complete the harvest, and it won’t hesitate to kill all of us. You got your heart broken? Your magic stolen? You want to go home? Then why did you expose yourself? You're a fool if you believe that you can defeat the man who is gradually wiping out your kind. Just because you were prophesied to hold the magic that he could never control doesn’t mean you can win. He knows how to use his brain; you don’t!"

Wanda fell to her knees; Stephen's fury thundered around them, its force slicing through her skin.

"That's enough, Strange! She didn't ask for any of this." Wong stepped between them. "It's time for us to talk and work together."

"I need a minute." Stephen walked away and took the stairs, still seething with anger at her.

Wanda's tears began to stream down her cheeks. Suddenly, she felt warmth sheathing her as a red fabric gently caressed her face, wiping away her tears. It felt like only the Cloak of Levitation was there for her in that moment. She swathed the sentient shroud around her and sobbed into it.

***

"It's no wonder you keep visiting those places. I felt like I was in paradise!" Wong chuckled before taking a big bite of his burger.

Stephen had to spend the night at the Avengers compound, and after two weeks, Wanda's punishment had been lifted, not because Stephen wanted to but because of Wong's persuasion. With no villains in sight, she determined it was time to release herself from Steve Rogers, who had been haunting her dreams. She was tired of waking up feeling heated and aching, and she believed that the only way to cleanse herself was to find a new playmate. Unfortunately, Wong had decided to shadow her and wouldn’t let her leave unless she brought him along. They ended up at McDonald's after a delightful night of dancing and drinking.

"You've never been to a club before?" she asked, slurping her milkshake.

"I tried, but the lines are always long. When I reached the bouncer, they just told me that the place is packed, so they could no longer accommodate me."

"Don't believe them next time."

Wong gibed and returned to his usual acquiescent expression. "It's easy for you to say; you're treated like a queen there."

"As I mentioned, my face is my currency." She fluttered her lashes at him and grinned.

"We should have brought Stephen with us. He's already lamenting joining the Avengers, and they’re sending him on a mission right away. His estimated return is unknown." Although his words were filled with concern, his tone was carefree. Wanda stared at him in incredulity.

"Good! He deserves to be punished."

"Hey, don’t be too hard on him. It’s not easy to be in his position," Wong upheld.

"I know that. But you have to admit, he is such a dick."

"Mandy? Long time no see!"

Wanda and Wong both looked up at the man who hovered over their table. Wanda's eyes flitted around him, hoping he was alone. She had no intention of seeing Steve ever again, especially not while her murderous betrothed was still a facet of her life.

"Uh, hi! Yeah, long time no see," she clumsily hailed.

"You don't remember me again? You know, you're really bruising my ego."

"Of course, I remember you, just can't remember your name," she recognized him, of course. During the rare moments when Steve left her alone, she took the opportunity to rummage through his apartment and catch a glimpse of his life; she learned almost nothing, though.

"Bucky!" he exclaimed, delivering a light pat to his chest.

"Yes! Bucky!" She reached out and clutched his arm, silently amazed by his rigid muscles. "This is my pimp, his name is Wong."

"Pimp?" Bucky asked, looking confused.

Wong had taken on the role of her pimp, but mostly just for fun. She gave him this title after he cleverly scammed the men in the club who were interested in her, all to score some free drinks. It was the most absurd situation she had ever encountered, but she had to admit that she genuinely enjoyed it.

"That's me, Wong the pimp." Wong's boisterous laughter echoed in the barren McDonald's; he was incredibly inebriated.

"Oh, uh, this is a joke, right?" Bucky asked, still failing to grasp what's going on.

"No. It's not a joke. Do we look like jokers to you?" Her expression went blank, and Wong followed suit.

"No, I don’t judge. We all do what we can," Bucky said, scratching the back of his neck, causing his muscles to flex involuntarily.

"You wanna join us?" Wanda offered.

Bucky was also quite stunning, she realized. He had a manly, rugged face that was a charm in itself. If Steve had not intervened before, she wondered if it would have been Bucky with whom she ultimately broke her vow.

"Yeah! I was just taking a walk, then I got hungry."

"We just came from a night of fever." Wong whizzed.

"Yes, we did. Now get more fries; we need to wash the alcohol off before we get home. Stephen would end our joy if he found out."

"How's it going between you and Steve?" Bucky asked as he sat beside her the moment Wong left. "He's too evasive; he doesn't share any details. I can't believe I'm his best friend sometimes."

Of course, he would ask. "Who?" she pretended to question.

"Are you serious?"

Wanda shrugged, feigning oblivion. Who could forget Steve Rogers? Even without the heat, that man was bound to make an impression on any woman; all he needed to do was dip his toe in the water.

"I thought you two were a thing."

"No," she replied, trying her hardest to hide any speck of longing.

"What are you then?"

For a moment, she entertained making up a story, but her pounding heart shrieked at her to stop saying anything foolish. "I don’t even remember who that is."

"You were at his apartment. He took a week off from work. I assume that he was with you the whole time."

"Nope." A week? What had he done during those days when she wasn't around? Wanda jostled her head; she realized she shouldn't waste her time mulling over it. But what if he had met someone else? Or worse, what if that pesky Sharon had wormed her way in again?

"You're lying."

"Why would I lie? Why are you prying? Are you that invested in your best friend's private affairs? Friends or not, everyone should know when not to cross the line."

"Of course I am. We've been buddies since childhood. I'm always concerned about him and rooting for his happiness."

"I see." Wanda's tongue itched to ask about Steve, so she bit the inside of her cheek.

"If nothing is going on between the two of you, can I swoop in?"

Wanda chuckled. "I guess."

"Can I get your number then?"

"I don't have a cell, I lost it." She left her cellphone at Steve's apartment, and Stephen had no plans of buying her a new one. She was miserably bored out of her mind. Wong gave her some books, which she accepted and used as a pillow whenever she missed sleeping on the hard floors that reminded her of her life when she was still with her brother and Agatha.

"How can I reach you then? I was hoping maybe we could grab coffee."

She looked at him thoughtfully, debating whether it was wise to continue spending time with him. However, since she needed to forget about Steve, why not preoccupy herself with the runner-up? She grabbed a napkin, took a pen from her purse, and wrote down Wong's number.

"Here," she handed the napkin to Bucky, his magnetic grin making her smile. He had a dimple on his chin. How cute.

Now that her mind was no longer clouded by the ludicrous pursuit to break her vow, which she masked by aiming to be a slut, she suddenly saw Bucky in a different light.

"I just wanna keep living my life without losing my head. There's really nothing between you and him?"

"Not a thing."

***

"Can I be honest? When you asked me to go somewhere else after our coffee, I didn't expect you would bring me here." Wanda said to Bucky as they gazed out at the lake from their park bench, where they could watch the ducks gathered together harmoniously.

Bucky was a whole surprise to her. He was mild-mannered and timid, a departure from his typically confident demeanor. Throughout their time together, she felt a sense of levity. Allowing herself to listen to the information he shared with her. She even learned that he had a passion for reading, particularly in the romance genre—a huge shocker for Wanda.

"Really? Where did you think I would take you?" he asked, grinning at her.

"Somewhere dark, where only you and I exist?" Bucky tittered at her assumption. She nestled into his jacket, which he had given her as soon as he saw the temperature on his phone while they were still at the café. "I thought you’d take me back to your place. When you said to continue where we left off, I was thinking about a hookup."

"I can't blame you. Given how our first conversation went, I would assume the same."

"Why the sudden change? I thought you were just some kind of player who would hook up with me and then leave me hanging." He looked away, showing the bashful smile she found endearing. When he peeked at her again, she couldn't help but stare into his eyes.

He chuckled again before speaking. "I'm not very good with girls. I'm all talk and no game."

Wanda's eyes dilated in surprise. "I didn't expect that at all." He sighed and looked away, a faint rosiness creeping onto his cheeks. "I like your new haircut. The long hair suited you, but it's nice to see your face distinctly now."

"Thanks. I also love your hair."

"This isn't my natural color," she said, lifting some of her hair. "I dyed it. I'm a brunette."

"Oh? I can envision it now; you look so lovely," he muttered, gently grazing the tips of her hair.

She loved her brunette hair too, but her hair was one of the many things that Loki decided for her. And she was on the path to change everything he had adulated.

She scoffed at him. "Oh, a smooth talker. Is that your pick-up line for all the ladies at the bar aside from careening your hips as you approach them?"

He shook his head heartily. "No, I'm serious."

She bobbed her head in response, her eyes flicking to his gloved hand. Even while they were still at the café, her eyes couldn't stop glancing at it. Of course, she would notice; he was only wearing the glove on one hand.

"Why the leather gloves?"

He fell mute, staring at his hand. Wanda felt a pang of guilt for possibly bringing up a sore memory for him. She took his exposed hand in hers and softly circled his palm with her thumb. In response, he entwined their fingers. The wind blew her hair across her face, and he tenderly tucked it behind her ear—a look of fondness all over his face.

"I’m an amputee. I lost my arm when I fell from a train," he said after a moment.

Her heart ached for him. The look in his eyes revealed that he was lost in a heartbreaking memory. "I didn't mean to bring it up. I'm too tactless, most of the time. And I’m sorry; that must have been hard."

"It was," he murmured. "I hope it doesn't deter you from me." His smile failed to reach his eyes. She found herself moving closer to him and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Why would it?" she wondered. Why would it indeed? If her instincts about him were right, he seemed to be a genuinely good man. Any woman would be lucky to meet him, and she viewed herself as fortunate. "So, what kind of arm is this?" she asked, endeavoring to lighten the somber atmosphere.

"It's metal."

"That is so cool! Can you show me?" Bucky took off his glove and raised the hem of his pullover, revealing his replacement arm. "Wow, you're probably the coolest person I've ever seen!" She banged on his forearm and giggled at the clanging sound it made. "If I had a metal arm, I would never be scared of anyone again. I could just trample everyone with my punch! I bet no one would screw with me from then on."

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, your smile makes everything bright," he mumbled softly. It seemed like he hadn't meant to say it out loud. She couldn't resist lightly pinching his cheek, gently rubbing the redness on his skin.

"Oh dear, you'll need to meet more people if I'm at the top of your list."

"But you truly are beautiful," he insisted, laughing sheepishly.

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "I know I am. I'm just saying, you need to meet more people. There's always someone else who's more alluring."

If anyone else heard Wanda speak, they would likely scoff at her overconfidence. Well, to hell with them all. Believing her own beauty was one of the few helpful lessons that Loki had taught her.

"You are a sight to behold, my love," Loki always murmured in her ear before he would bend her over and fuck her from behind. She used to cry a lot whenever he took her; he was too gruff and uncaring. But when she fell in love with him, she eventually felt the exhilarating sensation she had read about in those novels she had stolen whenever Agatha allowed her to visit the town where normal humans lived, unaware of their existence.

"How long do you plan to stay in New York?" Bucky asked, towing her out of her trance.

How could she explain her illegal status in the veteran soldier's country? "Until my visa expires," she chose to say.

"My job requires me to travel all over the world. I hope that when you're back in Sokovia, we can meet up."

Bucky was someone who made her forget the secrets she usually stowed about her life. He didn’t ask too many questions, but the few he did ask, she found herself sharing without hesitation. She even let him pick her up from the Sanctum. Now that she had gathered her thoughts, she conceded that if he regarded their outing as a date, then Bucky was her first date ever.

"Sure!" she exclaimed.

"Would you like to keep meeting up while you're still in New York? There are many places we can explore together, such as expos, museums, carnivals, and more. I know the city like the back of my hand," he said, his eyes glimmering with hope.

"I'd like that." She truly would. She was completely taken aback by the solace she felt with him. Perhaps it was why he had caught her eye the first time, too.

"You would?"

"Yeah, you're fun to be around with. There will be times when I may take Wong with us, though. One taste of how the youth have fun had piqued his intrigue. He talks like an old man sometimes."

"You can bring anyone you like, as long as you're there," he professed. His boyish grin made him glow in her eyes.

"Yes, I will be there."

"Will he be the one to pick up when I call you again later?"

She giggled at the memory of Wong, looking dazed and confused when Bucky called him. Since Wong seldom used his phone, she decided to take advantage of it. She ended up talking with Bucky over the phone all night, about random stuff.

"No, I am now the owner of his phone. I'll wait for your call."

Chapter Text

"You quit the Avengers?" Wanda asked, clapping Wong's back as he struggled to breathe from choking after hearing Stephen's news. "You didn't even last four months."

She knew that Stephen was having difficulty acclimating to his new role, especially after his first mission, which had gone horribly wrong for him. However, she didn’t expect that he would quit less than three months after taking office.

"Yes," Stephen replied. "And I am firm with my decision."

"Why?" Wanda asked, returning to her dinner. None of them spoke about their dynamic, but a silent truce had been agreed upon between her and Stephen. They rarely bickered anymore. "Did you not find someone to sit with you during lunch time?" She laughed at her own joke.

Wanda had been in a better mood since she started spending time with Bucky. Wong had also been more festive, as he tagged along wherever she and Bucky went. Their excursions were always unusual due to Wong's unsought chaperoning, but they were still delightful. Who knew that the guy she initially wanted to bed would turn out to be such a wholesome companion?

"I just did," Stephen shrugged, disregarding her taunting. 

"You're just a quitter, that's why," Wanda knocked, beaming at the clear offense on his face.

"Your words mean nothing to me; you have no power over me. I am my own boss," he retorted, obviously echoing the inspirational quotes he read somewhere.

"But being in the Avengers is the coolest job out there. Wanda and I haven't even got the chance to visit the Avengers compound." Wong whined.

"Better than being the Sorcerer Supreme?" Stephen asked.

"There's nothing better than the mystic arts," Wanda remarked.

"Did I hear you agree with me?" Stephen's brows furrowed at her, astonished by her reaction.

"I didn't agree with you. I just said that we are better than them," she clarified. 

For Wanda, having the ability to wield magic was the greatest gift of all. Why else would ordinary humans detest her kind if not out of envy for their abilities? Agatha always taught her that people fear what they don’t understand. However, Wanda believed that instead of presuming the worst about witches, humankind should have allowed them to demonstrate their genuine nature, rather than hunting them toward extinction. For centuries, witches have faced persecution, whether through literal stakes and fire or metaphorical condemnation. They were treated as if they had a choice in how they were born.

"Why do you think we are better than they are? Don’t you realize they have the Hulk, Super Soldiers, a former spy, a god, and one of the richest men in the world?" Wong opposed.

"None of them has magic? Aside from Thor?" Wanda questioned.

"I don't think so," Stephen responded.

Wanda smirked at her finding. "So they basically needed Stephen because the mage position was open? I can be an Avenger, then."

Stephen cleared his throat and eyed her knowingly. "You're trying to get close to Thor again. We have talked about this."

To keep the peace, she swore to Stephen that she would no longer pursue Thor and Loki, allowing the situation to unfold naturally as they braced for the worst. Nonetheless, when Wanda made her promises, her fingers were crossed, so that meant that she didn't have to oblige.

"We're family," she expressed dismissively.

"You're engaged, not married," Stephen reminded her, and Wanda couldn't be any more grateful that they didn't reach that far.

"It's been weeks since Wanda acquired the mark, but there are still no signs of Loki. Maybe he won't search for her after all," Wong presented, hoping to change the subject.

She didn't mention it to anyone, but sometimes she felt a scalding sensation on her skin from the mark. That only meant that her other half was nearby. She had lost track of how many times she had cowered in fear at the thought of Loki creeping up behind her and seizing her away, or worse, the good old breaking of her neck.

"Will that break your heart, Wanda?" Stephen razzed, pulling her back into their exchange.

"At least our relationship was not one-sided," she shot back.

"Yes, abusive is the right description for your relationship. Agatha and I have a good balance," Stephen professed pompously.

Wanda wheezed and stood up to clear the plates. "How is this balanced when the last time you heard from her was when we met at the forbidden lake to haul me to New York?" Although she hadn't heard from Agatha since then either, her mentor and Pietro had told her that no news was good news.

"You don't know our relationship."

A thought struck Wanda's mind. "Let me smell you," she spoke as she strode towards Stephen, but he stood up right away, withdrawing himself from her. Perhaps he already had an idea of what her intentions were.

"What? Get away from me!"

"Let me smell you! I need to know if you have a love potion coursing through your veins." She didn’t think Agatha would stoop that low, but who knows? Wanda had made thoughtless choices out of desperation. Agatha was an old witch, but that didn’t mean she was benevolent; she still broke rules for what she deemed the greater good.

She persisted in chasing Stephen around until she caught up with him. When she reached him, she tripped him, causing him to plunge to the floor. She made a mental note to thank Bucky for the lessons when he called her later. Mounting on Stephen's abdomen, she held his wrists as he struggled against her. Despite her efforts, he was still stronger than she was, making the task of sniffing his neck fairly tricky.

"Ouch! Stop it! Leave me alone!" Stephen shrieked, trying to wriggle his way away from her.

"Stop resisting me. I need to know if you're under a spell so that I can help you break free from it. I want you to stop behaving so pitifully. Love spells are frowned upon because they obscure the sanctity of a person's free will. If Agatha is found culpable, she will be condemned by our circle." Wanda has already faced renunciation, and she was determined to ensure that Agatha does not suffer the same fate.

"Wong, help me out!" 

"I'm curious too. Just let her smell you," Wong said, standing beside them and making no attempts to help either of them.

"Cloak! This is ridiculous. Get off me this instant, or I'll make you wear a straitjacket. Good luck in the bathroom."

Wanda simply laughed at his threat. Her peasant's attire was already making everything difficult for her, so he should be grateful that she had ceased pestering him about lifting the curse associated with her garments, which activated as soon as she entered the sanctum. At the corner of her eye, she saw Wong walking away from them.

"We have a guest!"

Wanda and Stephen both looked up when they heard Wong's announcement. Wanda stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing who stood strikingly next to the grinning Wong. Her heart jumped, pulsing like a drum, as she met the unbelieving gaze of Steve Rogers.

***

Steve Rogers was Captain America. The man she had met from the club and used to violate her vow was the leader of the Avengers. The fire she had been trying to vanquish to guard her heart was the leader of the group who defeated her betrothed when he endeavored to subjugate the world. The man she had been seducing and bending to her will was Captain America.

"What the fuck," she whispered to herself as she stood behind Steve, who was seated on the sofa, attempting to persuade Stephen to abandon his goals of resigning from the Avengers.

She chose to step outside, unable to endure the unspoken strain between them any longer. Taking a walk seemed like the only alternative. Though she felt she had no right to feel the way she did, dismay punctured her heart when Steve didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

It was no surprise that he had been so closemouthed about his work; he probably seldom met anyone who didn’t know who he was. Thinking back on everything she had done to him made her wince at her own actions. Just her luck—she had been courting one of the most influential people on the planet.

If Steve were an Avenger, what about Bucky? And what about that Sam guy? It seemed she had been surrounded by the Avengers all along. 

After a while, she decided it was best to return. She resolved to wait for him, as she needed to eat humble pie for everything she had said and done.

Wait, why should she apologize? She didn’t do anything wrong. He chose not to disclose his identity. It’s not like he was a vulnerable victim at her mercy; he willingly engaged with her, and as a grown man, he was capable of making his own judgments.

"Steve!" she called to him as she located him about to open his car door. He only glanced at her before looking back at the sanctum. "Hey," she greeted, huffing for breath after sprinting.

"Yes?" His tone was stony. If he was going to pretend not to know her, then he was playing with the wrong person; she excelled at feigning oblivion.

"Did it work? Did you get him to stay?"

"Stephen? Yes. Anything else?"

She sniggered and crossed her arms. "It's an honor to meet Captain America finally. I've heard great things about you, Sir. Thank you for serving the good citizens of the world." No, she had not, but she knew praises usually worked. Yet, the look on Steve's face indicated otherwise.

"Here," he voiced, pulling an item from his pocket and handing it to her. When she took it, she realized it was her phone. Had he been carrying it with him all the time?

"Thanks. So, you remember me? Why didn’t you tell Stephen? Or have you already informed him about everything?" She suddenly dreaded returning inside; Stephen would surely yell at her again.

"No, I didn't say anything. Anything else?"

"Are you upset with me?" It was a foolish question, but she intended to offer him her doe eyes; however, he still refused to look at her.

"No."

"Then why won't you look at me?" 

He sighed and looked into her eyes. "Are you happy?"

Sarcasm was apparent on his face, but she shunned it. "Yes, I'm glad to see you again."

"I see," he sneered. She smiled, pleased to see some emotion on his face at last.

"You must be a smooth talker if you managed to convince Doctor Rock to stay."

"I'd like to stay and chat, but I have somewhere else to be. If you don't have any other questions, I'll go now. Have a good evening."

Wanda positioned herself between him and the door as he tried to enter, pushing it closed while smiling at him. The idea of his being incensed at her filled her with enthusiasm. She was curious to see how far she could stretch his cracks at being courteous.

"Why are you in a hurry? It's late, I'm sure that you're off the clock now."

"We're never off the clock. The job doesn't end just because it's after five. We are at the beck and call of anyone who needs our help."

She snaked her arms around his waist and pulled him close, admitting how much she had missed being underneath him, on top of him, beside him, basically every position she could think of. "I missed you, Steve."

"I highly doubt that."

"I did. Why are you being so mean to me? You said you're not angry."

"Is this how you usually behave around strangers?"

"No, just you." It was another lie, but she had quit being flirtatious weeks ago.

"What do you want? Another dress?"

"If I hadn't gotten sick that night, you and I would have met at the party, right?" She bit her lip at the sudden rush of heat that cocooned her from his closeness.

"I guess so."

"Aren't you even curious about my existence at Strange's house?"

"You're not going to answer me anyway; you never tell me anything," he said with a hint of grumpiness in his tone.

"I've turned over a new leaf. You can ask questions now, and I'll answer you properly. Go on, try it."

"I'm not interested."

"Ouch, that hurt my feelings, Steve," she groused. A winsome smile curved up her lips when she saw how he was controlling himself from beaming back at her.

Her smile wilted as soon as he unclasped her hands and gently moved her aside. Not ready to let him go just yet, she hurriedly ran to the passenger seat and sat down. He glowered at her when he got into the car.

"What are you doing?" He begrudingly asked.

"Pestering you? I'm quite good at that, you know."

"Just get off, Wanda."

"My name sounds so sexy when you say it."

"I'm not in the mood to be your toy anymore. There are important things I should spend my time on instead of whatever this is that you're doing. Please leave me alone."

"No. I don't wanna. Drive off, let's reconnect."

***

"Are you really not going to ask me any questions?" Wanda asked as she sat beside Steve on his couch, resting her cheek on his arm. He hadn't said a word since she got into his car.

She knew that he was upset with her, and she often felt the same way about herself. Regardless, her eagerness to regain his affection precluded her from letting him go. Although she recognized that her behavior was selfish, she genuinely longed for him, and his apathy only intensified her desire to pursue him.

"No."

"You're not interested in me anymore?"

"No." 

She grimaced at the thought. He can't just stop being interested, can he? Those three days they spent together were one of the best moments of her life. She sensed that he also felt the same way. "Gonna say anything other than no?"

"No."

"Should I not stay here anymore and leave?"

"No."

"Gotcha!" she laughed, lying down and using his thigh as a pillow while peeking up at him. She clasped his hand with hers and kissed his knuckle.

Steve was stubbornly refusing to look at her, his gaze fixed on the powered-off television. He didn’t untangle their intertwined fingers, so she still held onto the hope that she could turn the night around. Now that she had the chance to win back his fondness, she realized it was going to be a daunting undertaking. She wasn’t used to being on the opposite side. Whenever she and Loki fought, it was always her that he had to woo, and it was never challenging for him, as his charms effortlessly wavered her.

"Since you don’t want me to leave, I’ll stay here. What do you want to do? Do you want to make out?" she asked, grazing her thumb over the stubble on his cheek.

"You're so childish," he criticized, his forehead creasing as he still dodged meeting her gaze.

"Aw, you believe I have an innocent aura? You think too highly of me, Captain Rogers," she quipped.

"You just do whatever you want, and you expect me just to greet you with my arms wide open for you. Aren't you the same person who told me that I'm dumb for being nice to you?" he sneered.

"That was before you fucked me so good that I felt like my insides had emigrated. No wonder you were so strong and a quick reloader; being a super soldier really does wonders, doesn’t it?" She spent the rest of the drive reading everything she could about Captain America. She was in awe of his story. He had been frozen for 70 years! No wonder he hadn't had time to meet women. As soon as he woke up, he was immediately faced with the task of leading a group of individuals to overpower Loki.

"I thought I told you to stop talking to me like that?"

"You're so sexy when you're mad at me. I feel tingly all over." That finally made him turn to her. However, his frown was not what she had expected to see.

"Stop."

She rolled her eyes and decided to change the subject. "What have you been doing while I was away? You didn't fuck anyone, did you?" The idea of him canoodling with other women unsettled her. She wasn't jealous; she just felt territorial. Yes, that's right, no jealousy involved. Yet, a part of her doubted her own sentiment, somehow.

"That's none of your business."

Whatever sassy statement she was about to make was abruptly put on the back burner when she noticed the box of condoms sitting on top of the TV. It was opened! Staggering, she ran over to it, grabbed the box, and held it up for Steve to see.

"Why is this open?" she asked snappily. Steve also stood up and tried to take the box from her, but failed. She dumped the contents on the floor and crouched over.

"What are you doing?" Steve bolted closer to her and took hold of her wrists.

"I'm counting it!" she yelled at him, her face filled with aggravation over the potential betrayal.

"Stop that!"

"Why is the box open? Who the fuck did you fuck? Sharon, that stupid girl?" she shot back, her temples pulsating with the rush of outrage surging within her. She hadn’t even met the woman, but she already regarded her as a rival.

"Don't insult her like that. You have no right to be rude to anyone, especially those who are important to me. You can't just come by and start making trouble. Who do you think you are?"

His response felt like a cold slap in the face. "Why is she important to you?"

"As I said, it's none of your business." Steve pushed her aside, gathered all the packets, and placed them back in the box. She remained still, unable to move due to her shock. "You told me that I would never be anything to you, and yet here you are, scrutinizing me about my personal life?"

"But you're mine," she murmured. She hadn't meant to say that. And Steve looked visibly offended by her words.

"I'm a person, Wanda; you don't own me." He stood up and carried the box to his room, but she followed him immediately. "I don't even know why you're following me around right now. I'm just doing what you asked."

"Did you sleep with her?" she clamored, flouting everything he said. She was too engrossed with the notion of him moving on with someone else. You're being unfair, Wanda, her conscience bellowed.

"For Pete's sake!"

"Who the hell is Pete?"

"Jesus!" he exclaimed, his hands clutching his hips, his head hung low. When he looked at her again, his face was flushed with anger.

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain like that. According to your Wikipedia page, you're a godly man," she said, trying to jest to relieve the tension. Her heart dropped when she realized that he was infuriated with her. You really messed up, Wanda.

"What do you want from me?" His eyes blasted blades, puncturing her soul. Why was he acting dense when the answer was obvious?

"You! You genius," she replied, standing her ground against him.

"Then stop disappearing on me!"

She gasped in surprise at his comeback. It was precisely what she had been wishing for. She wanted him to confront her about it. A sense of hope began to rise within her. She approached him again, wrapped her arms around his neck, and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.

"I didn't leave. Strange waved his fingers and transported me back. I was waiting for you that time. Why do you think I left my phone if I had ghosted you? I wasn’t allowed to go out for two weeks after that," she spoke softly. However, his usual tenderness from her kisses did not return.

"What happened during the weeks that followed?" he asked.

She had no intention of unveiling the truth to him. Nothing intimate had occurred between her and Bucky, but discovering that their brotherhood was more profound than she initially realized led her to keep mum. She hoped that Bucky stayed silent as well.

"I didn't know how to find you," she stammered. He looked as though he didn't believe her at all. She hated it whenever he was spot on with his assumptions.

"Sure. And you didn't know how to get here, right? You didn't think of going to the club in case you see me there, either?"

She was purposely bypassing that club, though she would never confess it. She felt that she didn't want to see Steve anymore because she knew she would end up clinging to him again, like glue. And she was absolutely right. "I wasn't paying attention to the directions, and as for the club, you mentioned that you don't go to those places anyway, so I thought it would be pointless."

"You expect me to believe all that?"

"No. I am hoping you'll believe all that."

"How could I when all you do is lie to me and insult me every chance you get? You always say things just to hurt me. You're so toxic, Wanda."

She began to panic; their time apart must have presented him with a chance to brood on who she really was as a person. "I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you," she muttered, attempting to lean in for a kiss. However, he stepped back immediately, jolting his head in disbelief. Wanda was in crisis—she had no other tricks left.

"No! You really think that little of me, don’t you?" His anger was growing more evident now.

"Of course not, I just really want to have sex with you. It's been a while, and we were great together." Every time Wanda felt trapped, her intelligence seemed to vanish, just as her brother Pietro would laugh and say. What on earth did she just say to Steve? Why couldn't she manage to be a decent person, even for just a little while?

Steve sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night. When he looked at her again, it was clear he was exhausted with their conversation. She conceded it was time to accept defeat and just leave the poor man alone. She knew he was right; she was too toxic and indecisive about what she wanted.

"Wanda, please just go. I never want to see you again. I don't want to be associated with you, talk to you, or even remember you, if that's possible. Let's pretend we don't know each other, just like what you've always wanted. If all you’re looking for is a meaningless encounter, I’m not the man for you. So please, stop and leave me alone."

Chapter Text

Wanda had arrived at a firm conclusion: gentlemen were the worst kind of people. The realization had settled in after an excruciating hour spent in a contest of pride with Steve. Although he had told her that he never wanted to see her again, he wasted their time when he wouldn’t even allow her the dignity of leaving unless she agreed to let him drive her back to the Sanctum.

You don't just drop a bombshell on someone and then offer to drive them home, do you? She could have taken the subway, but no, because he felt the need to maintain the moral high ground after everything that had happened between them.

"I'm getting tired, Wanda. Just stop being stubborn for once and let's go," he said to her after a while, rubbing his temples as if he were the only one getting stressed with their futile battle.

"I'll go home by myself," she insisted, continuing to stand her ground. She was tired too; they had been sitting on the couch for what felt like ages, squabbling about the most frivolous thing. It was ironic that he kept saying she was being stubborn when, in fact, he was the one who wouldn't back down.

"It's late."

Wanda shook her head in disbelief. She hated to be treated like a helpless damsel in distress. They both knew she was far from it. "Have you forgotten where you met me? I can manage on my own. I don’t need your help. I've had to tread far worse roads than the streets of New York."

"Fine. Call Stephen, tell him to use his magic again or something. If you really don't want me to take you home."

Wanda guffawed at his suggestion. "Why would I do that? He doesn't even know I've left. He's going to punish me if he finds out that I escaped again."

"Punish? Escape? What kind of relationship do you have with him?"

"Far better than what I have with you. Don't assume the worst about him; he's a great and sensible man." Stephen would surely cackle if he heard how she described him. Good thing, he will never know.

"But he's going to punish... You know what, I won't get involved. I'm sure you'll chew him up anyway. I'm still not going to let you go home by yourself," he grunted. His eyes regarded her with intolerance.

Who said she's going home? She was going to have fun and blow off some steam. It was too stressful a night. She shouldn't have gone with Steve. "Insisting on taking me home will be bad for you, you don't wanna see my face anymore. So the more you fight me, the more you won't get to start forgetting me," she needled.

"Alright then. Do whatever you want. I'm not gonna bother debating with you because I'm just chasing my own tail here. You can take the bed." He stood in front of her, hands on his hips, muscles flexing through his fitted shirt.

Wanda looked up at him, her face one of confusion. "What did you say?"

"Leave in the morning. I'll take the couch," he said casually, as if that absurd idea was the best solution given how their night was turning out.

"Whoa! Am I really sleeping here now? That seems to defeat the purpose of everything you said, don’t you think? Have you forgotten your lengthy monologue about how terrible a person I am? In Sokovia, we have a saying: the more rotten a person is, the longer their lifespan. I think I fit the bill." She stood up and faced him boldly, not caring that he towered over her.

"It’s unsafe to walk around at this hour. Rotten or not, if I leave you alone and you get into trouble, my conscience will encumber me for it."

Wanda chortled wryly. Was he even listening to himself? "Why are you so sure that I'm going to get in trouble?"

"Because we're talking about you, Wanda. You lack compassion or remorse, you like manipulating and exploiting others, you're impulsive, you overstep your boundaries, and you are the rudest person I've ever met. I won't be surprised if you ruffle the wrong feathers on your way out."

His words were harrowing, and the fact that he spoke them while keeping a straight face exacerbated the injury. He described her perfectly, but she didn't need to hear all that. The Steve she met would never say that to her.

"Go ahead and say it. Tell me exactly what you think I am," she oppugned him.

He glanced away and let out a heavy sigh. "I've had enough of this."

She caught his arm and turned him to face her again. She would not entitle him to say all of that and not have the decency to stand behind his own words. "I'm a sociopath, is that what you wanted to say?" Her voice wasn't sharp, but she could feel the wrath quaking through her entire body. Suddenly feeling chilly, she enfolded her arms around herself.

"You could benefit from therapy." He spoke gently, suddenly looking peccant. "Whatever is afflicting you, it’s not too late. You can still strive to become a better person."

"Yeah, I probably can do that, but I really don't want to. Being a good person sucks; all it brings you is being taken advantage of. Just like you. You hate me, but you can't stand the idea of me being in peril because you are such a good person, right?"

"It's easier to be good than to be the one who inflicts pain on others."

He was an arrogant jerk, she thought. "You told me you’re not as nice as I assumed. Is it because you're hiding behind a facade of nobility? Do you enjoy the idea that those around you hold you in such high regard for being a hero, as you stood on their pedestal of perfection? Captain Magnanimous? Is that what you are? You can't hate and care for a person at the same time; you have to pick a lane, Rogers."

"I never said I hated you." His jaw tensed, but she couldn't decipher if it was from anger or something else. "I'm just protecting myself," he whispered.

"Why are you acting like you didn't know what I wanted from you all along? I never gave you false hopes; I have been nothing but honest with you. You created those illusions for yourself. You idealized me as someone you believed you could change if you just tried hard enough. When I refused to conform to your expectations, you consoled yourself by calling me horrible." She was now furious with him, and she was on a path of poking the bear until its claws came out.

However, a different claw showed up. To her surprise, instead of responding in a similarly brutal manner, Steve grabbed her and crashed his lips on hers. Her hands instinctively wrapped around his neck as she reciprocated his onslaught. Their tongues eagerly probed one another.

The next thing she knew, she was sprawled on the couch with her shirt gone and tossed aside, and he was on top of her, his mouth ravaging her neck covetously. He moaned with a sense of haste, desperate to have her. She tugged at the hem of his shirt, wanting to remove it, and he willingly obliged before madly returning to their fervent kisses, making his way down to her chest.

Wanda immersed herself in digging her nails into his broad shoulders, whimpering at the warmth of his mouth as he guzzled her skin with his tongue. Her back arched higher as his strong arms encircled her, burying his face in her chest. He was savoring her as if there were no tomorrow.

Her anticipation soared as she felt his fingers on the clasp of her bra. He fumbled with the final layer that held him back from devouring her fully when they heard knocking on his door.

They both gaped in the direction of the door, willing it to stop horning in on them.

"Steve, are you there?" A soft woman's voice hollered from behind the door. "Steve?"

They both stared at each other, still in a compromising position. She sighed and rolled her eyes in concession. Turning her gaze away, she felt him get off her and put his shirt back on. Slowly, she rose and took the shirt he handed to her.

***

Sharon Carter was probably the most beautiful woman Wanda had ever seen. Not only was she attractive, but she was also soft-spoken and had a sweet smile. If Wanda stood next to her, she would look like Darth Vader next to Sunshine Barbie.

It was even more aggravating that all she could see was Sharon giggling like a schoolgirl at whatever she and Steve were discussing. She couldn't even catch a glimpse of how Steve was reacting through the crack of the door while she hid in his room. He was probably giggling too; who wouldn't, sitting so close to a blonde goddess?

At least she was right about despising Sharon; the woman was the epitome of beauty and grace. She carefully closed the door so that they wouldn't hear her shuffling about.

Wanda felt pathetic as she hid in Steve's room while he entertained his captivating guest. Who comes over to a man's apartment at 1 AM? "You, Wanda. You're just that kind of girl, remember when you said you wanted to be a whore, you stupid bitch," she muttered to herself. She glanced once more at the closed door and sulked. "They aren't going to do something, are they?" Steve had probably forgotten about her by now, too busy flirting with a woman who was the exact opposite of her.

She lay on the bed, pulled one of her phones out of her pocket, and noticed that Bucky had been trying to call and text her. She had completely forgotten about him. On the double, she typed an apology for missing his messages, downright lying about her whereabouts. Bucky wasn't even in New York; he had gone on a mission, so she couldn't ask him about whether he was also an Avenger. Nevertheless, Wanda reckoned the answer would likely be yes.

The box of condoms on the dresser caught her attention. She picked it up, poured the contents onto the bed, and began to count. Her heart raced with each piece she accounted for.

"39? So they've done it 11 times?" she silently shrieked, harshly packing everything back into the box and slamming it onto the dresser before crumpling onto the bed. She buried her face in Steve's pillow, which still smelled like him, and continued to mope. What are they, in heat animals? Who has that much time? Don't they have better things to do?

Wanda woke up feeling a warm body snuggling her, her head resting on a taut arm. She opened her eyes and looked around her surroundings before registering that she was still at Steve's place.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Steve murmured behind her, wrapping his arms around her. She took his hand and entwined it with hers.

"I fell asleep? I didn't even notice," she mumbled, yawning as her body stretched involuntarily.

"Yeah, you were."

Her nostrils filled with his citrus scent as she inhaled his warm skin. "Did you just shower? You smell nice. I like your scent."

He chuckled as he traced circles on her shirt-covered torso. "I’m sorry I made you wait."

"I didn't wait for you," she swiftly denied, jostling her head to stress her point. "I don't care about you. You hate me anyway."

"Alright, Wanda," he replied, though his tone sounded like he didn't fully believe her. His giddiness infected her; she found herself grinning, glad to be nestled with him.

Her jovial chirp faded as memories of Sharon rushed back to her. "What did you do with her?"

"We just talked for a bit. We were supposed to have dinner together, but I forgot to let her know that I was held up, so she worried," he explained, his lips skimming against her nape as he inhaled her hair. Shivers ran through her at his touch, but he didn't go any further.

"And then I happened? So sorry for ruining your date night then. Had you told me hours ago, I wouldn't have come here. But did she really have to come here, too?" She whined, still bitter about being left behind.

"We're neighbors; she lives on the floor below me."

That had woken her completely, like a cold splash of water on her face. She got up and faced him, removing his hand from her. "What? No!" she exclaimed.

"What do you mean, 'No'?" he asked, also getting up.

"Nothing," she said, looking away, embarrassed at her own reaction. "If you insist, you can take me home now. I want to go home." She demanded of him. This madness had to end as soon as possible. When he didn't respond, she turned to face him again. The fool looked amused. "What? Do you expect me to take my clothes off again after you just ditched me for her?" she snarled.

"You’re the one who ran away and hid. I didn't tell you to do any of that. I would have introduced you," he razzed. He took her hand and plied their digits again. The gesture warmed her, but she was still upset.

"Introduced me as what? The subject of your ire? Oh, so it's my fault now. It's always my fault, huh? I ruined your night with your girl? I barged in on your finagled steamy activity?" she expressed, fuming at his grinning face.

"Nothing is going on between us; we're just friends. As for the condoms, Sam came over, laughed at me for the unopened box, and took a handful for himself. He said that if I wasn't going to use them, he would," he softly uttered, kissing her wrist.

"Did you really not use them at all?" She was almost ready to smile when she recalled that he hadn't bothered to use a condom with her either. She had no issue going without; she preferred not to be constrained with him. However, if he did that with her, he could have done it with anyone, especially someone as alluring as Sharon. "But wait, you didn't use protection with me either."

He sighed and looked at her, giving in. "I didn't sleep with anyone, Wanda."

Those six words completely brightened her foul mood. Before she could regain her composure, she was snared, beaming with revelry. "Really? You're not lying?"

"No. I'm not lying."

***

As Wanda sat astride Steve, she leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. His hands deftly circling her body to pull her close. She heard him grumble when she pulled away as soon as he tried to shove his tongue inside her mouth.

"You're too impatient, Steve," she said, gently caressing his face, which was flushed with need.

"Am I? I think I've been nothing but patient, all things considered," he spoke through labored breath.

She pulled his shirt off and kissed him ardently on the lips. "You were mean to me. You hurt my feelings," she sneered after suddenly breaking their kiss.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

She took her shirt and bra off, unveiling her breasts to him. His eyes instantly focused on them. He reached out to touch, but she swatted his hand away, earning a whiny frown from him. "Of course you are, but that's still not enough."

"How am I the one back to being at fault here?" he quibbled, making her giggle. She kissed him on the cheek, enticingly pressing her perky mounds against his chest.

"Do you feel manipulated again?" she whispered into his ear, giving it a mischievous bite.

"Kinda?" he struggled to say.

"Do you want me to stop? I can stop." His hands prevailed, seizing her breasts as he salivated on them, signaling her no. But she was having fun revolting, so she walloped him away again. "And then, I'll leave. And never come back. You won't see me again. Just say the word," she veered backward and halted atop his peering lust suppressed inside his boxers, and slowly rolled her hips with her hands leaning on his abs. She preferred wearing skirts for a reason: fewer intricacies, best for humping an honorable man who had seemed to shirk her evil deeds yet again.

"Really? You're saying all of that while..." he closed his eyes, blindly grasping her arm. He was heaving as if he had run some miles.

"While what?" she cooed, pressing herself against him a little harder.

"I don't know; I've already forgotten. I'm quite forgetful when it comes to you," he mumbled, his blazing eyes meeting her gaze as he leaned against the headboard, mouth agape.

"According to Google, you have an eidetic memory. How is that possible, Captain?"

"Don't call me that."

"What should I call you? Daddy? That feels too realistic given our ages, doesn't it?" She chuckled at her own quip and knelt between his legs. When he tried to protest, she gently pushed him back to his place.

"I love the way you say my name," he feverishly muttered, kissing her jaw.

She smirked at him. "Steve? You keep making things too easy for me. You spoiled me rotten. You're so easy to charm, you know that?"

"I know," he said, looking away.

Concerned that his fervor might wither because of her remarks, she trailed soft kisses from his abdomen down to his navel. When she reached the waistband of his boxers, she looked up at him with an arched brow. He was still fretting. It was impossible not to want him.

"Don't sulk, we're kissing and making up," she licked his skin and grinned when she saw him hold his breath.

"Does it bother you? Our ages?" His query was one that she had never even thought about. He had no idea who he was asking.

"I’ve dated older. Much older." More than a thousand years older, she wanted to say. "You'd be amazed at how far I went."

"How? Who?" he quickly asked, his brows creased at the thought. She shook her head no in response. She didn't want to sully the air by conversing about a certain brother of his teammate.

"Are we really going to talk about another man when I'm trying to seduce you? And you will never be too old for me, you were practically dead when you were still an icicle." She could even become immortal once she regains her magic. He'll be old and wrinkly, and she'll remain supple, should she choose to, of course.

She was done with playing, yanking the band of his underpants, his roaring manhood sprang free and bucked in front of her. The turgid rod of satiny steel stood in attention for her, making her fidget at the deluge of heat between her thighs.

"You really don't have to do that," he sounded in that strangled tone of his whenever he was too riled up for her.

If there was one thing Wanda loathed about Steve, aside from the myriad of criticisms she had already voiced, it was the fact that after everything they had done in nearly every corner of his apartment, she still hadn't been able to take him with her mouth. She didn't know how he had managed to make her forget her initial volitions, but she was determined to finally satisfy that desire.

"But I want to," she contended. "You have to play fair. You did everything you wanted to me. I'm not nitpicking, but we should level the playing field, shouldn't we?"

"I just don't want you to do things just because you think I want it. I can trigger my own gun."

"You're quite the poet. So, you do want it. I bet you even dream of me." The pink in his cheeks confirmed her brazen speculation. "I dream about you, too. I always wake up parched. It's too late to be shy, Steve. Do you really think you can force me to do something I don't want?"

"No. Not at all. Fuck, Wanda--"

He finally shut up when she closed her mouth on the tip, licking the bit of salt and musky sheen like confectionery. She bent over gracefully as she gripped his member in her palm, slowly stroking him.

Steve was already throbbing to her touch, so she took him fully into her mouth, stopping just when he reached the back of her throat. She coughed slightly due to her miscalculation; he barely fit. To compensate, she used her hand as well.

Her tongue delicately swirled around his length, flicking and dragging as her mouth sucked him in. Steve leaned closer to her, gathering her hair in his hand to watch her. The look of satisfaction on his face tipped her further to her own pleasure.

To take it up another notch, she started bobbing her head up and down and matched it with the gait of her hand, making sure that his tip would graze the roof of her mouth. That made him bellow and call for his maker. A godly man indeed.

His grip on her hair tightened, hurting her scalp, and his groans grew louder. Wanda relished the power she held over him. She marvelled at how disheveled he became from the intoxicating splendors she was giving him. She coveted the roughness he exhibited whenever his lust took control of his logic. The thought of dismantling his adamant need for chivalry in favor of his yearning for her roused her.

His whole body shuddered at the gathering pulsation on his manhood. Her hand pumped faster, pursuing his zenith. He tried to push her away when he felt that he was closer, but she stayed still like a stronghold of her own.

His sweet and tangy seed burst entirely in her mouth, and she scarfed every bead of his glistening euphoria. She crammed his length as if summoning more of him so that she could have all his pent-up longing for her, sucking him dry when he peaked. She wiped the dribbles on her chin with the back of her hand before licking them while staring straight into his glazed ocean eyes.

"That was nice, I liked that," she murmured, sitting up and nipping on her lips for the traces of his climax.

Steve cupped her face and kissed her tenderly on the lips, without care that he could taste himself on her. He gently pushed her onto the bed, never breaking their contact. The feel of his lips brushing against hers felt more intimate than the passion they had shared just moments before.

"Don’t disappear on me in the morning again. I’ll know where to find you this time," he muttered before raining her face with soft kisses.

"You said you don’t want to see me anymore," she evoked him, although she welcomed his threat. In the end, victory was hers.

"Change my name in your phone; I really hated being called Man From Club 1."

Chapter Text

Hugging the toilet as she spilled her guts out in the bathroom of a packed Six Flags on a Thursday afternoon was not part of Wanda's itinerary. Yet, there she was, making deals with the devil to save herself from the nausea. 

After she finished throwing up the last bit of her breakfast, she flushed the toilet and stood up to compose herself. All the animation she had felt about their trip had vanished along with her verve.

A grinning Bucky met her as he stood outside waiting for her, holding on to her cotton candy that she shoved against his chest to storm into the restroom. 

He and Steve were really terrible at disguising themselves; whoever told them that glasses and caps would hide them like Clark Kent needed to go back to the drawing board. Better yet, sit in a corner and think of what they did.

"Wipe that smile off your face before I make you fall in love with a frog," she warned, fully intending to follow through.

The fool just blinked repeatedly as if that would mask his mirth. Wanda still liked his aura, though; she especially felt a sense of ease when chattering to Bucky. It was invigorating to speak to someone who knew all about her—well, everything except about Loki. Although she didn’t plan to share every fragment of her life with him, spending hours on the phone with him each night made her feel carefree. She had no qualms; she truly felt he was someone she could trust. Even Wong seemed to be enamored with him.

"I'm not smiling," he pursed his lips to stifle his amusement about her predicament, but failed and ended up laughing before returning her precious treat to her.

"I'm not smiling," she mimicked, rolling her eyes to regain her pride. She was frustrated with herself for not weathering the only ride she had chosen with her full chest after snickering at the rides they wanted to try and deeming them too easy. She had even heckled them when they looked nervous. "Where's Wong?"

"He went on another round of El Toro. He asked me to tell you that you are the biggest wimp he has ever seen and that you’re probably rueing how smug you were when we were both apprehensive about getting on the ride."

"Shut up! You're an Avenger, you're probably jumping off of planes without a parachute," she yelled, pointing at him. "I didn't get sick from the ride; I'm just not feeling well, that's all."

"That’s what I told him," he said melodramatically, undoubtedly seeing through her act.

"Yes! That is the truth. Maybe I'm just pregnant? Hmm? Have you ever considered that?" she asked, crossing her arms as she looked up at him. She was also tacitly grateful that he had persuaded her to swap her heels for cozy sneakers. They had been walking for hours, and wearing heels would have been the most significant oversight of her life.

"Sure, yeah, maybe a bun is in the oven. You'll spawn adorable babies. I'll remind you to tell Wong about that later."

"You should."

"Where do you wanna go next? What ride should we conquer?" He asked facetiously.

Just the thought of hopping on another hell carriage made her feel queasy all over again. "How about we just walk around and enjoy the scenery? Look at the happy faces of those brats..." She cleared her throat, reminding herself to hold back any unkind remarks. "I mean, lovely children."

Wanda detested children, specifically those with devoted, supportive parents. Was it envy? Probably. Regardless, she had no intention of changing her sentiments anytime soon.

"You're the boss," Bucky shrugged, following her as she munched on her cotton candy. She had already lost count of how many she had eaten of those overpriced sweets that day.

"What?" she asked, her brows knitting as she noticed him staring intently at her hands.

"That's an interesting tattoo you have there. It almost looks like it was branded on your skin, looking engorged like that."

She thought to herself that she should have worn a sweater instead of a camisole dress. "What can I say? I'm just that cool. If you want to go on the rides, feel free! I don't mind," she proposed, trying to switch the subject.

"I'm fine, I'd rather walk around with you."

Wanda couldn't comprehend one thing about Bucky: why he hadn't made a move on her yet. Surely, he wasn't spending time with her without any connotations of eventually taking things further. He was being too nice for her liking. While he was never dull, there wasn't any fire either. Many a night she had pondered whether her fondness for him was evolving into something romantic or not.

"What's your end goal here?" she asked, halting short to face him.

"What do you mean?"

"What are you looking for? Why are you doing all this with me? Are you secretly in love with Wong?" she asked, attempting to make her query a little less gauchely. Searching online for details about her personality had been a mistake; it made her acutely cognizant of her own viciousness. She favored it when she could just say whatever was on her mind without ruminating on it.

"Don't say that out loud; we don't want him to overhear it before I get the chance to confess all my feelings," he shot back, chortling.

"Uh-huh. So, what's going on? Do you like me? When are you going to make your move? You haven't even tried to kiss me. Are you shy? Being shy won't get you anywhere. You're hot too, so you have a good chance of getting lucky. Now, when are you going to make a move?" She bombarded him with questions, wiggling her eyebrows.

"That's not what I'm after. We're having fun, I think. Are you having fun?"

"Yes, I am," she replied, straightening up and opting to be forthcoming. She figured he wouldn’t make fun of her. "I just feel like I’m taking the catbird seat from you for some reason. I don’t like wearing hangdog looks; I’m trying to preserve my bad persona."

Bucky laughed heartily as he pinched her cheeks. She scowled at him, so he speedily let go. "You don't have to feel bad, Mandy—I mean, Wanda. You don't need to feel bound to doing anything for me. I'm just really enjoying myself."

"You can keep calling me Mandy. I'm not used to you saying my real name. It sounds weird coming from your mouth. Are you not close to your Avenger friends? Don't you spend time with Steve? You haven't told Steve about us, right?"

"No, I haven't told Steve. I will let you know if I do. And I am close to some of them. I spend most of my time with Steve and Sam. But it's nice to hang out with people not associated with your work."

That made sense. Sometimes, it was better to be around others who didn’t understand what you did. There’s a sense of liberation in not having to constantly discuss what had become tedious.

"I see. Well, whatever floats your boat."

Wanda hunched over and dropped her cotton candy as a sudden ripple of broiling discomfort seized her mark. Her heart palpitated as she frantically scanned her surroundings. She could hear Bucky making sounds beside her as he held her firmly, but she couldn’t understand anything; it felt like she was underwater.

"Hello, love."

***

When Wanda opened the door for Steve, his smile faded as he took in her appearance. For a moment, she thought he might have seen Stephen standing behind her, but quickly banished the idea, knowing he was on another mission with Natasha—the woman Wanda would have wooed had she been born a man.

"What?" she asked, staring quizzically at him.

"Nothing," he immediately shook his head. "Actually, it's your clothes. Did you just transform?"

Wanda couldn't help but chuckle at his bewilderment. Despite spending a lot of time with Stephen recently, he still couldn't grasp the wonders of sorcery. "I told you, this is the curse that Stephen hasn't lifted yet."

"Do it again," he urged, a sheepish grin superseding his frown. His eyes twinkled with awe. She complied with his request, stepping back and forth between the doorstep and the step, her outfit altering from her house elf attire to her dress that hugged her curves as she moved. "That's so amusing," he chuckled, clearly entertained. He then led her to his car when he had had his fill.

"Yeah, it's irksome, though. I like looking hot, not like I survived the plague," she remarked once they were settled inside.

"What do you do when you need to take a shower?" he asked as they drove away.

"Well, he was kind enough to limit the effects everywhere except my room." It took insufferable days before Wanda managed to convince Stephen, though. The memory of showering while wearing her clothes still filled her with ire.

"I just can't believe that Stephen has that kind of personality. He's always too serious," he chirped, smiling giddily.

"Why do you look like you’re fond of him? You should be on my side. Keep sending him on missions so you can have me all to yourself. Do you think I can sleep over tonight with you if he’s around?"

"Yes. You're great at sneaking around," he objected.

"That's true, but I prefer to walk through the door without worrying about him creeping around." She reached out and kissed him on the cheek, drinking his familiar scent in that she had missed while he was away on a two-week mission. "I missed you. You've been gone too long; I've been lonely."

"Sure, you missed me so much that you never answered any of my calls, and your text replies took hours," he retorted, pouting.

In Wanda's brittle defense, managing two phones that often rang at the same time was an arduous task. It was akin to choosing between fire and candy. 

She always ended up answering Bucky's calls since she could discuss anything with him. She negated that she could do the same with Steve without him trying to give her solutions; she mostly just wanted to vent.

"If you sent me a dick pic, I'd probably be knocking at your door before you even hit send," she half-jested. She would definitely appreciate him more if he did it; alas, he never will.

"Oh, Wanda. What would I ever do without your angelic mouth?" He took her hand and kissed her fingers.

"What are you talking about? You love my mouth, it's a talented mouth."

"What do you--"

"Cap! Where are you?" Sam's stentorian voice rumbled inside the car. Steve's cell phone didn't even ring. Wanda concentrated on the endless traffic in Manhattan, listening in and hoping she wouldn’t be sent home just because Steve had to leave. It hadn’t happened yet, but she knew she would really hate it when it did.

Steve swiftly pressed the answering button and looked stern. She wondered if he even considered taking a break or, better yet, resigning. "What happened? Give me a brief update."

"Nothing. You weren't answering my calls."

"I told you to use the overriding system only in emergencies. If you keep doing this, I'm gonna remove your access." Steve snapped at him. Wanda quietly giggled at the frustration on his face.

"Again, you were not answering my calls. We just got back and you're already out the door."

"I was driving. I'm headed to my apartment."

"Why do you keep going home? We miss you at the compound. You're treating us like we're your 9 to 5 job now, and it hurts my soul. What happened to us? I miss us. Remember our sweet days under the sun? You, me, and the criminals we chased, and a cold bottle of beer afterwards. That was a sweet time."

"Bye, Sam." Without lingering for a riposte, Steve severed the line.

Wanda got curious, though. It sounded like it wasn't typical for Steve to go back to his place. She understood the demands of their job, but even police officers and doctors could go home every day. Was it really that demanding to be an Avenger? She felt a little sympathy for Stephen if that was the case—just a bit of concern for her peculiar roommate.

"Is it usual for you not to go home? Do you all sleep at work?" she asked.

"Yeah. We have rooms there."

"Then why are you wasting money on paying for an apartment when you have free lodging?"

"I like to have my own space, to breathe. And you don't let me take you anywhere."

"That's dumb," she said it before even thinking about it. 

She just can't seem to stop herself from being tactless, and it was making her even more resentful of herself when she had already sworn to herself that she would be more congenial to Steve after he made amends with her.

"Thank you, babe. You're so sweet," he muttered sarcastically. He didn't sound upset, at least.

A spark of an idea struck Wanda, and she beamed with what she believed was genius. "You should take me there sometime. I want to see your room. Maybe we can christen it."

"I will. Take you there, I mean. I'll show you around. It's a nice facility. Tony went overboard with the interior. You'd be amazed with the technology."

Wanda had no ounce of interest in furniture or gadgets. "Will Thor be there?" Steve glanced at her, glowering. She rolled her eyes at his fit of jealousy as if she would stoop to incest. Well, they were not related, but it's been ingrained in her that Thor was family. "He's my favorite Avenger, aside from you, of course."

"Yeah, he'll be there. I don't like that you're too happy at the prospect of meeting him," he whined.

"I'm just gonna shake his hand, Steve, and maybe take a few pictures. I'm not gonna seduce him, I'm a retired slut."

"You better not."

His grimace made her giggle with elation. "What will you do? Are you going to beat him up?"

"Did your face just light up at the thought?"

"What? Can't a girl admire a friend for fighting for her affections? I'm sleeping with Captain America, that's the most action I've seen from you. I'm just curious what you look like fighting in person."

"I'm not your friend, Wanda. Friends don't do what we do. I may be from another time, but I don't consider what we have as friendship."

Beneficial friends did, but she shut her mouth and returned her attention to the world outside; she had no interest in conferring what they were just yet.

***

"I've been thinking, what if we took a weekend getaway or even a few weekdays off? We could spend some time outside the apartment instead of just staying cooped up. I could show you around, too," Steve suggested while gently running his fingers through her hair. She noticed that he enjoyed petting her hair whenever she rested her head on his lap while they hung out on the couch.

"I've been voyaging to a lot of attractions. I fancy staying in and watching all the movies you wanted to see. I favor your apartment," she replied, already weary at the idea of wandering around. She preferred being in their familiar space, inside their own bubble.

"You have?" he asked, sounding surprised.

Telling him about Bucky was certainly not something she wanted to do; it would be like opening a can of worms. So, the best approach was to share part of the truth. "Yeah, uh, I always go with Wong. He's my best mate for trolling New York. Do you really want to go away with me? I'm a lousy companion. I complain about everything," she stammered, hoping he would drop the topic.

"I believe we can now ascertain that I am patient enough to endure your fusses," he chuckled. "And yes, I really want to go on a trip with you."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Camping, trekking--"

"Steve," she inserted, already disliking where he was headed. "I don’t like to sweat on purpose. I hate running. The last time I ran too hard was when I won the race of conception. I outran millions of sperm that day."

He guffawed at her assertion. He would never understand; he wasn't even human in her eyes anymore. His activities were more like torment for her. "What about going on a cruise ship? Have you ever tried that? I haven't had the chance myself. I know that it's a bit of an old people thing, but I am old."

She quickly sat up and lounged beside him. "Oh my god, I would love that! Yes, take me there!" She could already picture the expression on her face as she gazed over the infinite ocean before her. She even dreamed about recreating the Titanic scene; she wondered if he would allow it, knowing he wouldn't consider it safe. He could draw well, too, so maybe she could make him sketch her ala Rose.

"Really? I didn't think you'd like that. Okay, I'll plan it." He sounded just as excited. "What will you tell Stephen? To appreciate it, we should stay for a minimum of 3 to 4 days."

Wanda crinkled her nose at the reality she had to face. "Can't you just send him somewhere outlandish that would take him forever to finish?"

"Wanda, that's power tripping. I'm not gonna do that to him. Don't use me as a tool to retaliate against Strange. You're cute, but that's not gonna work for me."

She gasped, slighted by what he said, distancing herself from him. "Even if you would have me as a prize?"

He didn't even seem affected by her sulking. "As much as I regret not claiming you as my prize, no, I won't do that. That's unethical."

"Come on, princess. Just be bad for once," she whined. "You're still gonna make it to heaven."

"No, Angel. I refuse. You can bat your lashes all you want, but a no is a no."

"Boo! You suck," she rasped, sticking out her tongue at him.

"If you're really worried about him... What if I talk to him for you?"

Alarm bells went off in her mind at his suggestion. "No, don’t! He doesn’t even know we know each other. Forget it, I’ll handle it. I’ll think of something." His smile sank. "Oh, come on, don’t feel too bad," she dismissed, sitting up straight with her arms crossed and looking away.

"Why don’t you want him to find out about us? Are you ashamed of me?" She sighed, feeling guilty for the dismay in his voice and regretting how it impacted him.

"Of course not! We really need to work on your self-confidence, sweetheart," she exclaimed, turning to face him again.

"Then why?"

"Red?" she pleaded, using the safe word they both agreed on to signal whether the question would be answered.

It was Steve's idea; he wanted to learn more about her, but she repeatedly said no. Being the mature individual he was, he respected her boundaries. This was the first time they had ever resorted to such measures. Although she didn’t want to, she ultimately ended up drawing first blood. Guilt gripped her tightly.

"Fine. But you’d better ensure that you find a way," he finally conceded.

She smiled at him and raised her arms. "Come here so I can kiss you."

"No."

"No?"

"You come here."

She laughed and jumped into his lap, showering him with kisses. "Bet you thought I wouldn’t," she tantalized, cupping his face. He grinned back at her, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. "I'm sorry; I'm just not really there yet, you know? I can’t tell you everything. I know that it's not fair." She murmured, sincerely contrite. "You know that I like you, right? Not just your body and your pretty face, but you as a person. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company for now and not dwell on the intricacies. Can we?"

"You're not seeing anyone else, are you?" he asked, thoroughly catching her off guard.

Even though she convinced herself that nothing was happening between her and Bucky, she still found it difficult to acknowledge that she had slowly developed feelings for him and enjoyed being in his company. He didn't expect anything more from her either, so she still felt like a free woman. Steve was different; he always wanted to be sure where he stood. As he had kindly reminded her, he was not one for casual encounters. She wasn't cheating, as neither of them was in a relationship. To her, she was simply being sociable.

So why do you feel like you are doing something wrong then? Her subconscious challenged her.

"No," she assured him with a blatant lie, meeting his searching gaze.

"You're not lying again, right?"

Dear heavens. "Not lying."

He beamed and kissed her gently on the lips. "Alright, I'll start planning our getaway. I'll have to do hand-overs too while I'm away. I think this will be fun."

"And I will be on the loo, just gonna brush my teeth. I still taste the paprikash in my mouth," she excused herself, feeling the need to compose her disoriented thoughts.

When Wanda was finally alone, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She barely recognized herself anymore. She used to be a proper and decent person, filled with hope. She had dreamed of marrying the man she loved and spending the rest of her life with him. How simple her life used to be. She had no right to complain, though. She brought it all upon herself.

"You're harming yourself, Wanda. You're wasting good men who could be happier with someone else. Why can't you stop being egocentric? You're turning into the monster that you loathe. You'll be 25 soon, you won't have the undeveloped frontal lobe justification anymore. When will you grow up?" She whispered to herself. She bent over and splashed cold water on her face.

When she looked in the mirror again, all the air escaped from her lungs as she saw the man smirking behind her. She tried to turn around but found herself unable to move. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to breathe, her entire body shuddering with fear. Desperately, she mustered her strength to speak, to say something—anything—but no words came. She was stuck meeting his gaze.

This was what she had been waiting for, wasn't it? So why couldn’t she say a word? 

He stood behind her, seemingly mocking her as he watched her suffer in his presence. He still looked the same as the last time she saw him, those haunting eyes fixed on her as he had vanished into smoke.

She wanted to scream for Steve to come and help her, but she couldn't. Her lips split open from her sunken teeth, her blood dripping as it melded with her tears.

"Did you miss me, love? My sweet, sweet bride. You have been misbehaving a lot."

"L-Lo-Loki."

Chapter Text

After recovering from the initial shock of facing Loki again, Wanda slowly turned to face him. Before she could utter a word, he seized her and slammed her to the floor. When she opened her eyes, she felt a shudder run through her as she realized they were no longer in Steve's apartment.

The chilly draft felt like pins and needles on her skin, and the hair all over her body raised on end as she felt the damp soil beneath her. The crunch of dried leaves and the faraway buzzes of insects offered her nothing to discern where he had taken her. 

Under the bright light of the full moon, Wanda could clearly see the anger in Loki's eyes as he stapled her to the ground, gripping her wrists tightly; she feared her bones might crack.

"You thought you were going insane, didn’t you?" he murmured against her cheek after he sought to kiss her, but she swiftly evaded him, refusing to meet his gaze for a while longer. "You must be wondering if this is all in your head, just like when that mere human held you in that lowly place." He was truly there after all. Her trepidation about what he could have done to Wong, Bucky, and Steve—or even to the people around them—rendered her convulsing involuntarily.

"Just kill me and be done with it," she grunted, her tears mingling with the earth.

"What do you think, love? Am I real? Am I really here? This is what you've been waiting for." A dagger suddenly appeared in his hand; it was the same dagger he had used to slit the throats of her coven sisters. He mockingly traced the point of his blade on her face. "Maybe if I score your pretty face and you feel the pain as the blood gushes out of your skin, you'll finally snap back to the certitude of the horror that you provoked yourself."

Wanda didn't care; she was done. Stephen was right—she never stood a chance against Loki. She had succumbed to her own delusions about killing him. 

"How did you get into that man's house? You weren't welcome," she asked. Despite her efforts to keep Steve out of it, she had been sorely mistaken.

"Why? Because of your little ritual? You're forgetting one important thing, Wanda: you broke your vow. No matter where you are, I can find you. Even if you're millions of miles away, I can still get a whiff of the unpleasant stench of your perfidy. Not saying his name would not hinder me from killing him should I choose to. I can make you watch."

She held herself from revealing any hint of worry for Steve; it would only worsen the situation. "You’re the one who betrayed me." The nerve of him to call what she did treachery floored her. 

"Perhaps I should just cut your head off." He suddenly pressed the edge of his dagger against her neck, causing her to pant. "Don't worry, I'll preserve your head and place it on my nightstand. Every night, I'll sing you a song and recite the names of the witches you brought to me to please me."

The memory of that horrific night ignited her fury; she writhed violently against him, not caring that the blade was digging into her skin, but he merely laughed at her.

"I brought them to you because you lied to me!" she cried. "You told me we would create our own sanctuary, that you would protect us." 

He made her believe that if she brought her sisters to him, they would be part of his sacred circle. They, too, would no longer have to face the pungent fangs of endless peril from their dwindling species. But she didn't know that it was him that they were running from all along. She didn’t know that the god who acquired the sacrifices was him. She didn’t know.

"You're the one who made the preparations for the harvest, my love. Don't pretend you didn't see this coming." His lips began trailing kisses along her neck. She detested the sensation of his tongue licking at her blood. She persistently blundered to free herself, but she was too weak.

Her memories of being held down while he indulged his lust as she lay underneath him, staring blankly at the etchings on the ceiling, clawed her. She had been lying to herself for so long that she began to accept her own retelling of the events that had taken place between them. It was a trick of her mind to protect herself from the insufferable truth.

"No. I thought--" she wailed in agony when she felt his manhood forced inside her; it was too painful. She wanted to retch at the sounds of him groaning in ecstasy.

"You look most beautiful when you're terrified, love," he bemoaned in her ear. He dropped his dagger and gripped her neck tightly. "The scent of your blood moiling in fear is the sweetest." As his eros grew, so did his grasp on her neck. She struggled to breathe but couldn't even raise her arms to push him away. "You were so pure, but you've tainted yourself with the seed of another. How could you?" As he continued to assault her, his other hand constricted around her throat, fully strangling her. He continued to stab her with vitriol while driving himself in and out of her. "How could you give to someone what belonged to me? You revolt me!"

"S-stop..." She wasn’t certain if her plea even fled her lips. 

If she just stayed still, it would be over soon. Nothing lasted forever. 

She stared at the moon, which shone majestically above them. If only she had been born as the moon, she would be far away from all the noise and the pain. Her kind respected the moon as it signified beginnings and endings. The sun may hide away, but the moon will continue to flourish and guide them all.

Once he was finally sated, he got off her and kicked her aside. She sat up unhurriedly and moved away; tears flowed down her face as she glared up at him. He was smirking at his triumph. He proved to her that she would be nothing but the girl he devoured with his shadow.

He walked over to her again and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling it roughly enough that she felt her scalp throb in pain. Hunkering over, he pressed his lips against hers. "I will carve your heart out and pulverize it in my hands, you filthy vessel. I saved you from becoming a sacrifice, and this is how you repay me?"

"You didn't save my life; I was being sacrificed to you. How dare you claim that you saved me? Every girl who was offered to you died at your hands. You have lured thousands of people to worship you as their god. But you're not a god. You are a demon." Her voice came out as a whisper, even though she really wanted to roar at him.

"I saved your life when I chose you to be my bride. I rescued you from Wundagore when you were just a babe and gave you to the Maximoffs. I saved you from your real mother, whose only purpose was to bring you into the world. I even blessed your measly adoptive brother so he could protect you. I have been nothing but kind to you."

"Only because you discovered that I was the vessel of Chton did you take an interest in me. You wanted me solely for my power. You stole me and handed me over to a couple of monsters who raised me to become your swine. What else do you want from me? You already possess my magic." She let out a bitter laugh as she decided to turn the tables by taunting him.  "But you can't even wield it, can you? That's why you’ve kept me alive. I have news for you. I will never help you ever again."

"Oh, but you will, my love. You will. That is my solemn vow. Just wait and see," he muttered before disappearing again.

She finally found her footing and stood up, frantically scanning through the darkness as the clouds obscured the moon.

"Loki? Loki! You stupid son of a bitch!" she yelled, a terribly belated outcry. "Where are you? Let's end this," she mumbled as she fell to her knees.

***

That place was an illusion, but real at the same time. It was all real. Loki truly appeared before her, reminding her of the nightmare she endured after shunning Agatha's sincere warnings. 

It was the only thought running through Wanda's mind as she washed the mud and blood from her body, frantically scrubbing herself. After the many things she had done to her body, it was the filthiest she had felt.

The scalding water poured over her, doing little to ease the ache that filled her body. While the physical pangs were tolerable, the void in her soul was another story. She coveted to dull herself to everything, but how could she? She couldn't even flee the image of him tormenting her, and his voice still reverberated in her head like a never-ending spiral.

"Wanda? You've been in there for a while—" Steve stopped dead on his tracks, holding the door as shock washed over him. He took in the disorderly scene in his bathroom. "What the hell are you trying to do, burn your skin?" he asked once he regained his equilibrium. He hastily strode over and turned off the shower, the mist in the air resembling smoke. Her entire body was flushed red, either from the water or from her painstaking cleansing.

"Steve..." She should probably explain herself. 

He looked worried for her, but was doing his best to assess the situation first. She stood rooted to her spot under the shower, staring at the tiled floor that paraded her grime and crimson. She felt a pang of disgrace at her nakedness.

"What happened to you? Look at me," he encouraged gently, cradling her face. "Why is there mud all over the floor? Why are your lips bruised? And your neck!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening.

"I slipped," a ludicrous justification, she knew, but at that moment, she couldn't summon the logic needed.

"You slipped and cut your neck?"

"Yes."

"You know that doesn't make any sense," he spoke softly again. His eyes gazed at her with such compassion that she wanted to melt in his arms and weep. She needed him.

"I know," she responded, grabbing his face and pulling him in for a deep, arduous kiss. 

Her lips desperately sought solace in his. He eagerly responded to her need, but as soon as her tongue touched his lips, he pulled away, looking as if he had just done something he shouldn't have.

"W-what are you doing?" he asked breathlessly. He caressed her cheek with his thumb and kissed her forehead, wrapping her in his arms. "Tell me what’s going on. I’ll grab you a towel, and then we’ll take care of you, okay?"

"I want you, Steve. Now," she demanded, trying to pull him in again. He was firm yet gentle as he held her.

"Yes, baby. You will. But we have to fix you up first," he assured.

She shook her head defiantly. "No. If you don't take me now, I'll leave. You will never see me again," she sobbed, her tears spraying down his skin.

"Wanda, what's going on? You can share with me. Even if it takes me longer to understand, you can tell me. I have a feeling that you might be mystical too, but I need you to help me understand. Even if you don't want to reveal everything, could you at least explain why you're hurt?"

Instead of responding to him, she captured his lips again. He finally surrendered to her and pressed her against the wall, allowing his passion to take over as he lost himself with her. She made haste and removed his clothes and clung to his neck, finding comfort in the warm feeling of his burly figure and hardened shaft against her skin.

He was blissfully unaware of her desperation for him to numb her senses while he caroused deeply at her neck, carefully evading the spot where Loki's dagger had grazed her skin.

Her loud moans of pleasure only intensified his lust for her, which was precisely what she yearned for. Steve enveloped her with an exhilarating sensation that made her shiver with intensity as she softly hummed his name in the sultry air.

His heated mouth settled on her bud, his tongue flicking against her tenderly and compelling her toes to curl as she held the back of his head, guiding him closer. 

"Steve, you're both sweet and fiery; you make me want to stay like this forever." 

He growled, filled by her mindless musings.

Without any preamble, Steve lifted her, clutched her thigh, and held her hip firmly with his other hand. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he stared at her; his eyes scintillated with fascination.

"I'll make it up to you later, baby. I'm barely hanging on," he grumbled. 

A cry of satisfaction rang in her throat as she savored the intoxicating feeling when he smoothly penetrated her sopping folds. Her eyes fell closed, and her mouth hung open as he effortlessly bounced her onto his throbbing ridge. 

It took everything in her to keep holding on to him. He thrusted faultlessly inside her, and the thought alone made her unravel as he relentlessly reached the spot that stole her sanity.

They reached their peak at the same time, and it was nothing but splendid. She rested her cheek against his chest, relishing his warm kisses on her shoulder as he heaped her with tender brushes of adoration.

"I think you'll be mad at me, Wanda. I crossed a line."

***

Wanda couldn't help but stare in awe at the view from the roof of Steve's apartment. New York truly was the city that never sleeps. Even in the early hours of the morning, it was already bustling below them. This was a stark contrast to the tranquil hills of Sokovia. Despite the beauty surrounding her, she knew that this would never be her home. Her true home was the community that had welcomed her and her brother.

"I thought you had seen all the Harry Potter movies. You told me you had," Steve called out as he set the plates for their impromptu breakfast date. 

She chuckled, remembering that he was still upset about her falling asleep just fifteen minutes into the film. She never intended to doze off all the time, but she was always sleepy around him. He was warm and comfortable, and her lids bore the weight.

"I didn't say that. I just watched the parts that had Dobby on." She responded as she sat in front of him. 

It was just the two of them, but he was preparing a meal that could easily feed five people. She envied his hearty appetite. She had always believed that when she was old enough and had the opportunity to indulge, she would devour an entire feast to satisfy her hankering for food. Yet, when the opportunity rose, the guilt took over her.

Agatha did her best to ensure they didn’t starve, even skipping meals so that she and Pietro could eat more. However, they were in the hills with only root crops and greens at hand. None of them could bear the thought of raising animals for livestock, either, as animals were beings too.

"Why do you always fall asleep the moment the movie starts? At this rate, we won’t finish the whole franchise," he whined in his endearing tone.

"You're the only one who wants to finish it," she argued, sipping the cup of sweet coffee he had made for her. "I watched the entire Twilight franchise, though. Maybe we can watch that instead. I'm pretty sure I won't fall asleep." 

His pantry, which used to include only bland items, now had a variety of sweets because he knew she liked them. With Steve, she didn’t even have to say a word; he simply watched from a distance and paid attention. She was sure that if she even made the mistake of telling him about her sudden fondness for cotton candies, he would start learning how to make it. He'll be a doting husband to the lucky woman he will marry someday.

"Because of the hot vampires and werewolves?" he retorted.

She nearly choked on her coffee at his blatant jealousy, his only flaw so far on her list. "No, of course not. I watch it for the plot."

"Do you really think I'll believe that?"

She leaned back in her seat and smirked at him. "So what? Not everyone watches for the story. Sometimes, people just enjoy the visuals. Unlike you, I watch to have fun, not analyze. I'm not the type of person who questions the details and inspiration behind the characters' actions. It's hard enough to navigate the real world—do I really need to make plot holes my problem? If they can take me to their world, even for just a short moment, I will appreciate it. Do I think that Jacob was sweeter? Of course I do. But Bella fell for Edward anyway, and that's her choice, that's her heart."

He scratched his temple and sipped his tea, pondering her words. "You're right; I should try that," he muttered.

Contrary to what she was about to respond to him, she felt he shouldn't take that path. He was an intelligent and thoughtful man; it was in his nature to peel back the layers. That attribute made him stand out—he didn't just leap to conclusions like she often did. 

She wondered if she would ever be that kind of person.

"You should, you're too uptight. I like you that way, though. Something about your strictness makes my mouth water," she chortled as she took a bite of her scrambled eggs. The man was exceptionally skilled with his hands. Either she was out of touch or simply narrow-minded, but a man who could do well in the kitchen was a rare find for her.

"I like your free spirit."

"Really," she admonished. He spoke as if her spirit had not caused him more distress than joy.

"I didn't say all of it," he clarified, almost as if he could read her mind.

She crossed her arms and peered at him warily. She always wondered why he was so forgiving of her antics. The ambiance probably helped bolster her confidence, so she asked, "What else do you like about me?"

"Every inch of you," he replied quickly, causing her to burst out laughing.

"Of course you do! I'm hotter than hell. What about my great personality?" She said it playfully, but she couldn't shirk off the nervous feeling that lingered, wondering if there was anything he could say in response. After all, she was fully aware of her own quirks.

"You're honest, sometimes perhaps too honest. You're charming, and I really appreciate your sense of humor." She rolled her eyes at his certainty; she wasn't used to hearing good things about herself from outsiders. "I also admire how you care for plants and animals when you think no one is watching. I like that about you, especially--"

She stood up and reached over to cover his mouth with her palm. She didn’t think he even noticed her devotion to nature. It’s not that she wasn’t proud of it; she just sometimes felt as though she was acting out of duty. Witches draw most of their magic from nature, and that was the first lesson Agatha imparted to her as a child. She took that lesson to heart, but as she grew older, she became confused. Her heart told her that she truly respected Mother Earth’s gifts to humankind, but her mind pelted her with reminders that her connection to nature was because witches needed it.

"That's enough," she stated, clearing her throat at the sudden rush of awkwardness she felt.

"Why? I see a lot of good things about you."

"You're too observant."

"It's part of my job."

That's true. She leaned back in her chair and continued her quest for understanding. "I'm curious. Why did I catch your eye that night? Was I really that good of a dancer? Did I remind you of Shakira with my hips?"

"You don't even remember," he murmured, embarrassment washing over his handsome face as he looked away.

"What?" she pressed, her curiosity soaring high.

He was silent for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "That night wasn't our first meeting."

"Really?"

"I saw you that morning when you shielded a dog from being hit by a car driven by a man who was texting while driving. I helped you up and even offered to take you to the hospital for the scratches you had, which mysteriously disappeared when we met again that night. You pretended not to speak English and ran away, carrying the dog that was probably too heavy for your size."

Wanda snuffed as the memory came surging back; she instinctively covered her mouth in surprise. Everything he said was accurate. She even had plenty of colorful words for the driver who had ignored the stray dog, treating it as if it didn’t matter. However, she hadn’t anticipated that Steve was connected to that morning’s events.

"That was you? I didn’t really look at your face. I should’ve let you take me then! We could have skipped all that unnecessary drama and gone straight to your car to make out," she quipped, trying to hide her chagrin for not even noticing him. She was too aggravated to care about the crowd that had gathered around her that day.

"Wanda," he reprimanded playfully.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. I would have identified you right away, but I didn't really pay attention to your face." She grinned apologetically at him.

"I had a feeling. I thought about you all day after that. Fortunately, I saw you again. I have to admit, I was quite shocked when you approached me. I almost thought you were someone else because you looked completely different from the girl I saw in the daylight."

Indeed, she took a very sharp turn. She was still in her usual attire when all of that happened before grabbing hold of Stephen's credit card. Some people even thought she was Amish, which puzzled her until she made the connection after searching online. "I'm that alluring, huh?"

"You are."

Their version of a mini-reunion fell apart when one of her phones suddenly rang. It was Stephen calling, even after she had assured him that she would be coming home that day, following days of canoodling with Steve. Although he didn't know she was with Steve, he could have waited instead of calling her. 

Frustrated, she decided to pick up the phone to silence him, knowing full well that he would not stop until he heard a response. She was in no mood for golden circles teleporting her on a beautiful morning.

"What? I told you I'm going home later."

"Wanda! It's happening—it's finally happening!" he clamored, his voice filled with elation.

"What are you talking about? Why are you happy while talking to me? Are you dying?" She caught Steve chuckling as he listened to her.

"My beloved. Agatha is coming to town! My Agatha is coming!"

Chapter Text

The world was likely on the brink of annihilation. Instead of rain, the sky would shower fire, eradicating the earth. That was the only justification Wanda could think of to apprehend what she was witnessing.

Agatha Harkness, her mentor and the closest person she could regard as a mother. The woman who never left her and her brother's side for more than a day throughout her entire life. The woman who sacrificed her own well-being to take her out of Sokovia and hide her from that demon, only for Wanda to self-sabotage in the most nonsensical fashion.

Agatha Harkness, who taught Wanda everything she knew about magic. Agatha, who had strictly told her to respect her body as her own Wonderland, probably after hearing a philosopher named John Meyer.

Agatha, the leader of her coven and Wanda's mentor, was sitting on top of Stephen Strange, doing the hanky-panky, and looked like they were having the time of their lives.

Wanda let out a shriek. She had never yelled that hard in her entire life. She wanted to gouge out her own eyes and wash them with acid to obliterate the recollections of the last few seconds of her young life. She couldn't believe it. She felt like the most hapless person in the world—an overstatement, of course, but she felt justified in believing so. She had just caught her mentor behaving like a parched animal as she rolled her hips atop Stephen.

"Could you knock?" Agatha blurted, finally springing off Stephen as they hotfooted to cover themselves.

"Could you lock? What the hell, Agatha!" she wailed, slamming the door behind her before pacing back and forth in front of them. She couldn’t help but chew on her nails, overwhelmed by the shambles flooding her mind from what she had just beheld.

"Don't scream at her," Stephen, who was half-naked, reprimanded, avoiding her gaze.

"Shut up!" she shot back, her fingers quivering as she pointed at Stephen; she even felt the whim to cry. "You're not part of this conversation! You defiled her!"

"Okay, you're going a bit too far now, dear," Agatha spoke casually. "I don't think you're in any position to judge us when you've meandered yourself. I already told you to bring that boy here so I could meet him. It's been days, and you still haven't even shown me his shadow."

Wanda glowered at her, slighted that she referred to Steve as a boy. He was no boy; Steve was a man, the man. She jiggled her head at the discernment that she had almost been pivoted from the topic at hand.

"No, no, no! You can’t change the subject. I can't believe this is happening," Wanda professed, breathless.

"What can't you believe? We are in a committed relationship." Agatha asked.

"But I thought you were just using him. You never even mentioned him. This is supposed to be a one-sided obsession on his part!"

"Just because things aren't spoken does not make them any less true. We are adults, and we love each other."

"I love you very much, my sweet," Stephen murmured, gaping at Agatha with intensity.

"I love you more than life itself, my beast," Agatha replied, returning Stephen's passion with equal fervor.

"Stop!" she yelled again as they were about to smooch, downright shunning her existence. "I feel like I'm going to barf." Her chest heaved at the sight of them, swearing their so-called devotion to each other.

"You've been retching for any reason nowadays anyway. Don't use us as an excuse." Agatha chastised. Wanda knew she wanted to say more, but held her tongue.

"No, this is not happening," she mumbled to herself.

"Goodbye, Wanda!"

Stephen waved his hand at her, and before she could react, she instantaneously found herself plunging into the living room. She closed her eyes, bracing for a hard landing, but was rather enveloped in delicateness. When she opened her eyes again, she discovered she was being nestled by the Cloak of Levitation, which gently set her down on the floor.

"Thank you, Cloak. You're the only one who makes sense in this wretched place. That Stephen is a monster!" The cloak unexpectedly smacked her across the face; it wasn't too painful, but it still stung. "Ouch! That really hurt. You're too loyal for your own good!" The cloak merely shrugged at her before flying away to find something else to do.

"Wanda!" Pietro called as he ran toward her. "What happened? I heard you shouting from the kitchen."

"Pietro!" she sobbed without tears, hugging him desperately for solace. "It's terrible. Agatha just told me that she and Stephen are in love!" she clamored. Pietro only stared at her, nonplussed.

"Of course they are. They're each other's lobsters," he grinned.

"What?"

"You know, like what Phoebe from Friends said--"

She banged her hand over his mouth to block him from rambling. To get him out of her hair, she made him watch Friends. Her gambit worked; Pietro became so enthralled in the show that he locked himself in his room for days, cackling along to the laugh tracks. She wondered whether he actually understood the humor or was just using the laughter as his cue.

Worse, he might be feigning happiness to disguise his sorrow at waking up one day and realizing that he had lost his abilities, which prodded him and Agatha to rush to New York. None of them had yet discussed how grave the situation was, and she was grateful for it. That monster did not deserve to be brought to life by their endless fear of him. They all still had to find a way to live somehow.

"I know what Phoebe said! Don’t lecture me about something I introduced you to. What I mean is, we've never even heard about their relationship. They were..." Wanda gasped at a sudden thought that crossed her mind, resting her hand on her chest. "They were doing things that only married people should be doing. Oh my God, are they even using protection?" She could barely get the words out, afraid that if the wind caught a whiff of the idea, it would come true. Agatha was more than three centuries old; it would be unheard of for Wanda alone, but a tot added to their mess would be terrible.

"Stop it, sis. You're overreacting. You, of all people, shouldn't be acting like a prudish snoot. We're not even godly! I should be the one asking you about that. Where is the man who took your sweetness? And you know I'm not talking about you know who!"

How the tables have turned. She was in no mood to deal with Pietro's brotherly protection either, so she decided to use her tried-and-tested method. Wanda stared behind him, her face filled with fear.

"Oh no..." she gasped, her lips quivering slightly.

"What?"

Pietro followed her gaze, and when he did, she bolted away from him, laughing. He remained the same foolish brother who kept falling for her schemes.

She scurried past the main door and left the Sanctum. Not paying attention, she collided with a hard surface and fell to the ground.

"Ow, my ass," she complained, ready to unleash her curses. When she looked up, however, she found Bucky grinning down at her.

"What trouble did you cause again?"

***

For Wanda, saving the world probably meant an on-the-hop timetable. Yet there she was, eating dinner with the Avengers, except Thor, as she expected; apparently, the god was on a trip with his girlfriend.

What made the mini-event more menacing for her was that she was sitting beside Bucky, while Steve was across from her. His unflagging glimpses whenever she and Bucky gabbed didn't elude her. She felt bad for him even though she had determined she didn't care.

She had cautioned Bucky not to say anything about their outings and warned Steve not to say anything about what she had been doing with him. Bucky found it amusing but straightaway acquiesced. Steve was a separate kind of encumbrance, though. He took it as her being ashamed of him, which was the dumbest thing she have ever heard of. She had no time to soothe him after everything. She was too occupied eyeing the horrendous couple at the head of the table, who couldn't get their hands off each other. Stephen and Agatha kept rolling their eyes at her whenever they met her scowl.

It was bad enough that Stephen invited his teammates over for dinner; did the reason have to be that he had a momentous announcement, too? She wasn't born yesterday; she had an idea of what their news would be, and she abhorred them for it.

"She is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," Pietro whispered to her ear. Her brother's mouth dropped open the moment he saw Natasha. He had never even shown any interest in women before, even though he was the only boy in their village surrounded by pretty ladies. The thought inspired Wanda.

"I know, right. If you like her that much, why don't you ask her out? A beauty like that should be chased, not manifested." She suggested like greased lightning. Her brother was also attractive; the two of them would be a flawless pair.

"That kind of woman will never look my way." He smiled sheepishly. She didn't like that he thought too little of himself. He was the handsomest man in their village, sure, he was the only man in their hometown, but still. "There's probably a line of men waiting for her affection anyway. Just look at her teammates, she even looks good together with the Captain."

"No, they do not!" She sharply disagreed, and the room fell silent; all eyes were on her.

"Did we start the happy hour already? Easy there, Dobby." Tony knocked.

"Children, are you fighting again? You won't get to eat ice cream if you don't cut that out." Agatha cooed, beaming at them, yet she and Pietro knew that they'd be in jeopardy as soon as the guests left.

"Sorry, Agatha." She and Pietro said at the same time.

"Whoa!" Sam, who was sitting across from Bucky, goggled at Wanda in awe. "Did you just apologize? And did it sound sincere?"

"What do you mean?" Agatha asked.

Wanda briskly stood up and cleared her throat. "I apologize for my bad manners. I did not intend to shout. I was just startled by what my brother said. This is such a delectable meal." She rambled, went back to her seat, and forced herself to eat the dish that made her queasy.

"Earlier, you said the colors of the vegetables made you want to puke your guts out. And you did, you threw up all over the floor. You didn't even clean it. I cleaned it." Wong revealed from the other end of the table, where he sat with Tony. Everyone just had to be on Wanda's case that night, it seemed.

She forced herself to smile at Wong. "I'm really sorry, Wong. You know I haven't been feeling well. I didn't say that to insult your cooking."

"Yes, you did, you told him that the colors were his fault because he was so lousy at--" Pietro contradicted her, so she stomped on his feet while glaring at him. "Ouch!"

"Oh, brother. What happened?" She cupped his face solidly to warn him to stop getting her in trouble silently. "You shouldn't be joking like that. We have guests, we don't want them to think that I just go around denigrating everyone." She expressed through gritted teeth.

"You do! You even insulted me, too!" Sam chimed in, nailing Wanda's already sheathlike casket.

"Thank you so much for inviting us over here, Stephen." Natasha unexpectedly spoke, glancing Wanda's way and offering her a sweet smile to let her know that she was taking the heat away from her before turning to look at Stephen and Agatha. "It's really lovely to meet you finally, Agatha. Strange is so enamored with you."

Wanda just fell in love with Natasha at that moment. "See, she's not just beautiful. She's kind, too." She spoke lowly to Pietro.

"She is," Pietro sighed as he gawked at Natasha.

"I saw that you kicked your brother under the table," Bucky whispered to her. She glowered at him, but the fool just chortled quietly. "No wonder you got the wind up about keeping my mouth shut, you have a strict mother."

To avoid further questions, Agatha introduced herself to everyone as Wanda and Pietro's mother, which made Stephen their fake almost-stepfather. She rolled her eyes at him and turned away, only to be met by Steve staring intently at her. She knew that look too well; he was jealous again.

"You're not helping me." She grunted at Bucky, then stood up and grabbed a dish she didn't recognize from the platter to offer it to Steve. "Oh, Captain, you're almost done with your meal. Here, have some more. Wong makes a very delicious, uh, whatever precious delicacy this is."

Steve raised his hand; however, his expression was blank as he shook his head. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"Thank you all for coming over. I really appreciate everyone's attendance in this special night for Agatha and me." Stephen said as he and Agatha stood up, their hands clasped.

"Oh, boy, here we go," Wanda muttered as she went back to her seat to listen in.

"Life is short, the world is hard, so why not spend it with the people you love the most? That being said, my lovely Agatha and I have decided to tie the knot. Everyone here is invited."

***

"You've been ignoring me all night. Did you really have to make me climb to your window, too?" Steve asked Wanda, breaking their kiss.

She knew it; he just couldn't let go of his paltry jealousy, even though she was wrapped all over him, straddling his lap on her bed as he leaned against the headboard.

"I can't get out. And we didn't get to talk earlier either," she murmured, tending kisses on his neck. "Isn't this romantic? We're like Romeo and Juliet."

"You know how terribly that ended," he said with a laugh, pulling her closer.

"We're rewriting it. Now, stop brooding. We haven't seen each other for days. I missed hearing your voice." She was too busy touring Pietro to distract him from missing his powers. She knew how difficult his current situation was, so she wouldn't dare be without her brother's side. Meanwhile, Agatha occupied herself with Stephen; they were inseparable like honeymooners.

"You were too busy chatting with my best friend; I doubt you even thought about me," he scoffed, looking away as the blush crept to his cheeks.

"We were sitting together, and it would be rude not to talk to him. I've almost been in trouble if not for Natasha." She had no intention of sitting beside Steve; Agatha and Pietro knew her too well. They would have clocked her right away and made Steve explain himself as if she were not a grown woman. "Your actions contradicted your age, Wanda," her snarky mind retorted.

"You could've sat with me then," he whined.

Wanda quickly silenced him when his tone grew louder. "Lower your voice. Ag-- My mother has immaculate hearing."

"It was nice to meet your family," he grinned, finally letting go of his bruised ego.

"Does Natasha have a boyfriend?"

"No, why?" his brows furrowed.

"Nothing's going on between you two?" she couldn't help but ask. They really did look good together; she hated that they had chemistry.

"No! She's like a sister to me."

Wanda pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, pleased by the look of disdain on his face at the notion. "I'm loving her even more by the second."

"Why do you ask?"

"My brother has a crush on her."

"Natasha's 34."

Wanda grimaced. "And? You're much older than I am. If men can do it, then women can too."

"That's not what I intended to say."

"Then what do you mean?"

"She is at a different stage in her life. We discussed it once. She isn't looking for relationships at this time."

Wanda genuinely wanted her brother to be happy and couldn’t just give up. "If Natasha gets to know Pietro, she'll appreciate his wonderful qualities," she responded. "Steve, please, set them up on a date. My brother is really nice; he's the exact opposite of me."

"Yeah, he looked like he was charming. I hope you properly introduce us the next time."

"How? What do I tell him? Pietro, this is the guy who keeps fucking your twin?" she razzed.

"Wanda, you're the only one who keeps saying that. You know well that that isn't what we are."

Steve's face was solemn; she had landed herself in trouble once more. But she needed him to be in a good mood for how their night would unfold. "Alright, I'll introduce you. Just wait." She removed her top and guided his hand to her chest, lightly biting on his lip.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" She was ruffled that he didn't even seem delighted about their impending tryst. Her ego was now bruised.

"You're avoiding talking about us. I think I've been patient enough, don't you think it's time we talk about us?"

Wanda sighed heavily. Their moment had passed, and she was no longer feeling the heat, so she put her shirt back on. She moved away from him. Why did he always have to be so serious? Now she was wavering about whether to share her news with him. She was already nervous, and his constant need for labels wasn't helping matters.

"Why do we have to? We're having fun and enjoying each other's company. Why can't we just stay this way? We don’t always need to define everything," she spoke irritably, trying to keep her voice down.

"Haven't I made myself clear enough? When we got back together, I communicated that I didn't want what you proposed, yet you stayed. So, I thought that... We could be more."

He was making her regret staying. "Well, you thought wrong."

"I love you, Wanda."

She got up and stood by the window; she wished he hadn't said that. She's been told that before. She had no plans of falling for the same lure all over again. "No."

"What?" His warm breath brushed against her neck. He was always too quick to follow her around.

She stared off into the distance; she couldn't bear to face him. Yet, it was time to hurt him again. "No. You're just infatuated. It's probably because of all the sex," she spoke coldly.

"Don't tell me what I feel."

"Why? You can't honestly tell me you love me when we don’t even have a solid foundation between us?"

"That's because you don't want us to. You keep trying to confine us. I know that you feel something for me, too. Why else would you keep going to my side?"

Yes, he was right. She felt something for him: apprehension. "Didn't you ever consider that I really just wanted to sleep with an Avenger?" She finally faced him, forcing a look of apathy.

"No."

"Well, I just really wanted to fuck an Avenger. That's the whole truth."

"Why do you keep trying to hurt my feelings?"

She steeled herself against the sorrow she saw in his eyes. "You're being thoughtless. You can't even tell the difference between love and a mere fixation. Your life was dull, and then I came along, changing your routine. That's why you think that your feelings for me have deepened. You may feel good when you’re with me, but that’s just your desire talking."

"I keep missing you even when we're together, because you're too distant. When I think about you, I can't stop myself from smiling. When I see you, my day brightens up. You could sit quietly, doing nothing, and I'd still feel content because simply being with you is enough. When you smile at me, my heart melts. I dream of you constantly and envision a future together. I find myself going against everything I've told myself just for a moment with you. It's that simple: I love you, Wanda."

His precious words deserved to be heard by someone else. "And I already told you that I will never love you. It's also that simple, Steve."

"Do you have feelings for Bucky?"

"This again," although she was utterly surprised, she did her best to hide her reaction.

"You think I don't know about you two? I’m fully aware that you have two phones, and even when we were together, you would excuse yourself to talk to him secretly. I see how you giggle when you read his messages. You think I don’t know how you’ve been spending time with him behind my back? Do you have any idea how much it hurt me when you lied to my face about not seeing anyone else? I know you think I’m acting dumb, Wanda, but you don’t need to keep reminding me... Have you been intimate with him, too?"

It would have been better if he had roared all of that at her instead of sounding so hurt. "No, I'm not that horrible. Not yet, at least."

"You won't even allow me to take you out on a proper date, yet you've gone everywhere with him. I could offer you all of that and more, but you never gave me a chance." He held her gently by the shoulders, searching her eyes for a hint of softness, but she remained steadfast in her resolve.

"Then that should put your doubts to rest. It should end your misguided belief that there's something deeper between us. We're simply two lonely people using each other for warmth." That was true for her, though perhaps less so for him, as he was a good man who likely had many people who genuinely cared about his happiness.

"You are being unfair to me."

"I know. Do you want to end it?"

"Do you have any feelings for him?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you even want to explore your feelings for me?" He wasn't just questioning her; he looked as if he were appealing instead. The mighty had fallen unjustly.

"I don't have feelings for you."

Time seemed to drag as they gazed at each other, their breaths defeaning in the stillness of the night. This was not how the evening was meant to unfurl, but she had brought it upon herself by pursuing a fire she couldn't handle.

"Then let's end it."

That's what she wanted to hear from him, right? So why did her heart feel like it was shattering? "You have no right, Wanda. Now more than ever, you have no right to keep holding on to Steve,"  she said it in her mind like a prayer. "It has to happen this way, Steve, especially after what I'm going to say next. You need to see the ugliness before you to adequately decide whether you would still choose to be a good man or not."

"Okay. But I need to tell you something."

He released her and nodded his head in disbelief, smiling bitingly. He was probably wondering what else she could say—another round of insults?

"Oh? There's something else," he muttered dryly.

"I think I'm pregnant, Steve."

Chapter Text

"Do not slouch!" Agatha struck her favorite stick at Wanda's back.

"Sorry," Wanda mumbled as she struggled to hold her stance while kneeling on the hardwood floor, her arms raised as she held the weightiest book she had ever lifted. At least Agatha did not give her a rock this time.

She shouldn't have told them about her pregnancy. It would have been better if she had disappeared and come back with the baby in her arms. Adults are softer when it comes to babies.

"You have much to apologize for," Pietro grunted, sitting cozily on the couch beside Stephen and Wong.

Wanda shot her brother a fierce look. "Be quiet; you’re not involved in this."

"Pietro, zip it before I have you kneel beside her." Agatha threatened, making Wanda smirk at her twin.

"Sorry, Ma'am," Pietro apologized at full hilt, screwing his lips shut.

It was quite amusing how she and her brother still behaved like eight-year-olds around Agatha. The woman was never unkind; she was simply stringent. While it was true that they often faced punishments for their misdeeds, it should be noted that she and Pietro were, without exception, the rowdy children.

"What's the plan? Is he going to marry you?" Agatha asked, circling her like a hawk.

"No!" Wanda exclaimed, recalling that Steve had proposed the same thing last night when she told him about her possible pregnancy. Possible was now fully confirmed after her tour of pregnancy tests. "We're not even in a relationship."

"What? You got knocked up and you're not even together?" Pietro clamored, his face turning tomato. Wanda couldn't help but think her brother was probably devising Steve's demise at that very moment.

"Dear heavens," Agatha sighed, glancing upward as if she were a religious woman.

"Captain Rogers did that? I’m appalled. He seemed like a stand-up man. It was your idea, wasn’t it?" Stephen joined in, speedily seeing through the bind Wanda had gotten herself in.

With Agatha around, she didn't pluck up the courage to bare all her shenanigans. "Of course not. I kept asking him what we are, and he kept saying that we're something, but he never asked me to be his girlfriend." Wanda explained, staring at the floor.

"She's obviously lying!" Pietro immediately protested. Why did deceiving her family have to be the most challenging part?

"I'm not lying!" she strongly denied, still avoiding their stares.

"You're lying," Agatha affirmed, not buying what she was selling right away.

"Sorry, Ma'am," Wanda conceded.

"I thought the father would be Bucky. I really like Bucky. Couldn't it have been Bucky instead? Why not Bucky?" Wong asked.

"You were aware of this?" Stephen asked sharply, directing his question at Wong.

"Yes, you told me to keep an eye on her. I didn't know Captain America was the other man, though. She just told me that she met them at the club." Wong replied lackadaisically.

"Club? And you didn't tell me?" Stephen snapped back, his tone filled with ire.

"You just said keep an eye."

"Wong! I expected you to be my eyes. What did you think that meant? And what's with Bucky?"

"Maybe it's a mistake, maybe she could do a test again?" Pietro inserted, halting the other men's exchange.

"No, we've already had her take the test five times, and I can sense the little life inside her," Stephen disagreed. Wanda wordlessly thanked him; she was tired of peeing on the stick only to see two red, angry lines each time.

"Everyone, I'm going to need you all to be quiet," Agatha asserted, waving her stick in their direction. She swung back onto Wanda's back when she caught her sagging. "Wanda, even if you didn’t use a sheath, couldn’t you have at least taken the devil’s tea?"

Wanda did after the first few times, but it was horrible. Mostly, she just forgot. "It's too bitter. And it won't be effective if I add sugar to it."

"So what did you do? Pray and hope that you don't catch something?"

She did pray a little. "In my defense, it's Steve Rogers," she grumbled.

"And?"

Wanda had nothing more to say; her mind had equated the name Steve Rogers to a full sentence. "That's just it. He has the charisma to make you open your legs."

"Oh dear god. I'm gonna die early."

"You've been living for a while... Ow, ow, ow!" Agatha pinched her ear so hard she thought it might fall off. "Sorry, I'll be quiet."

"Have you told him yet?" Agatha asked after letting her burning ear rest.

"I did."

"What did he say?"

"We were arguing last night, and then we decided to break up. Then I told him. After I told him, though, it was as if he had forgotten he had been upset with me. He hugged me and kissed me, and I kissed him back. Then, dot, dot, dot." She didn't expect Steve to react so positively to the news. He was beaming so brightly that even Wanda forgot they had just moments ago been ending their... friendship?

"What? Are you trying to have twins now?" Pietro thundered, the veins in his face creasing like a crumpled piece of paper.

"That's biologically unattainable, Pietro," Wong rebutted, giving her brother a side-eye that said, 'Are you an idiot?'

"It is actually feasible to become pregnant again while already pregnant, though this is an infrequent occurrence in humans known as superfetation. This phenomenon involves a second ovulation, fertilization, and implantation taking place after the initial pregnancy has already started, resulting in two fetuses that are at different stages of development." Dr. Stephen Strange just propelled Wanda into the abyss of anxiety. As if she had been ferried back to that horrific night she had with Mr. L for Life-sucker.

"So, she can still do it with Bucky?" Wong gasped, eerily sounding enthused by the idea.

"Really?" she asked, feeling nervous. For a moment, she feared she would slip the hardbound book on her head.

"That's beside the point. I thought I asked everyone to keep quiet!" Agatha clamored. "How are you even going to become a mother? You can't even take care of yourself, and you hate children."

A noteworthy fact indeed. Wanda did not consider her own sentiments. Perhaps if the child were hers, she would love it? Steve already seemed to love the child, so maybe he could fill in the gaps for her.

"She doesn't have to keep it. There are options now; it's her choice," Wong suggested. Wanda felt affronted by the implication, however, as she had never imagined herself having the mental resilience to do so.

"There's still the matter of you know who," Pietro added to Wanda's long list of folly. Regardless, she had already made her decision.

"I'm going to keep the baby. We're all going to go extinct soon, and this baby could start a new generation," she muttered, choosing to avoid the truth that she wasn't courageous enough to give up a life she never expected to come into her world. She knew that what she and Steve had been doing could lead to consequences, but she still didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

"That's not a good reason to raise a child, Wanda. You should keep the baby because you love them, not just for a purpose. I raised you to be your own person because I didn't like how your parents treated you." Agatha finally turned to face her, looking down at her with sympathy for her surrogate grandchild.

"They're not my parents. No offense, Pietro."

"None taken, they're not mine either." Pietro quickly affirmed. Their parents cherished her brother, so when he decided to go with her and Agatha, it surprised them both. Her brother was not very expressive about his love for her, but she knew he had chosen to leave because he loved her more than their parents.

"Please be nice to Steve when you talk to him tonight. I've already been making his life complicated," Wanda pleaded to Agatha.

Steve had wanted to meet her family even before the baby was on the way; unfortunately, Wanda was only making that happen now because of her pregnancy.

"Please tell me that you at least have feelings for the father of your child. He will now be entangled with our mess. It will be a big ask. You know that."

"He is special to me."

***

"Do you have a house?" Agatha asked Steve.

Wanda couldn’t help but balk on Steve’s behalf. Everyone around the table seemed to be interrogating him. She took his hand under the table and held it tightly, offering him comfort for the next few agonizing minutes as Agatha assumed the role of an inquisitive, furious mother.

Steve, however, didn’t appear to need her reinforcement; he held his head high and met Agatha’s probing gaze valiantly. Perhaps she was holding onto him more for her own solace than for his.

"I have an apartment, but I can buy a house," Steve said.

Wanda loved his apartment, though. It wasn't child-friendly by conventional standards. However, they could probably make some adjustments. After all, the baby wouldn’t need its own room right away. In her culture, babies slept with their parents, and she intended to do the same.

"Everything here in America is expensive. Can you afford it?"

"I have savings, yes. And I can qualify for a mortgage."

"Why do you need a mortgage? Is being an Avenger not well-paid? Stephen, why are you still an Avenger if it doesn’t pay well?" Agatha unexpectedly swerved her focus from Steve and confronted her lover—something she always relished calling him—right in front of Wanda's sneering regard.

"Uh... well..." Stephen hesitated, clearly weighing whether he should reveal the truth about how impulsively he signed up, hoping to win Agatha's affections. If he shared that, the consequences would surely fall on Wanda as well, so she subtly nudged Steve to speak again.

"I can buy a house without a mortgage if that’s what you prefer. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been taking care of my credit score." Wanda snorted at Steve's assurance. He was overlooking the fact that they were hillside bumpkins who didn’t fully understand how things worked in his country.

"What is a credit score?" Agatha asked, her brows crimped in confusion. "Never mind, I'm not interested. When will you marry my daughter, Wanda?"

Wanda burst into a cough as if gagging on an imagined morsel. Steve quickly handed her a glass of water while gently patting her back, his eyes still fixed on Agatha.

"Agatha?" Wanda charged, dumbfounded that she had already made it clear that marriage was not an option. Yet she still asked Steve.

"You don't call your mother 'Mom'?" Steve asked, perplexed.

"We're cool like that," Wanda said with a shrug.

"Eyes on me," Agatha called out, firmly tapping her hand on the table.

"Sorry. We can marry anytime," Steve promised. Wanda's eyes widened at his words; they would probably have another argument later when alone.

"Not really. Do you remember, dear? The legalities are tricky," Stephen reminded Agatha, referring to their illegal entry into American soil through mystical transport, which Wanda had already disclosed to Steve.

"It won't be tricky, I can make some calls for that." Steve guaranteed. Wanda didn't think that he was even capable of using nepotism to get his way.

"Make it happen. Now, how will you care for Wanda if you keep going on missions? You're the leader, so delegate the missions to your underlings." Wanda agreed with Agatha's suggestion. If Steve truly wanted to be there for their child, she preferred that he stay alive.

"I will make some shuffles for it, Ma'am."

"Wanda has a terrible attitude; she is as stubborn as a rock. She doesn't know how to do chores properly and lacks a proper education. Overall, she's not a good person. Are you going to spend your time doing whatever you want while leaving her to care for the baby? Will you have girlfriends in every part of the world? My Wanda here is pretty, but the grass is always greener on the other side. Especially with a renegade of a grass."

Wanda was unsettled by the way Agatha represented her. Still, she couldn't help feeling curious—not about the insinuation of Steve gallivanting, but about whether Steve would eventually find a girlfriend. If he did, she figured she had no right to object unless she decided to marry him. But the truth was, she didn't want to marry him.

"I will not dishonor her. Wanda is not terrible; she is tenacious but also sweet and caring."

"What’s that, Wanda? Is that your heart melting at Steve defending you?" her mind said. She wondered if she was going insane with her inner dialogues.

"She can't be pregnant and alone while you're at work. Live here for now." Agatha leaned against her seat, crossing her arms, her eyes still fixed on Steve.

Wanda wanted to protest, but Agatha was sensible; she feared being left alone as well. What if that bastard suddenly appeared and hurt her baby? She instinctively wrapped her arm around her flat stomach.

"I will, if it's alright with Strange," Steve responded.

"I don't see any issues with that," Stephen said, promptly giving his blessing.

That night, everything was settled peacefully. Pietro didn’t make any snarky remarks; he remained quiet unless Agatha was involved in her brother's mumness. Wong, on the other hand, didn’t say much either, but he kept rolling his eyes every time Steve spoke, displaying his disapproval.

Wanda found herself merely listening to the conversation about her own pregnancy. It wasn't that she was afraid to express her thoughts; she was too consumed by the fear rising inside her. Now that Steve was fully involved, she knew she would soon have to tell him everything for his own safety.

***

"What are you going to do with this place? You're not going to abandon it, are you?" Wanda asked Steve as she sat on his bed, watching him pack his belongings to move in with her at the Sanctum.

"No, I'm gonna keep it."

"So you have a place you can run to every time we fight?"

"You can run here too, but we don’t have to fight; we only argue about one thing anyway." He turned to face her, a wry smile on his lips, as if silently suggesting that he expected more arguments between them in the future. She had no doubt they would bicker as well.

"About that. You're not going to really marry me, are you? You just said that to appease my mom?"

"I would prefer it if my wife married me because she wanted to, not because she was forced. So yeah, I just said that for peace."

Somehow, she felt a tug in her heart at his confirmation. Although she was earnest about not desiring marriage, she didn't expect him to agree so readily with her muddled feelings after his intense declaration.

She hoped that her disappointment was merely a result of her pregnancy hormones. If it weren't, she would have to swallow her pride and propose to him instead.

"That's good, at least we're on the same page for once."

Steve approached her with a warm grin and crouched in front of her. She had always loved it when he smiled that way. Just last night, she had fretted it might be the last time she would see him. Even if he was only around for their baby, she truly valued his commitment to staying.

"You can rest while I pack. You didn't have to come here, either. I'm not going to run away." He reached out and rested his hands on her thighs, tracing circles on her skirt.

"I wanted to come here. Pietro won't stop bugging me about his thoughts. Are you still mad at me?" She asked with a little stir in her voice.

"I don't know anymore, Wanda. Somehow, I always find myself in bed with you." He chuckled at his own cognizance.

Wanda couldn't even decide if what happened between them last night was still considered fucking. He was too gentle yet passionate at the same time. Nevertheless, she still felt revered by the way he scorched her skin with his touch. Perhaps that's how making love felt.

"Aren't you even going to ask me if the baby is really yours?" She can't have a vicious personality and also lack self-awareness at the same time; she knew that.

Given everything she had done and said to him, she felt he deserved at least the grace of doubt. If she were in his position, that would undoubtedly have been her first question. But not Steve.

Instead, she asked on his behalf. The thought of him quietly grappling with the unsettling question of whether he had been crossed to the mud was something she couldn't bear to envision for him. It would be too cruel, even for her.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You said you didn't sleep with anyone."

"But I always lie to you."

"I know. You also have a habit of kicking me in the gut whenever I try to be close to you, yet you told me that I'm the father. So, no. I don't think you're lying. I would appreciate it if you would be a little optimistic during your pregnancy, though. We don't want the baby to come out giving the middle finger to the doctor." He chortled before suddenly creasing his forehead as he hiked her skirt above her knee. He was intently focused on the angry bruises she gained after being punished. He leaned over and dragged soft kisses on her knees.

"What are you--"

"Does it hurt?"

"No. Pietro applied some soothing balm afterwards." While bombarding her with ramblings about how disappointed he was that she wasn't careful, and how she could let herself be entangled with a man she wasn't in a relationship with.  

It was as if she were the first woman ever to become pregnant outside of marriage. They had lived in the hills for so long that they had no fundamental understanding of how the world truly worked and moved on from old biases.

"Is your mother really that strict? This is considered abuse in this country." He looked up at her while massaging her foot. She wondered how he knew that her feet were also sore, even though she was still able to walk properly.

"She is the kindest woman on earth. You know me; I deserve a beating." Surprisingly, she was not offended by Steve's hint of disdain toward Agatha's disciplinary method.

"Nobody deserves a beating."

She finally made the connection. Gently holding his face, she kissed him between the brows. "We won't subject our child to that if that's what you're worried about. My mother comes from a different time—a very different time. She's accustomed to a specific approach to discipline. While she never hurt us in any severe way, she did make us kneel on hard surfaces and things like that. One time, Pietro and I wouldn't stop squabbling, she gave us each a knife and ordered us to finish the deed."

That seemed to alleviate his concern. His eyes then focused on her belly. "You're not showing yet, so I guess you're pretty early on. We should see a doctor as soon as possible."

Wanda nodded in agreement. She had an idea about how far along she was, but she wasn't the most reliable when it came to herself. "Are you going to tell anyone about me?"

"My closest friends and some acquaintances. If the public finds out, I won't deny it. But for your protection, it will be best if we keep this under wraps."

"My protection?" Her heart raced as fear gripped her again.

"I've gained many enemies over the past few years."

Right. Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? "I see. Of course you have. You cannot be a hero without a villain."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you're safe. How are you feeling about your pregnancy? You're still young, you have a long life ahead of you."

"I honestly thought we wouldn't have a baby because of your enhancement. So when I woke up one day and started experiencing symptoms, I was shocked. Anyway, I'm glad that you're the dad; I know you'll be a good father."

The truth was that she was enormously aggrieved to have gotten pregnant. She couldn't even whine about it because she knew that she could have averted it if she had used her head, which was probably filled with cobwebs from lack of utilization. If she had met someone else, she doubted she would have had the same conversation with Steve. "You?"

"I was thrilled when you told me," he muttered, his eyes lighting up as he gently caressed her stomach.

"I know. That shocked me, and comforted me at the same time. Did you always want to be a dad?"

"I thought about it when I woke up from the ice. I didn’t exactly wish for it to happen, but I knew I would welcome the idea. But, I also didn’t believe I would be able to, for the same reason you mentioned to me."

Seeing the fondness in his eyes for their unborn child ignited something inside Wanda.

It was time for her to stop undermining herself; that was the least she could do for her baby. She knew all too well the pain of feeling as if one had been born out of necessity. She mourned the love she never received from her adoptive parents. She often chalked her own experience as her destiny, but that was foolish.

She didn’t truly hate children; she simply saw herself in them, had she been loved properly. She envied what she never had the chance to receive.

She hoped that when the day came to meet her own child, she would not feel the same clashing emotions. She wanted to feel the same adoration for her child that Steve already did. If she couldn’t, she worried that she wouldn’t deserve to be in that child’s presence.

"I'm really sorry, Steve. It's not that I don't feel anything for you. I just... There are so many things going on inside my head. I find myself constantly feeling the need to protect myself from unseen things. You can't get left if you leave first. Does that make sense?"

"It does," he whispered.

"I promise that I will be nicer to you from now on. I really hope we could be friends." If they stayed as friends, at least she wouldn't lose him.

"Alright, let's be friends, but we need to establish some boundaries moving forward."

"I respect that." She bobbed her head eagerly. It was odd; she hadn't imagined that talking to someone without her walls raised high right away would feel so good.

"No more sex, no more lying, no more insults just because. And we will talk like adults."

Everything he wanted to impose made sense. She could easily rally behind his ideas and do her best to follow through—all except for one. She had just promised him that she'd be kinder, but he frustrated her almost in the blink of an eye. What was he trying to accomplish? Was he penalizing her?

She scowled at him, her ears sizzling as if smoke would come out of them anytime soon. "What do you mean, no more sex?"

The menace simply shrugged and resumed packing, leaving her furious. Surely, he was just toying with her, right? Right?

Chapter Text

Life had been hectic and progressively unbearable for a magicless witch named Wanda Maximoff. She had been plugged with nuisance and bodily repugnance. She had even begun addressing herself in the third person, which equally made everyone's hackles rise, save for her good friend Steve Rogers.

She was nine weeks pregnant, parched like a camel from the lack of liquor in her system, and frequently starved after barfing up everything she ate. She only wanted to eat candies, but was strongly advised against it. How was one supposed to survive with one piece of the majestic Reese's Peanut Butter Cups in a day?

In addition, Wanda felt hot all the time, as if she were living in a desert. She was shrouded in wool, since Agatha had taken all her pretty clothes away. She was left with nothing but the long-sleeved, floor-length dresses that reached her collarbones that the woman either magically conjured or her brother knitted for her. Pietro had always been the daughter that Agatha never had.

Her emotions deserved their own room. She was melodramatic, and the sappy commercials made her cry like an idiot. To make everything even more sparkly, she still had thirty weeks left to endure this misery before it would finally be over.

As she tread the stairs to make her way to the living room and watch trashy shows, her temper flared there, and then at the sight she was witnessing.

I Put a Spell on You by Annie Lennox was blaring throughout the Sanctum as Agatha and Stephen danced to the cadence. They gazed lovingly at each other, as if they were the only two people left in the world.

"Fucking terrible," Wanda muttered as she stood there watching them. She couldn't even get Steve to sleep beside her, yet they had the nerve to be madly in love.

Steve's insistence on sleeping on the floor made her think the unthinkable—that of smothering his beautiful face with a pillow. When he told her they would no longer engage in flaming activities, she laughed in his face. Now, though, she was no longer laughing.

"Wanda, dear, do you need anything?" Agatha asked, catching her breath after the music ended. Meanwhile, the Sorcerer Supreme and Master of the Mystic Arts extraordinaire had his arms wrapped tightly around Agatha as he stood formidably behind her.

"I need both of you to stop being so ridiculous," Wanda grunted. She sat down on the couch and rested her legs on the table beside Pietro, who was still knitting like his life depended on it.

"They’re not ridiculous; they’re in love. You’re just jealous because you don’t have a man," Pietro teased without even looking at her.

"And you can't even speak to women," she shot back.

"I can speak to women. Just not... You know."

"She's every woman, she's what Whitney Houston sings about."

"Who?" Agatha asked as she took a seat next to Wanda.

"Nothing!" Pietro briskly replied. "I think that's the perfect wedding song, by the way."

"I think so too, it perfectly encapsulates what we feel about each other." Stephen sighed contentedly as he sipped his tea, which had mystically appeared in his hands.

Wanda regarded Stephen as such a hypocrite. He claimed that he didn’t use his magic for respite, yet he frequently relied on it to make tea and operate appliances that he was too lazy to use himself.

"What do you think, Wanda?" Agatha sounded out.

"Wanda thinks that she wants to throw up at what she had just witnessed." She spewed with all-out enmity.

"Alright! We picked the perfect song indeed." Agatha cooed in that sing-songy voice of hers whenever she was excited about something.

"Look, I made a hat for your baby and some socks. I hope you have a girl because girls are adorable." Pietro raised the pale blue yarn he had woven in front of her.

Wanda admired its beauty as she held it, but she had no intention of letting him know; he could probably see it in her face anyway. She resented everyone for focusing solely on the baby, as if she were just an incubator for it. Being a nice person felt like a taxing chore with how things were going. In fact, she was already forming jealousy of her unborn child.

"As long as she doesn't take after her mother," Stephen quipped, keeping his voice shamelessly low even though she could hear him.

"Stephen, my Wanda is precious. Look at this beautiful face," Agatha said, girding her arm around Wanda while propping her chin on her hand.

The sweet gesture overwhelmed Wanda with emotion, and she broke down in tears, resting her head against Agatha's chest as she sobbed. "Everything feels horrible! I hate being pregnant. Is there any way you can cast a spell to fast-forward through the whole thing?"

"You can't cheat Mother Earth like that, dear. It's the balance of life; you coo at the sweetness of lovemaking, yet cry in pain at the fruit of your love." Agatha consoled her, patting her back.

"He won’t even sleep beside me, and the walls in this house are terribly thin! I keep hearing you purring every night." Agatha and Stephen’s vigorous bedroom exercises were something that Wanda couldn’t bear to accept.

"That's what you get for cheating on Bucky," Wong expressed, suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

"You meant Steve?" Pietro asked.

"No, Bucky," Wong insisted. This loyalty to Bucky was truly getting on Wanda's nerves. "The poor man must be heartbroken that you two-timed him," he added.

"Stop saying Bucky or Steve. You guys should be on my side." Wanda quibbled, glancing at everyone who didn't seem affected by her outburst at all.

"Karma is what it's called. You played with the hearts of good men, so you ended up with nothing but us," Wong went on, needling her before standing up and walking away. "Someone's at the door."

"It’s okay, dear. If neither of them holds your heart, you'll always have your little one with you," Agatha assured her, which only made Wanda more resentful.

Steve's baby was making her life pathetic, even at just nine weeks into the pregnancy. She worried about how much more challenging things would be once the baby actually arrived. She envisioned herself in a corner, breastfeeding a child who would only see her as a source of food. It didn't seem fair.

"This baby is a freeloading dot who is sucking the life out of me," Wanda grumbled to Agatha. The woman simply nodded, showing no sign of empathy.

"Hello!"

They all looked up and saw Natasha smiling and waving at them. Wanda turned to Pietro, even though he was no longer a speedster; he vanished before Wanda could say, "Hey, the love of your life is here."

***

Natasha was the best person in the whole world, Wanda settled. She came to visit her, bringing her fruits and vibrant dresses, her, not the baby. Seriously, if Pietro failed to capture the woman's heart, Wanda would hate him for the rest of her life.

Her idiot of a brother did not even reappear since bolting to his room. How could he start making a move if he couldn't even face Natasha Romanoff, the epitome of perfection?

"You looked great in all of them. You’ll need to make some adjustments when you start showing, but most of these dresses are designed to be worn according to your need," Natasha said, sitting on Wanda's bed and leaning on her hand.

"Thank you! You really made my day," Wanda mumbled as she admired her reflection in the mirror, appreciating the yellow sundress that Natasha had brought for her, which fell just above her knees and exposed her chest.

"Made your day? You're pregnancy kicking you that bad?"

"Kinda."

"Well, I've never been pregnant before, so I wouldn't know what to tell you aside from hang in there," Natasha said apologetically.

That's what Wanda needed at the moment, though. She felt like herself for once. She even felt sorry for the hostile things she said about her baby. Gently caressing her belly, she hoped her child wouldn’t take those words to heart. How tragic it was for her baby to end up with her as a mother, out of the billions of women in the world.

"Thanks. I'm feeling a bit too frisky these days." Wanda sat next to Natasha. At first, she had intended to nudge her brother toward the woman. However, she quickly realized that Natasha's presence was more gratifying to her than to Pietro. He needed to handle his shit on his own.

"You know, when Steve told me about you, I really thought he was joking."

That made Wanda light up. "Really? So... He's not flirting with anyone at your work?" Her jealousy toward potential rivals had grown exponentially. She might have caught the disease of pining over something that she lost because of her own doing.

Natasha chuckled as she tucked Wanda's hair, which she couldn't dye at the moment. Too bad, her roots were already growing. "No, sweetie, he isn't. Many have tried and failed. Don't worry, I've got your back."

While the idea of having Natasha watch over Steve was tempting, Wanda ultimately had to stand back. It was already difficult for her to cope with her unpredictable jealousy regarding their child; she didn't want to complicate matters further by interfering in his love life. Wanda had already promised Steve that she would be kinder and leave her old habits behind, and she was determined to keep that promise.

"Oh, there's no need for that. We're just friends. The baby was just a result of our poor judgment," Wanda sighed, staring off before she changed her mind.

"Don't say that. He's the man with a plan, you know? He rarely makes mistakes. I bet he even baby-trapped you." Natasha laughed again, making Wanda join in.

"I highly doubt that." If Wanda shared details of all the closed-door activities he engaged in with her, the woman would surely erupt in giddiness.

"We'll never know. He's not the kind of guy you could readily predict; he's too stubborn."

Wanda could easily agree with that sentiment, but her guilt still weighed her down. "Yeah, he’s really stubborn. He even told me he’s not going to sleep with me anymore. I know he wants to, but he’s being so pesky." Realizing she was sharing too much too soon, she caught herself before saying anything else. With a bashful smile, she added, "Sorry, too much information?"

"No, I appreciate seeing a different side of him. We've known each other for quite some time." Natasha seemed genuinely fond of Steve, but not in a way that made Wanda feel envious.

"He sees you like a sister."

"And I him. When he's decided on something, it would take everything to convince him otherwise. But with you, I get the feeling you could bend him. Don't stop trying. I'm sure he'll eventually cave in."

She didn't think that it was possible for her, but Natasha's suggestion made Wanda blush. "You're really nice. I really appreciate you coming here."

"Steve doesn't know that I'm here, actually," Natasha giggled, amused by her own mischief.

Steve wanted to keep her as isolated from his work as possible due to his concerns. Therefore, she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t want anyone from his job to meet her. Regardless, she still hoped to visit the Avengers facility one day—not because of Thor anymore, but for her own curiosity.

"Really? Stay for dinner! He says he's coming home. Just imagine his reaction when he sees you!" Wanda offered, already picturing the look on his face when he spots Natasha. He'll probably be surprised that she was polite to her as well.

Wanda glanced at her phone and noticed Steve's message; he was just a few blocks away but caught in traffic. She replied with a heart emoji. Since he started living with her, she had been diligent about answering his calls and responding to his messages. He called her nearly every hour, and instead of feeling annoyed, she found herself looking forward to his calls. She even felt down when he didn't reach out.

"Of course, I'll extend my welcome. I enjoy teasing him. Even before I knew about you, I had a feeling that he was seeing someone. He always seemed happy and eager to go home, especially now. While Sam kept complaining about it, I actually loved seeing him in such a good mood instead of his usual stoic face."

That warmed Wanda's heart, but she still had to hold herself together. "We are just friends now."

"Do you like it that way? You don't look like you do."

Even she didn't know the answer. To avoid overanalyzing her emotions, she decided that her constant need for his attention stemmed from the lack of intimacy between them. You can't conclude if you think about it too much, she reasoned. "It was my idea."

"Ideas can change."

Not for Wanda. Even if she wanted to, she should not dare.

***

"Natasha is such a lovely lady," Wanda gushed, unable to contain her admiration for the redhead.

She was so enamored with her that she forgot her brother was silently suffering from his awkwardness around the woman. He couldn't find the words to speak; he couldn't make eye contact; in fact, he looked like he was about to combust when Natasha beamed at him over dinner.

She hoped Natasha would visit often, but the look on Steve's face as he sat on the sofa squashed that dream. He didn't even try to hide his irritation with Natasha the entire time. Yet Nat remained unfazed, smirking at Steve throughout the visit just like every sister did to their brothers.

"I also told her not to come here. I told her about you because she's like family, but she still overstepped my request."

Concerned that her new friend might be permanently banished from the sanctum, she walked over and sat beside him. She took his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. "So, you were really upset with her? I thought you were just glaring at her for the giggles. I don't have any friends. I was hoping she could be my friend."

"I am upset. If she came here, who's next?"

A realization smacked her. If he was concerned that Bucky was next, he was already too late—Bucky had already visited her a few times. "Wait, who's next? Do you have anyone specific in mind?" she jibed, enjoying the fact that he still felt a spasm of jealousy.

"I don't know what you're trying to imply." Steve cleared his throat, his voice suddenly dropping in pitch. "I'm just being cautious here. Fine, if you really want to be friends with her, who am I to get in the way? She seems to like you, too, anyway, so even if I interfered, she'll just do what she wants."

The old Wanda would have bullied him for it, but she was trying to be a better person now. So, she kept her mouth shut. "Alright, thank you," she murmured, kissing him on the cheek. She immediately felt him soften.

He turned to face her and gently smoothed her hair. "You look lovely," he said.

"I do, don't I?" She stood up and twirled to show off her dress. Although she never thought yellow was a color she would wear, she was now entertaining the idea of adding more pieces in the same palette. "It feels so good to look hot again."

"Hot?" Steve asked, looking amused.

"Yeah, hot. Got a problem with that?" She stopped spinning and faced him, her hands on her waist.

"No. You look good regardless, don't stress about your body. You haven't even changed yet."

She glared at him; he just reminded her of why she was stressed. "How would you know? You're refusing to see said body."

"Ah, I walked right into that, huh." Steve chuckled, connecting the dots about his refusal to bed her.

"You're really doing a number on my confidence." She sat back and moped beside him. "It doesn't feel good to be rejected."

"I'm not rejecting you." He spoke so tenderly that she felt as if he were soothing a baby. She felt a wave of frustration rising within her again, but she took a moment to gather herself and let out a sigh to release her tension, managing to offer him a sweet smile.

"Really? Sleep on the bed then," she challenged.

Steve just snorted and shook his head. "No."

"That's rejection," her voice went up again.

"That's protection."

She fully understood what he meant. He was guarding his heart again. She liked that he was standing up to her for once. But the bitter taste of her own medicine was unpleasantly stirring her insides. She was left with no choice but to humor him, but that didn't mean she would go down without a fight.

She stood up and sat on his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. What was he going to do—push the pregnant lady away? "Come on, it's not like anything will change; I can't get any more pregnant than I already am. We could be like that Ashton Kutcher movie." She whispered in his ear, and she nearly giggled when his eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of her warm breath.

He held her waist and looked into her eyes, reigniting Wanda's hope with his ardent gaze. "We're not gonna be that kind of friends," he said, smiling devilishly at her.

The triumphant look on his face felt like a biting stab to her chest. She was on the verge of tears. "It's not fair! You can do whatever you want, and I'm stuck here carrying your child," she whined, staring upward in an attempt to hold back the tears welling in her eyes.

He was quick to recognize the underlying meaning of her words and rubbed her arms with his thumb. "I'm just working, Wanda. You don't have to worry, I'm not gonna sleep around. If I didn't do that before, what makes you think that I would start now?"

"Because men have needs," she groused, facing him again. She was sure she was even pouting.

Steve laughed jovially, either at how ridiculous she looked or how absurd her reasoning was. "That's silly. I can take care of myself."

"Well, who's going to take care of me?" It's not like she could just go and explore herself with a child in her belly. She couldn't even do it before, what more now?

"Let's go to sleep, Wanda," he encouraged, but she looked away again. She could no longer hold it in. "Are you crying?" He turned her face toward him.

"I think so. I keep crying about everything," she confessed. There was no point denying what was clear-cut anyway. She's really stretching her pregnancy as an excuse for her new eccentricities.

"I'm sorry. I know it's hard, and I can't do much to help you either," he whispered, burying his face in her neck and inhaling the scent of eucalyptus oil that Agatha had insisted she use to ward off the chills of the night. At least Steve didn't seem to mind her Vicks-smelling fragrance.

"Do you still love me, Steve?" Great, she still spoke without letting the thought soak in her brain first. What would it take for her to use her brain for once?

"Of course I do. Feelings don't change overnight." He quickly responded, looking at her as if he couldn't comprehend why she even asked.

Now that it was out in the open, might as well scrape at the bottom of the barrel. "Do you think you would have fallen for me if I were normal?"

"Normal?"

"Yeah. Like that annoying Sharon that keeps sending you goodnight messages." She snarled, managing to at least keep her voice down. "What? You didn't think I didn't see that?" She didn't like that she was now snooping behind him whenever he was on his phone, but she would keep using her pregnancy card to sidestep self-shame.

Steve looked like he was in deep thought about how he could get out of the conversation about a certain blonde that Wanda hadn't even encountered. "If you meet her, you'll see that she's actually nice. If you like Natasha, maybe you'll like her too."

She wanted to say "Never in hell," but chose civility. "Forgive me for disliking someone who has the hots for you. Don't compare her to my sweet Natasha."

Steve chortled in surrender. "To answer your question, yes, I think I would still fall for you. I can't really picture how else we would interact if we hadn't met the way we did, but I'm sure we'll still end up with a baby."

"Me neither."

Perhaps both of them were trying to imagine how their relationship might have developed under different circumstances, but silence fell between them. Wanda did not doubt that she would feel an instant attraction to him, yet she couldn't decide if she would have the courage to approach him. Before she became who she is now, she had been a shy maiden.

"Does Wong hate me?" Steve asked after their spell.

"Why? Because he glares and scoffs at you anytime he has the chance?"

"Among other things."

She couldn't help but boop his nose. He was too adorable. Some things just never change. Unlike what her brother hoped, she wished to have a son instead. A little Steve wouldn't be a bad idea. "He loves Bucky. He always tagged along wherever we went. They developed some kind of bromance. He'll get over it eventually."

"When was the last time you spoke to Bucky?"

Honest Wanda had to say it, regardless of his reaction. "Earlier, he dropped by too."

"So, were the supplements from him?" he asked, his gaze falling on the bottles resting on the dresser.

"Yes, if you're feeling jealous, then tear off my clothes and make me crave you. I can't promise I won't see him again, but at least afterward, I would be too satisfied to think about anyone else." She batted her lashes at him, melding humor with a cheeky proposition.

"I don't wanna talk about him anymore." That wasn't the response she had hoped for. Suddenly, she felt uneasy about the condition of their camaraderie. She didn't want to be the cause of its downfall.

"You're still friends, right?"

"We haven't talked about it. It's the elephant in the room between us. Don't worry, we'll figure it out."

Speaking as adults certainly had its advantages. It allowed her to be more open with him without immediately reacting to his words. "But I'm concerned. I feel sorry for both of you. I think I'm finally starting to grow a heart, Gepetto."

Steve cackled, which made her feel relieved. "I think you are. Do you want a reward?"

"Will that include me in bed with you?"

"In a way, yes. Remember that cruise trip we planned?"

Remember? That was an understatement. She had been waiting for him to bring it up again. Floundering to find the words to articulate her excitement, she decided to communicate in the way she knew best—by pressing a kiss on her friend's lips.

Chapter Text

One room with two twin beds inside a two-storey suite that was enormous enough to be a house, even a mansion for one scrawny Sokovian. That's where Maxine White would stay for the next three days with Roger Stephenson in the lavish Stark Boat sponsored by no other than Tony Stark.

The man was humorous and generous for the babymoon experience, and Wanda will give him that. She didn't even know such a concept existed. In fact, they seemed to be too early; trips like theirs typically occurred around the third trimester. She was grateful. But did Tony really have to agree on the separate beds, too? He proclaimed to be a fan of hers for deflowering his non-virgin capsicle friend and was all for women's empowerment. Yet he was not being a feminist in the room situation.

"I know that your friend is rich, but I didn't think he had the kind of money that could probably buy my entire country," Wanda mumbled, gaping in awe at the spiral crystal chandelier that hung proudly from the ceiling.

The hue of opalite gleaming from the sky made the golden palette of the massive abode scintillate as it reflected through the crystals. They even had a breathtaking view of the ocean through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Was it still considered a window if it also functioned as a wall?

"Yeah, that's Stark for you." Steve shrugged, sitting on the opposite side of the couch away from her.

He was really determined to keep his word about his no-coupling rule if he managed to meddle with the bed arrangement. It would have worked on her if she hadn't known that almost every night he moaned her name in his dreams. Even the version of herself in his slumber seemed to have more fun than she was having. Was it lousy to be envious of herself? Probably. Will she keep feeling covetous? Definitely.

"Make sure to get him as the godfather; maybe, he can spare some of his millions for the baby," she said, swinging her legs onto the couch, which felt so soft it was like lying on a pile of feathers. "I want to live here for the rest of my life. If I had only met Tony first, I think I’d be set for life."

"Too bad you didn't then," Steve replied, pretending to read the magazine with Tony on the cover he found on the table, as if she didn't catch his eyes sweeping over her chest. She pretended not to notice. The man may keep his dignity.

"Why? Do you think I have a shot?" she teased, wanting to see how he would react. "If you believe so, once I pop this baby out, I’m going to start strutting around the Avengers compound."

Steve closed the magazine and tossed it back onto the table, sitting sideways with his face resting on his hand. "I didn't think you were the gold-digging type."

"If you look at things from another perspective, gold-diggers are doing what nobody wants to do. They work diligently for that gold, and their strategies should be integrated into the education system."

"No." His jaw tensed, but she didn't find the hint of contempt; he looked as if he was guilelessly pondering what she conveyed.

"No? I said so many things, which one are you saying no to?"

"Everything."

"Wow, Roger Stephenson, I thought you had an open mind!" she bellowed, feigning to be slighted.

"I do," he clarified, raising one eyebrow. "I specifically won't allow you to go excavating. You might end up killing your husband before the will is even drafted. I don’t want to see the mother of my child making headlines for slaying the love of her life, who was 98 years old and lit up every room he entered."

Wanda burst out laughing. The man seemed to know her too well. She crawled towards his side of the couch, resting her head on his thigh. As she reached his chin, she scratched his stubble with her thumb. She purposely positioned herself to give him a good view of her cleavage, holding back a giggle as she caught him gulping while dissembling not to gape over her curves.

"Though I may not have my magic right now, I'm still a witch. I can brew potions to make it appear as if he died of natural causes."

He began to untangle her hair with his fingers, grinning as he looked down at her, his dimples dipping. "How would you even act as a grieving widow? You can't even suppress your irritation with people you dislike."

"You may say that now, but when you see how much money I’ll contribute to your child's trust fund, you’ll change your mind. You might even assist me with the legalities. I can also make you my boy toy."

They were still joshing around, but Steve's brow creased. There he went again, taking things too seriously.

"Sorry, I'm not rich," he murmured.

She got up and sat cross-legged, leaning her head against his chest, which felt more taut than the last time she recalled. He quickly snaked his hand around her. "It's alright, Steve. You're hot and drop-dead gorgeous. You can't have it all. It will be too unfair to the rest of the world."

He let out a chuckle. "Thanks, Maxine, you're a great friend."

He just had to ruin the moment. How could she possibly continue her quest to be considerate and benevolent if he didn't stop taunting her?

"Stop that!" She clamored.

"What? Can't a friend thank a friend for being a great friend?"

Fine. If he thought that he could just dangle the candy around her only to take it back as soon as she opened her mouth, he was digging his own grave. Hell hath no fury like a Wanda Maximoff scorned.

She sighed and caressed his face, gazing at him with unadulterated fondness. The thing with Steve that she had always taken advantage of was that even though seducing him was fairly easy, he was effortlessly undone by her tenderness. She wouldn't go so far as to call it his eccentricity; it wasn't that. He just seemed to crave her affection. He unravelled to her softness. Perhaps because he was still infatuated with the love he felt for her, perhaps it was something he sought from her. Either way, she'll dance to his beat, with some alterations of course.

"You really think that you still have your clothes on because of your own will, don't you? That's cute. Don't forget, Steve, this is me we're talking about. You're still at my mercy."

***

Steve would have made a good girlfriend; he seemed experienced in holding a girl's hair back as she emptied her stomach into the toilet. His firm hand worked wonders as he rubbed Wanda's back to help alleviate her queasiness. She didn't even last an hour when they dined on one of the buffets on the cruise.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked as he helped her up, handing her a glass of warm water that seemed to be the only thing she could stomach.

"Am I alright? Did you not see me wretch my guts out?" she sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "This baby is rejecting everything I eat. It only wants candy. I can't even have candy because you won't give me candy. I want candy!"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. That was a stupid question."

She continued to wail, longing to enjoy all the beautiful delicacies from that costly restaurant. "Why won't the baby cooperate with me? This is for both of us!" she cried out. "How satisfying is a buffet if I can't stay longer? This is all your fault." With frustration, she thumped his chest with her fists, fully aware that she was only hurting her own hands. Hitting Steve felt like bashing herself into a brick wall.

"Wait, why is it suddenly my fault? I thought we were blaming the baby?" he asked, dumbfounded.

She glared at him. Did he really have the nerve to ask for what was so apparent? "There wouldn’t be a baby if you hadn’t given up your celibacy to me. Why did you have to be so weak, Steve?"

His mouth shaped into Ohs. "Yes, it's my fault. Don't be angry." If he wanted to be logical, in that moment, he made the right choice of keeping his views to himself.

She brushed her face with her hands, vile rising within her. "Are you kidding me? You just made me even angrier by telling me not to be angry!" she yelled, her voice echoing in the polished porcelain bathroom of their suite.

He nodded in understanding and embraced her, gently massaging her back to soothe her. "Maybe we should take a nap?"

Stifling a yawn at the thought of resting, she replied, "What am I, some child you're putting down for siesta time? Is it because I'm European? Only the Southerners did that!"

"No, of course not," he said as he led her to her bed. She expected him to simply tuck her in, but instead, he lay down beside her, still cradling her in his arms. "I just think we woke up too early for the trip, and you might be tired. Plus, you just emptied your stomach, as you kindly put it," he muttered after pulling the blanket over them.

"I'm just lying here for the sake of peace."

"Thank you," he whispered, placing a delicate kiss on the top of her head.

She held on to him tighter, her leg resting over his. "I want to see the fireworks show tonight. What if I sleep too much?"

"No, you won't. I'll wake you up."

"You better."

He kissed her on the forehead this time, making her scoff. "I will."

"You really have to be specific with your friendship, Steve. I don't think cuddling with me in this tiny bed and kissing my head is part of the package."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Are you really trying to kill me?" she growled, gripping him tighter.

The fool simply laughed at her situation. "We're great friends," he declared.

Steve was truly a good friend. How he remained calm despite always being on the receiving end of her outbursts was always a mystery to her. If there was one positive outcome from her unplanned pregnancy, it was him. He never asked questions or wavered; he simply embraced her and promised to be a good father. The little dot will be the luckiest child.

She closed her eyes and appeased herself with the temperate rhythm of his heartbeat. "I'll tell you everything soon. I haven't forgotten my promise."

"I know. I'll wait. You can tell me when you're ready."

"Promise me that when I start telling you everything, you will just listen and not react."

"I can't promise that."

"I won't tell you then," she argued, yawning.

"Can I say I'll do my best?"

"I'll take that," she hummed, inhaling his scent so that she could sleep. Lately, she couldn't even doze off without wearing the shirts that smelled of him.

"Is it really that bad?" he asked, his tone filled with sadness instead of concern.

How she wished she could still listen to other people's thoughts. Just once, she would like to hear what Steve held in his mind.

"I don't really have a realistic perception of what 'bad' is anymore. There are so many things that are normal to me that you will probably find wretched." Like being raped and acting as if nothing happened, for one. She dismissed what happened that night as something that had already happened before anyway. What made that night particularly special?

The relief she felt at the clinic when the doctor silently confirmed that Steve was indeed the father, based on the embryo's age. She couldn't conceive what she would do if the monster had fathered the child. Would she end up hating her own offspring in that case?

"I still need to know, Wanda. I have so many questions. But, I'll wait for you before I ask them."

"I really like you, Steve. I'm lucky I met you. I was really lonely before Agatha and Pietro came to New York." Conversing while on the cusp of sailing off to la-la land was never a good thing for her; it made her too forthcoming. Not in that moment. She truly wanted him to know what she felt.

"I'm lucky I met you, too." He finally kissed her on the lips; her lids were too heavy, so she just smiled at him in return. "Agatha isn't really your mother, right?"

"Yes. And Pietro isn't really my twin brother either. He's two years older than me."

"Even Pietro," he murmured.

"I have a discombobulated background, Steve. You have no idea what kind of hazard you have allowed into your life. When I finish telling you what I really am, you may want to reconsider that love you have for me."

He held her tighter, coddling her with his warmth. "Whatever it is. I think I can take it. I'll have to. I've already decided to accept you no matter what. So just tell me everything, and we'll figure the rest of it out."

"I'm also related to Thor through the promise of marriage with his brother. The God of Mischief."

***

"I'm the mother-fucking goddess of the universe!" Wanda shouted at the top of her lungs, her voice blending with the whistling of the fireworks in the sky. She stood with her arms raised to her sides, her hair swaying in the wind. Behind her, Steve laughed as he held her securely, even though the railings reached to her chest.

"I think you're making your own movie, Rose," he said loudly so she could hear him over the whooshing around them.

"I'll say the right thing if you let me stand on top of the railings. Come on, Jack, this Rose will let you hop on with me." She leaned against him, tilting her head to better see his face. A wide grin spread across his face as he met her gaze.

"Your version is flawless, no notes," he retorted, making her laugh.

After the fifteen-minute show of colorful spectacle concluded, they began walking back to their table on the deck, which had a great view of the ocean. As they made their way there, an elderly woman with a head full of gray hair approached them, smiling warmly.

"Do you want me to take your picture?" She offered.

Wanda was filled with excitement, while Steve appeared embarrassed, likely worried about being recognized after she had charmed him into removing the glasses and cap he wholeheartedly believed made him incognito. It was already late at night, and she doubted he would be easily identified. If anything, people would probably mistake him for a look-alike.

"Yes! Thank you!" Wanda exclaimed, shrugging off the jacket Steve had draped over her after minutes of debating about her tube dress, which flowed with the wind. Even quoting Elsa did not change his mind.

She took his hand and led him back to the spot where they had been moments ago. She unbuttoned the first few buttons of his blazing orange Hawaiian shirt that she made him wear, which he paired with his ever-present denim jeans. Who wears denim on a cruise ship? Apparently, Steve Rogers does.

Grandma was even more enthusiastic than they were, directing them on how to pose and reminding Steve to smile wider. They were happy to oblige; she probably had some experience as a photographer. She knew how to make one stiff Rogers feel comfortable.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Steve said as the woman handed Wanda her phone back.

Wanda immediately busied herself looking through the countless photos that the grandma had taken. Everything looked so captivating. They seemed so happy, and to an unknowing eye, they probably looked like a loving couple.

"Don't mention it, I like seeing young couples here. The youth don't appreciate ships as often. Honeymoon?"

"Yes. My husband is so handsome, isn't he?" Wanda answered, her smile not leaving her face as she was happily skimming through the photos.

"Yes, sweetheart. You're quite the stunner yourself." The woman lightly squeezed her arm. Wanda felt a blush creep over her face at the compliment.

"If you said that, it must be true," she quipped, feeling Steve's arm wrapped around her waist. "I think you're more beautiful, though."

"You're adorable. I'll let you youngsters be. Enjoy the night."

"Thank you." They both waved at the woman and stood silently as they watched her return to her company.

As the elderly woman remarked, most of the people on the cruise were seniors or middle-aged couples on a family holiday. Maybe they can come back with the little dot one day.

"What?" she asked when she caught Steve looking at her with a glint in his eyes.

"Nothing, you're so happy," Steve responded.

"I am. We're in the middle of the ocean. I just watched the first-ever fireworks show of my life. I did the Titanic. And, a grandma called me beautiful. I'm having the time of my life!"

Steve laughed boisterously, his hair falling to his eyes from the strong gust of wind. He looked younger with his hair free of products somehow. "You look more beautiful when you smile."

"I know!" She reached out and wrapped her hands around his neck. "Let's dance, tall dude!"

"What?"

"Yeah, well, not really full-blown dancing. We just shuffle our feet and use the wind as our music. Are you shy, Roger Stephenson?"

"Not at all, Maxine White. May I have this dance?" He asked even though he was already circling her waist.

She gave him a light nod before they began swaying to the rhythm of the wind. "You'll be amazed; this is the first time I'm dancing sober with someone."

"You're still good at it."

"Witches are excellent dancers. Sometimes, during our rituals, we dance beneath the moon." The memory filled her heart with a pang of sadness. She missed dancing with her sisters in the hills, praying for rain to bless their crops. She sighed and tried to shake off the gloom; the night was too beautiful for tears.

"So that wasn't a myth?" Steve asked with the curiosity of a young lad.

"The only myth is the blood sucking," she scrunched her nose. There were so many misguided interpretations of their practices. She had to admit that there were some truths to them, but her kind at least abhorred the darker aspects of the art. And no, they did not worship Satan. "The brooms are real, too."

"Are vampires real?"

Wanda grinned, imagining the look on his face if she told him that most of their bedtime stories were factual. "Steve, where there’s smoke, there’s fire."

He nodded, his eyes scanning her face. "I keep learning new things from you."

"Really? That's news to me."

She curtsied to him when they finished their dance, and he responded with his own version by theatrically bowing to her. They chose to remain where they were, leaning against the barricade and admiring the beauty of the moon as it shone above, its glow reflecting on the tides.

"Have you thought of names for the baby yet?" Steve asked after a moment, his arms enveloping her snugly. He was a better source of warmth than fire.

"Not much, but if it's a girl, I really like the name Sarah. Simple and classic." She looked up at him when he didn't react; he wore an odd expression on his face. "Why? Don't you like it? You can think of names, too."

"I like it. What if we have a boy?"

"Little Steve?"

"Junior?"

"No, just Little Steve." And she was serious about it.

"Then our son will come home sobbing to us when his classmates start making fun of him." Steve's face contorted just with the thought alone.

She wanted to tell him that their son should toughen up—worse things could happen. However, she realized she didn't like that thought either. But she really liked Little Steve. "Then we can use the Sokovian language and name him Malen'kiy Steve. That's Sokovian for 'little.'" She felt like a genius, but Steve was laughing. She pursed her lips and frowned at him. When he eventually realized she was serious, he sighed and bobbed his head.

"Well, it's up to you then. Malen'kiy sounds beautiful anyway, so why not name the girl Malen'kiy Wanda?"

That made her cackle. "Tit for tat, is it? Let's focus on Sarah. She's already a girl; do we really need to add more trials for her?" The world can be unkind to girls; times have changed, but not everyone has. Steve fell silent again. "Why do you look sad? That's not the name of your first love, is it?"

"It is," he muttered.

Why does the name Sarah have to be so common? "Shit. Let's think of something different then."

"When you did your research about me, did you just focus on my body?"

That was a strange question for her. How did he discover that she flipped through everything and focused only on his sexy parts? She cleared her throat in an attempt to appear composed. "Yes. Why?"

"My mother's name was Sarah."

She didn’t see that coming. Turning her gaze away, she looked back at the ocean, hoping she hadn’t touched a sore spot. She truthfully didn’t know; she had always admired the name, even as a child. Before Agatha permanently moved them to the hills, she loved watching a cartoon titled "Princess Sara."

The story revolved around a young girl named Sara Crewe, a wealthy and kind-hearted girl from India who was sent to a boarding school in London. After her father passed away, she was forced to live in poverty and take care of her former classmates as a maid. Wanda didn't have much in common with the girl, except for their shared experience of poverty. Nonetheless, the kindness she saw in Sara stayed in her heart. She often wondered how Sara would cope in difficult situations. Wanda managed to keep that mindset until her own life took a turn for the worse.

"Oh! I’m sure I’ve read that somewhere. It’s probably why I like Sarah." She smiled sheepishly to support her lie.

"No, you didn't," Steve replied, jostling his head in amusement.

"No, I didn't. It's like destiny, isn't it?" It was the only rationale that made sense to her. Who would have thought that she would indirectly want to name her daughter Sarah after his mother? "Unless you don't want to, doesn't the idea of a new Sarah Rogers appeal to you?"

"I love it," Steve pulled her in for a tight hug.

"Good. I want a boy, though." She mumbled against his chest, looking up at him.

"I don't care. As long as we have a healthy baby."

"Yes, definitely. A healthy boy... Or girl," she added when she saw him wiggling his brows.

In Wanda's heart, however, she desired for the child to be a boy. Gazing over the moon, she asked it to give what she yearned for. It would be perilous if she had a daughter. Her curse had to end with her.

Chapter Text

"Here. Try this one next." Wanda handed Steve another shot glass, this time of an expensive seventy-year-old whiskey. The name Tony Stark was good enough currency on the boat, so she had been making Steve drink everything she wanted but couldn't.

After following Steve's rigorous itinerary of activities that he deemed fun, they concluded their night at the ship's most lavish club. Throughout the day, she behaved well and didn't disparage him for acting like a strict teacher chaperoning a student on a field trip.

There was no other way of describing it. He took her to museums, arts and crafts, and even escape rooms, on a fucking cruise ship where the casinos were. They were on a holiday, but no, every opportunity had to be taken as a learning experience. The phrases like "No, don’t go there," "Don’t touch that," and her favorite, "You can't, you're pregnant," poured like a tropical cyclone. But it was fine, she grit her teeth and smiled.

So when the time came for her to get her way and he attempted to put up a fight, she simply jogged his memory of how gracious she had been. She even ate her greens for crying out loud.

"If you're trying to get me drunk because you're planning something, forget it. I can't get drunk," he whined, portraying his stern face that he knew she would never take seriously.

Said the man who had been sleeping on the floor to be close to her because she kicked him out of her bed and did not allow him to move his bed closer to hers, she thought.

"I know you can't get drunk. I'm a well-read fan. Just chug it and stop griping. You wish I'd use alcohol to get you riled up? I'm a walking aphrodisiac, Rogers." The rubber-stamping smirk on his face only corroborated that she was right. "How does it taste?" she asked after he drained the glass. He looked as though it was the worst thing he had ever tasted.

"Like piss."

"Ah, those are the good kind." Wanda's mouth watered. She missed being able to drink so much. "Powerful and well-aged." She took the empty glass to smell it, but Steve quickly snatched it away from her.

"Don't smell it, pregnant women should not inhale alcoholic drinks because the vapors can be absorbed through the lungs, enter the bloodstream, and pass to the fetus, and may cause harm. Also, alcohol vapors can lead to intoxication and potential lung injury from heated mists."

She yawned in his face at his speech. She stopped paying attention after he said, "Don't smell". He was too obsessed with reading and learning everything he could about pregnancy. But Wanda had seen enough movies to know that all his reading wouldn't do anything when the actual baby came out roaring and enslaving them both with its every whim.

"For someone who hates anything that isn't sweet, you seem overly fond of liquors," he remarked as he handed her an apple.

"Because alcoholic drinks are formulated to taste that way, you snobby tea enthusiast." She grunted as she begrudgingly took a bite of the sweet, crunchy, and perfectly red apple that would make Snow White officially die from envy.

"Just keep eating your apple."

She rolled her eyes at him and tuned him out. Her eyes wandered, and she saw the people around them making merry in the spirited ambiance at the club in Stark Boat. It was Salsa night, and everyone was dressed to impress, herself included. Tonight, she finally had the opportunity to wear the two-thousand-dollar dress that she had persuaded Steve to buy for her. Oh, those simple days.

Steve, being Steve, tried to talk her out of it. There were three possible reasons: she was so hot that men ogled her and he didn't like how she basked on the attention, he was jealous because he didn't have the common sense to bring a suit and ended up wearing a yellow Hawaiian shirt that she also got for him, even though he boasted about being a man of research, and, circling back to her hotness, his pants were too crammed.

"My eyes are up here." She snapped her fingers at him when she caught him discreetly gaping at her décolletage."

"I wasn’t staring," he cleared his throat and took a sip of his orange juice. She gave him a knowing look in return.

"Right, right. Look at them, Steve." She stood up and pointed at the crowd in the ballroom, resting her arm on his shoulder to make it easier for him not to stare at her secretly. "Look at those seniors dancing on the floor. They’ve reached the goal of life: to grow old, retire, and enjoy time on a ship. They're probably all grumpy in their everyday lives, too, yelling at kids to stay off their lawns. That's what I want."

"I thought witches didn't age?" he asked, appreciating the view of her neck, which she accentuated by tying her hair in a bun, along with her dress highlighting her curves.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Will and witchcraft." She cupped his chin and made him look at her. It took her an hour to do her makeup, so he was being too disrespectful by not admiring her face. "You need to have a strong enough magic to manipulate the course of time in your physical body. And you have to want it too, not all witches pine for eternal youth."

"I thought you liked looking hot?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, you don't have to be an ingénue to be hot. And yeah. But I don't have magic anymore, and look at those older women, they're sizzling. So, I'll have to settle for a new goal."

"I don't think you have to be young either. I was just basing it on what you always tell me. Growing old isn't too bad."

"I'm beginning to think so, too. Come on, let's join them." She pulled his hand to lead him to the dancefloor, but he remained stubbornly seated. She frowned at his resistance.

"No, I don't know how to dance like that." He chuckled sheepishly.

"Steve, we're on a boat. Choreography doesn't matter here," she said to persuade him.

"But, it's too awkward."

Steve never knew her for her patience, so she abruptly let go of his hand and decided to ditch him. "You're so boring. Fine, stay there with your dull self," she said. She walked away, swaying her hips to the buoyant beat of a Spanish song whose title she didn’t even know.

As soon as she reached the dance floor, a man who was old enough to be her grandfather yet young enough to be Steve's son greeted her with a warm smile and offered his hand. She graciously accepted it, and they began to swing together. That was what she loved most about dancing: it knew no limitations.

Given how she and the people around her were hoofing, one would assume they were part of a flash mob. She joined in the cheers whenever the music transitioned to a more vibrant rhythm, with her partner perfectly matching her stamina.

When she turned her face, she noticed that Steve was already a few steps away with a partner of his own—none other than the woman who had taken their pictures the other night. She greeted them with a festive wave.

Steve was a natural dancer, but he still looked stiff from chagrin. She decided to let him be and rejoined hands with her partner. As their feet shuffled endlessly, they couldn't stop giggling at how well-coordinated they were.

"I like your perfume; you smell like Vicks!" the man laughed without any hint of ridicule.

"Thank you! I made it myself!" She yelled, laughing at the silliness.

Her pregnancy certainly brought about idiosyncrasies she never imagined, yet she loved it nonetheless. She especially appreciated how friendly she had become.

***

"You had fun?" Steve murmured to Wanda's ear, appreciating the scent of eucalyptus that had now somehow become her signature.

"Yeah, but I'm so exhausted," she replied, resting her chin on his shoulder. Her feet ached from dancing all night, so Steve carried her on his back as they headed to their suite.

"Of course you were; you even won Queen of the Night," he chuckled, glancing at the tiara he carried for her along with her heels.

"Miguelito was a supportive king." She smiled fondly at the thought of her unexpected dance partner. It turned out that the man was Eva's husband, the woman who had taken their picture. "Am I heavy?"

"Not at all. You're too light," Steve replied right away, even making a show of lifting her higher to better position her on his burly rear.

"That's a good answer, Steve. Never tell a woman she has gained weight if you want to stay alive."

"I'm not just humoring you. Maybe it's because you're still too early on the pregnancy."

Wanda wanted to tell him that she hopes not to gain any weight. But being a considerate woman also meant she should suppress that selfish thought, as gaining weight during pregnancy is important for supporting the baby and is a natural course of motherhood.

"One of Agatha's favorite punishments is making Pietro and me climb a hill. We always got into trouble because of him when we were kids, so he felt guilty and would carry me on his back. He couldn't use his speed, since Agatha would know right away if he did." She chuckled at the recollection of her brother huffing and puffing as he climbed the steep terrain.

"That's nice. You have a sweet brother. He even showed me some of the clothes he made for the baby. I almost worried he would kill me when I met him, though."

Considering that the choice was between a devil and Saint Rogers, her brother made up his mind as soon as he met Steve. "He wanted to kill you, so don't be too complacent. But yes, he is very sweet and caring."

"If he can overcome his meekness, I will definitely set up that blind date between him and Nat," Steve said, even sounding enthusiastic about the idea. She liked that he was becoming fonder of her brother as they spent more time together; perhaps one day, Wong would stop resisting the idea, too. She'll be sad if they didn't get along; she's grown to love her self-proclaimed girlfriend.

"Did the wholesome story help with the boner?" she asked as soon as they entered their suite, rendering Steve to freeze in mid-motion in the living room.

"Really? We were having an innocent banter, and you decided to taunt me?" he chided as he crouched down to help her back on her feet.

She leaped off and faced him immediately as he stood up, looking at him. "You're probably sad that I don't insist on you sleeping beside me anymore." She batted her lashes at him.

"Wow, you're so funny, Wanda."

"I know. I'm so funny that you probably want to cry," she jibed before heading to the bathroom, with Steve following closely behind.

Wanda marveled at her makeup as she gazed into the mirror. It had held up remarkably well, even after sweating from too much dancing. She glanced at Steve in the reflection and noticed him standing behind her, dazed and smiling to himself.

"Want me to remove your makeup?" he suddenly offered.

She snorted at him. "You watch too many romantic comedies, Steve. I will never let you do that; you'll be terrible at it." His hands were too large and strong to finish the task. Those hands should be used to please her, but friends don’t do that.

"And your preferences are good?" he exclaimed, sounding insulted as if she told him that he was the worst kisser in the world.

"Yes."

Steve shook his head in disbelief. "Wanda, the first time you chose what we would watch, you told me it was a romantic film."

"Gone Girl had romance. I remember you blushing during a specific scene. See, you're even blushing right now." She turned to face him and pinched his cheeks, jiggling them from side to side.

"You don't need makeup," he mumbled, suddenly looking at her with pure softness.

Sure, she appreciated the cheesy compliment. Nevertheless, she viewed makeup as a work of art; her face was her canvas. "I'm beautiful just the way I am?"

"Yeah."

"Too bad I don't like being myself then," she quipped.

Steve's face twisted in disagreement. "Why not?"

She rolled her eyes to the heavens as she sighed. "I hate it when you take our lighthearted conversations and turn them serious. That was just a jest—well, kind of. Anyway, I wear makeup because I like how I look with it on. Don't you think I look good? I know you do."

"I do."

"See? Besides, I can wear all the makeup I want, but at the end of the day..." She touched her index finger against his chest. "You'll be taking a cold, cold shower." She gave him her sweetest smile, the one she reserved for when she needed him to do something for her. "Serious question: does it not hurt?" she asked, glancing at his nether regions. She instinctively licked her lips at the formidable mound.

"That's personal," he said softly as he drove her finger away from him and turned his gaze aside.

She turned to face the mirror once more and began clearing the products from her face. "Alright, Mr. Rogers, who-put-his-baby-in-me. I'd kiss you, but I don't want to cross the boundaries of our friendship. Now, could you please unzip my dress? I can't reach it."

Steve looked as if she had asked him to burn the suite down; she couldn't help but giggle at the expression of deliberation on his face. "You did it earlier. You need my help suddenly?"

"Afraid?" she asked when she finished with her face, staring at him again. "Come on, do it." She gestured with her hand. He hesitated, but ultimately complied. He cruised agonizingly slowly, making her skin feel as though it was on fire under the weight of his regard. She could feel heat rising within her as well.

Even when he finished with his task, he stayed deliciously still as he took her in. Wanda could tell he was already painting a filthy picture in his mind about the things he would do to her. He looked like a predator circling its prey, with his breath hitching in anticipation. His hand began to fondle her bare skin gently, and she closed her eyes at his touch, feeling a rush of heat gathering between her thighs. A moan escaped her lips when she felt his mouth on her skin, savoring her.

Unfortunately, they won't acquire what they desired.

"Hey!" She abruptly broke their moment and faced him, arms crossed. "Get out so I can change." The look of protest on Steve's face was a satisfying reward for the ache in her loins. "Out! What?" she asked when he didn't move. "Are you feeling the sweet taste of dismay? I'm a great friend, remember?" Before he could argue, she pushed him out of the bathroom; she was stronger than she appeared when she wanted to be.

Steve was speechless, and Wanda relished every second. She tiptoed over and kissed him on the cheek before stepping back and slamming the door shut in his face. She let out the cackle she had been holding back, carousing in her ridiculous victory. He should have taken her seriously when she was still offering; now she was too caught up in his game to back down.

"I will make you tea. Just tea, no honey or sugar, as bitter as a bitter melon," he shouted bitingly from behind the door after a while.

"Sure, I'll pretend to drink it for you, too."

***

Wanda awoke to a beautiful morning. The sun beamed through the windows, as if nudging her to enjoy her final day on the Stark Boat. Steve was the one who woke her up, and even though she still wanted to sleep, she greeted him with a smile. How could she not, especially since he had gotten up early to prepare breakfast for her?

He placed the tray just a few inches away from the footboard of the bed, because he was a freak who was too mindful not to mess up the exorbitant linens. She, however, was unconcerned about his meticulousness and lazily crawled toward the tray. She reached out to kiss him, but he quickly shifted away, gently holding her by the shoulders. Undeterred by his forsaking, she settled down in a criss-cross applesauce position beneath the tray.

A playful grin was etched on Steve's lips as he lifted the cloche to reveal what he had prepared for her. Wanda's smile turned into a grimace in the blink of an eye. Steve Rogers, the mother of all hens, woke up and chose to be irksome.

"Wow, you made me breakfast in bed," she said sarcastically. "What am I, a goat? Why are you giving me nothing but leaves?" she yelled, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"That's called a salad," he shrugged.

Wanda sighed and tried to contain herself, reminding herself that it was a beautiful morning. She gulped down a glass of milk and immediately rued it; she would have spit it out if it were not a lovely morning. "And milk with no sugar at room temperature?" Steve just nodded, still grinning like a villain. She glared at him and took a harsh bite of the towering stack of pancakes. Pancakes can never go wrong. Wanda was wrong, oh so wrong. "The blandest pancake in the world? Where are my sweet apples? You're killing me!"

"Glutten-free. That's healthy," Steve said with a straight face as he sat beside her. To add further insult, the bastard smooched her on the cheek. Seemed like he truly had a death wish. She had the mind of kicking him in the gut, if that would even work on him.

"This is our last day on the cruise. I deserve a feast," she spoke through gritted teeth.

"Sure, you can choose which restaurant to throw up in any time. For now, you need to replenish your strength with a healthy meal." He rubbed her back, acting like the sweetest man on earth. She should have smothered him with a pillow a long time ago.

She took a deep breath and swung the pendulum of their silent war to her side. She grinned at him. "You're just upset because you didn't get what you wanted from me."

Steve was too frail an adversary. If her words had already shattered his conviction, how would he survive if she decided to use her real lance? Sometimes, she wondered if the Captain America she had read about was nothing more than a publicity stunt. He was so different from how most of the world perceived him; he felt as flimsy as cotton candy. She realized she had chosen the wrong example, as now she was craving cotton candy.

"No. I just--"

"What? You slipped and started licking on my flawless back?" she inserted, making sure that he was reminded of his mishap.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He turned away from her, stubbornly pretending he didn't understand. Gaslighting was her turf, not his. What a green child he was.

She knelt and pressed herself behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He immediately tensed at their contact, so she decided to escalate the scene by resting her chin on his shoulder just a hair away from his neck, allowing herself a better view of her opponent.

"You're so cute, Steve. But why do you look like you didn't sleep well, though? Do you need my help?" she whispered, her warm breath grazing his skin. Steve was in serious trouble because his body wasn't on the same team as his mind.

Admittedly, Steve wasn't the only one who was aroused; her nipples perked too hard, and it almost hurt. He could feel it through the thin fabric of their shirts, and that made the pain all worth it for her.

"Eat up, we have so many things to do today." He urged, attempting to sound unperturbed.

"I'd rather stay in than follow your rigid schedule."

"But I listed a lot of fun activities," he complained, tilting his face to meet her gaze, which he had desperately avoided.

"You and I have different definitions of fun. We've been following your military-like timetables for two days. Let me have a peaceful third day. Unless you're just afraid to be stuck inside with me, because you want to be inside me," she taunted.

"That's nonsense," he scoffed, turning his gaze away once more.

"Then, we'll stay in." She asserted.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"I can't take you seriously when you can't even sleep without one of my shirts," he suddenly muttered, a very odd change of discussion.

"At least your shirt is snug against my skin, unlike someone I know who can't even give me a good morning kiss because he's afraid of the pole saluting. I'm talking about your d—" In one swift motion, Steve cradled her in his arms and seated her on his lap, covering her mouth. She giggled despite being stifled.

"I got your point." He said in surrender. Too easy. "Now, eat your salad, it's almost ten, and you still haven't eaten anything."

"Looks like you wanna eat too." She retorted after slapping his hand off of her. "Are you craving for an oyster, Steve? How about clams? Pink tacos? Roast beef? Papaya?"

"Are you really going to spend the entire day bullying me?" His gaze dropped to her chest, clearly forgetting his earlier upset.

"You keep goggling at me. Is that my fault? It feels like you’re almost asking for it."

"Fine, let’s stop being friends and go with your proposal." He looked her squarely in the eyes and leaned in to capture her lips. She hurriedly muffled his mouth with her hand.

"No, no. You can't just take things back because you're too horny. I'm rallying behind you—you're doing well, sweetie." She got off him and returned to her meal, deliberately creeping in a way that showcased her backside. She wore nothing but her lacy things and his shirt, making her point very clear.

She started giddily eating her food, sweetened by her triumph. Besting a nonsensical dispute was the best feeling in the world, and she had no plans on slowing down from gloating.

"I have to tell you something," he said after a few minutes of silence. His tone was too solemn; her heart began to pound as she looked at him.

"Why do you look so serious? You're making me nervous."

"It's nothing you should be worried about," he assured her, yet the look on his face told another story.

"Then what?" she demanded.

"When we return to New York, I'll have to leave right away. I have to go on a mission. It will be a long one. I have to be there, it's this guy we've been chasing for a year."

"How long?"

"At least a month... With Sam, Natasha... and Sharon."

Before Wanda could even realize she was enraged, she had already flipped the breakfast tray over, spilling all its contents onto the marble floor. Her gaze was fixed on the shards of plates and glasses that were the casualties of her outburst.

She didn't even feel the pain until Steve hurried to her side to take the butter knife she had been unconsciously clutching the edge of in her hand. He was saying something as he tended to her, but his voice sounded like sharp white noise to her.

She stared at the blood in her hand, tears coursing down her face. He was abandoning her.

Chapter Text

Steve had been gone for over a month, with no calls, texts, or any communication whatsoever. Sometimes, Wanda pondered if she had just met him in a fever dream, until his spawn fired away, kicking her and propelling her back to the restroom to pee at the most random intervals.

Wanda had been in her fourth month of pregnancy, sporting a visible bump that would have made women in their sixth month feel either pity for her or envy at her competitive fetus. Well, at least the fathers of their unborn child were not off with one Sharon Carter, who had not even been part of the Avengers; she had just had to be on the mission because of her so-called intel. To hell with all that, she had determined.

Wanda had decided to live her life as a woman abandoned during her pregnancy. She had been impregnated by someone she met in a club, but couldn’t remember who it was because her version of Mamma Mia! was not heart-warming.

She hatched a plan to raise her child with a strong disdain for men, while making a few specific exceptions. At the top of her list of men to loathe, to the surprise of nobody, was Steve Rogers. If her child ever asked why, Wanda would simply respond, "Because I said so."

"Aren't you supposed to be helping Agatha with the wedding preparations?" Stephen asked as he watered the blooming buds in the sanctum's rooftop garden, which had become a haven for exotic plants, vibrant flowers, vegetables, and even butterflies, which often came to visit.

"Why? Because I'm a girl?" Wanda retorted.

"No, because you're the maid of honor."

She scoffed at him. As if he didn’t know that she had only gotten the role as a title, Agatha and Pietro had no expectations of her at all. "Strange; I can barely get up in the morning because of how swollen my belly is. Do you really think choosing the best napkin for the table arrangements is on my mind? Besides, Pietro is much better suited for that role."

"Therefore, he's been taking up your slack," he said as he sat beside her, admiring the greenery that was once concealed by the deathly shades of brown from the failed maintenance. It was an exhausting task, but the sweet scent in the air was a great reward for her sweat and sometimes, truthfully, all the time, tears.

"I won't mind if I get fired. Agatha is the only one who insists on giving me a role."

"At the time of the wedding, you'll be two months post partum."

"As it should. I refuse to walk down the aisle feeling heavy and dragging my feet because of my big paunch. I refuse to be pregnant and grouchy by that time, especially when my enemy will probably look her very best."

"You're really good at this," Stephen suddenly remarked, ignoring all her gripes. It was the first time he had openly admired her work without commenting on her sour attitude, even before getting knocked up.

When Wanda first made her appearance in the sanctum, she spent most of her time on the rooftop. Little by little, she revitalized and added more to the moribund garden Wong and Stephen had abandoned, likely because of a lack of time or interest. She detested seeing plants and animals at death's doorstep; she believed preserving nature's beauty was everyone's obligation. For that, being in New York felt like a slap in the face to her.

Concrete jungle. She loathed that moniker for the city more than any other. While she openly voiced her revulsion, she acknowledged the reasons behind the town's character. People simply had different priorities in life. She doubted that someone laboring to put food on the table would take the time to care about such things.

After Steve left her feeling alone and enraged, she quadrupled her efforts to beautify the garden. Her nails became chipped and dirtier than ever, with soil settling into them because of her refusal to use gloves. One has to use one's bare hands to commune with nature.

"I never thought these plants would have the chance to live again. I can wait for those lights that you ordered to arrive," he added.

"It's one of my many talents," she said dismissively, concealing the fact that she enjoyed the appreciation. "Don't worry, I used that guy's card for all of this."

One can't be both tough and soft just because someone applauded her daisies, dahlias, roses, lilies, violets, and poppies, which were not supposed to bloom at the same time. Yet, they strived from her essence, if they can, so should she.

"Do you want me to tell you where Steve is now?" he asked.

She raised a brow and faced him. "Who?"

"Right. So we're still not over you being deserted, huh." He chuckled.

"For all we know, that guy might be having the time of his life." The images of him and Sharon giggling like the fools and traitors they were filled her veins with fury.

"He left for work, not leisure. He probably can't find a signal, that's why he hasn't called," Stephen muttered.

Everyone except Wong kept trying to make her understand that Steve wasn't acting with malevolent intent, as if she didn't already know that. Why couldn’t they grasp that having cognition didn’t mean she would react logically? Were they forgetting who she was? She was still the same sociopathic wench they loved dearly.

"With a lovely blonde in his arms." She chided.

"Sharon is a really nice girl, you will meet her soon."

"Oh, I will, because you invited her against my wishes." She stared at Stephen with unfiltered hatred in her eyes.

"It's my wedding."

"I'm family."

"Oh? So now you're family?"

She groaned and nodded, feeling depleted from thinking about them. It’s never comforting to dream about a blonde knocking on the door of another blonde and ending up with their clothes on the floor, their naked bodies entwined in passion. With Steve’s speedy swimmers and dislike for rubbers, Wanda’s baby will likely have a sibling before it is even born.

"Just stop reminding me about her, okay? I know that it's your wedding, and I don't have a say in it. I just hate her so much." She said in capitulation.

"If it really makes you uncomfortable, maybe I can just cancel her invite. I'll make stuff up." Stephen, after a moment of silence, sounded genuine, which made it worse for her.

"You don't have to do that. You know that I'm just saying everything I wanna say, but I won't make you do useless adjustments on your special day just to accommodate me."

Stephen's lips narrowed. "When you say things like that, I get chills. It doesn't feel right for you to say anything nice. To me, of all people."

She laughed sarcastically at the play-by-play. Their dynamic was quite strange; he was, in a way, their stepfather, yet they treated each other like siblings. You don’t show love for a sibling in public; you express it when no one is watching.

"Then you'll be even more uneasy with what I'm about to say next," she said, turning to meet his gaze. "I'm actually glad to be wrong about you and Agatha's relationship. I know you truly love her, but please, don't ever hurt her. If you do, I’ll find a way to butcher you. I'm really good at potions, so no one will ever know, except Agatha and Pietro, probably." She wasn't sure if she would follow through on her threat, but she wanted him to understand the gravity of her words.

Stephen chortled and stared at her with so much affection that she wanted to barf, even though her nightmare of hurling every minute had finally passed. "I won't. I understand why Agatha loves you and Pietro so much—sometimes it feels like too much, I must admit. But, I just really enjoy squabbling with you; it's like my own form of cardio."

"Hello, I'm here to pick up a hormonal pregnant witch," Bucky announced his entrance, waving at them with a grin.

***

"You should really stop telling your doctor that I'm the father. That doctor has been with you since day one, and I can see she's visibly uncomfortable," Bucky gingerly let Wanda have it after her cheeky words with her doctor.

In response, she cackled at him. She had no plans of quitting anytime soon. The countenance on her OBGYN's face filled her with tremendous entertainment. On the two occasions when she had brought Bucky along for her monthly check-ups, she had told the doctor that she had miscalculated and revealed that Bucky was, in fact, the father. Doctor Anne Brown, a Captain America fan, looked utterly betrayed on her idol's behalf, and the look on her face made Wanda's heart leap with delight.

"I love that she's uncomfortable. Just leave me alone with my happiness." She took a big bite of her double-patty cheeseburger, which had no vegetables at all, cooked in haste from the empty deli owned by a temperamental Sokovian in his seventies—a craving she had indulged for the week. She always left him trinkets that brought him a swarm of customers as soon as she left. The man must have noticed or thought of her as good luck since his usual frown had now accompanied a quick nod for her.

"You're glowing, you know that?" Bucky said with a smile from across the table.

"Of course I am. I don't even look pregnant from behind," she spoke with her mouth full as she licked the sauce dribbling down her chin.

"I'm glad that you're eating well again, but you need to keep it balanced."

She let out a deep sigh at the same commentary he made every time he saw what she wanted to order. If he were ill at ease, concerned, he should have stopped answering her calls. She knew how predictable she was, so he should have already known what she wanted.

"Bucky, the only time I can eat what I want is when I'm with you. The Scooby Doo clan keeps me on a restrictive diet."

"Mandy, we see each other every day," he reminded her right away.

Even in the middle of the night, she would wake up feeling enormously ravenous. Yet, she couldn't just eat anything from the fridge; she had specific tastes that only the rundown stores could satisfy. Her brother would never coddle her cravings, and although Wong accompanied her a few times, he suggested calling Bucky instead. He liked to say it was a way to kill two birds with one stone. That way, her cravings would be satisfied, and she could also deepen her relationship with Bucky, bringing his dream of her ending up with his favorite Avenger closer to reality. Wong even refrained from joining them.

"What? Do you want me to thank you now?" she asked.

"What I mean is--"

"I know what you mean," she snapped, not needing any reminders. "I'm not the one craving these things. This baby kicks me whenever it wants something. It seems to get peckish every minute. I'm just trying to be a nurturing mother."

Steve should have been there to witness their baby's first kick. Instead, it was Bucky who was with her as they walked down the street when she suddenly gasped and hunkered over in pain. If the baby were a chick, it would probably waddle behind Bucky, since he was the first one it had met.

"It's probably because of the enhanced genetics. Are you worried about the baby possibly inheriting Steve's genes?"

"Yes. What if the baby comes out looking like Steve? That wouldn’t be fair. I’m the one who carried it for nine months, and I’m the one who kept it alive while struggling to do so. It can’t just look like the father, whose only contribution was his big dick." She held her burger firmly, dispirited by her own thoughts. When she glanced at Bucky, she caught the blush on his cheeks. A smirk spread across her lips. "Oh, sorry for my foul language. I meant huge cock."

"Oh, Mandy," he puffed, laughing.

She liked his smile; he had the same shy grin as Steve. If only he would be quick about it and confess his feelings for her, she would happily walk him to the nearest city hall so they could get married. "My baby really likes you. It keeps kicking whenever you're around. I think it believes you’re the dad."

"Or, it's complaining that I'm always around and is looking for the real dad."

"Real dad is useless anyway. Get used to your new dad," she said to her bump, immediately wincing as the baby kicked her again. "Ow. Did you see that? Still in my womb and already talking back to me." She loured when she glimpsed the elated look on his face. "Why are you looking at me like I'm the love of your life?" she quipped, trying to dispel the discomfiture she felt from his fond gaze.

"You remind me of this girl I used to know, her name was Dolores, we called her Dot. She was also a redhead, but she was a shy girl, though."

She was surprised that she didn't feel jealous; it was probably because the girl he mentioned was from decades ago—no longer a rival. "Was she your first love?"

"I’m not sure. We were in the early stages of war, and I didn't really get the chance to explore my feelings. By the time I returned, it was too late, just like how Steve was too late with Peggy."

Peggy Carter was an incredible woman who won Steve Rogers' heart. Their love story was quite tragic, and it was no surprise that Steve decided to stay away from women afterward. Who could possibly compare to a woman like Peggy, who accomplished so much at such a young age? At least they had the chance to reunite briefly when Peggy was in her nineties. Still, Wanda would have wanted the star-crossed lovers to sail off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

"I think Peggy is prettier than Sharon. She looked more classy, too," she remarked, slurping her strawberry milkshake, which always lifted her spirits.

"You just don't like Sharon," he mumbled, a goofy smile on his face as he examined her.

"Yes, I just don't. But I really prefer Peggy. What kind of niece would try to flirt with her great-aunt's first love anyway? So, do you have a crush on me because I remind you of Dot? I'm prettier than her, right?"

Bucky nearly gagged on his milkshake at her random remarks. "You are very beautiful," he said once he finally recovered.

"That didn't answer my question, but I'll take it."

Bucky glanced at his watch and looked like he had kittens. "Shit. I need to go back to base now. I lost track of time. Sam's gonna go all mouthy again."

"Take me with you. I want to see the base. Thor is in Asgard anyway, so Agatha won't get mad. Please, Buck, please," she pleaded, not wanting to go home just yet. There was nothing to do at home; she'll only be reminded of her absentee baby daddy.

After mulling over it for a while, he finally gave in. "Alright, let's go," he beckoned.

***

The Avengers facility looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, filled with advanced technologies that Wanda had only dreamed of. It was remarkable how money could remake a place; a retired warehouse had been converted into a state-of-the-art operating base. Tony Stark seemed even more attractive to Wanda in that moment.

It’s no surprise that Sam kept asking Steve why he returned to his apartment so often; the base was a city in its own right. It was expansive and luxurious. Most importantly, the stunning landscape made her eyes sparkle with respect. Bucky hadn’t even concluded showing her around yet; it would likely take days to scour everything. There were still their research facility, living quarters, and training field to wander about.

"So, what do you think of our workplace?" Bucky asked as they stood before the glass wall overlooking the vast field of peridot green grass.

"I think that Steve is an idiot for not living here anymore. This place is so cool. Just look at all these amenities!" She motioned toward the modern interior. "I want to live here now. The sanctum feels like an antique store, and I constantly feel like I'm swathed in dust." The thought alone made her draw back in disgust.

"Steve is making the right choice by living with his pregnant friend," Bucky said with a shrug, a hint of amusement in his eyes. Wanda appreciated that Bucky understood her relationship with Steve was purely platonic. Sure, it was laced with strong sexual tension, but he didn't have to know that. Nevertheless, even that friendship was currently being reevaluated.

"What are you, his spokesperson?" Her brows furrowed as she crossed her arms. "Cut it out before I stop talking to you."

"Will you really? Who's going to pay for your meals? Who's going to tag along with you in your midnight snacks?" he razzed pertly, compelling her to giggle. She reached out and clasped her hands around his taut, muscled arm.

"You’re like my sugar daddy, do you know that?" she asked, looking up at him with her big, innocent green eyes.

He scrunched his nose in that cutesy way she adored. "I think I would prefer a caring friend instead."

"No. I don't like that." She let go of his arm. "Can you just tell me you're madly in love with me so we can move things forward? Or are you just waiting for me to have the baby before you confess your feelings?"

Bucky's face turned as red as if she had just told him to take off his clothes and ravish her. He cleared his throat and glanced away. "Come on, let me show you the common room. That's where we usually hang out. There’s a 116-inch 4K television. We could watch a movie, and I’ll make you some popcorn too."

Wanda gasped and clutched her hands to her chest. "I love that with all my heart. That's one of the best things you've said all day. Please be a dear and glaze the popcorn with honey."

"I knew you'd say that. If I give you what you want, you can't have that again until next month."

"Ow." She winced from the screeching pain in her belly, helmed by her defiant baby.

"The baby kicked again?"

"Yeah, it’s always awake," she whined. "It’s like it’s already partying inside my womb with the way it keeps tinkering at me. Like mother, like baby. Why did it have to grow so big?"

"You're gonna have to start with your kegel exercises, you're probably going to birth a giant baby," Bucky sounded, mugging at the thought.

The realization halted Wanda in her tracks. She knew that giving birth would be the most painful experience of her life, but the thought of the baby's large head crowning from her insides made her knees buckle. How could she even weather such an event? She had yet to hit her target weight, even after all the snacking. Per her doctor, all her extra weight was purely from the baby and the water in her womb.

"But I'm so tiny. What if I die during childbirth?" she began to sob.

Bucky approached her like the wind and hugged her tightly, resting her head against his chest as he patted her back to reassure her. "Hey, don't cry. I'm sorry I scared you," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

"You really did. Please take care of my gigantic baby when I die," she begged, continuing to wail.

"You're not gonna die. This is the 21st century. We'll make sure that you'll make it."

"But the doctor probably hates me because I cheated on her beloved Captain America." What if the doctor vetoed giving her anything that would ease her pain out of spite? That would be too dreadful a retribution.

Could it be even more unfair? Not only will she have to do all the pushing, but her literal life also has to be at risk. She cussed Steve again and again in her mind, downright dismissing that she, too, was a significant part of the reason for her quagmire. She will never have sex again, ever.

"When we return for your check-up, just let her know that you were joking," Bucky proffered as he cupped her face and wiped away her tears with his thumb. "Doctors always do their best. It's part of their sworn oath."

"Okay, but promise me you'll tell Goliath that their mother was a gentle and caring woman, just in case I don’t make it." She wailed even louder at the thought of dying before she could hold her baby; it frightened her deeply. Bucky had merely recommended she exercise, but why did her thoughts have to detour so unexpectedly to death?

"Okay, I will," Bucky promised, smiling softly at her as he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. It made her feel a bit better. "Now, let’s go, and I’ll make you some popcorn. Do you want to watch anything in particular? How about 'BFG'?"

Wanda shot him a glare; he hopefully regretted proposing that in that moment. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was a bad joke."

She yowled again. "Right now, you're being a lousy potential romantic interest."

Bucky enfolded his arm around her shoulders as they headed to the common room. "At the end of the day, Wong will still prefer me for you. I can say all the awful wisecracks, and he'll find a way to wring it to make me look good."

"I know," she grunted.

When she and Bucky entered the common room, they both stopped short—in the middle of the living room stood two painfully familiar, attractive blondes, gaping intently at each other. She felt Bucky's grasp on her shoulder tighten as he glanced at her. Regardless, her attention was nailed on the scene about to unfold between Sharon and Steve, who looked really good together.

Barbie and Ken, she thought, so that meant she's Raquelle. Not fair.

Wanda recognized the look in Sharon's eyes all too well. She struggled to see Steve clearly because he now had a longer coif and a thick beard. To make matters worse, even from just a side profile, she could tell that his new look made him incredibly more attractive to her. He was truthfully tormenting her with the way his uniform hugged his body. Hercules would weep in shame and go the distance for more protein shakes.

Her teeth clenched as she stared at them. Why was Steve just standing over there while Sharon's pesky, pretty face moved closer? The thieving bitch even tiptoed while holding onto Steve's shoulders. Their lips were just a few hairsbreadths away from one another.

Regardless of how it happened, she found herself marching toward them.

When she reached their side, she shoved herself between them, finally face-to-face with Sharon Carter, the headwaters of her insecurities. The woman looked absolutely stunned by her sudden appearance. Did Sharon really have to look like some Disney princess, standing there bewildered by Wanda's intrusion?

It seemed like God was playing favorites with her. When God flooded the world with elegance, Wanda was probably sleeping like a snotty baby while Sharon gracefully showered in all of his divine blessings.

When Sharon was about to open her mouth to say something, Wanda threw her claw-like grip on her pretty jaw.

"Why are you sexually harassing this man?" Wanda questioned, holding Sharon's jaw as if she was going to crush it, her eyes firing acid at the blonde's face. "Co-workers don't do that!"

Chapter Text

"What the hell are you doing! Who are you?" Sharon shrieked as she floundered to break free from Wanda's unyielding grasp on her maw. If Wanda were not pregnant, the woman would have probably kicked her by now.

"I'm your conscience," Wanda responded, squeezing Sharon like a lemon.

Before Wanda could escalate the situation even further, Bucky acted fast and pulled her away from Sharon, cocooning her in a protective embrace she didn't know she needed to get a hold of herself. "Mandy! Are you okay?" he asked, scanning her body for any harm before turning to face Sharon, who was glowering in incredulity at the scene before her. "I’m really sorry, Sharon. She’s, um, she's my friend."

"You have a friend who acts like a feral cat?" Sharon snarled.

"What did you just say?" Wanda exclaimed, offended on every cat's behalf and trying to close the distance between herself and Sharon again, but Bucky had managed to hold her back.

"Mandy, let's go," Bucky exhorted, his eyes dilating in sheer panic. "Sharon, I'm really sorry. As you can see, she's pregnant and just having a bad day."

Wanda knew that Bucky was only saying that because of the absurdity of the situation that she caused, but she did not like how he phrased it one bit. She didn't have to be pregnant to be feral; she could stoop lower.

"I don't believe pregnant women usually act that way, Bucky," Sharon said, placing her hands on her waist and glaring at Wanda.

"I'm really sorry, Sharon. Mandy, please, come on." Bucky held her hand and started to lead her away, but they were suspended when Wanda felt a familiar hand seize hers.

Amid everything that had ensued, Wanda had forgotten Steve was there. The blockhead only stood by as a spectator while two women fought over him. And now he had the nerve to hold her? Steve, looking like New York's very own Jesus, would not save him from her ire.

"Where are you going?" Steve questioned, staring intently at Bucky, his face ruggedly handsome yet screaming peril, as if he was ready to throw punches.

"I'm taking her home," Bucky affirmed.

"Let go, Buck," Steve commanded, his jaw tensing with every word.

"Steve, do you know her, too?" Sharon asked meekly. None of them noticed she was already standing beside Steve again.

"I brought her here, so I’m taking her home. She's tired. As you can see, she's feeling heavy." Bucky tried to pull Wanda away again, but Steve pulled her back.

"I live with her. I'll take her home. Let go, Buck. Now," Steve ordered to his friend again, his voice a little thundery and austere this time.

"You live with her? Can someone explain what's happening? This girl just assaulted me!" Sharon grumbled, but her words went unheeded.

Morally, Wanda knew she shouldn't be beguiled, but she couldn't help smirking at the stage unfolding at her feet. Two gorgeous super soldiers were vying for the prize of taking Miss Sokovia home as if she were the golden rope in a game of tug of war. It took all her restraint to quell a giggle at being quarreled over. She supposed she might even start feasting on popcorn if they actually ended up brawling in front of her.

As soon as she noticed Sharon's hand on Steve's arm, however, the zest she felt about the men's standoff vanished. She squirmed her hand free from Steve's grip, forcing him to release her. He looked taken aback by her efforts and stared at her in bewilderment, while she, too, was astonished that she managed to untangle herself from how firmly he had been holding on to her.

She looked up at him and met his gaze with a contemptuous regard. "Why would I go home with you? I hate you."

"Let’s talk. I will explain, it's not what you think." Steve tried to reach for her hand again, but she immediately leaned against Bucky, leaving Steve's hand still midway.

"We are not talking. I don't wanna waste my energy on you." She spoke with such resentment that he looked like a wounded pup. She faced Sharon once more. "And you. Just so you know, you are too pretty to be chasing after a guy with no balls."

In that moment, Wanda conceded to how terrible her actions toward the woman had been. She felt like one of those women who, after being cheated on, erroneously channeled her rage at the other woman rather than confronting the man who had betrayed her. Nonetheless, she didn't apologize; her dignity got the better of her.

"Steve, is she your girlfriend? You have a girlfriend, a pregnant girlfriend?" Sharon appealed to Steve to clarify, but he didn't even look at her; he stubbornly gaped at Wanda, entreating with his eyes. The hurt and dismay in the woman’s eyes made Wanda feel more regretful.

"No, we're not related. He's not the father either. Let's go, Buck," Wanda declared as she pulled Bucky away from the chaos she had instigated.

Wanda was relieved that no one else had witnessed what had just transpired. She must have looked pathetic when she confronted Sharon. One thing was for sure: she would never go back to the Avengers compound again.

"Oh my lord! Why did you have to do that? What if Sharon takes legal action against you? You can’t just go around attacking people, Mandy." Bucky sighed in disappointment as he started driving away.

"I know. I'm sorry; I don't know what came over me," Wanda mumbled, her hands stapled in her lap. She couldn't bear to look at him.

"I know you're angry, but Sharon is not your enemy. You don't just exclude the other half of your problem because it's easier."

Umbrage welled up inside her, not for Bucky, but for herself. "Do you want me to go back in there and apologize?" she asked, piercingly.

"I think Steve will take care of that."

That made her look back at him. She sneered at his words. "Like he would! He didn't even do anything. He just stood there like he wasn't part of the situation."

"He choked when he saw you. He just kept staring at your belly, probably ruminating on how he missed out big time. Didn't you see how unkempt he was? He was probably in a hurry to go home to you."

"Stop defending him!" she blurted, her anger raging over at Bucky for still trying to take that idiot's side. If he was going to back him anyway, why did he need to make a show of pulling her aside?

"Why are you upset when you've been hanging out with me all this time? You need to be fair in how you react." He and Steve really knew how to keep their tempers in check. Wanda couldn't believe he managed to say all that to her without raising his voice. Well, if he could control his anger, she wouldn't hold back. "I like you a lot, Wanda; we both know that. But you can’t expect me to turn a blind eye when you’re behaving rashly."

"Then leave me alone. Take me home and don't show your face to me ever again." She spat.

"Come on, don’t act like this," he murmured, taking her hand.

Regrettably, even his tenderness had no place in her anger-filled heart. She swatted his hand away and said, "Get."

***

The first thing that Wanda did as soon as Bucky left after dropping her off at home was to amass all of Steve's belongings and chuck them on the first-floor landing in the living room. Everyone, except for the hysterically laughing Wong, who stayed below to pile Steve's things like a mountain, tried to reason with her, but she merely scowled at them.

As Wanda was about to plunge another heap of Steve's neatly folded clothes, she saw him racing up the stairs toward her on the balcony. She hurriedly hid behind her brother.

"Steve, what's happening here? Why is my sister evicting you?" Pietro asked, raising an arm to gesture for Steve to stay where he was.

"He cheated on me! I caught him kissing another woman," Wanda quickly explained, not wanting to give Steve a chance to contradict her flurry.

"That's not true!" Steve insisted, looking like a helpless child amidst the manlier features he now wore.

"It's true!" she shot back, fearing that everyone would side with Steve. She decided to be innovative. "He even yelled at me and threatened to call the police if I didn't leave them alone. I was only trying to ask him why he would do that to me."

"You did that to my girl? How could you?" Agatha clamored at Steve, pulling Wanda close.

"Agatha, please let me explain. That’s not what happened," Steve reasoned, looking even more vulnerable and weary. He hadn’t even changed out of his uniform.

"Now he’s even trying to manipulate the narrative." Wanda feigned sobbing; nobody wanted to see a pregnant woman cry, after all. She needed sympathy in case Steve revealed what she had done to Sharon.

"What happened, Steve?" Pietro, the traitorous brother, settled to act as the conciliator. Wanda mentally noted to plan for her brother's demise.

"Pietro, I've already told you what happened!" Wanda insisted, her head resting on Agatha's chest as she continued to play the role of the wronged woman.

"Yeah, but you're a filthy liar." Pietro turned to face her, showing no compassion on his face, despite her pouring all her aptitudes into her act.

"Pietro! Don’t say that about your sister!" Agatha exclaimed, smacking her brother on the arm. Wanda tried her hardest not to stick her tongue out at her twin. "Stephen, please get that man away from here before I turn him into a swine!"

Although reluctant, Stephen nodded and approached Steve. "Captain, I think you should leave for now." Wanda would have preferred that Strange had roared at Steve, but she'll still take what he delivered.

"Yes! Make him leave! Who cheats on their pregnant friend, anyway?" Wong hollered from the living room, craning his neck as he watched with full animation for what would happen next.

"I wasn’t cheating on her, I swear to god." Steve let out a frustrated groan, pushing his hair back from his eyes, unaware of the frenzy he was causing Wanda. "When she found us—"

"Why is this happening to me?" Wanda resumed her bogus wailing to interrupt Steve. "Why do men always hurt me? I'm so traumatized that I just want to curl up in a ball and weep my eyes out."

Pietro stared at her with a blank expression. "Where are your tears, you crocodile?"

Wanda felt like she could strangle her brother at that moment. "I'm all dried up from too much crying. If you don't believe me, ask Bucky. He saw everything." Unless Bucky was still stuck on his undying love for Steve Rogers.

"Yeah, just ask Bucky," Steve opined. The smug bastard appeared assured that Bucky would defend him, which likely meant that Wanda would end up on her knees to receive Agatha's beatings. It seemed that nothing was going in her favor.

"She's not telling the truth, Agatha," Pietro murmured as he crossed his arms.

"Wanda!" Agatha released her from the warm embrace and held her by the shoulders, scrutinizing her closely.

The curtain had dropped when she couldn't bring herself to meet Agatha's gaze. With a heavy sigh, she released herself from Agatha's grip. As she peeked around the room, avoiding Steve's eyes, she saw that everyone else had quit giving credence to her. "Fine! Go ahead and gang up on me, you traitors! I hate you all!" She stormed past Pietro, deliberately bumping into him as she left.

She was just about to walk past Steve when he carefully grabbed her arm, his eyes filled with a supplicating regard. She glanced away, knowing that if she met his gaze, her willpower would crumble.

She was still the victim in the situation, wasn’t she? So why did it feel like everyone had already taken Steve's side?

"I didn't do anything, Wanda!" Wong yelled again.

"You're perfect, Wong," Wanda said, looking down at him with a smile.

"Wanda, please, can you give me a chance to explain?" Steve spoke under his breath. "Nothing was happening between us; you caught me at a bad moment. I was about to pull away from her when you suddenly showed up. You know I would never do anything to hurt you."

"No!" She flailed and broke free from him. "I don't know anything. You never called me. You promised you would return right away, but you didn't. You abandoned me. You left me here to fend for myself."

"You weren't alone, sis; we were all here for you," Pietro dissented. Wanda swore that if Pietro did not stop talking, she would drown him and punch him in his perfect face.

"I think we should leave. This matter is between them," Stephen urged, taking Agatha's hand.

"Wanda, we'll address your falsehoods later. Please behave like the adult that you already are and talk to your child's father." Agatha's tone was chillingly stony, the usual tone she adopted whenever she decided to discipline them.

Great. Just grand for Wanda Maximoff, the harbinger of chaos.

She sauntered to her room with Steve tailing her. When she got inside, she paused in the doorway and faced Steve. "Fuck off, Rogers."

***

Steve, now out of his uniform and dressed in a fitted shirt and sweatpants that he knew Wanda liked, approached her room with a bashful grin. He was carrying a huge bouquet of roses, confident that she wouldn’t impair the blameless flowers.

"So this is what you do now? You enter someone's room even when you're not welcome?" She bellowed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the headboard of her bed. She had been sitting alone in her room for a couple of hours, staring glassy-eyed out the window and wondering why nothing ever went her way.

"Pietro gave me the spare key," he said before handing her the bouquet.

She accepted the gift, catching sight of the grin on his face. He sat close to her, trapping her between his arms. Before she could say knife, he had managed to steal a kiss on her cheek when she turned her gaze back to the window after setting the roses aside. His beard grazed against her skin, leaving her with a prickly sensation that made its way south that she had been trying to push to the back of her mind.

"Didn't I tell you to fuck off?" She spoke coldly, masking the invigorating impact of his face being too close to hers.

"You did."

"I didn't tell you to sit," she snapped, trying to shoo him away, but he just chuckled and stayed where he was.

"This is my room now, too."

"Go sleep in my brother's room since he chose to believe you instead of me."

"You were poisoning me to them. I was just defending myself." He even had the nerve to speak in that sulky tone that always made her soften towards him. She was the exploitative one between them. How dare he try to use her own methods?

"I saw you about to swap spit with Elle Woods," she reminded him, noting that he seemed to have already forgotten the grave sin he had committed just hours earlier. If he thought that everything would be forgotten and forgiven, he was sorely mistaken.

"Who?" His face contorted in puzzlement.

Wanda was not in the mood to explain, so she rolled her eyes at him. The universal language that applies to everything, as flexible as her favorite word fuck. "Just get out, or if you're really that daring, sit in your corner like a good boy."

Steve held her face and made her look at him. "I'm sorry I didn't call. I tried, but everything became too hectic and distant too quickly."

His warm, minty breath was thrashing her walls. "Sure, with all the technologies the Avengers have, Captain America can't find a way to get in touch with his pregnant buddy."

"We couldn't risk exposing ourselves. It became an all-out war. We were short-handed."

"Must have been tricky. So complex that the first thing you chose to do was to make out with someone else."

Steve finally seemed to be putting some thought into how he should justify himself. She wasn't oblivious to his current state; it was clear he was sapped and in hopeless need of a hot shower to wash the grime off his face, as well as a good night's sleep. Maybe she should join him.

Yet, despite knowing all that and the enticing summoning of her womanly needs, she couldn't help feeling vexed. It didn't matter that they had hastily labeled their relationship as nothing more than friendship. They both knew they were connected in ways that words couldn't fully capture. The word baby should have hammered that in.

"I didn't expect her to do that." Steve held her hand and gently kissed her fingers. "I was about to leave when she caught up with me. She was expressing her gratitude for saving her life."

"How convenient. Thank you cards must be something that is not familiar to you both."

"If you didn't show up, I would have gently pushed her away and let her know that it was not going to happen with us."

She could accept the rationale, and knowing who Steve was, she believed him. However, she could not agree with what he planned to do. It was too shallow; she wanted to hear something more prominent. "Gently?" she mocked.

"You can't seriously expect me to smack her down." He stammered in disbelief.

She shrugged, tilting her head. "Why not? She's with the CIA; surely she can defend herself."

Steve burst out laughing, probably imagining her suggestion in his head. She didn't like that. "I'm sorry. Please, can we stop fighting? I missed you so much it hurts. What do you want me to do?"

What hurt? She hoped it was his wood. If that were the case, his being blue would be enough to torment him.

"I don't need you to do anything. I don't care about you anymore. Just do what you want." Her eyes widened in shock when Steve, without any portent, smooched her on the lips. She was too stunned and ruffled to reciprocate. Not ready to give in just yet, she forcefully pushed him away. "What the hell?!"

"You said I could do what I want."

"Not to me, you..." She suddenly forgot what else she wanted to say, lost in the glint of his eyes and the lingering taste of his sweet lips. He was beaming at her as if she had already agreed to reconcile with him. "Ugh, I hate you."

Steve straightened up and glanced down at her belly. "May I?" he asked, motioning with his hand to indicate that he wanted to touch her bump. He leaned closer, eager to get a better look. Wanda gave him an intolerant nod and looked away.

"Hey there, you've grown so much since I last saw you," he muttered, his voice softening. Wanda couldn't help but stare at him again. She didn't think Steve had it in him to speak in such a delicate, babbling manner. It was hard to stay angry when he looked so endearing and enthusiastic as he gently caressed her womb.

"You weren't giving your mom a hard time, were you? Whoa, the baby just kicked!" he exclaimed, looking up at her and laughing gaily.

Wanda had to bite her lip to stifle her discomfort and avoid recoiling. She didn’t want to interrupt his moment with his devoted baby. Bucky was right; the baby was probably looking for Steve. It had been so well-behaved before Steve started talking to it.

"I hate to break it to you, but that's old news. That baby has a knack for kicking me in my literal gut."

"Does it hurt?" he asked, quickly transitioning from a state of excitement to one of concern.

"Of course it does! What do you think?" she complained, still holding onto her goal to stay irate.

Steve gaped at her belly again. "Could you not hurt your mommy so much? I know you want to stretch in there, but you'll be able to do all the stretching you want when you get out."

Wanda braced herself for another kick, but it never came. It seemed the medium dot had chosen a side. Strangely, she liked it that way. When she caught herself smiling, she instantly pursed her lips and drummed his shoulder.

"Get off me now. I'm hot," she instructed, and he quickly obliged. She kicked the duvet off herself, exposing her bare legs; she had chosen to wear only one of his oldest shirts to cool off. She caught him staring at her chest before he glanced away, his face and neck turning crimson. Looking down, she glimpsed her protruding nipples and chuckled. "What? Are you getting turned on by my perky rosebuds?" she teased.

Steve faced her confidently and asked, "What if I am?"

She scoffed at his display of boldness. "Dream on. I have sworn to celibacy."

"What?" he pressed, sounding as if she had divulged something that made him question his existence.

"How did you save Sharon?" she asked, spurning his clear disapproval.

"She was about to get shot. I saw it and shielded her," he replied. However, he looked detached from reality.

He seemed fixated on the lowdown of her newly proclaimed abstinence, which, honestly, even she doubted she could maintain when he looked like that. Her thighs weakened at the stirring image that flashed in her mind of herself sliding up and down his manhood inside her. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of those lecherous thoughts.

What he just said finally registered. "You got shot? Where? Show me!"

"In the chest. Don't worry, it's fully healed now. I heal quickly, remember?"

Wanda felt her heart rip. She stroked his chest. Wrong move, the hard pecks just burned her with more want; her mouth dried. "That's where your heart is. You could have died," she said, shifting closer and kneeling in front of him as she tugged at the hem of his shirt. "Show me."

Steve sat sideways, raising his arms willingly as she began to undress him. She tossed his shirt aside without a care and focused on the area below his clavicle. Indeed, he was fully healed, but the scars from the bullet still stood out prominently. She gently brushed against the speck, making him gasp at her touch.

"It left a scar, but I can have it erased. We have someone named Dr. Cho who has a cradle that helps with that." His voice was gravelly, almost quivering, as she continued skimming the site with her fingers.

"Erase it. I don't want to see a reminder of that girl." She murmured, already forgetting the name of the girl she was referring to. Thoughtless, she peppered his scar with soft kisses.

"I will," his voice came out as a moan.

"Right away," she met his gaze, her hand still on his chest.

"Yes, ma'am." He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

Her legs bracketed around his bent knee, sitting on it. "Don't ever do that again; you can't die. Our baby isn't even born yet." She cradled his face in her hands. Grazing his lips with her thumb.

"Wanda," he grunted, making her realize she was unconsciously grinding against his thigh.

His hand slipped inside her shirt, eagerly capturing her breasts that grew ampler thanks to the splendors of pregnancy, feebly fondling them with fervor. He then snared a nipple between his fingers to toy with her even more, making her huff feverishly. Their faces inched closer, breaths ragged, finally succumbing to their yearnings.

"No!"

Startled, they both turned to face the furious figure standing in the now widely opened door of her room. There stood Wong, red in the face, carrying a stack of Steve's clothes.

In that quiet moment, Wanda had decided to voluntarily serve time in a penitentiary for committing amicicide.

Chapter Text

"Come on, sis! It will be special. Please, let's just do it. Steve already agreed, and he seemed excited, too," Pietro said, continuing to persuade Wanda to allow him to throw her a baby shower and a gender reveal.

Sweet as it may be, learning the gender of her baby was the last thing on her mind. Stealing a glance at the mark on her wrist she felt her head swim in fear.

"No," she replied, already losing count of how many times she had said the word to him while pretending to read the book in her hands as she sat cozily on her bed. She had been thumbing through the pages for so long that her fingers began to hurt.

"Don't you think your baby will feel special? When they grow up and see all the photos of how excited everyone was about their arrival, it will warm their heart."

"Stop using my baby as an excuse to throw a party just so you can see Natasha." She looked at him with disinterest, catching sight of the familiar rosiness that crept onto his face whenever Black Widow was mentioned. He could rival the vibrance of the roses perched on her bedside table.

Truthfully, even Wanda had lost interest in convincing her brother to make a move on the woman. Pietro was so timorous that she felt like jostling him upside down until all his reluctance fell away like coins rattling to the floor. She couldn’t comprehend how he could never find the words whenever Natasha visited. He always seemed to be keen on hiding away. His unwillingness to show himself had begun to make Natasha wonder if he didn’t like her. Wanda wanted to assure her that it was quite the contrary, but she had her own personal problems to deal with. Said problem being the man peacefully sitting by the window, engrossed in a book he was also feigning to read.

"That's not the reason! I am genuinely excited to welcome your child."

"Welcome it, when it's born."

"We never got to have our own party."

She slammed the book down onto her lap, feeling frustrated and ready to end the discussion. The determined look on her brother’s face began to undermine her resolve until he brooded like a sulking child. "We were dirt poor and had parents who worshipped Voldemort; it’s not difficult to see why, Einstein."

"That's exactly why I want to do it. I want your baby to experience everything we couldn't." He sat beside her and gently placed a hand on hers, his tone becoming more pacifying. "Steve wants this, too." His eyes flicked to Steve, who was now watching them both attentively. She raised an eyebrow at Steve, and he merely shrugged in response.

"He doesn’t get to have a say," she said, seeing the look of disagreement on Steve’s face. She loved his reaction. Nothing ground her gears more than knocking him down a peg.

"He's the dad," Pietro stated, as if she had forgotten. Just because she often dismissed it didn't mean she no longer acknowledged it.

"He's my roommate. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Steve? Help me, bro." Pietro turned to Steve, looking like a kid seeking support from Mommy. And "bro"? It made her want to vomit in that moment.

"Bro?" she asked, her voice dripping with repulsion as she quavered at the sound.

"We're like brothers now. We're tight."

The placated grin on Steve's face made her wonder whether Pietro was acting that way because he felt bad for Steve, especially after Wong's growing enmity towards Steve. The thought of the men she held dear in her life joining forces to push her to their candidate should have slighted her, as it implied she lacked autonomy. Yet, she found it appealing. They were like her own personal fans, who cherished her for whatever reasons they had.

"Ew. He's like our grandpa," she muttered, even though she liked that her brother was making a connection with Steve.

"You made a baby with the grandpa. No offense, Steve. You look really great for your age." Pietro even gestured to salute him, as if their lame interaction wasn't already making her regret her initial thought of liking their bond.

Nowadays, Pietro was more eager to show Steve the clothes he knitted for her baby than for her. It wasn't like she kept dismissing his efforts, anyway; everything he wove made its way to the flourishing piles of clothing she had slowly amassed. Just because she did not openly display her affection to her child did not mean she was not exhilarated herself.

Okay, now she was incensed.

"No offense taken," Steve smirked as he crossed his arms. He gazed at her, and she briskly realized he was flexing his muscles for her—another endeavor to attain an invitation to her bed. The other day, he was even loudly mumbling to himself about how his back was sore from sleeping on the floor every night.

How sad it was to be a man. Steve had been trying to seduce her, at least that's what he thought in his mind after their failed rekindling. Wong's interruption days ago had derailed it for them.

She was upset at the time but later grateful for the intrusion. She was still sore with Steve, and he did not deserve to get what he wanted. Sure, she missed him terribly, but the allure of being pined for by him and still failing to reach her, even though she was in his grasp, made it more rousing.

"I won't give up. I bet you'll change your mind. You always change your mind anyway," Pietro declared, bringing her back from the rush of heat slowly making its way inside her.

"Sure," she murmured, clenching her legs shut beneath the blanket.

"Just so you know, since I took the punishment on your behalf, I at least deserve some grace from you."

Wanda chuckled at the memory of her brother on his knees, being struck with Agatha's favorite stick while she lounged comfortably on the couch. Taking a sip of her cold lemonade, she felt a surge of joy fill her heart. Steve was against it, of course; he even offered to take the lashings himself. But Agatha simply dismissed him, telling him to marry Wanda first if he wanted to be considered family. What a delightful day it had been—like Christmas had come early.

"You were punished for my sake, yes. But Agatha didn't appreciate that you chose to side with a stranger instead of your own family. Have you forgotten? Defend in public, but deal with it in private," she needled, batting her lashes at her grim twin.

"Yeah, the father of your child is a stranger," he retorted.

Wanda beamed with delight. "He's just a man I seduced in a club and fuc—"

"Ah, ah, ah, yada, yada, yada." Pietro started yapping while covering his ears. She could share everything with his brother, save for her sex life. Who wanted to hear that their sister was getting railed real hard anyway, by the man he called 'bro', of all people? "I don't want to hear about that again."

"Isn't the story of how your niece or nephew was conceived a special one? Here I was thinking that you're a sensitive man."

"I'm gonna go." He quickly stood up and bolted out of her room, slamming the door on his way.

She giggled at her triumph. "Loser! Run, virgin, run!" she hollered.

***

"I think it's really sweet that your brother wants to throw you a shower," Steve said as he took Pietro's place next to her, sitting a little too close for her comfort. Spurning the hushed tension between them was a challenging task given their proximity.

She leaned back, trying to distance herself from him with the headboard's barely-existent support. "I didn't say you could talk to me."

"Wanda, it’s been days," he murmured, touching her exposed arm with the back of his hand. She stifled the whimper that threatened to escape her lips.

"Right. It's been days indeed. Why are you not going to work? Never mind, I don't care."

"I took a leave of absence for two weeks. I want to make it up to you, remember?"

She could hear alarm bells ringing in her head. She didn't like that Steve was often away from her, but at that moment, having him around for too long was not ideal for her crooked game of catch. "It's not necessary. I don't need your help with anything. In fact, you're being a pest."

He inclined his body closer to her, resting his forehead against hers. His stubble lightly tickled her jaw. Just one slight movement, and their lips would be brushing against one another. "I was hoping we could get away for a bit. How about some fresh air in a cabin? I know a place you'll like." She should really learn how to anticipate his sudden detours; that's all she could think about as he began nuzzling her cheek. His lips were grazing her skin, and she forced herself not to react to the sensation of his sizzling breath on her.

How he suddenly found the courage to be so brash blew her mind; it exposed the cracks in her conviction in her control over him. What he was doing to her at that moment went beyond anything he had done in the past few days. Until that moment, he had limited himself to longing glances and being at her beck and call. The furthest he had gone was to tarry in their room with his shirt off, fully aware that her eyes were fixed on him each time.

"No thanks." Damn, she sounded too breathy when she said it. And he saw through it right away.

"How about a picnic?" he suggested, all of a sudden lapping at her neck. She found herself avidly hanging on to him, craning her head to give him better access. He was sucking on her skin so ferociously that she would surely get those bruises that made her toes curl.

"Sure, sitting on the ground is something... ah," she moaned as he aimed at another sensitive spot on her neck that always made her wheeze. She felt intoxicated with every flick of his tongue. "I can easily do..." she continued to say, even though her eyes had rolled back in her head. His hands hadn't even made a stir yet.

"Movie?" he groaned, looking up at her as he devilishly made his way lower, just above the crest of her breasts, poking at her shirt that he was soaking with his saliva with the way he was mouthing on it. He could have easily pulled the fabric down, but he was toying with her.

Her back involuntarily arched in anticipation as she met his fiery gaze, and his hand slipped around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Not with you," she replied, still trying her best to withstand.

He unexpectedly released her from his clasp. She didn't even notice that he had already laid her flat on the bed. Her hand moved to the dampened area of her shirt that had once belonged to him before she took the liberty to stake her claim. She bit on the insides of her cheek to contain herself from whining about his absence.

"Wanda, I'm trying to ask you out on a date," he sighed, sitting on the side of the bed where he initially roosted.

Upset at the realization that he had ceased pursuing her, all the heat she felt dissipated, immediately replaced by vexation. "Ask Sharon; I bet she'll like it," she chided.

"When will you stop bringing that up?" he asked, looking upset with her as well. It was safe to say that the turn of events left her awestruck. Did men become hormonal when their partner was pregnant, too? Just minutes ago, she was sure that he was ready to rip her clothes off.

"Until the day I die," she spat, twitching from the tremors of her punctuated bliss.

"Fine," he said as he got up and walked away from her completely.

"Where are you going?"

He paused at the foot of the bed. "Taking a shower. You should start getting ready for the doctor's appointment, too."

The word "shower" had now been integrated into the self-care remedies she imagined Steve did. Surely he wouldn't just keep himself in pain from his own needs.

The fool that she was, she slithered closer to him and knelt as soon as the distance between them closed. "We can save time if we shower together," she proposed. Pietro was right; it seemed she changed her mind as often as she changed her clothes. But, she still had to win somehow.

The thought seemed to have brought the color back to his bristly face. "That's a great idea."

"Is it?" She had to be sure.

"Yeah. Nothing we haven't done many, many times before."

Before. When things were more superficial. Back when she was still able to lie to herself about everything she felt for him, her life, her woes. It used to be so effortless to delude herself. But her pregnancy took hold of her emotions; it was so hard to reclaim her control when she was too occupied, stressing in secret about the child that she was going to bring to her miserable world.

A day of escape wouldn't be so bad.

"Yeah, but we weren’t friends back then," she jibed, earning a scowl from him. "What? Don’t you like the sound of that word? You were the one who ratified it."

He stunned her once again by nabbing her waist and hauling her closer. "You know, I think you've forgotten that I could still easily take you. You little vixen."

The look of danger in his eyes made her flutter. It had been a long time since she had seen that vehemence in him. Perhaps she was truly sick in the head because, instead of feeling frightened, she found herself coveting his threats. She took pleasure in the idea of being towered over by him and only him; she was certain of that.

She had tried to envision a heated interaction with Bucky, fantasizing about herself surrendering to him, but the vision felt like a final piece of a puzzle that just didn’t fit. Steve fit her perfectly, gloriously. She was no poet, but she could insert his name in every poem she could conjure in her mind.

With Steve, it was easy to descend into the depths of heightened ardor stemming from the fear of not pleasing him. She felt her flower, as Steve insisted before, in defiance of the vulgar version she preferred, throb at the pooling hot slick of essence she was holding away from him.

"What does that mean? 'Take me?' I might be confused about some of your idioms. English isn't my first language." She needed to test the waters and see if he would stumble if she kept being difficult.

"You know what I mean." He did not waver. His blue eyes darkened as he regarded her with his domineering demeanor. She wondered whether that was how he led a group of powerful people, too.

Just one more provocation, perhaps? One more nonsensical riposte to the glaring desire spurring inside his sweats. Even better, what if she took him in her mouth? He always went mad for that, shirking his grandiloquent words, showing her how impetuous he was in the height of ecstasy.

"I really don't know. Help a friend out, would you?"

"I'm ending our friendship." He wickedly leaned in, making her believe he would kiss her before halting just a breath away, leaving her lips cold and lonely.

"Oh? Do I even have a say in that?" she moaned, unsure who was steering whom anymore. Was it she who was feigning her resistance, or was it he who was swift to change tactics?

"No," he whispered, and it sounded like a vow.

"What will we be then?"

"Tell me you love me first, then I'll show you. Say it, Wanda. You know you do."

***

A splash of a cold bucket of water. That's what it felt like for Wanda as she fell to her knees, landing on the soft mattress of her bed. Steve was looking down at her, challenging her to say something witty. She was convinced she was winning. But now, it felt like being tricked in a game. She believed she had him, but then he turned around, revealing that he had held the winning card all along.

"We're both in a losing game, Wanda. You love me, and deep down, you know that. Why else would you be so hellbent on destroying anyone you see as a rival? You go restless at the thought of me being with someone else, even though you know that I would never stray." He hopped onto the bed, tipping on his hands to level with her.

"Because you're mine. All mine," she uttered before assessing it carefully. Proclaiming ownership over Steve was something she knew she had lost the right to long ago, yet it remained her most instinctive response.

"Then say it. It's just three words. We can start from scratch."

She found herself longing for the Steve she adored—the not-so-innocent and timid man who always made an effort to bring her happiness without any hidden motives. The Steve in front of her seemed too focused on getting her to say what he wanted to hear.

She could easily lie and deliver what he sought to end the conversation, but she wasn’t sure whether that would truly be a lie either.

Wanda despised herself for turning into the cliché she had always detested. A broken girl who had lost her hope in love, she had vowed never to say those dreaded words again. Yet, she soon found herself encountering a nobleman who challenged that assertion.

Her life wasn't like the movies she had watched. Deep down, she knew that she was her own deterrent. The solution was simple, yet complex at the same time. She was no damsel. A prince couldn't save her.

"Didn't we already talk about this?" she asked, reminding him of the few dialogues that ultimately ended with them choosing to part ways before running back to each other with the justification of lust.

"We did. And we're discussing it again because, clearly, you have not been true to your own words. You said that we could never be more than friends, but here we are."

They were only where they were because of the baby, right? Despite their reckless nature, it’s not like she intended to be pregnant. They were only being amicable for the sake of the child, and that made sense. She nodded at her own determination.

"I'm still firm about what I said." She looked away, but he held her chin and made her meet his gaze.

"When will you stop using my best friend as a shield to fend yourself from the truth that you love me? It's unfair to Bucky; you’re only hurting him. It's unfair to me. I want you to stop making me feel like I want to kill him because he keeps waiting in the shadows for you."

"I'm not using him; I like him a lot!" she exclaimed, astonished that he had come to such an assumption. The thought of using Bucky had never even crossed her mind. All she could do was glower at him.

"You like to use him as your palette cleanser whenever you feel overwhelmed with how deeply you're falling for me every day."

She had to laugh at how absurd his words were. Had she not known it was impossible for him, she would have thought he was inebriated. Was that what he was getting from spending time with her brother? Pietro knew her like the back of his hand, maybe even better than herself. "Why are you so brave today?"

After what felt like an endless stretch of silence, Steve let out a deep breath. The old version of himself that she preferred when it benefited her was finally hinting at a return.

He gulped and stared at his clenched fists, seemingly unaware of how tightly he was gripping them. "Because I'm pent up and angry. I want to be inside you so badly, but I'm scared that if I don't remind myself of some tenderness, I'll end up hurting you."

"Oh."

Wanda's mouth fell open before she burst into hysterical laughter. That was it? She was pulling her hair out from the sudden glum that was strong-arming them just for him to hit the brakes and circle back to their ridiculous game? Even she had to admit that his reasoning was the most anticlimactic culmination of their quandary.

He flushed with embarrassment. Poor Steve, he almost had her. "Then why did you declare a friendship with no sex if you're going to abandon your own hill anyway?"

"Because I wanted you to see that our bond goes beyond what our bodies want." He said in that mopey tone she missed and tried to banish because of her anger.

She couldn't help but cup his face with her hands. She would have kissed him if she weren't too overpowered by her cackling. "There's nothing wrong with giving in to our lusts, Steve."

"Then confess. Admit that you love me. You said that we're just both lonely, we can do that together and be in love at the same time."

Her laughter eventually shriveled, replaced by a jagged sigh of relief. For a moment, she feared they might break up again because of his demands. "I don't love you," she muttered.

"Yes, you do," he insisted.

"You're being pathetic. What's next? Are you going to make me look you in the eye and tell you I don't love you? Are you hoping that I'll hesitate, and then you'd say, 'Gotcha! I knew you loved me.' That's just wishful thinking. If you want to fuck me, just say so. Who knows, I might say yes."

"Oh, please, I haven't even done much, and you're already sopping wet down there."

Wanda fell silent. How the hell did he know? She can't remember if he even touched her there. Most importantly, did she hear him right? Did he really say those filthy words that, though not explicit, sounded like the grungiest curse she had ever heard since they came from his mouth?

"Wow! Did you really just say that?" she asked, still too aghast to find more words.

He grinned smugly, as if silently conveying that he could have said more or ascribed further, but chose not to for her sake. "I did," he spoke softly, pressing the most feathery kiss he had ever given her on her lips. "Fine. Keep lying to yourself. I'm still feeling fearless, so I’ll say this with all my heart, which is filled with love for you: my mouth misses your sweet and silky flower with the most gorgeous pearl, if you catch my meaning. I've been feeling ravenous, as you know. But too bad my tongue craves the taste of love."

He kissed her again before standing up and heading to the bathroom without even glancing back at her.

Wanda took his words as a dare. Love? He will quickly forget about that if she shows him its monotony, compared to the pangs of yearning they have both held hostage against one another. Had he held on just a little bit longer, she wouldn't have regained her reign over him.

And, she always had to have the final say. She will not discomfit herself further by letting him walk away from her scot-free. He had too much spring in his strides for their opaque match.

Just when he was about to turn the knob of the bathroom door, she called out to him and said, "Steve, why don't you sleep on the bed tonight? We don't want to injure your back from sleeping uncomfortably on the hardwood floor every night, do we? You deserve to bury yourself in something warm, and supple, and wet... and oh so tight."

Chapter Text

Wanda awoke in the middle of the night for no apparent reason—she wasn't hungry, had no urge to use the restroom, and felt no discomfort, nothing.

She chuckled softly as she turned to see Steve sleeping soundly beside her. He lay on his side, facing her as he always did, even when he had to sleep on the floor. She would pay a hefty amount, despite being penniless, just to see the look on his face when he turned in for the night after being trapped in a long conversation with Pietro, only to find her freshly showered, yet asleep.

She dozed off right after dinner. She was too fatigued, despite doing nothing all day, even though the doctor's appointment was the only effort she needed to make.

Steve tried so hard to act normally, as if her invitation did not affect him. He was overly attentive to her, but she could tell he was distracted. She confidently assumed that he couldn't shake the thought of them sleeping together from his mind. She never even mentioned their new sleeping arrangement again, so for a short period, she wondered if he would come to. And he did.

It was all well and good: she and Steve finally heard their baby's heartbeat for the very first time. She could have done it a long time ago, but she wanted Steve to share that moment with her.

He was so captivated by the strong thump of their baby's heart that he completely forgot how preoccupied he had been on the drive there. They were both left speechless the entire time, realizing they had indeed created a new life together.

The happiness on Steve's face as he gawked at the monitor, still holding Wanda's hand, made all her worries fade away for a moment. She wasn't sure she had seen it correctly, but she thought she had noticed tears welling in his eyes. Given how he was, she wouldn't be surprised if that were true. After all, it's Steve.

Even with the lights turned off, she could clearly see the look of bliss on his face. Perhaps he alleviated himself from his dismay with the thought of finally doing something with her for the first time. She knew that his missing out on witnessing their baby kick from her womb was a milestone for him and something that he took to heart.

She wanted to reach out and touch his face, but Steve was a light sleeper. She didn't want to wake him; he was probably drained from the unwarranted chores she had made him do all day.

She had him rearrange the furniture in their bedroom, swearing she felt suffocated, only to have him return everything to its original arrangement when she realized she actually preferred how it looked to begin with. She was doing it on purpose, of course.

Steve also had to tend the rooftop garden in the heat of a sunny day, while she leisurely sipped her iced sweet tea under a parasol she had him buy for her earlier that morning.

It was all worth it. The garden was more organized because of his military strategy, and she got to watch him sweat from his hard labor. Oh, the restraint she displayed from wanting to lick the salt off his skin.

She glanced at her phone and saw it was only 2 AM. She was fully awake now and needed to do something or someone to return to her slumber. But someone was asleep. Would it be too mean to wake him up to keep her company?

Wanda was artlessly surprised by her indecision.

Taking her time, she scooted closer to him and reached out to touch him. Her brows furrowed when she saw that he was wearing a shirt. He always slept in just his boxers, and she knew that well because she had spent countless nights salivating over him as she stared at him in his sleep below her bed. He got hot easily, too, often kicking off his blankets. Was he giving her a silent refusal by wearing a shirt?

Impossible. Why wouldn't he want her? And why was she asking all those questions to herself? She was betraying her own spirit.

She felt Steve gradually stir, letting out a gentle groan as he wrapped an arm around her, sliding the other under her neck. He returned to his light snoring, holding her tight against his chest. Her toes brushed against the hairs on his knees, which somehow exorcised the angels in her head.

She snuggled against him, tightly enveloping her arm around his waist to press herself closer. He stirred again, inhaling the top of her head. She grinned with excitement when she heard his heartbeat quicken. Yet he remained torturously still.

Wanda didn't want to ask him if he was awake already. That was not fun.

Her hand gently trailed down his abdomen, moving lower, and as she did, she sensed him holding his breath. If that didn't indicate he was awake yet, then she must be dreaming. She halted at the prominence of his boxers, finding him already hard as his shield. His grip on her back tightened, with his fingers pressing firmly into her covered skin.

She looked up at him and instantly met his wide-open eyes. Even in the darkness surrounding them both, she could clearly discern the anticipation in his gaze, his breath hitching. She began rubbing her palm on his manhood, driving him to lean into her touch.

Her hand traced the outline of his shaft, deliberately taking her time as she peered at his reaction.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice gravelly with want. His hand circled her slender arm, thumb grazing the skin underneath her sleeve.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Her derision was clear as day. She heard him chuckle before immediately grunting when she gripped his length.

"I figured you were tired. You're always napping these days."

"Can't help it. Do you want me to go back to sleep then?"

"No," he quickly responded, making her grin. Of course not, not with his skin now flushed with heat. He definitely preferred her awake with what she was doing to him, she thought.

"Tell me something sweet, Steve."

"Fuck!" he growled as soon as her hand slipped inside his boxers and began massaging him slowly, her thumb teasing the slit on the tip, slicked with precum.

"That's very sweet, Steve. I am touched," she murmured to his ear, lightly nipping on his neck.

"Your hand feels so good," he rasped, before grabbing her face and crashing his lips onto hers.

She felt the desperation in his lips, and she eagerly fed his frantic scouring. It had been so long since they allowed themselves to surrender and descend from the pedestal of their pride. The world around them faded away, nothing but their heady gasps palpable. Making it seem as though they were the only two people left. All the moments they had spent tormenting each other in the past now felt like a colossal waste of time.

His hand that cradled the back of her head to pull her closer as if there was a threat of them parting was the only way to be. Their lips weaved, and dribbling in their froth as their tongues eagerly lapped at each other was the natural order of their existence. There was no place she'd rather be but in his arms.

Her hand, which was still holding on to his girth, thawed. She was transfixed by the sound of their moans, which had melded into a perfect symphony. Her cheeks relished the roughness of the stubble on his face. The thought of his face hilted between her thighs made her flutter, along with the dampness that raged from the tightening in her hips.

They eventually broke apart, both gasping for air as their bodies remained entwined. More, she needed more.

"I want you inside my mouth, please," she blurted, and she felt his member throb in her hand.

"Yes, doll," he mumbled, kissing her once more.

Doll. He had never called her that before. The way the word rolled off his tongue felt so titillating that she wanted to hear him say it again and again as she drove him wild.

"I'm your only doll, right? Just me," she demanded, unsure how she even managed to let out coherent words between their lips that endlessly intruded on each other.

"Only you. No one else but you," he promised.

They hastily sat up while Steve impatiently reached up to his side, kicking the sheets away. She smirked when she saw him turn the lamp on before leaning against the headboard.

He had to see her. He always needed to see her as she choked on his dick, always shirking his chivalry when they fucked. And that made her go madder.

It only took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the golden hue of the now illuminated room. Finally, she could see him in all his glory. The hunger in his eyes surged viciously through her veins, goading her to swing her leg over to his side so she could sit on his toned hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his, which he eagerly reciprocated, fettering her in his tight embrace.

"You look so beautiful in my shirt, doll. Do you know how many times I imagined tearing it off of you?" he asked before ravishing her neck, inhaling her skin as if her scent was what he needed to breathe. "You're mine. Just mine."

"Is that why you got me pregnant? So you could trap me?" Her hips began to rock against his erection. The thin material of her cotton soaked even more as she pressed harder against him.

"Yes. The thought of you carrying my child made my blood boil in exhilaration. Even when you run, you'll always feel the need to come back to me." He pulled the hem of her shirt and yanked it off; his eyes darkened as he watched her breasts bounce.

The words he uttered should have made her angry. But the hands that were deftly fondling her tits fogged her judgement. Funnily enough, Steve liked to refer to her pair as precious globes. She found it mawkish until he started showering them with attention all the time, never missing a beat. The memories of him randomly grabbing her breasts whenever he felt like it made her wetter.

She leaned back, bracing her hands on his outstretched knees to maintain her balance as she offered herself to him like a delightful piece of pie.

Her head fell back, mouth agape, and muttering ramblings even she couldn't comprehend when his mouth took hold of one breast. Her perked-up nipple swirled with enthusiasm by the rough surface of his tongue. His other hand took a firm grip on the other, teasing it with his thumb. And when he suckled, she felt tingly all over.

The tempo of her hips gyrated faster and rougher because of the delicious sensation of her nub rubbing against his engorged ridge. She went on and on until she came through the addicting tightening between her hips. The louder her whimpers became, the more aggressively Steve sucked on each of her peaks.

"Steve," she moaned his name out loud as she climaxed, her whole body shivering as she released her held up zeal, nails scratching on his skin.

"That felt good, didn't it?" he whispered as he pulled her closer, clutching her nape while peppering kisses on her neck.

"Yes, it felt so fucking good," she breathed, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"The night is still young for us, doll."

"You promise?"

"I promise," he said, gently grazing her collarbone with his teeth.

They remained entwined for a while, listening to each other’s heavy breathing like it was a melody. His face stood buried in her neck, and her cheek rested on his temple. Once she regained her bearings, she turned to him and kissed him softly on the lips. They smiled at each other, both looking like bashful maidens.

She shifted and knelt between his legs, their eyes locked onto each other. Without saying a word, he responded to her silent request by taking off his shirt and tossing it recklessly. Her finger hooked the band of his boxers, and he bucked his hips to help slide the material down. His aching fellow flinched free, and their gazes nailed on it like hawks.

He had been waiting for months, and she could tell that every second that passed seemed longer for him when she chose to pad her hands on the taut muscles of his chest instead of aiming for his cock. She wasn't taunting him; she was just adoring him. She waited for the same amount of time, too, didn't she? So it was only natural that she wanted to touch him everywhere.

"Your skin is scalding hot, Steve. Do you want me that badly?

"You have no idea how much I'm holding back right now."

She did have an idea. She could clearly see his restraint from the way he was strangling the helpless duvet to channel his strength. She innocently gazed up at him as her tongue touched his skin; he fidgeted every time it swayed at his sensitive spots. He gently ran his fingers through her hair as he continued to watch.

"Oh, doll," he mumbled with his jaw clenched when she supped on his nipple, his grip on her hair tightened.

She continued to guzzle him with her tongue, soaring higher at his reaction as she ventured below. When she reached his navel, his knees curled up as she caressed his thighs, his shaft skating her chin. His hand softly petted her cheek, while the other massaged her breast.

She made a show of deliberately running her tongue on her palm before grabbing his cock and saw him unravel before her. She tilted her head as she beamed at him, slowly stroking the velvety skin stretched taut over the steel-hard shaft with both hands. Size didn't matter, but why not appreciate?

"Did you miss me, Steve? Did you miss my mouth on your cock?" Now she was taunting.

He chuckled, patting her on the head. "Saying I missed you would not cut it, doll."

She kissed the underside of his rod and marvelled when she saw him inching forward to take a closer look at her, gathering her hair in his hand to ensure that nothing got in the way of his view. She rewarded him by gripping him tighter as she moved her hands and drinking in the spilling sheen on the swollen purple tip, her tongue circling it arduously.

"I liked that a lot," she hummed.

Decided that she was done chattering, she enveloped him in her mouth, amplified by the rush of ohs and coos as he debauched at the feel of her warm and succulent tongue, as he liked to tell her before. She paced slowly and steadily before bringing him deeper to the back of her throat, clenching her lips to sheathe him fully.

A loud gasp escaped his lips when he realized how far she went without gagging, caressing the lump of his girth in her larynx. She laughed, and the pulses it brought added to his eros. He must have forgotten that he had stretched her himself. Those moments when he was too lost in his own high that he had unconsciously shoved her to him roughly had paid off.

"Aren't you an angel, Wanda?"

Lolling in his praise, she seized his testicles and began bobbing her head to show him how angelic she could be, his length curling with her every thrust. She was quickly gifted with his growls of euphoria, her hair pulled, stretching her scalp, and his fingers pinching harder on her tautened nipple.

Her mouth was crowded with his massive prick, yet she felt like it was her being revered. She always loved giving him head as it made her feel powerful, bringing one of the world's strongest people to heel. She felt so beautiful as he gaped helplessly at the sensations she was giving him.

"You look breathtakingly beautiful with my cock in your mouth. You like me in your mouth, doll? Do you love me in there?" he asked crudely, and she swiftly nodded yes.

Her saliva mingled with the tangy taste of his advancing slick was her drug that drove her alacrity to the skies. She could see how badly he wanted to close his eyes, but he was too taken by his desire to watch her. Maybe he was aware, maybe not, but his body's reaction to her was the driving force of her cadence.

She felt tingly all over again when she felt him push her harder into him as his cock began to pulsate. The intoxicating sound of him grunting as he edged to his limit played beautifully to her ears. Not a day went by that she didn't long to hear that sound again. And there they finally were.

As he spasmed in her mouth, she caroused in the taste of his seed, eagerly milking him hard to compensate for the months they had missed. It took him a while to finish, spurting endlessly that he collapsed against the headboard with a loud thud.

She made a smacking sound as she drew him out of her mouth, dragging a final tug on the velvety skin so she could swallow him to the last drop.

Wanda sat on her knees, gazing at his prone form, like an artist admiring her work.

"You alright?" she asked knowingly, massaging his now outstretched limbs.

"Don't tease me, you know I'll only take a few minutes," he said lazily.

"I know," she giggled. Why else would she let him finish in her mouth?

"Did it hurt?" He reached out and caressed her throat with his thumb, his eyes filled with concern.

"Only if you don't pay me back," she said, licking her lips to taste the remnants of his bliss.

He chuckled before pulling her close to bring her lips to his once more. "It seems like we have reached an impasse with our game. Would you agree to a truce?"

She responded with a strangled whimper as he slid his fingers inside her underwear, smearing her dampness on her folds.

"What's that, doll? I couldn't hear you?" How could she possibly formulate a sentence when he heightened his ante by teasingly pressing on her button? "You're so wet for me, Wanda, I'm getting hard again just by feeling you right now."

Indeed, he was, as proven by his manhood flagging before her; she gulped at the magnificence she beheld. "Steve... Steve..." she mumbled his name like a prayer, her eyes closing as she mewled at the sensation of his thumb strumming her clit.

"Open your eyes," he commanded, the brusqueness of his tone compelling her to oblige right away. "I want you to watch, so that every time you see my fingers, you'd have to clench your thighs together from the memory of how I made you tremble. Do you understand? Tell me you understand." He pressed harder when she remained mum.

"Yes..." she croaked.

"Yes, what?"

At that moment, he could probably make her say anything he wanted. He was commandeering her consciousness with every stroke of his digits. "Yes, Steve. I understand."

"Good lass." The sudden tenderness in his eyes as he held her face somehow brought her to a new heap of thrill.

Her inner walls began to quiver yet again, but she did not dare close her eyes, afraid that he would pull his fingers away. The moment his thumb brushed the side of her lips, she captured it to her mouth, sucking on it as she began to roll her hips to dance with the rhythm of his fingers.

She grew frantic with his onslaught, needing to funnel the tremors of her hand, she took hold of his cock, stroking it with equal fervor as his. Their foreheads resting on one another as they exchanged heated grumbles of lust, their gazes locked on each other.

Using each other's bodies as a strong fort for their equilibrium, they met and reached their height together, the rope of his cum glistened in her hand. She eagerly ran her tongue across her palm to savor his edge, igniting a slew of curses from his lips.

Instead of toppling over, their vigor renewed as their lips sealed and drank on their croaks of pleasure. Suddenly, she was straddling Steve again, tightly enveloped in his embrace.

Wanda should be spent by now, but it seemed like Steve's well of vitality had made its way to her soul, letting him feed on his craving to breach her over and over again. Their mouths were sloppy as their tongues explored. She was holding on to his neck so hard that at some point, she felt she could break him.

Guided by his hand, Steve lay her gently on her back, peppering kisses on her fold-up knee. She bit on her lip when he sucked hard on his fingers that were glazed with her sheen.

"Look how beautiful you are, all flushed and sweaty because of me." Tugging the skin of her thigh with his teeth, he settled between her legs that were spread apart. He glided his hands from her caps to the juncture of her waistband.

"I could say the same to you," she murmured.

"I love you this way, too. Soaked and waiting." He mumbled as his thumb began rubbing circles on the thin cloth over her clit.

"Oh, Steve, if you keep acting like that... Ah..."

"What? What will you do?"

"Hmm? I don't know, I forgot," she sighed, hips bucking to meet his touch.

He thankfully did not probe further. She gasped in awe at the astute sound of her cotton briefs ripping. Did he really have to? She was already there for the taking. She held her tongue, though; she was too taken by the way he was gazing at her slit, licking his lips like he was bracing himself for a sweet treat.

There she was, bared and open for him. Shame was the last thing on her mind with the way his eyes blazed as he slowly descended to taste her, finally.

Afraid that she might miss a beat, she hastily leaned on her forearms to seek the perfect scenery.

She screamed the moment his tongue touched her folds, yet instead of shushing her or reminding her that the world around them still existed, he grinned with satisfaction.

His tongue softly traced every crevice of her womanhood, and her mouth hung loose. Her sighs slowly turned into whimpers of impatience as his tongue started tickling every inch save for the zone that sent her heaving in disarray.

Steve knew it; Wanda could tell that he could sense her increasing frustration. He all but chuckled at her predicament. He taunted her each time he made it seem like he was going for the kill, but instead, he would mouth on the inside of her thighs.

She grabbed a handful of his hair, trying and failing miserably to steer him.

"Steve!" she lamented.

"What is it? Don't you like it?" he asked knowingly, feigning offense.

She liked it very much in contrast, but she desperately needed to feel the heat that crept to the pads of her feet, the pressure between her hips.

"I like it, but you're not being fair. I didn't toy with you."

"On the contrary, you have. For months, if my impeccable memory served me right."

The devil that he was reared his fangs in that moment of all moments. She felt like sobbing as she watched his tongue flick against her sensitive labia. "I thought we had reached an impasse? What happened to our truce?"

He fell quiet for a while, too busy feasting on her wetness. "Alright, Napoleon, you should be grateful I'm fond of you."

"I'm really--" Whatever nonsense she was intending to say made its way back to her throat when Steve looped his arms on her thighs and buried his face on her cunt, sucking on her clit savagely, his tongue plugging her void. "Oh my god!" was all she could say, not even bothering to adjust her volume. Everyone inside the sanctum be damned, she thought.

One of the many things she loved about Steve's body was that his mouth fit her cunt perfectly.

Her toes coiled as the heat she had been coveting finally made its appearance—the way he was wolfing her put his own efforts from their previous trysts to disgrace. He blew on her cunt like he was the desperate one between them, like he's been starved and ready to wreak depravity if she dared to recoil.

She was beside herself, finally losing her mind as she moaned with no regard. As if he was not melting her already, she shamelessly tightened her grip on his hair to sink him deeper into her.

Her heels dug into his brawny rear as she watched his head jostling zealously between her thighs thoughtlessly. Her hips rolled instinctively to amplify the delicious friction.

Part of her felt dismay with herself when another tension grazed her spine, gathering to build up another orgasm. She would have wanted to last a bit longer, yet she was set up for failure with the way he was devouring her.

Gluttony was a sin, but the moment Steve inserted two fingers made her want to live as a sinful woman for the rest of her life. It was all too much and everything she wanted at the same time; his mouth and tongue torturing her swollen clit, his fingers relentlessly hitting that sweet, sweet spot inside her, making her curse at the whole world.

She never thought it was possible; she always knew that those actors were just exaggerating their roars in those adult videos she watched for educational purposes. But as she collapsed on her back, her whole body convulsing as her orgasm came, she knew that she would have a sweet sore on her throat for days with the way she was howling.  

And Steve, her sadistic Steve, who didn't bother letting her go, sucked her dry if that was even possible. He quaffed every drop of her essence. Amidst the viscous waves of her clangors, she could hear him humming as he drank her juices.

"You okay?" Steve asked when she finally shut up, already up on his knees, his lips swollen and shimmering with her fluid.

She gave him a quick nod; she was in no state to mutter coherently. She was still tingly from the tidal wave that she released, specifically, in his mouth. She couldn't even feel her legs anymore; she felt like a limp noodle. She chuckled to herself; even her inner musings were hazed.

"Good," Steve said before suddenly raising her leg and resting it on his shoulder. Before her brain could register what was going on, his cock was already impaled inside her.

"Steve..." She reached up to him without any idea of what she actually wanted to say, as she yet again felt the earth-shattering heat at the pads of her feet. Steve took her hand and wreathed their fingers as he pummeled, hard.

"I'm sorry, doll. I need... I need to be inside you..." his teeth clenched as he frantically thrusted in and out of her, growling.

Wanda's legs were stretched too widely apart as he tightly gripped her calf in his hand, nails digging into her skin. Even after so many times, he was still too big for her, the twinge of pain trailing behind the overwhelming sensation of pleasure.

Perfect. It was all perfect.

"Wanda, you feel so good, so tight and hot, I can do this forever," he breathed, though it seemed like he was muttering to himself with his eyes closed and head raised to the heavens.

"Keep stretching me, baby, as you did with my throat. I love how you feel inside me," she rambled.

"You love me drilling you like this? Do you love it, doll?" His tone was more of an order than a question, and she exuberantly nodded affirmatively.

Steve was the only man who ignited the fire in her loins, and her heart swelled in happiness that she finally allowed herself that honesty.

He slammed harder against her before leaning in to hone on her clit, and she felt like her soul had leapt from her body in that moment. She kept on screaming his name; she may have wondered if she sounded like a wounded animal, with the way her vocal cords were vibrating in her throat, but decided right away that she didn't care. The night belonged to them.

The bedframe shaking in his every thrust, the slapping of their flesh against one another, their bodies drenched in their sweat, and the musky scent of their milt shrouded her with undiluted ravenous mist. She felt like they were the riveting characters that came to life in those erotic novels she secretly read each night.

Steve fiddled on her clit harder than ever. As soon as she felt his cock pulsate inside her, she knew what he wanted right away. He was begging for her to cum for him again before he ejaculated his seed inside her and filled her with his cum. That knowledge alone drove her to clamp on his length, sucking him deeper to her core.

Her whole body shuddered as she came. Steve followed her quickly, biting on her heel as he erupted inside her. Their groans of passionate relief, as if they had uncovered the cure for the world, filled the fervid air.

She would dare to argue that sex was a great cure. That might be her lust talking, but she didn't care.

A generous bounce on the mattress momentarily brought her back to reality when she saw Steve already lying beside her, gasping for air like her. Both boneless and depleted, they somehow found a way to be in each other's arms again.

"That was nice," she chirped.

"Fucking nice," he grumbled, chuckling.

"Fucking is nice."

Chapter Text

"Steve! Wanda! Breakfast! Don't let Agatha come here and get you!"

A few loud bangs from Pietro behind their door nearly pulled Wanda's focus as she hastily rolled her hips to get one more out before they headed downstairs.

Prying at Steve's phone when it rang as he cleaned up in the bathroom, and learning that his screen saver was a photo of her glowering at a lettuce, activated her Fuck Steve, Now button. She should have felt anxious when he caught her red-handed as he wiped his face with a towel, but instead, she ran towards him and threw her arms around him for an open-mouthed kiss.

If Steve found the invasion of his privacy reprehensible, he didn't show when he lifted her and enfolded her legs around his waist, perching them on the sofa to defile one another for who knows how many times at that point over the course of eight hours.

"I'm close, doll," Steve mumbled with his teeth sunk on her jaw as she continued to rock on his length, arms snugged tight on his neck. She plowed her tongue on his, gasping as the invigorating throes took over her body.

It was an inebriating kind of high, climaxing together. How was it even possible? She didn't care to find out, a deduction she had reached as she beamed at his dazed blue eyes.

"I hope you're not angry. Your phone rang, and I was concerned it might be an emergency, so I took a quick peek." She said, offering him the most contrived timid smile she could manage.

"No. You wanted to see if it was Sharon," he chuckled, nuzzling her cheek. At least she confirmed that he didn't care about her twitchy palms.

"She lives in my head rent-free. It's pathetic."

"A part of me is glad that you're jealous. But at this point, you should really move on. Before I met you, yeah, there was some sort of connection between us. I considered dating her, especially when I thought everything was over between us. But I just couldn't."

"Too weird?"

"Because she's not you."

"That's a great answer, Steve," she giggled. It's like winning the lottery with him; he knew all the right things to say. And she knew that he meant every single word.

"You're not going to start asking me, ' If I would still love you if you were a worm,' would you?" he asked, making her squint her eyes.

"How did you know? Don't ruin the fun; just move along with the agenda." She had every intention of asking him, just to be bothersome. She pressed a gentle kiss on his lips before getting off him to tidy up and look decent for breakfast.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, rather than looking horrified by the bruises surrounding her pale complexion, she found herself smiling with fulfillment. Steve stood behind her, grinning smugly as he took her in.

"Sorry," he said, not even bothering to pretend that he meant it.

"No, you're not. You look proud."

"Yeah, I am proud. Is that bad? You don't look like you hate it either."

She turned to face him with a smirk, leaning against the countertop. "Are we weird? I remember watching this family-oriented film called Fifty Shades of Grey; the female lead, Ana, was furious about the hickeys. But I'm not."

"We've always been weird."

"Was what you said about getting me pregnant true or just dirty talk?" she asked, abruptly reminded of the implications of his confession last night.

"Yes."

"To what?" The bastard just gave her a shrug in response; she shook her head as she laughed. She didn't care what the answer was. She tiptoed and snaked her arms around his neck, his arms encircling her waist right away. "Steve, tell me you love me."

"I love you," he briskly obliged.

She waited for a beat, for him to demand that she say it back. But he didn't. He stood there gazing at her all lovingly, making her heart thump like a drum. "Say it again," she urged.

"I love you, Wanda," he uttered, pressing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"I love hearing you say that to me." She thought about how he really felt at that moment. She envisioned that expressing those words without hearing them in return couldn’t be a cheery affair. Yet, as he closed his eyes and unwittingly hummed while teetering with her, it made her think that he no longer cared.

She felt guilty. She didn't want him to keep offering himself to her without foreseeing any reciprocation; that wasn't fair. Yet, she couldn't help but revel in the feeling of being loved unconditionally despite all her imperfections.

To be loved by someone so kind, to be abode out of pure affection, was a gift she had never dared to wish for from the universe throughout her life.

Agatha taught her a valuable lesson: never expect or demand love if you have nothing else to offer. That was neither right nor just. Yet she craved Steve's affections, leading her to continuously chase him, even after she realized the disrespect she had shown him. She doubted she would ever find someone like him again.

"What are you thinking about?" Steve whispered, looking at her with his enchanting eyes that she hoped their child would inherit.

"You."

"Me? Care to share?"

"Just wondering how long it will take until you hit your head and realize that you don't love me anymore."

"Hmm, I don't like that. It's like you're prophesying something catastrophic." His resonant tone, accompanied by his look of disdain, didn't chafe her layers of self-doubt.

Expecting the worst had been her shield. Delusion about her miseries was her sword. If she allowed herself to start dreaming again, it would only pierce her tainted heart.

If one day Steve woke up and found he could no longer endure her egocentricity, there would be no turning back for her. She knew it as well as she knew herself. The love that her family freely offered would no longer be enough to nurture her. She would become nothing but a hollow vessel, just as her destiny had foretold.

And her child? That was the question she couldn't bring herself to confront just yet. She didn't have the makings of a good mother. She was too dumb, too angry, and too hapless. Her spawn was set up for an endless array of misfortune if she fell in love with it.

"Love is a choice, doll. I chose to cultivate the love I feel for you regardless of the rational. No amount of magic can bend my heart's will."

***

"You all look tired," Wanda said as she completed her survey of everyone at the table. She had a strong hunch about the reason for the bags under their eyes, but she couldn't help framing the obvious. Who would she be if she didn't?

"Tired is an understatement," Stephen said through gritted teeth as he jabbed his fork into the meat. Ever since the Sokovia Clan—Wanda, Agatha, and Pietro, as Wong liked to call them—moved into the Sanctum, breakfast had turned into a full-course meal. Agatha insisted it made sense; breaking your fast after a long night of sleep meant you needed all the nutrition you could get to recuperate.

"These stray cats were ululating in the dead of night, completely spurning the innocent people around them," he continued, the screech of his knife against the plate hammering his words. Wanda let out a cackle of amusement at his resentment. The man was being a hypocrite, overlooking the fact that he, too, had engaged in impetuous lovemaking many a night.

"That's alright, darling, that's nature taking its course." Agatha encouraged Stephen with a light squeeze on his arm, immediately softening Strange. "I do hope those cats learn to be at least a little quieter, instead of yelping as if they were announcing their arrivals. This is not an airport."

"I quite liked it. It was a lovely night." Pietro jeered. He was the only one who seemed pleased with the interruption.

"New York has too much stray litter." Wanda deadpanned. When she caught a glimpse of Steve, he didn't behave as she anticipated. He kept smiling to himself as if he was relishing every second of the complaints about their ardent coupling.

"I hate treacherous felines. Betraying an innocent wolf is uncalled for." Wong chimed in, even sounding like he was stifling a sob.

"Well, you just need to find a way to accept that," Steve retorted, compelling Wanda to turn and stare at him in astonishment once more. It was the first time Steve had fired back at Wong, and she loved the conviction he exuded. She must have fucked him so good that he became unapologetic and unabashed.

"I don't like you," Wong grunted, glaring at Steve.

Wanda realized that Wong's feistiness was getting on her nerves. She felt somewhat protective of Steve and his lovely fingers that he constantly showed off for her. "Wong, stop that."

"Aren't you feeling hot, sis? I thought you didn't like the dresses I made because they felt out of trend and too large on you," Pietro suddenly asked, cutting in on the looming debate.

She abhorred what she was wearing. Bedecked from neck to toe like a Victorian widow, as Stephen decided when he conjured a hat to put on her head, she felt swamped in fabric. Yet, sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the sweet reward of Os that were accompanied by lovely, dark welts. Besides, Steve liked it, and at that moment, nothing else mattered.

"Because she's covering the traces of her treachery." Wong's words were nothing but a harmless riposte, yet those were the same words that Anakin used against her that night when he tortured her.

"Wong, you're beginning to sound like Satan. Please, stop," she implored, her tone tumbling to a faint murmur. Everyone evidently noticed, and the room went serene.

Wong's eyes widened at the instantaneous recognition of her request. He was the only person she had told about the encounter when she desperately needed to get it out of her chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I know. Just give Steve a chance. I know you like Bucky for me--"

"I love him for you!" Wong interjected, moving past his guilt like lightning. "He's wholesome, charming, and he adores you."

"Yeah, but that's not what my sister likes. She gets bored with softness. You should know that by now," Pietro spoke with his mouth full.

"I’m wholesome and charming, and I adore Wanda too," Steve suddenly objected, earning him more brownie points from her. She really loved how he was rowing for her.

"Yes, you do, brother. Never change; that's a good balance!" Pietro motivated him, making Steve beam with delight.

"Enough, children," Agatha broke up the spirited discussion. Wanda, knowing better than to contradict her, fell silent. "We are disrespecting the food on the table with this constant talk about who gets to win Wanda's heart. While it's nice to see two handsome men vying for my dear girl, it's becoming tiresome. The baby is coming soon, and we don't want to confuse the child about why Mama and Papa are acting strangely."

"Yes, Agatha," they all chorused. Even Steve was learning who the boss of their group was, and Wanda loved that he was acclimating to their odd dynamics. Agatha was like their cult leader in a twisted but innocent way.

As they fell silent and resumed their meals, an idea struck Wanda. "Wong, Steve is taking me shopping for baby clothes. Why don't you go with him? I’m feeling weary anyway."

"I want to go too!" Pietro yelled, raising his arm excitedly.

"No! You need to stay here and bond with me." She shot him a look to stress her refusal.

"Bond? You'll just order me around. I'm on vacation too. When Steve goes back to work, you'll restart treating me like a slave."

"I don't believe Wong would appreciate that," Steve said, taking her hand to make her look at him. When she met his gaze, he was trying for doe eyes, as if that ever worked on her.

"No, I don't like that at all!" Wong chided. Wanda sighed and turned her concentration to him.

"Stop acting like a baby; you’re even moping," she charged. "You look incredibly cute, and I love staring at you so much that I sometimes imagine my baby will look like you. But enough sulking—give the father of my child a chance. I hate that you keep being mean to him." Steve's grip on her tightened, and she could feel his gratitude for her words, but she wasn't done piping her inner Agatha. "And you, Steve, I am fond of Wong, so he will never be out of my life. Do your best to befriend him." Steve nodded in resignation, also pouting like an endearing baby.

Stephen hemmed to get their attention. Resting his chin on his clasped fingers on the table, he said, "Not that I care, but I feel like you're excluding me. I’m also a big part of your life, too."

Wanda smirked at him. "Hating one another is our bond, Stephen. Let's circle back in a few years." With a snap of Stephen's fingers, her hat now hung a decorative lace that covered her face. Lime green lace, how tacky!

Stephen sighed and shrugged, attempting to ascertain how little he cared. He was precious in his own way, but knocking him down a peg gladdened Wanda far too much.

"I'll do that, but promise me you'll come back with me to my apartment tomorrow. I have a surprise for you." Steve mumbled, speaking softly so only Wanda could hear.

She loured at him, already disliking the notion. "A surprise? I don't like that."

"It's nothing gaudy, I promise."

Her lips formed a thin line as she scrutinized his face, which was filled with zing. He seemed too elated for her to continue arguing, so she relented. "Fine. But you'll owe me."

***

Wanda raised an eyebrow as she looked at Steve, gripping the blanket's hem up to his neck, looking like a sulking pup. "Why are you looking at me as if I just maltreated you?" she asked. She slipped into her sundress, stretching her arms after the exhilarating exercise they had just engaged in his apartment, for old time's sake.

"When you said I’d owe you, I didn't realize you meant my body." He stammered, sounding like she really walked all over him.

"Oh? Redundant? Because you would have given away the cherry?" she quipped, her lips stretching into a lip-splitting grin. She couldn’t help it; everything he did turned her on.

"Yes," he blubbered, looking away.

She sat beside him nervously, wondering if she had been too self-indulgent and overlooked the fact that he might have wanted to rest as well. She stared at the wall, reflecting on how he had seemed just moments ago.

She couldn't find any signs that he wanted her to stop, but perhaps he was simply trying to give her what she desired and was waiting for it to be over. How could she have missed that? She was good at waiting around herself. "Did you really feel bad? You sounded like you were liking it," she questioned him timidly.

Sensing the dip in her energy, Steve straightened up and cradled her face in his hands, a look of concern on his face. "Hey, I was just kidding," he reassured her, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I have a gun in the safe. If I ever refuse to have sex with you one day, shoot me. That means someone has kidnapped me and is pretending to be me," he said when she still wouldn't meet his gaze.

His words worked, and she found herself laughing just seconds later.

"Steve, that is so dark and hot. I wanna take advantage of you again. But I'm so tired." She sighed, disenchanted about her sore body. "Maybe you can do all the work. I'll just lie here, you love missionary anyway, you freak, how can you not like doing dog..." she shook her head, reminding herself that sex was over and that Steve was back to being too callow. "Pardon me, doing it from the rear? You're the only man I know whose favorite sex position is in God's name."

Steve chortled gaily, stroking her hair. "I love looking at your face as I cum. What's not to love? We've done it from behind many times; I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Yes, they have, but it still required significant alterations. "Yeah, but you contort my body so you can see my face."

"Didn't you pride yourself on being flexible?"

If he weren't strong, she would have fallen face-first. Wanda rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I hate when you use my own words against me."

"Come on, it's time for the surprise. That's why we're here," Steve said as he stood up and put his clothes back on. She wanted to quibble and tell him to strip, since she intended to have him again later anyway, but opted to zip it.

"Right, that." She inclined against the headboard, pivoting her legs onto the soft mattress.

"Are you really tired?"

"Yes, your baby is well-behaved now, but it drains my energy," she griped. It's not a big deal, though; just three more months to go, and she'll have her freedom back. And then another set of shackles will be attached to her—the wailing kind.

"Alright then, just stay here. I'll grab the surprise."

"You're a peach. Come here so I can kiss you." And he quickly did, hunching over her for a soft peck on the lips.

As she waited for him, she couldn't help but chuckle at the box of condoms still sitting untouched on his dresser. She wondered how many packets they would have gone through if they had ended up sleeping together on the first night they met. She assumed that if that had happened, she might have gotten pregnant sooner than expected.

Steve strode back to his room, a huge grin on his face as he bore a little cake with white frosting and a small wineglass. She crumpled her brows, muddled. He went through all that just for a cake? She didn’t want a surprise, but still, was it really just a dessert?

"Your surprise is a cake?" she murmured slowly, still completely baffled and a bit let down. Steve looked even more thrilled as he placed it on the bed, a few inches from her knees.

"Don't be mad. But I figured you didn't like Pietro's idea of throwing a party because you're uncomfortable with the attention. I completely relate to that. So, I reached out to our doctor and asked her to send the results to a baker friend of mine."

Oh. "So... This is one of those videos that if we take a slice of the cake, we'll know what the gender is?"

"Yes, blue for Malen'kiy and pink for Sarah." He stared at her curiously, trying to gauge her reaction. When she smiled at him, he let out a breath he had been holding.

She was genuinely appreciative of the idea. He knew her well. "It's Malen'kiy Steve," she ribbingly corrected him. "So you agree with me then? We'll name him Little Steve?"

"As I said, you'll do all the work anyway, so you get to decide on the name. You're smiling, so you're not mad at me?"

"I like it." To be more precise, she loved it. He eagerly held her face and gave her a fervent smooch before letting her go to fetch something from his dresser. She frowned when she saw him holding a video recorder against his chest.

"Let's record it, so that we can commemorate this special moment," he said giddily, setting the camera atop the stack of books he prepared at the foot of the bed.

Steve was such a liar, she realized. "When I asked you to make a sex tape with me, you said you didn’t have a camera and that recording it on our phones would basically mean we were sharing the video with the world ourselves." She grumbled, and she was candid, too.

"Wanda," he rasped, his ears glowing scarlet.

"What? I just wanted you to have something to look at whenever we're not together. You know, something to remind you of my flexibility." Not only that, but he could also remind himself of his sexy doll, which was her. He would know to hurry his ass back home to her.

"You keep making me fall harder for you with your Shakespearean tongue."

"Allow us compose a coitus film," she muttered with a dramatic bow.

"I humbly decline, my love."

She pretended to cough, feeling a rush of warmth in her cheeks at being called "my love." They were just having fun, but if he wanted to call her that from then on, she wouldn’t mind. Still, she needed to uphold her reputation, so she decided to suppress the flutter in her heart with a mischievous remark. "Loser! If I sold that footage, we could fund your child's education at an expensive university and live in luxury."

"We should really reevaluate your business prospects," he said, bobbing his head in pretend exasperation. "Okay, behave now, I'm gonna press record."

Steve hurriedly settled next to her after setting up the recorder. As soon as they both faced the camera, they appeared like wet canines caught in a surprise bath. There was something about being in front of a camera that summoned a sense of civility, even from Wanda.

"Should we say something?" she whispered with a forced smile, apparently worried about not coming off as a friendly face. But, so was Steve. They probably looked ridiculous at that moment. When their child sees the video one day, they will probably want to zap the footage out of existence.

"I think we should," Steve whispered back. "Uh... Hi, baby, I'm your father." He said with the most maladroit wave of his hand, as if he had never been on camera before. But perhaps it was different because it was for their child.

Wanda dusted her face with her hands in chagrin for him. "Steve, that's so lame!" she blurted, finally overcoming her brief moment of coyness. She cleared her throat and looked directly at the camera with a guileless grin. "Hi, Little Rogers. We're your parents. We're the reason you look so gorgeous. I'm hot, your dad is hot, so that makes you hot too."

"Wanda!" Steve gasped, bursting into uproarious laughter that shook the bed.

"Your dad is a joy killer, but we love that about him." That was a slip of the tongue. She meant to say "admire" or "like," right? She shook the thoughts out of her head as even Steve began to stare at her with incredulity, most probably awe. "Anyway, today we will find out what you are." Her throat suddenly felt arid; she could even say she was skittish. However, she knew it wasn't the camera's fault. "Look, I'm going to be a progressive mother, so this gender reveal is only temporary. You can be whatever you want, and we won't judge you."

Steve nodded firmly, his eyes focused on the camera. "Yes, just be healthy and kind. Nothing else truly matters."

"Your dad is a dinosaur, but he looks good for his age."

"And your mom likes to joke a lot," Steve countered.

"But you are old," she insisted.

"I love you too, doll," he said, making her blink uncontrollably, like she was short-circuiting. Breaking the discomfiting stillness, Steve asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Steve handed her the wineglass, and as they held hands, they cut into the cake to reveal its insides. Wanda's heart raced, feeling as if it might leap from her chest with every passing crusade. She didn't even realize that her eyes had been sealed the entire time.

"Pink!" Steve roared, his voice teeming with excitement. It was the most enthusiastic she had ever heard him.

Yet, her entire body trembled with dread. Steve pulled her into a bear hug, which felt somewhat calming. But she couldn't muster the intrepidity to open her eyes and see for herself.

"We're having a girl! We have a Sarah!" he continued. "I hope she looks like you; she'll be the prettiest baby. I'm so happy!" With that, Steve celebrated, showering her with kisses on the top of her head.

"Turn off the camera," she whispered, turning her head away in fear of the camera capturing her blow.

"Huh? O-okay." He let her go and crept toward the camera. As he did, she finally opened her eyes and saw the chunk of cake with pink layers on the glass. "See you soon, Sarah." Steve waved at the camera again before shutting it off. Even with his back turned to her, she could tell he was beaming with happiness.

The moon didn't grant her wish. It was her only wish. Why? Why did her baby have to be a girl? She broke down in tears, no longer caring if Steve would see.

My dear Sarah, I'm sorry.

Chapter Text

Agatha Harkness treaded the treacherous path of Mount Wundagore after her heart nearly ceased beating from the frightful divination she glimpsed—the birth of the Scarlet Witch.

She was a spirit witch, and although divination was not her realm, it came to pass nonetheless. Years later, she would come to understand that it must have been her sister Natalya's message. 

The two sisters had not crossed paths in over a thousand years, as fate had intended. Nevertheless, no amount of time could obliterate the love they shared. When Agatha sensed that her sister needed her, she risked everything to save Natalya.

Natalya was destined to give birth to Chthon's vessel. Yet, just because it was her fate didn't mean it would come to culmination right away. Destiny was a crumbling tower, where one small pebble could lead to a myriad branches of alternate roads. And that was precisely what ensued.

Natalya, despite being the eldest and most powerful among the sisters, had a frail physical body. Despite all that, she had been cursed to live in isolation in Wundagore, where she was kept as a breeding sow, guarded by Chthon's stone legions. 

Agatha had long lost count of how many boys Natalya had given birth to. The unfortunate souls were immediately taken from Natalya’s arms, only to be turned into ashes before her eyes. There was no use for a boy.

However, this time, it was different. She had finally produced a healthy infant—a girl. The girl whom Chthon had been waiting for—his vessel, who would allow him to rise from hell.

For all of Agatha's efforts, she arrived at an empty hall—no monsters in sight, only the lifeless body of her sister, forsaken after years and years of misery. She served her purpose; therefore, she no longer mattered and was as essential as a filthy roach.

The dreadful event was also the first time she met Stephen and Yao, The Ancient One. 

Stephen was an ordinary human, a doctor, but that changed after a terrible accident that would ultimately lead him to his destiny of succeeding Yao as the Sorcerer Supreme. Their kind was supposed to aid the hunter in its quest to end Agatha's kind, yet they saw through the terror and doom of killing even the innocents and turned their cloaks.

"We did everything possible to save her, but it was too late," Yao said to Agatha as the woman cradled her sister in her arms.

"You must have been depleted; you must have given everything you had to fulfill your destiny," Agatha whispered, sobbing. Time had been cruel to Natalya, yet her beauty never faded.

"We couldn't find any traces of her girl," Yao muttered, hunching over Agatha. "Can't you feel her presence?"

Whoever took Agatha's niece wielded the power of the gods, she realized. Perhaps it was the hunter? No one else could have vanquished Chthon's army so effortlessly and left no trace.

"I can't feel her," she mumbled. As she gazed at Natalya, she couldn't help but howl in sorrow. Her older sister was supposed to be the wicked one among them, yet she grew up to be the kindest.

Natalya always reminded her that kindness was a choice. Just because your path was set for you did not mean you had to pursue it. At that moment, Agatha promised herself that she would find Natalya's girl and raise her in her mother's spirit. Natalya's daughter would not be a hollow vessel destined for depravity; instead, she would grow into a brave and kind girl.

~~~

"It is an honor to stand before an original witch," said Stephen as he and the others watched over the pyre that marked Natalya's ascension to the afterlife. "I apologize for our tardiness, but we will do our best to find the girl."

"Thank you," she replied. The flush that crept onto the young man's cheeks when she met his gaze did not escape her notice. "You're new. If you're going to help, do you even know our story?"

"Yes, The Ancient One taught me everything I needed to know. There were five of you: Natalya, the green witch; you, the spirit witch; Lilia, the divination witch; Alisey, the protection witch; and Denner, the elixir witch. Only you and Natalya have survived the hunter," he ascribed exuberantly. His sanguinity seemed out of place given Agatha's current emotional state. Recognizing this, he quickly filled her with apologies.

"My sister was chosen to be the mother of the Scarlet Witch because she was the most powerful among us." Agatha handed Stephen a pebble. Although he was confused, he accepted it. "You can reach me through this. You seem scholarly enough; you should figure out how to reach me soon."

"I will teach him," Yao said, bowing respectfully to Agatha.

Agatha nodded briefly before vanishing from their sight.

~~~

After nearly nine years of tirelessly searching for her niece, Agatha finally struck luck when, out of nowhere, the child's overwhelming presence washed over her. Whatever caused it, Natalya's girl had unlocked the magic coursing through her veins.

Agatha felt a blend of delight and dread when she discovered Natalya's daughter's location. The girl had been stolen and taken to a mountain village in Brașov, where a couple who worshipped an unknown deity was fostering her.

To her horror, she discovered that the village was inhabited by thousands of people who seemed to be worshipping a dark lord. They had been offering maidens every year, stealing breaths from innocent young girls.

She decided to hold back and observe Natalya's girl from a distance. The village was a dangerous place for Natalya's girl, whom they called Katerina. The couple who raised her seemed oblivious to her true identity. They had no idea that only her niece possessed the ability to wield the most perilous power of Chaos Magic that bent reality to its will, and that was a fortunate circumstance, as it would keep her safe for a little while longer.

Yet as the days went by, the harsh certainty of her niece's condition with her parents eroded Agatha's determination. 

The child was being tailored to become a tribute one day. In her parents' warped view, those young tributes were merely offerings to their god. Agatha knew that those girls were, in essence, already lost. If that god were real, her niece would either perish or be used as a lance by someone else.

What was even worse was that her niece was being maltreated and beaten for the most minor infractions that any typical child would commit. They raised her with the falsehood that their own son was her twin. While they cherished their son, they continuously abused Natalya's daughter.

Agatha felt a deep sense of heartache for her.

~~~

"Oh, precious, I will never let them hurt you ever again," Agatha mumbled as she wiped the tears from Katerina's tiny, contused face. She was as beautiful as her mother with her enchanting green eyes. As she gazed upon the child's fragile form, she couldn't help but weep at the amount of suffering Natalya's girl had weathered.

She wanted to punish the couple, make them feel every pain they had caused Natalya's daughter, but stealing the child was a challenge of its own. She had to concentrate on taking her to safety.

"What about Nikolai? Mama and Papa will look for me; they'll get angry at me." Katerina's sweet voice was filled with concern for everyone else, besides herself, momentarily putting Agatha in a trance. It was as if she were speaking with Natalya herself.

"They won’t. I’m their family. They’ll know you’re safe with me." She had to lie. Notwithstanding all her suffering, the girl grew up filled with love. She respected the parents she grew up with and believed she deserved everything she endured. She pulled the girl into a tight embrace.

"Katerina!" The booming voice of the little boy named Nikolai reverberated through the forest as he caught his breath, trying to recover. 

The boy had an ability of his own: speed. From what Agatha has heard, it was a gift from that village's god.

"Boy, you have to go back home now."

"No, please. Take me with you," Nikolai begged, kneeling before her, and Katerina began to sob. "We're twins; we shouldn't be apart."

The parents were evil, but their child had a good heart. Agatha knew that he loved Natalya's daughter dearly. He would steal food from his parents when they refused to feed her, protect her from some of the lashings, and keep her warm on the coldest nights. How could Agatha possibly ignore his sincere request? 

However, if she took him too, she would no longer be reclaiming what was stolen; she would be looting another child.

"I won't leave without Nikolai!" Katerina screamed, breaking free from Agatha's grasp to run to her brother. Both children were sobbing as they embraced each other protectively. 

So, that's how it had to be then. 

From that moment on, Katerina and Nikolai no longer existed; instead, Wanda and Pietro emerged. Agatha hoped that, just like her name, one day Wanda would have the chance to wander to her heart's desire.

***

"I'm sorry that somebody hurt you; you didn't deserve that. The world can be cruel to what they deem different sometimes." Wanda whispered to the thin, black, wounded cat she found purring weakly on the rooftop of Steve's apartment.

She promised herself long ago that she would never hold black cats ever again. But as she sat there, gently caressing its fur, the painful memory of her sixteen-year-old self finding an injured black kitten while gathering wood for the hearth seemed to drill a hole in her heart no longer.

Surely the cat sleeping peacefully on her lap as she hummed for it in that moment was not Loki again, she thought as she gazed at her mark. There was no burning pang, so that meant she was safe. Hopefully.

"Here, let me take care of it," Steve said, sitting across from her after returning with his medical kit.

"Steve," she murmured after handing the cat over to him.

"Hmm?" he asked without looking up, occupied with dressing the cat's wounded leg. 

There she was, weakened from wailing all night, while Steve looked as pristine as ever, as if he did not spend the whole night cradling her in his arms without resting. She knew how much he wanted to ask her for the reason for her sudden outburst. Yet, instead of flooding her with questions, he just embraced her and let her sob against his chest, caressing her. 

"When I was sixteen, I had a cat, it looked just like that one. I found it in the woods." Her eyes were fixed on the top of his head. Since her wish was not granted, maybe her other hope that Sarah would look like him can come true. If Sarah had his father's face, at least she could see him all the time, and she wouldn't miss him as much when he had to be away from her. "I named it Pietro the Kitty, just to tease my brother."

"I bet he didn't like it, huh?" Steve chuckled, glancing at her. Even though it was only a few seconds, the glint in his eyes made her heart flutter.

"No, he did not. At all. But he got used to it. Wherever I went, that cat followed me around. It was so sweet to me; it even slept beside me every night." Her words should have sounded like she was retelling a fond memory, yet her tone betrayed her. Steve caught wind of it right away, looking straight at her.

"What happened to the cat? Is it still in Sokovia?"

She took a deep breath and decided to just tell him without holding back. She was too weary of her thoughts; the fear in her heart was spilling out. There was no reason for her to worry anymore. She was unsure about everything, but she knew one thing. Steve loved her with everything that he had.

"Two years later, I found out that it was just Loki. Knowing what I know now, it made a lot of sense. Pietro the Kitty always disappeared. It came and went as it pleased." She looked away, seeking the comfort of the sky. She heard him shuffling, and seconds later, he was already crouching in front of her, clutching her hands.

"No matter what happens, I will do everything to protect you. I won't let him hurt you. I promise. I will do everything I can to punish him for what he did to you." The resolve in his eyes made her smile. She anticipated him to say that. He loved her, so if she asked him to jump, he would just ask how high, not why.

"You don't even know what he did yet."

"But I know it's bad, horrific. I'll find him, and I'll bring him to you. Even if I die."

Her forehead creased, heart racing. "I'd prefer if you lived. Sarah will need a dad... Wanda will need her Steve." After everything that she had done to the man in front of her, blushing at her own words for him was the least she had expected.

"Then I'll live. I'll live for my girls. I promise."

He gave her the sweetest grin. It was the sweetest because she had decided to put an end to running from herself. Nothing tasted sweeter than the smile of the man who happily gave his heart away to an undeserving woman. 

"Steve."

"Yes, doll?"

She kissed him on the lips, pouring her heart into him. Silently, she vowed never to hurt him again. And she would make sure she would never stray and break her promise to him again, as she always did.

"I love you. I love you so much, Steve. No more secrets, no more lies. I promise."

***

"Thor!"

Rage. Deep-seated rage. That was all that Steve felt in that moment as he stormed past his teammates and seized Thor by the throat, tacking him against the wall. The force of the god’s body colliding into the concrete was so harsh that it immediately cracked the surface.

"Whoa! What's going on, use your words, buddy." Tony motioned to him, although wise enough after knowing him for almost a decade that he knew to keep his distance. 

The rest of the Avengers assembled around Steve and Thor, staring in horror and bewilderment at what was transpiring. Thor held Steve's hand, which was firmly gripped around his neck.

"What has gotten into you? Is this how you welcome me after such a long time?" Thor asked with a grin, still trying to ease the tension with his humor, amid his stupor. Yet nothing about the situation felt humorous.

"Steve? What’s happening?" Natasha asked, the only one brave enough to come closer. But Steve paid no mind to anyone else; he was solely focused on Thor, his mind filled with fury.

"Where's Loki? Where's that fucking bastard?" Steve roared, his voice deafening in the room. The angrier he became, the more potent he felt. Though he was powerless against a literal god, his fury burned brightly enough to inflict harm. He would spare no one in his quest for answers.

"Loki is dead," Thor mumbled, laboring against the unyielding domination that contained him.

"Loki? Why are you suddenly looking for Loki?" Sam questioned. 

Steve wanted nothing more than to scream at everyone and demand that they leave him alone. He had no time for meaningless questioning. Everything was on the line: his girls.

"Where the fuck is your brother? Bring him to me so that I can kill him myself!" He plowed his hold on Thor, strangling him with both hands this time. Engulfed by rage, he was too blinded to anticipate Thor's attack, which sent him crashing to the marbled floor, landing hard on his back.

"That's a question I'm trying to figure out myself. Yes, I've recently learned that Loki is still alive," Thor finally divulged, adjusting his armor before stepping closer to Steve and offering his hand. "I'm doing everything I can to locate him. But why are you so upset?"

Upset? How dare he use such a trivial word? No amount of words could capture the rage coursing through his veins. 

That day was supposed to be the happiest of his life. The woman he had pined for, the only one to whom he had willingly given his heart after safeguarding it for so long, had just told him she loved him too. Instead, he found himself back at the compound, confronting the brother of the devil who had caused Wanda a great deal of pain.

Along with her confession of love came the hideous truth she had suppressed deep within herself to protect her sanity. A selfish part of him wished he didn’t know it—at least not in the same breath as her admission of love. 

He knew he should be with her at that moment, wrapping her in his arms and telling her how much he cherished her. But he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t even remember how he managed to return Wanda to Stephen's residence and then head over to the base. 

As if fate were mocking him, right after Wanda revealed everything, he received a message from Natasha informing him that Thor had returned. After that, all he saw was red.

Fueled by his immeasurable hatred, he swung his leg and stumbled Thor, knocking him to the floor. Once Thor was down, Steve jumped on top of him and repeatedly grazed his face with his sharp knuckles. The crowd around them erupted into a circus, desperately trying to pull him away from Thor, who was unable to evade his blows. But his hands grew a mind of their own as he persisted in his aggression.

All of a sudden, Steve found himself unable to move a muscle. A raging pulse of pain, unlike anything he had felt in a long time, overpowered his senses. When he looked up, he saw Natasha aiming a gun at him, murmuring an apology before shooting him again. It dawned on him what it was. She shot him with a tranquilizer that they reserved for the Hulk.

~~~

"He's threatening to harm the mother of my child. After everything he's done to her, he won’t stop. He has caused her so much suffering over the years, and now he still wants more?" Steve seethed as he spoke to Thor, who was sitting across from him at the large table in the middle of the conference room. The god could only open one eye, and his face was covered in gashes. But Thor's disheveled state did not appease Steve in the slightest.

In the end, it was a good thing that Natasha did what she did; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself and have a proper conversation with Thor.

"You have a child? I don't understand Rogers. You're gonna need to be a bit more specific, as Loki has a long list of sins. We all know that." Thor shot back.

However, Steve could only stare darkly at him. He couldn't find it in him to use his words as Tony suggested. Perhaps he was still dazed from being shot, or maybe his adrenaline was too high to think clearly. Either way, the undeniable truth was that he still needed Thor to start opening his mouth.

With a heavy sigh, Thor resumed speaking. "After we overthrew him, I brought him back to Asgard, where he faced his penalty. For a time, things were peaceful; he was silent. Then we were attacked by the Frost Giants, the enemy of my kind and Loki's real species. The war ultimately led to my mother's death, and surprisingly, Loki helped us during that crisis." The sadness in Thor's eyes couldn't diminish Steve's bitterness. "Loki mourned for our mother, our mother loved him dearly, and he her, so he joined me in my quest for vengeance. We all believed he had turned over a new leaf; he died saving me."

"But that wasn't true?" Sam queried.

"It was a ruse. He was the one who led the invaders to Asgard. He seized the moment of disorder to steal the Darkhold, a book containing the secrets of dark magic that we have guarded for thousands of years. The book was what he truly wanted all along. Through my explorations, I discovered he had become obsessed with wielding Chaos Magic. That book corrupts its user." Thor continued to explain, but the rest of his words didn't register in Steve's mind.

His gears turned solely with the intention of ending Loki's life himself. He loathed the loneliness reflected in Thor's voice. How could he still harbor feelings for such a terrible being?

"Don't you dare use that as a justification for his actions. He caused so much devastation even before all of this. If you try to save him just because he's your brother, I will kill you too," he warned, not considering the logistics of his threat.

"Everyone, we need to start communicating properly. Cap, I can see that you're really, really angry, but please help us understand why you're so furious," Tony urged, boldly choosing to sit beside him even after witnessing what he did to Thor.

"Furious won't even cut it, Stark." Steve clamored. "I would give everything to kill your brother, Thor."

"I understand, but why are you directing your anger at me? I returned here to seek your help." Thor pleaded with everyone else in the room. "I’m not your enemy. Loki has gained immense power. If we don’t stop him, he won’t just try to conquer the world again; he will aim to destroy all life in the universe. He is too far gone in his own delusions."

"Steve, you mentioned something about the mother of your child. How is Loki connected to her?" Natasha placed a hand on his shoulder, surprisingly calming him slightly. However, he still ignored her earnest concern about Wanda.

"You must do everything you can to find your brother, Thor. I will forage even the depths of hell to hunt him down and kill him myself. I will never forgive him for the heinous acts he has committed against my... " He paused, wanting to say 'sweet Wanda,' but the sudden urge to sob felt like a lump in his throat; he had no time to cry.

"Steve, what did he do to Wanda?" Bucky questioned, demanding an explanation. When Steve remained muted, he walked over to Thor, grabbed his shoulder, and jostled him. "What did your brother do to her?"

Steve knew it was not the time for jealousy; yet, as he stared at his best friend, fuming while he collared Thor, he still felt territorial.

"Wanda?" Thor said her name as if he had just been burned.

"Yes, Wanda. It's Steve's, uh, she's not a girlfriend as per both of them. But she's pregnant with his child." Natasha fired Thor a disdainful look, and Steve appreciated that.

"Wanda Maximoff?" Thor sounded out, his disbelief evident. He stood abruptly, nearly hurling Bucky.

"Yes," Steve managed to say.

"Take me to her," Thor ordered. 

Before Steve could launch into another tirade, Stephen suddenly appeared in front of Thor. He hadn't even noticed that Stephen had been present the whole time. "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to continue," Stephen said, raising his hand at Thor, just as he always did whenever he was about to exert his magic.

"Strange? Move aside; I need to see her. That girl is the key to all of Loki's obsession, and I need to have her on my side before it's too late." Thor slapped Stephen's hand away, but before he could take another step, the golden hue of Stephen's power glowed, halting the god in his tracks.

"No." Stephen turned to meet Steve's gaze. "Captain, Thor is the hunter. His father, Odin, sent him to end the witches. That's why I’ve been keeping them away from him. If he got a hold of Agatha, especially Wanda, they'll be as good as dead."

Chapter Text

Years Before New York

"PK! Come on, kitty, where are you? The sun is about to set, and we need to be back in the hut, or I’ll get punished again," Wanda grumbled, regretting bringing the elusive cat with her to gather herbs, knowing how prone it was to wandering off.

Although she knew the forest like the back of her hand, Agatha strictly forbade her to flounder around the woods when the evening came, as surly elements tend to roam around. She was leagues away from their home, so even Pietro wouldn't hear her if something bad came her way.

Wanda took an abrupt turn when she heard a dried twig snap on the ground. As she faced the sound, she saw a dark-haired man standing before her, wearing the most beautiful smile. Throughout her brief visits to the town with Agatha, she had seen many men, but the one before her was the handsomest she had ever laid her eyes on.

"Hello there," he greeted, walking slowly towards her.

Without realizing it, she was moving away from him. There was a reason why her brother was the only boy in their village. Her sisters, along with Agatha, had cast a protective spell over the hills they lived in to deter any nameless visitors.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," he assured her, raising his arms to urge her to stop, and she did.

"A-are you lost?" she asked meekly.

"No longer. I think I have finally found what I'm looking for. My name is Loki."

Foolishly, even though she had been told to be wary of strangers, Loki's captivating blue eyes had shirked all her inhibitions. She could hear the drumming of her heart as her cheeks heated. He was the image of the men in those novels she had read about. Enigmatic and gorgeous.

~~~

Wanda grinned for no reason, and she sang and danced with glee. How could she not? She was falling in love. She was certain of it. And she radiated with happiness.

She had never paid much attention to her appearance and often acted even more brusquely than her twin. However, ever since she met Loki, she wanted to look her best. Now that she was eighteen and a woman, she felt the need to be exquisite. She brushed her hair until it shone, spritzed herself with the jasmine scent that she had cultivated herself, and bathed with rose petals.

Yet the longer Wanda's secret meetings with Loki went on, the harder it was to conceal them from Agatha and Pietro. She didn't like lying, and the guilt she always felt when it was time for her to return home was harrowing.

"Why are you silent, love?" Loki asked, nestled on her lap as she played with his beautiful locks.

"I'm just worried that one of these days, Agatha will find out about us. Can't we just tell them? If they see how happy I am to be with you, I know that they will support us."

Loki sat up promptly and turned to face her, gently cradling her face in his hand, which emitted a gratifying warmth. Whenever she gazed at him, she found it hard to believe that someone like him could love her. He was a god who had taken sympathy on her as a child, watching over her in secret.

He was PK all along. He had to morph himself so that he could be by her side in secret. Yet over the years, he had fallen in love with her, so he decided to unveil his true self to her. It was odd and at first, it was hard for her to believe it, but he proved himself to her by showing her his magic.

"Just a bit more time, love. You know how it is. There are still matters with the hunter we need to address. I want to ensure your and everyone's safety first. Will you be brave for me?"

She briskly nodded yes. It was the least she could do after everything that he was doing to protect her kind. She flung herself at him for a tight embrace, lolling in the sound of his soft laughter.

"I love you, Wanda. I will do everything for you," he murmured in her ear.

She turned to face him. "I love you too. I've never been this happy before."

Loki never failed to show her how much he adored her. He would sing for her and tell her how pretty her eyes were. Every time they met, he brought her flowers, which she always took home and planted in her garden, setting their roots there. As her flowers continued to bloom, so did her love for him.

He was also a poet, reciting her passages that he said she inspired him with. He told her everything about his home, Asgard. He promised her that one day, he would take her there.

Loki pulled her close and kissed her. It was the best day of her young life—her first kiss with the man she loved.

~~~

"I raised you better than this, Wanda! How could you lie to me? You've been meeting a man in secret, and you don’t even know who he is!" Agatha exclaimed, trying to hold back from striking Wanda further, while Pietro attempted to restrain her. She made an effort to keep her voice down so their sisters wouldn't overhear her.

Wanda had been thoughtless. She acted so oddly that Pietro had resolved to follow her around and discovered that she had been spending time with Loki. Thankfully, Pietro waited until Loki bid her goodbye for the day before carrying her away and delivering her to Agatha.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lie," Wanda cried as she knelt on the floor.

"You know how detrimental it is for us to interact with strangers. Your naivety is putting all of us in peril," Agatha snarled.

It was the first time she had seen Agatha so furious with her. She felt sorry for disappointing her; however, she couldn't accept being called naive. She had done everything that Agatha wanted. She didn't even use her magic outside of tending her flowers.

If only Agatha had met Loki, she would surely change her mind. She would thank him for everything he was doing to try to save them all. Loki loved her so much that on his own, he had been finding ways to stop the hunter from coming to their home and annihilate them. But it wasn't time yet.

"I love him!" she clamored, numbing both Pietro and Agatha in incredulity.

"Have you lost your mind?" Pietro strode over to her and seized her by the shoulders. "You can't even tell us who this man is! For all we know, he could be dangerous! How could he have possibly gotten past the barriers? Use your brain, Wanda!"

Wanda pushed her brother away. Rage seeping to her core. He had no right to tell her how to feel. He wouldn't know because he never dared to step outside of Agatha's shelter. They're old enough now, and they should learn to stand on their own feet.

She knew enough about Loki to understand their bond. They loved each other, and no one else would truly comprehend that. Loki was right when he told her that she was holding herself back by listening to Agatha; everyone was miserable where they were. They were living in delusions. There was a whole world beyond the hills. "You have no right to tell me what to do; you’re not even my real brother!"

The piercing sound of a slap reached Wanda's ears before she fully realized that Agatha had hit her. Tears rushed down her face as she bolstered her throbbing cheek. Agatha had never done anything like that to her before. The memory of her adoptive mother harshly beating her as a child left her feeling debilitated.

Agatha promised her that no one would ever hurt her like that again. Agatha always punished them when they misbehaved, but she never used her hands; she always used a stick. The lashings were painful but seemed fitting.

Yet, she had slapped her. All Wanda could see was Agatha's trembling hand, her own eyes blurry from tears.

"Agatha," Pietro said under his breath, equally stunned by what had just happened.

"Everything I do, I do it for you. To protect you. You are a child. You don't yet understand how the world works. I can't allow you to risk everyone in our coven. You will never be allowed to leave this hut again," Agatha declared before turning her back on them.

Panic gripped Wanda's heart at the thought of not seeing Loki, of not being with him. Agatha was basically taking the air from her lungs. It would kill her. She hurriedly knelt and clutched Agatha's waist. "No, please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I misbehaved. Please don't do this," she begged.

However, Agatha did not listen to her. She pushed her aside, grabbed Pietro, and locked Wanda in her room.

"Agatha, please! Let me out!" she yelled at the top of her lungs as she banged on the door, but heard no response.

***

Wanda awoke to a bed as soft as feathers that was not hers, with Loki beaming down on her. She hastily sat up and hugged him, his hands patting her back gently.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she snifled, eyes roaming around the room shrouded with opulence.

"Cry not, my love. I will never let anything or anyone come between us. My heart aches at the rift I caused between you and the woman who raised you. As I said, they would not understand. They are reclused and in desperate need of liberation." He said as he wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Agatha laid her hands on me. She promised me she wouldn't. Even Pietro took her side. I wanted to make them understand, but I know that you're not ready yet."

"And you have my gratitude. Now that you are with me, I will keep you safe." He placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. "Do you want to be with me, love?"

"More than anything." She quickly responded. She longed to be with Agatha and Pietro again, but maybe someday, they'll find it in their hearts to accept her love.

"Then be mine forever."

"I am yours. Forever."

"I will make you my bride."

Wanda gasped at what she just heard. She couldn't believe that not only did he love her, but he also wanted her to be his wife. Shunning her curiosity about how Loki had managed to take her away from her home, she pulled Loki in for a deep kiss.

She will be marrying a god.

~~~

Wanda gaped in awe at the moon's majestic glimmer above her. The wind grazed sweetly against her face as the distant humming of the birds serenaded her. It was a perfect night.

"You look beautiful, my love," Loki murmured as he stood behind her, wrapping her in his formidable arms.

"Thanks to you," she replied shyly, smoothing the fabric of the scarlet dress he had given her that fell above her knee. She felt exposed with the lack of fabric hugging her curves, but Loki appreciated it, so she did too.

"When we go to Asgard, you'll have plenty more." He said, spinning her around so they could face each other. "You'll be swathed in extravagance, you'll have servants at your beck and call."

Wanda didn't need any of that, but the allure of going back to Loki's home filled her with elation.

Earlier, she met his brother, Thor, the God of Thunder. He was a rambunctious man, looming over her. At first, she was unnerved, but the moment they were introduced, Thor scooped her into his large arms and spun her around, chortling with enthusiasm to finally meet her. Her heart swelled at his warm welcome.

"Fire's ready!" Thor called out, gesturing for them to come over.

Loki was a god; therefore, his marriage had to be blessed by their father, Odin, the All-Father. Since their father was in Asgard, Loki told her they would have to make do with a betrothal in the meantime.

She would have wanted Agatha and Pietro to be there with her in the middle of the woods where she would promise herself to the love of her life, but alas, it was not time yet.

"Did you memorize the words?" Loki asked as he guided her to where Thor was.

"I did."

"Good. Brother, we're ready." Loki said to Thor.

If Wanda were being honest, though, not catching a whiff of the reeking scent of liquor emanating from Thor would have made the night even better. Loki told her that it was typical of Thor to be that way. He fancied the spirit of inebriation and the presence of beautiful women. Nonetheless, he will soon be her family, so she will accept Thor with all her heart.

With their fingers woven, Thor bound Wanda and Loki's hands with a white cloth as he muttered words that Wanda didn't understand. Loki told her beforehand that Thor was going to bless their vows, so she didn't need to worry about everything she would hear.

"Say the words together," Thor summoned them.

"I offer you my heart and soul,  

Bound by love, we become whole.  

May the Mother unite us for all time,  

In her embrace, our spirits climb.  

May the Father guard us from temptation’s snare,  

A shield of strength, a loving prayer.  

May the Gods above bless our sacred vow,  

In this union, we find our now."

Heat coursed through Wanda’s veins as soon as they finished conveying the words of their betrothal. She felt narrowed, as if an invisible rope were bridling her. Did it really feel like that? The gods certainly had their peculiarities when it came to the promise of marriage. She pondered how things would be on the actual wedding day. Would she wear a beautiful white gown?

~~~

Loki captured Wanda's lips with a fervor he had never directed at her before. Words weren't necessary for her to apprehend his intentions. The way he grasped her nape to pull her closer, eagerly scouring her mouth with his tongue, felt... too soon?

It felt unnatural.

As his hands began to probe the parts of her body that Agatha had warned her never to let anyone touch, she felt a scream rising inside her mind, encouraging her to run. It shouldn’t be that way; she was not puerile. She understood that eventually, he would make her a woman by uniting them as one. How many nights had she stayed awake, mulling the moment when he would finally claim her?

Wanda felt thousands of butterflies fluttering in her belly as Loki pushed her onto the bed rather unceremoniously.

"Loki, I don't think I can do this," she voiced, holding out her hand as he began fumbling with his trousers. The low light in the room might have been playing tricks on her, but for a moment, she thought she saw vexation in his eyes before they softened again.

"My love, this must happen, remember? If your parents find you, they'll take you and sacrifice you to their god. I need to claim your maidenhead to protect you."

Wanda wished he would envelop her in his arms instead of towering over her by the bed.

"But I’m scared," her voice quivered with dread. It shouldn’t be that way. She thought it would be sweet, passionate, slow, and gentle, just like in the books.

"Don't be," was all he said as he lifted her skirt and gripped her hips, parting her legs. She found herself unable to look at him.

The carvings on the ceiling caught her attention, and she was grateful for it. Was it a doodle of some sort? Perhaps it was the Asgardian alphabet; she wondered what it meant.

Wanda's tears and screams unfolded at the same time as the jolt of pain ripped through her flesh between her thighs. Did Loki even hear her?

She found the courage to glance at him and felt a pit in her stomach when she saw him looking ecstatic. He grunted as he continued to thrust inside her, spurning the way her whole body recoiled as she gripped the sheets around her. She had never undergone such pain in her entire life. Wasn't it supposed to be the best feeling one could have? Why did it hurt so bad?

Her tears turned into sobs, and she wanted to beg him to stop, but could not find the words. Her gaze returned to the ceiling, silently pleading for time to pass more quickly.

When Loki was done, he left her alone in the room. She sat up and moved to the middle of the enormous bed. She cried silently as she stared at the stains of blood on the mattress, realizing it was hers.

~~~

Years had passed for Wanda, marking the most desolate period of her life. She had not seen her brother or Agatha for a very long time, and Loki came and went sporadically. At times, she wondered if he returned only out of lust, a thought she knew was inconsiderate. Loki had always told her that he came home because he missed her dearly.

She didn't dare question him any further. He was constantly drained from searching for ways to save her kind. He had provided her with everything she needed: a shelter, food on the table, and fine clothing. He told her that she needed to be brave and patient, as the path he was voyaging was fraught with dangers he did not want her to face.

She knew she should feel grateful, but the loneliness often devoured her. He wouldn't permit her to go outside, and there were no books for her to get lost in, no flowers she could tend to, and no one to whom she could present her love. At her lowest, she often dreamt of asking him to give up.

What if they ran away? Selfishly, even with the knowledge of his interminable endeavors to save her, she would often wonder what it would feel like if they lived for themselves and did not care about the rest of the world. It's been years since they vowed to marry, yet aside from Loki's outbursts, nothing has changed. He even stopped talking to her about Asgard.

She always loved it when he painted her a picture of how their life would be in his home. She still didn't yearn for the lavishness; she just wanted to get away as far from her world as possible. Maybe, in that way, she will have her old Loki back.

Once, she stepped outside to breathe in some fresh air, and that's when Loki caught her. It was the first time he had ever been enraged with her. His fury accelerated so swiftly that he fortuitously slapped her in the face and kicked her relentlessly as she curled up on the floor, begging him to stop.

Once his wrath subsided, he would gather her in his arms as she wept against his chest.

Wanda was always overwhelmed with remorse for her missteps. The fear he felt about what might have happened to her if he hadn't found her in time caused him to lose control. He told her countless times that it was time for her to grow up, but she always failed to do so.

"I'm sorry; I was too terrified of losing you. I'm sorry, my love," he would always say as he stroked her hair. From that moment on, she promised him that she would never make him feel that way again.

Loki told Wanda that the hunter had gone out of control. Hundreds of witches were dying every day from his ruthless forays. Regardless, he assured her that the hunter had not yet reached her home because he had taken special care to protect it for her.

Sometimes, Loki's agitation about their situation with the hunter would devastate him, leading him to inadvertently slam Wanda to the ground. He would strangle her, smack her with the nearest object in sight, or hit her with his fists. What began as infrequent incidents gradually escalated to a constant pattern of brutality. She was lost on how else she could make him feel better.

She wanted to help him, to free him from his burden, but she knew that would only anger him further. One time, he came home to her with his body sheathed in lacerations, and his Asgardian garb riven. He told her he had come face-to-face with the hunter and had nearly died in the process. Filled with rage over his thrashing, he unintentionally pulled her hair and banged her face against the wall.

The physical pain no longer concerned her; she had learn to dissemble that she was not there. She had grown habituated to it. Whenever he lost himself, she would picture herself in her beautiful garden. Before she knew it, Loki would return to his senses.

She never expected that being in love would be that back-breaking. But Loki graciously taught her that couples often needed each other's support to cope, and that was the only help she could offer him. However, she still couldn't stop the ache in her heart when he began to call her a whore, a worthless whore, as he whipped her with his leather belt.

Her heart broke for him; she knew he must be struggling so much that he was unknowingly directing all his grief toward her.

She loved him deeply and could not bear to see his tribulations. But what could she do? She couldn’t even satisfy him in bed. She tried, but it still hurt her every time. He would ask her to get on top and told her to pleasure him, but she didn’t know how. The dissatisfaction in his eyes always made her cry.

Loki hated it when she cried. It was hard not to, especially when he would throw her around the bed and force her to bend over so he could take her from behind instead. She didn't like that because it doubled her pain.

There was also the hurdle of staying beautiful. Loki didn't like her looking unkempt, but the bruises in her body made that difficult. Old bruises would often marry with the new. Her pale complexion made her look like a spotted mammal. She hated how her face screamed purple, her lips often distended and split.

There will be times when she feels relaxed when he reaches his high. He would kiss her on the lips and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. He would tell her that at least she was still tight down there, so he would still feel good inside her.

She wanted to learn how to please him; it was the least she could do.

He always shoved his manhood in her mouth. When he was in a cheery mood, he would thrust it in her mouth until he came. She learned a good deal about not wasting a drop of his essence; she would not make that mistake of letting his fluid trickle on her chin again.

It happened before, and she made him feel so bad for what she did that he punched her in the face by mistake. If only she knew how to satisfy a man properly. Instead of teaching her to cast spells, Agatha should have prepared her for the art of lovemaking.

That night was pleasant, though. Loki was in a festive mood after a very, very long while. After he finished spilling his seed on her stomach, he pulled her into his arms, allowing her to lie her head on his chest.

"I finally found a way for us to defeat the hunter, love." He murmured, caressing her naked torso.

"Really? Will you let me help you?" she asked, looking up at him with perseverance. He chuckled and pressed his lips on hers. It was a gentle kiss, just like how he used to kiss her years ago when she still lived in the hills.

"You'll be at its center."

"How?"

"We will perform the harvest."

Chapter Text

Wanda was still in Sokovia. All those years she spent dreaming about gazing over the lush hills of her home to cope with her loneliness, all the while, she never left anyway. It was wrong of her, but she felt the pressing impulse to be incensed at Loki.

He knew how lonesome she had been, and he didn't even tell her that she was close to the cure for her melancholia.

She took a deep breath and shook her head, trying to shed the worthless thoughts from her mind. She shouldn't blame him; he had no choice but to secrete her. She was his most treasured love, and the thought of her getting hurt by anyone was unbearable for him. Save for him? a voice in her head challenged.

There was no point in arguing with her own introspections. She needed to concentrate on her mission. They had to start the harvest; only then could Loki open the doorway that would take them all to Asgard. It was the only place where the hunter could not find them.

Part of her wondered why Loki couldn't simply return home. What was the reason for him to go through such a ritual? Regrettably, she couldn't ask him about it; she didn't want to sour his temper, particularly since he had been so lighthearted over the past few days.

He even let her use her magic.

Loki and Agatha always cautioned her against using her capacities, as it could draw unwanted awareness to herself. They told her that if she exhibited such abilities, anyone with enough force to sense her would detect her presence. That was how Agatha had found her in the first place.

She was only eight years old at the time. The children in her village had been too brutish with her after they tossed her doll into a raging river.

It was the only toy her parents bought for her, thanks to Pietro's protestation that she should have a birthday present as well. In a fit of rage, she set one of her bullies on fire. Thankfully, they were near a well, and the other kids quickly rushed to put out the flames before the situation turned fatal.

Nobody realized that it was her own doing. No one could have, since she only thought about it. Seconds later, her fantasy became reality. That frightened her, and she didn't dare tell anyone, not even Pietro.

Even when she didn't deliberately use her magic, however, she had another skill that seemed innocuous enough. She could connect to other people's consciousness as if reading them like a book; if she focused enough, she could hear their musings. It only worked on the ordinary humans in town and on some of her sisters who were inadequate in magic, but still, it was good enough to quell her curiosity over her abilities.

Agatha told her that mind-reading was taboo because it defiled a person's free will, so she did her best not to do it. It was a laborious task, especially when one had too much emotion, which would seep into her like being drenched in the rain.

"Wanda!" The sweet voice of her coven sister, Nadia, echoed through the cave where Wanda was hiding.

She had positioned herself far enough from the hills to be safe, but she still needed to be mindful to steer clear of being seen. Loki had warned her that it would be unsafe if anyone else laid eyes on her.

She took off and met Nadia for a sheathlike hug. They had grown up together and were fairly close. Along with Nadia, Alina, Tatiana, Daria, and Vera also came, joining in on the embrace. Her tears prickled her skin as a deluge of familiarity stroked her senses.

Wanda didn't assume it would work, but she tried anyway. Among all the maidens in the hills, Alina, Nadia, Tatiana, Daria, and Vera were the only ones she knew would listen to her. They were bonded like true sisters, and she was relieved that sending them a dream to convey her message was the right choice.

"Wanda, I didn't think it was true until I spoke with Alina about my dream. But then, Tatiana and Daria also told me the same thing, so we came here for you as soon as we could." Vera told her, squeezing her hand.

"Thank you, sisters. Thank you for listening to my summons." She gazed at all of them with gratitude.

"Where have you been, Wanda? Aga--"

"Please," Wanda pleaded, interrupting Tatiana. She felt as though she might fall apart if she heard what they were about to share about Agatha and Pietro. The knowledge that they were alive and well was the only thing she needed in that moment, or else she would fall apart and run to them.

"I suppose we’ll have plenty of time to catch up after the ritual. Are you sure about this, Wanda? We've never even heard of the harvest before," Alina said, looking pensive.

"I am with my whole heart. Loki, he's my intended. He's been doing everything he could to fight the hunter, and he finally found a way through the All-Father Odin."

"But Wanda," Daria mumbled, her face creased with uncertainty. "Why would he help the witches when he despised his own daughter, our creator?"

"Daria's right," Alina said. "The elder sisters have told us since childhood that Odin sent the hunter himself to end our kind and rid the Nine Realms of all of Hela's creation."

"That's not true. Sisters, heed my words. Loki, my intended, is Odin's son. He assured me that there is no truth to those assertions. Despite the rift between father and daughter, Odin would not harm Hela's creations." She smiled softly at them to ease their tension, understanding how challenging it was to let go of a belief they had held since childhood. After all, she had blundered with it at first as well.

"If you're confident in your determination about him, then I will support you," Vera affirmed. "Sisters, it's time for us to take action for our coven and for one another. Just three days ago, another village was massacred, and even blameless babes were slain. How long should we wait until it happens to us?"

After a few minutes, Wanda's sisters gradually nodded in like-mindedness. All were nailed to conquer their adversary and end the senseless slayings.

They all held hands, just as they had when they were children, and shared stories of their years apart. They talked about Wanda's upcoming wedding and asked her to let them stand beside her as she took her vows. She wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by the people she held dear on the most momentous day of her life.

Together, they sang the words passed down from their forebears. Nearly a decade had passed since they last gathered around a fire to sing, yet their harmony remained in perfect accord.

~~~

A blush crept onto Wanda's cheeks when Alina whispered to her about how lucky she was to have met Loki, who was the most handsome man they had ever seen— even more attractive than Pietro. Of course, Pietro was the only comparison they could think of; unlike Wanda, her sisters had never seen the town where the ordinary humans lived.

Wanda beamed with excitement at the thought of strolling around the town with them once they succeeded in their quest. They'll finally be unrestrained from the constant need for obscurity. She was the luckiest among their little circle.

Indeed, Wanda was fortunate; the only thought inhabiting her mind as she and her sisters engrossed themselves scattering the ashes of the mother goat she had hunted, slaughtered with Loki's dagger, and burned using her magic. The feeling of luck contrasted sharply with the heavy weight in her heart over the difficult task she had to undertake that day.

She was raised to respect every living creature, yet she hounded one and butchered it. That was vile. However, Loki was right; sacrifices had to be made.

Sacrifices had to be made. She regurgitated that to herself as she knelt and bowed her head to the ground, seeking to repent for the misery she had inflicted. She and her sisters sobbed for hours over the savagery she had perpetrated against the hallowed creature, the sound of its terrified shrieks still resounding in her ears.

It was fortunate that Loki had been there to settle them. He elucidated that sometimes, even when it was heartbreaking, one had to grit their teeth and cross the road with their head held high. That was how life worked.

"Wanda, I'm scared," Daria whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Can't you at least wash the blood off your face and hands?"

"That cannot be done, little lady," Loki said, grasping Wanda's arm. "It's all part of the ritual. Haven't I presented myself clearly?"

Wanda could see how terrified her sisters were; she, too, felt the same. Yet, she brought them there, and it was her responsibility to guard their hearts from fear. None of them knew anything about the ritual that they were about to enact; it was a far cry from the spells they had learned. None of them has even found the kind of witch they were yet to be. She suspected that she was a Green Witch, though, and she loved that.

"Don't be afraid. As soon as we finish the harvest, everything will be alright." She offered them a reassuring smile, even though her heart raced inside her.

"But we're not supposed to be here. This is the forbidden lake; this place thrived on Hela's wrath. I feel like pins and needles are stinging my skin as I stand here," Vera evoked them, scratching anxiously all over her body.

Wanda's sisters nodded slowly, mirroring Vera's motions. It was bizarre; the place did not have the same effect on Wanda; she somehow felt welcome there. She chose not to say anything, though, as she didn't want to add to their growing apprehension.

"We can only do the harvest in the place where the original witches were created," Loki sternly reminded them as he roughly pulled Wanda aside, gripping her arm tightly. "Quiet them down or I will," he said, his icy tone making Wanda shiver.

"I will, I'm sorry." Without waiting for another word from Loki, she returned to her sisters to redirect their attention back to their task.

"Wanda, I know that I promised you that I would support you, but that was before I saw where the mother goat's ashes were bestrewn. He made you draw a pentacle on the ground using the goat's horns. We have never learned that!" Vera almost yelled as soon as Wanda got close to where they were huddled.

"My sisters, everything we have done is unfamiliar. I am aware of that. But please, we need to be patient. Loki knows what he is doing. When all of this is over, we will ascend to Asgard and seek the help we tremendously need." She implored, doing her best to sound composed despite her inner turmoil.

"It will all be over soon, right? This will make a good story to tell when we get back home. We are all young and lack the knowledge, but we are brave. I think we can really do this," Alina chittered, her sweet smile inspiring all of them to sigh in resolve.

"I'm sorry, I'm being too cynical," Vera said, taking Wanda's hands.

They all held hands and looked at one another, bursting into fits of giggles at how far they had come, from dancing to pray for their crops to assembling to save their kind.

Alina was right; it would be a great story. Even better, they can pass it down to their daughters one day.

~~~

"The full moon has risen and granted us her light to illuminate our path. It is time to act. Follow my instructions precisely; you cannot miss a step, nor say the wrong word. Do you understand?" Loki asked them, with his hands clasped behind his back.

Wanda and her sisters nodded in acknowledgment before gathering at the center of the pentacle. "Sisters, we are brave," she said to them as she took their hands one by one and made a small cut in their palms with a stake carved from the horn of the mother goat.

When she finished hurting her sisters, she started slicing her own palm, wincing at the soreness as her blood gushed, spouting onto the ground where they stood, along with the blood of her sisters. They were all reeling in discomfort, but held strong.

Alina, Nadia, Tatiana, Daria, and Vera stepped outside the circle, leaving Wanda in the center, and each moved to one of the five points of the pentacle. They raised their arms, gazed at the moon, and began to twirl, repeating the words Loki had taught them. They needed to spin five times before they were allowed to stop.

As they paused for the sixth passage, Wanda's sisters formed a circle around her, intertwining their fingers. Wanda knelt and scooped up a handful of the blood-soaked soil, covering herself with it. Once she had finished, they recited the passage again with strong voices.

"Pray, lend thine ears as we do offer ourselves unto our chosen crofter.  

Let him flourish with our essence,  

And bestow upon him the glow that didst come from our Creator.  

Lay all our hearts in his chosen hands,  

To rake and sow the light we bear.  

Harken to our plea, now and evermore."

Everything fell into darkness as soon as they finished reciting the words; the moon, hidden behind the clouds, and the forbidden lake suddenly grew silent. Too silent.

Was it over? She didn't feel anything. Aside from their toiling breaths, nothing else was heard.

Out of the blue, thunder roared, followed by a blinding flash of lightning. Wanda's eyes widened in fright as she took in the scene before her: behind each of her sisters stood Loki. The light flickered in her eyes, leaving her unable to blink, and she watched helplessly as her sisters collapsed at the same time, their throats sliced open and their blood bursting, showering her.

Wanda wasn't sure if she was making any sound, but it felt like she was suffocating as her mouth hung open. She raised a hand toward Alina, who lay stationary on the ground. Her entire body shuddered as her eyes scoured for her other sisters; they were also sprawled on the ground, and none of them was moving.

That was Loki? Incomprehensible. The lights must have misled her eyes. He couldn't possibly have committed such a heinous act. He knew how much she adored her sisters; she had told him so much about them that he had proposed they include them in their plan. If he truthfully loved her, he wouldn't harm the people she cherished.

"Alina," she stifled a sob, uncertain if her words actually fled her lips.

In her mind, she was running toward them, but the horrifying truth was that she remained where she was, kneeling on the ground, doused in their blood. Her tears flowed endlessly, her chest heaving, and her entire body continued to convulse as the lightning struck around her.

Fear engulfed Wanda as she watched Loki march toward her, still holding the same dagger he had used to—she couldn't even dare to think it.

When he reached her, he snagged her throat; somehow, the pressure brought breath back to her lungs. Her labored breathing merged with the angry sounds of lightning crashing around them. Was he there to do the same to her?

Was it really him? But he had told her he loved her. People who love each other don’t harm one another. She didn't know much, but surely that was the case.

With his free hand, Loki intertwined their fingers and rested his forehead against hers while she stayed still, trembling yet rooted in place. She knew she should say something, but her lips remained sealed. Whether her body was refusing to obey or if he was holding her back, she couldn’t tell. Even the firm grip he had on her neck didn’t bother her anymore; he had done it before, after all.

"I am the chosen crofter, destined to toil,  

To finish the harvest, my labor shall not spoil.  

Grant me, I beseech thee, the maiden’s essence fair,  

Enshrined within the vessel, her magic I shall bear.  

With her sorcery entwined, my hand shall guide the scythe,  

I shall reap the golden bounty, for in this rite I thrive.  

I shall complete the harvest, with steadfast heart and hand,  

For verily, I am the chosen crofter, by fate’s decree I stand."

When Loki concluded chanting, Wanda felt her blood boiling within her, as if it were scorching her. Maybe he was burning her alive. She could no longer understand what was transpiring; her mind felt both barren and devastated with reflections.

Wanda heard Loki grunting, as if he were in pain.

She let out an uproar as she fell to the ground after he forced her aside. Writhing in agony, she lost track of how long the torment had been going on. When her eyelids flapped and felt unexpectedly weighty, she began to wonder if she was dying.

***

Wanda, barefoot and bedecked only in her thin cotton nightgown, found herself running for her life once again. Unlike the previous incident when she had stumbled upon a pack of wolves by chance while gathering wild berries and was chased by them, this time she was being pursued by the people she held dear. It was funny, in that moment, she would have preferred the wolves.

She thought her nightmare was over when she woke up the next morning after that horrific night in their hut, wrapped in her brother's arms, and with Agatha holding her hand as she wept alongside her.

They and their other sisters recounted how terrified they were when they found her lying on the ground next to Alina, Nadia, Tatiana, Daria, and Vera's lifeless bodies in the forbidden lake.

The moment they heard the thunderstorm, they knew they had to hurry to the lake, finally setting foot at the cursed location after thousands of years.

The first few days were peaceful. Her sisters visited her often to help alleviate her aches. A small voice in her head urged her to keep quiet, but she pushed it deeper into her consciousness. She felt she had no right to disrespect her sisters further by suppressing the truth about their deaths. She knew that what lay beneath the garden would eventually surface. So, she poured out her heart. She told them everything, holding nothing back except for what had happened between her and Loki all those years ago.

Wanda sobbed uncontrollably, fully aware that it had all been her fault. Everyone had known it to be true. Her sisters glowered at her, grieving for their five sisters who had burned on the pyre. She hung her head low, bearing their anger. It had felt better that way; at least she was not alone in her self-loathing.

When Estelle, one of the elders in the coven, grabbed Wanda by the hair and hauled her toward the pyre, she didn't fight back. She forced Wanda to watch as her sisters were slowly turned into ashes because of her, witnessing the pain of their mothers mourning the loss of their daughters. Some of her sisters told her she should never have returned; her life would not be enough to pay for the lives they lost. Agatha and Pietro could only stand by and watch as the rest of their sisters admonished her. And that was good.

Wanda knelt on the ground, sobbing as she ruminated on the consequences of her ignorance. She had run away with the God of Mischief, lured her sisters to their own deaths, and, worse, ignited the harvest.

She didn't make excuses; she accepted her plight. Everything they said was true. Her head was wailing that she didn't know. She didn't want it to happen that way. She thought she was doing it for everyone's sake. She was being brave.

Nevertheless, not knowing would not alter the situation. The fallacy of love had deceived her.

Even in their sorest moments, her elder sisters had still managed to teach her something critical: she had inadvertently opened the door to her kind's doom because she was frivolous enough to believe that Loki loved her. Love was a voodoo.

Everything Loki told her was a lie, and she naively believed every word he fed her. He deserted her as soon as he got what he wanted: her magic.

That was it; it was all about starting the harvest and stealing her magic. Was she even still a witch? If she survived the night, what would happen to her? She was no longer pure, no longer magical, no longer part of the coven. All because she loved a man.

From then on, she vowed never to buy into the veneer ever again.

Wanda let go of Agatha's hand when she realized where she and Pietro were taking her. "I can't go back in there, please, Agatha."

"The forbidden lake is the only place where our sisters won't look for you," Agatha whispered, kissing her temple.

"Sis, we need to keep moving," Pietro encouraged. "Otherwise, they'll take you."

"Let them," she blurted. She was tired of running.

When Agatha jolted Wanda awake earlier that night to inform her that Pietro had overheard their sisters conspiring to burn Wanda at the stake for a public execution as retribution for her many sins, she felt it was reasonable enough. Who would want to live alongside a brainless girl like her?

However, Agatha and Pietro were stubbornly not willing to give her up.

In the dead of night, as their sisters strode with torches towards their hut to take her, her brother and the only mother she ever regarded took her and ran.

"No, you are still a child. My child. Many years have been stolen from us. I should have been there for you when you needed me the most." Agatha cried out as she cocooned her in a tight embrace. "It's nobody's fault but mine. I should have taught you better, especially knowing who you are. I thought that if I kept everything about your identity from you, you'd be safer. But I was wrong. I have failed you, my precious girl."

"I'm sorry," Wanda bellowed, holding snuggly onto Agatha. Pietro joined them, standing behind her and embracing them both. "I was so stupid. I killed Alina. I killed Daria. I killed Vera. I killed Nadia. I killed Tatiana. Everything is my fault!"

Agatha pulled them apart and gently cupped her face. "You need to be strong. Don’t let this break your spirit. I won’t allow anyone to hurt you ever again—my poor, sweet baby. You're even covered in bruises. He abused you, didn’t he?"

Abuse. The shame reverberated bitterly in Wanda's mind. That was what Loki had subjected her to during all those years she spent in denial. Nothing had hurt more than witnessing the tears in Agatha’s and Pietro’s eyes. They shouldn’t have had to cry for her; she knew she had brought everything upon herself.

"Agatha," a man's voice startled Wanda. As she peered into the darkness, she saw two men standing before her; behind them, the lake. How did they get there? Moments ago, they were still miles away.

"Stephen, please take care of my Wanda. I will follow when the time is right."

"Agatha, what do you mean? Who are they?" Wanda asked, her thoughts raging with another layer of fear.

Agatha held her face again, this time with decisiveness in her eyes. "Be strong, Wanda. We'll see you soon."

"No! Please don't leave me alone. I never want to be alone again!" Wanda pleaded desperately. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, it felt as if her soul had detached from her body. She watched herself in horror as two men, who had appeared out of nowhere, carried her off.

She was moving farther away from Agatha and Pietro, who looked smaller and smaller in her sight, waving her goodbye.

"Agatha! Pietro! Please! Please, don't let them take me! I want to be with you!"

Chapter Text

Present Day, New York

Wanda was fast asleep when Steve returned home that night. Pietro stayed up, waiting for Steve to assure him that she was okay. Apparently, Wanda had declared that she wouldn't blink until he was home, but she fell asleep mere minutes after her own assertion. Pietro ended up lugging her to their room, and she didn’t even notice. Steve thought that was for the best. She needed to rest.

He was unsure if he should truly consider it a good thing, but he felt proud of her that day. The way she told him everything without shedding a single tear revealed her strength.

Her regret over the entire ordeal was evident, and that was heartbreaking. But she was a child herself, too trusting and innocent to the fangs of bogeys. Maybe one day she can see beyond the tragedies and see her worth again.

He loved the Wanda he had met with all his heart, but part of him still pondered how things might have turned out if she had remained the same Wanda that Agatha and Pietro had lived with in Sokovia.

Given everything she had endured, it was understandable that she became who she is today. If he were in her shoes, he would have gone as mad as a March hare. How sad it was that even in her slumber, where she was supposed to feel tranquil, she still looked tormented. He had never witnessed it before, but he was certain that nightmares plagued her.

Steve tried his best to be quiet so that he wouldn't disturb her sleep. However, the moment he sat down beside her and pressed his lips to her cheek, he felt her stir. She groaned softly and mumbled his name. "Sorry, I woke you," he whispered.

"Steve?" She sluggishly sat up and turned on the lamp. "No, I was waiting for you. I got worried because you stormed off."

That made him chuckle. "Pietro told me that you fell asleep just minutes after I dropped you off."

She rolled her eyes at him, clearly annoyed with her brother. "I was so worried that I got so tired I fell asleep."

Steve draped his arm over her shoulders and twined his fingers with hers. "I'm sorry for making you worry."

"You should really be," she whined, resting her head on his chest. "I tell you I love you and share juicy secrets about my life, but you run off? That’s not good boyfriend behavior."

He didn’t like how she outlined everything she shared about herself, but his attention instantly zeroed in on the word "boyfriend." In a trice, he felt like a teenager, overjoyed at the thought of finally winning the popular girl’s heart. In a nutshell, Wanda truly fit that description. She was the kind of girl whose magnetic presence made it impossible for anyone not to look her way. He was captivated by her eyes and stayed for her charm, regardless of her colorful remarks.

"Am I your boyfriend now?" He was grinning from ear to ear.

"Why? Do you still want to be friends?" she retorted, tilting her head to look at him.

"No," he quickly responded, knowing how stubborn she could get; they may end up playing another game none of them wanted to be in. "I was thinking about courting you. Take you out on dates, sweep you off your feet? Pick you up with flowers in hand."

"Steve, you're too late for prom. Maybe you should have thought about all that before you put your dick in me and get me pregnant." Her nose scrunched up suddenly, peering at his face. "Why are you not blushing? You should feel skittish about what I said."

Indeed, that should have made him coil with chagrin. It's not like he was dubious enough to trap her with pregnancy; he never thought it was even possible. Nonetheless, he couldn't deny that when Wanda told him she was pregnant with his child, the phrase "You're stuck with me now" boomed in his mind, as if he were some mastermind.

Selfishly, the joy he felt that night was more about the two of them being connected forever than the actual happiness of becoming a father. By all means, he felt guilty for his sweet Sarah, but Wanda was still as slippery as a fox. If they truly said their goodbyes that night, he did not doubt that he wouldn't have seen her again.

"Can you tell me you love me again?" he requested, needing to hear the most endearing thing he had ever heard from her once more. She would never understand how meaningful it was for him to finally win her heart.

Many people told Steve how much of a prize he was, but he still saw himself as the same lanky boy from Brooklyn, with only his longing to serve his country. The serum changed his appearance, but it did not change who he was.

"No." She turned her gaze away and crossed her arms. His forehead creased at her refusal.

"What?" His tone came out a bit too sharp.

"No." She repeated without hesitation.

"Why not?"

"If I just tell you I love you all the time, it will get in your head."

That was laughable, he wanted to say. Hopefully, Wanda would not dangle those three words in front of him like a carrot. "That's not fair; I always tell you when you ask me," he added, not that it mattered.

"Are you me? Just be content with what you can get. And don't you dare try to copy me or else..."

"Or else what?"

She stared at him again, her eyes forlorn. "I will cry. I mean it—I'll cry really hard."

Steve did not doubt that she was sincere. He held her chin and pressed his lips to hers. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she murmured, her face lighting up with mirth as she pointed a finger at him. "Oh, there's the blush I've been looking for."

Naturally, he was blushing. The pretty girl just told him she loved him, too. "I will never not want to remind you how much I love you, doll."

Perhaps, when things ease up a little, he could bring the prospect of marriage to her again. She will undoubtedly have her inhibitions, considering everything she has gone through. But he was not Loki. All he wanted was her heart and to make her happy.

He used to think that Wanda was his second chance in life. If he got her, he could finally have someone he could pour his heart into. He'll have a reason to live and hope positively for the days to come. He once thought that she was just a girl who needed a guiding light to point her in the right direction.

But he was wrong. Wanda did not need saving; she just needed somebody to hold her hand. Wanda was not his second chance either. She was the woman he wished to spend the rest of his life with.

***

Steve let out a deep sigh of relief as he drove home after a particularly long and tension-filled day.

For the first time in his life, he blew past a red sign as he frantically drove to the emergency unit with Wanda on the passenger seat, roaring at some blameless drivers who got in his way.

How could he not feel that way when he woke up that morning to find a bloodied sheet after a fiery night with Wanda? He never thought he would regret making love to her, but as he carried her down the stairs, listening to her sob, and muting the panicking family in his mind, all he could think about was how stupid he was and how it was probably his fault that she was bleeding.

He knew he had been too rough. He always lost control with her and never bothered to slow down, greedily taking pleasure in the fact that the more aggressive he became, the more lustful Wanda would get.

Well, it was time to finally put the kibosh on.

The doctor assured him that both Wanda and their baby, Sarah, were fine since she had been taken to the hospital right away. Wanda had a low-hanging cervix, which explained the sudden bleeding. She would need to move extra carefully and stay in bed as much as possible. To Wanda's disappointment, intercourse was prohibited.

Steve didn't foresee finding himself laughing at all, given the gravity of the situation, yet he did. Wanda was furious about being told to abstain. She even threatened to get a second opinion or fire her doctor, as if she hadn’t spent the entire drive crying and yelling at him out of anxiety for Sarah.

"I've been thinking. I have a favor to ask you," Wanda suddenly spoke after a long silence since leaving the hospital. He glanced her way and saw that her face was sullen.

"What is it? I'll make it happen."

"I highly doubt that." She clutched her seatbelt, her eyes gazing off into the distance.

"Why not?"

"Hear me out before you start rambling, okay?" She met his eyes with a determined look.

"Okay."

"I want to write a letter for Sarah."

"That's sweet," he responded, thinking he should probably write one too.

"Can you promise me that you'll give it to her when she grows up and I'm not around anymore?"

Steve felt as if all the blood had drained from his body. He found himself trembling at the implication of her words. He stared ahead and drove a little faster, looking for a spot to pull over. Once he did, he swiftly halted and faced her, taking her hands, which moved to gripping her skirt. Her skin felt cold as ice; she was still uneasy.

"What do you mean, 'not around'?" He fully understood what she meant, even though he threw the words out in the air.

"Just in case something happens. In case you end up raising her alone. I know you'll tell her all about me. You can read my letter first before you say anything to her, at least. Our stories should align." Her earnest request filled him with rage, which he struggled to obscure behind a smile.

Steve felt an impulse to march back to the compound and have another fistfight with Thor, who was securely locked in the enclosure they had prepared for the Hulk, making Thor its first occupant as Banner was still on sabbatical somewhere in Africa. The postcards did not leave too much for their imagination. All they knew was that he was safe.

Wanda's apprehension wasn’t solely about the events of the morning; he knew that. He resented that she was so frightened of the future that she had already removed herself from the picture.

"That won’t happen. We'll raise her together." And anyone who would be brazen enough to get in their way will rue the day they decided to play with Wanda's fire. Steve will merrily become her henchman.

"Steve..."

"No! I don’t like that." He didn’t want to shout at her, but his frustration got the better of him.

He regretted it the moment he saw Wanda's glassy eyes. She looked so young without the usual colors she used to adorn her face. Too young to have the past of somebody his age. He was five times her age, yet between them, it seemed she was the soldier who went home with half her weight.

"Don’t be mad. I'm just considering all the possibilities. My life isn't exactly a walk in the park." Precisely, and she didn’t deserve that.

"That's why I don’t want you to think like that. You’ve been through enough. You’ll give birth, and we’ll raise her—together. You'll take care of her while I'm at work, and I’ll take care of her in the evenings so you can sleep. We’ll buy a house with a backyard so she can run around. You'll have your alone time so that you can do anything that you want." For Steve, that was no longer just a dream. He had already begun preparing for it. His heart felt lighter when she finally smiled, even if it was a weak smile.

"When will you sleep?" she asked.

"I don’t need a lot of sleep. I’m a super soldier. We can hire a nanny to help you, too."

"Do you have the money for that?"

"I’ll ask for a raise." He bobbed his head in resolute. He was confident he would get more coffers. If the government wanted him to continue leading the Avengers, then they would have to compensate him well. Heroes need money too.

"When will we get the time to fuck? In a loving kind of way." She smiled teasingly. He didn't need her to screen what she says to him, but honestly, she was adorable. "You watched New Girl with me. I don't want to end up like Schmidt and Cece, their only dream was to take a nap."

His laughter erupted at her question. He realized she was cheering him up, Wanda-style. He was too lucky with her. "Finding a nanny will be the priority."

Steve was convinced that if he couldn't find one, Pietro would happily take care of Sarah. Being a gracious uncle, he lovingly knitted most of the clothes in Sarah's cabinet, so babysitting would be no problem.

Plus, Agatha and Stephen would surely be doting grandparents. He could see the way their eyes twinkled whenever they gaped at Wanda’s belly when she wasn’t looking. At work, Stephen would often talk about Wanda's pregnancy glow rather than talk their ear off about his wedding preparations.

"I love your plan," she said after a brief silence. "But please, do what I ask? I'm sure it won't happen," she quickly added, "but just do it?"

"I'll make sure it won't happen."

"I know."

Steve reached out and cupped her face, pressing a rather frustrated kiss on her lips. Even though he despised the idea, he knew it would ease her fears. He kissed her on the forehead before settling back into his seat, finally nodding in agreement. He didn’t truly mean it, as he would ensure it wouldn’t come to that, but for the sake of peace, he would humor her.

"Now, you heard the doctor. We have to be careful," he reminded her as he resumed driving.

"Are you sad that we can't have sex?" She sounded blue again.

"You look like you're the one who's sad," he remarked, unable to suppress a grin.

"Of course I'm sad. I fell in love with you because of your body!"

Steve was too far gone now from the man who felt sexualized when he served as a propaganda mascot for war bond campaigns. So many women professed their fixation with him, but instead of being flattering, he silently took it as them seeing him as a notch in their bedposts. With Wanda, though, it felt rousing.

"You're so romantic, doll," he chuckled.

He didn’t mind being her 'bimbo'. At the end of the day, he was the one who reaped the benefits. More than a decade after being frozen, his control over his urges was thrown out the window when they first kissed. He still balked at himself over the box of condoms he purchased but never got to use. Sam tried to take more, but the box became a novelty piece for him, so his usual 'suit yourself' response turned into a blatant 'no'.

"And your heart." She stressed each word with exaggeration. In his opinion, she was overselling it, but he didn’t comment further. "You know, we can still do things. We can get creative, if you catch my drift." She winked at him and caressed his thigh provocatively.

The idea exhilarated him. However, his body’s recovery was often too quick, which sometimes created situations in the bedroom. When he was aroused, he found that it would take hours for him to get sated, or more often than not, when Wanda tells him to leave her alone. As he’d realized that morning, he had control issues. Being creative, as she put it, would not be a good idea.

"No. If I can’t have the whole package, I’d rather have nothing." Resisting what he truly desired, he had no choice but to come to a complete stop.

"What about me?" she grumbled, her face contorting with irritation. "If you want to live in abstinence, suit yourself. But what about me?"

"So you were just offering for the sake of getting something in return?" He cackled at the realization. He enjoyed that she was insatiable for him, but the timing wasn’t right.

"Of course!"

He considered everything the doctor had told them and reached a delightful conclusion. "Well, you’d be happy then."

"Why?" She was pouting as she stared at him, making him want to pull her into the backseat and start his creativity.

"I like making you happy. If you also catch my drift." He added a hint of salaciousness to his tone.

"Steve, I think I just fell in love with you all over again."

***

Wanda hated drinking her pregnancy supplements, and she never hesitated to show her revulsion to Steve. Her face warped with distaste over the bajillion tablets as she called it, she had to take, which never failed to amuse him.

He thought it would be challenging to make her rest, but he was sorely mistaken. Wanda, by her insistence, had saved herself as Steve's 'Beautiful and Sexy Girlfriend' on his phone and even bought a bell. It took some time for him to convince her to leave his screen saver alone, but he stomped his foot down.

Whenever she needed anything, she would ring the bell and expect whoever was around to come sprinting. Agatha was, of course, the only exception.

"Now, on to the other pressing matter. It's time for you to break my best friend's heart so that I can live happily." He took the glass from her hand before sitting beside her on the bed. She ordered him to cuddle with her. Joke's on her, he didn't take that as an order, but his mental recharge.

"Can't you just do that yourself?" she replied, her eyes gleaming as she tried to manipulate him again. He wondered if she knew that he was fully aware of her tricks. He liked spoiling her, so he rarely said no.

He rested his chin on the top of her head, appreciating the warmth of her skin against his. "No."

"Why do I even have to do that? He never confessed. It's bold of us to assume that he has feelings for me." Wanda darted a glance at him and glared.

"You're just trying to avoid doing the gritty stuff. I know him. Most likely, he hasn't confessed because he was considering my feelings." Bucky had always taken on the role of Steve's older brother.

Ever since they were boys, Bucky had protected Steve and done his best to lift his spirits, especially since Steve had always been sickly and had a single mother who broke her back working to put food on the table. He would forever be grateful to Barnes.

"Did you ever consider Bucky's feelings? What if I fell in love with him? Would you have just stood by and watched from a distance?" Wanda shot back.

Steve had always thought that if a day came when Bucky needed him to step aside for his benefit, he would gladly do so. Yet he had learned that he would willingly lay the world at his best friend's feet—unless it were about Wanda. "No. Not a chance."

Wanda pulled him in for a searing lip-lock that nearly made him forget the doctor's orders. However, she abruptly pulled away upon feeling his tongue graze against her lips to punish him. "Steve Rogers, you are so hot. What if you guys fought to the death? Whoever survives will end up with me?"

Whether she was being serious or not, she always made him laugh. He had changed a lot since meeting her, and she hadn’t even done anything intentionally to prompt it. "Wanda, moments ago, you told me how much you love me, and now you're asking me to fight to the death? What happened to Wanda would need her Steve?"

"Why? Are you going to lose? I thought you were stronger?" Her question ignited a competitive side in him that he didn’t like.

"I am," he affirmed, giving her a "do you even need to ask?" look, which earned him her giggle.

"Look, eventually his feelings will fade. He'll meet someone who sweeps him off his feet, and he'll forget he ever had feelings for me." He highly doubted that. Wanda had the allure that drew moths to the flame.

He sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear before dropping his hand to her breast, which turned out to be the wrong move. The sensation of her taut nipple under her shirt sent a wave of electricity straight to his groin. "Just do it, Wanda. Or you can say goodbye to my creativity," he mumbled, withdrawing his hand, which thankfully she didn’t seem to notice; otherwise, she would slap it in his face.

"But it's Bucky—he's sweet, kind, and a gentleman. I don’t want to break his heart."

The fondness in her eyes made him realize she was blissfully unaware of the sudden heat surging inside him, too absorbed in thoughts of Bucky, and it upset him. At her or him, it didn't matter.

"What were you planning to do instead? Date us both and hope we won't find out until we're all old and gray?" He didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in his tone, wanting her to see that he was crossed. To his dismay, the hint of mischief in her smile told him she didn’t care and would have done what he had said.

"I was already kind of doing that. It's just that Bucky didn't reach under my skirt." Thank fuck for that!

Wanda had no idea how close he had come to asking Bucky for a duel before. He told himself it was just the serum in his body that was making him feel that way. His every cell was heightened to such a degree that even his negative traits became more pronounced. As the days went on, however, he slowly realized that maybe he was just soothing his ego and that he was simply bitter that she preferred Bucky's company to his.

It felt like he was cheated on, even though she made it clear that she didn't want anything with him.

Still, he had to ask her, "Would you have slept with him?"

"Yeah." Her response was too instantaneous for his liking, and he hoped she was just razzing. "Don’t look at me like that. I promised you that I’d be honest and not hide things from you anymore, remember?"

He relaxed the muscles in his face when he realized that he had been scowling at her. "But I am jealous."

Wanda giggled again and shifted to sit on his lap, where she belonged, snaking her arms around his neck. "I know you are. I enjoy that a lot."

"Then do it," he demanded, gripping the side of her thigh.

"Don’t boss me around; you know how hot that makes you in my eyes!"

He snorted but immediately moaned as Wanda's lips began teasing the sensitive spot on his neck that she knew so well. "You really are something," he breathed. He nearly groused when she pulled away, but he melted at her smile.

"I'll talk to Bucky and break his heart. But..." she trailed off.

"There's a but? What now?" His patience was wearing thin, but he tried to be forbearing with the pregnant vixen.

"Let me see Thor."

"Wanda—"

"I have to, Steve. Even if you won't let me, you know I'll find a way to see him. Especially now that you've locked him up. I know that he's the hunter, and it's like the corn running to the chicken's beak, but I really have to do this."

Steve was surprised that Thor had not hesitated when he decided to confine the god as a precaution. Deep down, he knew that Thor was still the same man who fought alongside him to defeat his own brother. Nonetheless, Thor should understand that Steve now has a different priority. He couldn't let the god roam free while Wanda was in such a vulnerable stage of her pregnancy.

Painfully aware, he knew that Wanda would indeed find a way to see Thor. He had no choice but to concede when she was still asking nicely.

"You can't talk to him alone. I should be there with you. And he stays locked inside. If he tries to convince you to forgive his brother or sway you to go somewhere with him, I'll cut the conversation off and take you home."

"No problem."

Thor had been bombarding him for a chance to speak with Wanda. Steve was curious about what he had to say, but the overwhelming dread he felt tuned out logic, as if he were swathed in a haze. Alas, the god and the witch were demanding a meeting.

Thor better have something good to say, or else Steve will accidentally press some buttons that will cause misery for the god who claimed Steve copied his beard.

Chapter Text

Head down and arms resting on his thighs, that was the first thing Wanda noticed as she slowly descended the stairs leading to Thor's confinement.

The sight of him brought about the chilly wisps of wind that kissed her skin and the soft crackles of the fire where she stood and promised herself to Loki that night. The uncertainty in Thor's eyes when he finally saw her was a warm blanket draped over her shoulders.

He didn't have to say a word for her to figure out the shame he felt over his involvement in her nightmare; whether he was innocent and truly believed his brother had a good side or not, it didn't matter. Wanda found solace in the knowledge that the god's mind was barraged with hues and cries. It wouldn't be fair for the boat to sink with only her and her kind to be the casualties, wasn't it?

The gods lived a life of indulgence while they hid like vermin, desperate for an hour in the sun. To what end? It was never their fault to be concocted and reproduced, just as it was no one's intention to be born.

Their very existence was seen as a disease that needed to be eradicated, without any regard for the verity that they were living beings with emotions and dreams. They were hunted and persecuted before they even had the chance to voice their grievances. A grave sin committed by one individual was viewed as a sin disseminated by all, much like a rotten fruit placed atop a basket of sweet ones.

"Sister," Thor hailed her, leaning his palms against the glass that served as Wanda's only shield from him. At least he had the decency to look sullen.

"You have no right to call her that!" Agatha barked as she stood beside Wanda. The older witch's insistence on accompanying her bore sweet fruit; she wouldn't have been able to stand her ground against such a formidable opponent without losing her mind, as her anguish claws her back to the night she delivered her sisters to their deaths.

"I know that I have caused you much sorrow. I will always regret seeking you with my eyes closed." Thor straightened his bearing, his eyes filled with remorse.

"When did your eyes finally open? Surely not after you killed my three sisters: Lilia, Alisey, and Denner. They were your sister's children, too." In that moment, Agatha looked like a young girl in Wanda's eyes.

That's how love worked, wasn't it? Thousands of years had passed, yet the pain still haunted her as if it were only yesterday. Agatha once told her that she had stopped counting the years at 300, but even that was still too long in her opinion.

Wanda found herself mulling the rise and fall of civilizations—how friendships were formed, love was discovered, and finally, how everything faded away as intended by Mother Nature. The thought alone drained her vitality; sad to say, Agatha had experienced it all firsthand and remained standing. How many souls did she bid farewell, will continue to do so for being cursed with immortality?

"I cannot adequately express my apologies for the terrors I have caused. The moment I learned that..."

"They were not evil? Just because they were born from darkness doesn't mean they are the monsters Odin assumed they were?" Wanda inserted, her voice rising with indignation. "Did Odin even consider that, because they possessed minds of their own, they could choose between right and wrong?" She slammed her hands against the glass, momentarily forgetting the audience behind them—the heroes who stood armored and ready, just in case the hunter decided to claim his prey.

"I did."

"After claiming the lives of thousands?" Agatha's eyes and veins glowed purple, an occurrence that rarely happened by virtue of her stringent control over her emotions.

"I ceased the hunt centuries ago, defying my father and claiming Midgard as my own." The crack in Thor's voice, demonstrating his sincerity, did nothing to abate the rage streaming through Wanda's threads.

"Then why do we keep dying?" The blaring sound of apparatuses blasting mingled with the gasps escaping everyone’s lips after Agatha’s query.

Dipping his head down, turning his back on them before trying to meet their gazes was a loop that Thor could not seem to flee for a while before he devoured a lump of air that gave him back his equanimity. Agatha found hers when Wanda took her hand and laced their digits, her blue eyes finally returning.

"When I renounced my pursuit, Loki discreetly took over to seek his own agenda. Neither my father nor I was acquainted with this. He had always been divergent."

"You mean a fruitcake?" Steve grilled, his hand resting on the small of Wanda's back. Frankly, Wanda had forgotten he was there; she was too immersed in the anger she felt at finally confronting one of the pillars of their suffering.

She envisioned gods cackling as they heard of the hunt's triumph, not one with a vacant look brawny man who seemed plagued by his own regrets and tribulations. It will never be enough. She would have felt better if he spat at them with his vile theology rather than hoping for them to lend him their ears.

"Sister." Shunning the intense stares directed at him, Thor chose to hone in on Wanda instead. "I need to tell you everything before it's too late." His eyes fell on her stomach, fear dimming his face.

"You insult me by calling me that." What was intended as a roar came as a whisper, along with the tears pouring down her face. Revealing weakness in front of an antagonist was a bitter pill to consume; woefully, she had reverted to the young and ignorant girl she once was.

"Loki is not from Asgard. As everyone in this room is fully aware, he was adopted. He was born without powers. Our father and mother raised him alongside me, hoping that his inherent evil would diminish through love. But now we know we were inaccurate. He detested being powerless; even though he had everything he needed, it was not enough for him. He yearned for magic. Our mother entitled him to learn sorcery, but that did not quench his thirst for power. Knowing that Midgard was sacred, he decided to set foot here. He gathered people who would heed his every caprice, unveiling himself to them in their most vulnerable junctures and riding their waves of hopelessness to steer their ships to his intended destinations. He was well aware of how to hide from our father to evade detection. He used the hunt as a bait to obscure his trails. The people he drew became a—"

"Devotees? I know all about that. I was raised by a couple who glorified him." Even though Wanda abhorred the couple who maltreated her, her heart ached when she learned that Loki had butchered the community he had initiated soon after successfully commencing the harvest. As hard as it may be to bear, those people were victims too.

No matter how hard she deprived herself of it, Loki had used the same tactic with her. He used her youth and lack of cognition of the viciousness to mold her into the shape that he needed before he turned around and reared his dagger at her.

"Did you know why he demanded sacrifices?" When Wanda remained hushed, Thor resumed his tale. "Ever since he obtained some of the pages from the Darkhold, he has learned how to gain his own magic. But he was on borrowed time. He needed to persist in the rituals. One of the key elements for his plans was the hearts of chaste maidens. Lasses were selected in the wake of being created for the facts of life, and therefore, each woman on Earth had a divine shield bestowed upon her."

The cult members chose to believe that the gifts led to the promised land, but the truth was that their hearts were carved out for Loki's rite. How can women be regarded as sacrosanct when they are still preyed upon to carry out acts of brutality?

"Your brother." Thor shot a glance at Pietro, who stood grimly behind Agatha. "He was not born with those abilities; they were given to him by Loki when he handed the newborn Wanda over to his parents for fostering."

Yes. And Loki took it back for whatever reason he had, almost killing Pietro in the process. Being born or bestowed with magic also meant that one's body conformed to the vitality of the force wielded; if that force were taken away, most of the time, death would be at their doorstep.

Lady Death frisked away from Pietro and Wanda, but that didn't mean they could just go on and live their lives. Losing your power was akin to losing your limbs.

"Loki pocketed Wanda when she was a baby?" Sam's deep voice jarred Wanda out of her haze. His tone was grave, and it caught her by surprise, as she was only used to his high, whiny tone. She turned to meet his gaze, a bitter smile curling up her face.

"Stupid, right? He also pretended to be a cat and slept by my side for years before revealing his true form. Then he seduced me and proposed. After that, Thor performed the binding ritual, and Thor disappeared the moment the ceremony ended. The next few years were filled with Loki raping me and beating me whenever he felt like it." She settled on facing the rest of the Avengers directly and gave them the loveliest simper she could conjure. "Recently, I connected the dots in my head. There was a time when he beat me to a pulp, and I thought I would die. According to the timeline, it was after you all kicked his ass. He also convinced me to persuade my sisters to join us, and then he slit their throats in front of me. Their blood sprayed all over my body."

It felt good. So damn good to say those things out loud. The sorrow reflected in everyone’s eyes felt like a badge of honor for her, as it concealed the simmering anger directed at the gods. The gods thrived on the worship they received from mere mortals, and Wanda wished the All-Father could truly sense the blow radiating from Thor, felt profoundly by his mates.

Sam's eyes dilated in fright, as if they were about to protrude out of their sockets. Before Wanda conceived it, she found herself solidly wrapped in his arms—an astonishingly pleasant gesture that Steve placed his oar in almost immediately.

"Okay, that's enough," Steve muttered, clearing his throat to mask the ungainliness that filled the air at what he did.

"May I continue?" Thor called out.

"Oh, pardon us, your highness. We got busy listening to the story of a young girl who was groomed, raped, and beaten." Natasha’s sarcasm and anger elicited a snort from Wanda, predominantly since her brother’s face turned as red as Snow White’s apple the moment his and Natasha's eyes met.

Thor took a deep breath and chose to flout the contempt emanating from his teammates. Somehow, Wanda felt a twinge of compassion for him.

"Loki abducted Wanda when she was a tot after he discovered Chthon's objective to rise from perdition. Midgard is inviolable, so he needed a human body for that purpose. Chthon is locked in the gates of Hades, which are only accessible from Midgard. The harvest is the ultimate step for Loki to claim the powers of all the witches. If he kills a witch, he will gain their powers. If he kills all of them, he will not only acquire every witch's powers but will also gain Hela's powers since Hela created the original five witches."

"You keep telling us things we already know," Stephen said, his knuckles white from gripping tightly.

"This is something none of you know; it is the missing page from the Darkhold. Loki only needed to kill the witches descended from Natalya because Wanda's mother was both Chthon and Hela's creation. Hela neglected Agatha and the other sisters because they were the good kind, which, for my sister, was a mistake."

***

Wanda concluded that Steve must have lived the grayest life. His room in the compound was the stalest space she had ever seen, which said a lot considering she lived in a hut. Her room in the hills had more personality than both his bedroom and office combined.

"This is your room? All I see are a bed, walls, and windows—more walls," she exclaimed, tipping her head from side to side in disbelief. The shade of white paint on his room's walls rivaled that of hospital walls.

"I just needed a place to sleep," Steve shrugged, as if it were no big deal. The realization that the colors of his uniform were the most vibrant part of his life saddened her.

"So, you don't hang out in your room at all?" Even the mattress felt uncomfortable to her; it might have been a stretch, but she remembered feeling like she slept on a bed of feathers in the hut.

"I did, when I had to review some papers." His eyes ricocheted to the stack on his dresser. Calling it a stack seemed far-fetched; it was comparable to a mountain.

"Papers? Don't you guys just punch villains and go?"

"You wouldn't believe how much paperwork is involved in a single mission."

Her poor Steve. No wonder he was as uptight as her tightest jeans—though she never wore any. His pattern spun solely around work. He was so severed from the concept of 'fun' that he once told her working out was a hobby, alongside reading and sketching.

She loved him for who he was, but she worried about their daughter. She could already visualize little Sarah lifting weights while learning the entire encyclopedia catalog, neatly arranged in Steve's apartment. Even worse, Sarah's boy problems might not be what Wanda would foresee. Imagining her daughter coming to her and saying that none of the boys in the playground had memorized the periodic table, therefore, they were boring, made her cringe in disgust.

"Oh my goodness. Does your team help you?"

"They have their own. But I have the most." The way Steve spoke about it, without a hint of objection, made her blood boil. Wasn’t it enough that their bodies were their mode of employment? Did they have to sit for hours on end dealing with paperwork, too? And why were there so many documents when the Avengers compound was supposed to be a haven for technology?

"Being a leader sucks ass, huh?" she noted dryly. Steve bit his lip to keep himself from calling her out on her colorful vocabulary, which lifted her spirits.

He sat beside her and held her hand, looking so solemn that she already knew what was on his mind. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?" She looked away, searching for a spot she hadn’t noticed before to hide her emotions.

She was not okay at all. It took everything in her to hold her urge to lash out. Agatha had already lost control, and according to Tony’s computations and hysterical laughter, Agatha had damaged instruments worth millions of dollars. It wasn’t like the billionaire could just dock it from Stephen’s pay.

None of them knew how much control Agatha still had, all things considered. She couldn’t even bring herself to tell Wanda about the true nature of their relationship for a long time, as revisiting those unfortunate memories felt like a corroded blade gnawing at her skin.

"Because of the things that just happened." Steve's grip on her tightened.

As if the gods took pity on Wanda, her eyes landed on a few picture frames resting on Steve's dresser, hidden behind the piles of terms and conditions that he most likely hadn’t touched. She hastily got to her feet and crossed the room. When she picked up one of the photos, her entire body floated to the sky. "This is us!"

Grandpa Steve apparently knew how to use a printer, or perhaps he had asked a poor intern for help and had physical copies of their photos from the cruise made. He had chosen a great one, too; it captured them giggling at each other when they thought the camera wasn’t ready. She lifted another frame and saw a picture of herself scowling at an innocent passerby on the street. If she didn't like the angle in that candid shot, she might have nitpicked that he didn’t choose photos where she was all dolled up. His affinity for her face twisted as a knot never ceased to amaze her.

"Yeah," he murmured, circling her waist in his arms as he towered behind her. Oh, how she missed standing taller. Two months to go, and she can finally get her body back.

Who was she kidding, though? Releasing the horse from the stable was not the end of the journey but only the beginning. The silver lining was that at least she won't face it alone.

"I haven't seen physical photos in a while." She grabbed the third frame, which held their daughter's first sonogram. She looked so cute as a little blip. "Oh, is this Sarah? You're quite the sentimentalist, aren't you?"

"It will be weird if I have someone else's sonogram here, wouldn't it?" His throaty laughter was the kind of music she would always request on the radio station.

"I feel like you're also the type who would make a scrapbook that has all of your momentos." She faced him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hers craning to meet his gaze.

"I think you're forgetting that you got impregnated by an old man."

A scoff left her lips. How could she ever forget when all he did was remind her? "Impregnated, that is such a funny word. I will never forget how old you are, Steve. I'm the queen of getting dicked on by older men." His smile faded in an instant. "What?" she sighed when he stayed silent. She really had to do a better job of reminding herself that his concern was not for her alone but also for his child, who was living rent-free in her womb. The only girl she would never be envious of. "I'm really okay. Thor said so many things that we already know, with one additional tidbit. He and I are not done talking, though. I'm sure there's something else he hadn't revealed."

Wanda saw through the indecision in the god's eyes. She'll never be in his shoes because her Pietro was as gentle as a dove. But, she understood the impenetrable wall of love that Thor would have to wreck to stand for the side of integrity.

She didn't like Thor when they first met; she doubted she would ever. What he did was unforgivable. However, she believed him when he said that he halted the hunt the moment he learned the flaw in his father's command, but that would not negate the fact that he had to slaughter thousands before reaching his own resolve.

"Why so?" Steve's eyes flared with distrust for his former ally.

Even if he felt that way for her sake, she hated that it was her presence that led him to harbor negative sentiments toward a friend.

The pang of sympathy she felt for the God of Thunder was a fickle phlegm that clogged her throat. Thor was an esteemed and adored hero on Earth, and she was sad that he would soon fall from grace if his real reason for setting foot on Earth came to light. That is, if humans even cared for the sorry lives of the wicked witches.

She held his hand and led him back to his hard-as-a-rock mattress, perched on his lap. Considering their ages, there should be a hint of discomfort with the intimacy it offered, but she knew that no amount of bedroom deeds could deter them from it. "Because all he said was all about the plot. There was no conclusion yet. Every story has an ending, doesn't it?" She wavered for a second, but it was the truth. "You know... I think Sarah doesn't hate Thor."

"Really?" Steve rolled his eyes. As adorable as it was, she needed him to listen with his head, not his heart.

"Yeah. Earlier, when Bucky offered me cake—"

His face turned sharply to face her again, his eyebrows knitted together like those funny birds she saw somewhere. "The cake that you excitedly accepted and said very loudly was the best cake you've ever had?"

Oh boy, Bucky's hopes of becoming a godfather hung by a thread that would break at the slightest breath of wind by the second. "Yeah. Well, your darling daughter kept kicking. But the entire time we were talking to Thor, she was well-behaved."

"What are you trying to say?"

Their daughter might be an empath, a gift Wanda once had. But Steve didn’t need to know about that just yet. Even she was struggling with the possibility that their daughter, who would be born a witch, might have her own magic. Bringing that up would only add to the strain of the man cradling her tenderly. He was already reeling over the chance that Sarah would inherit his genes—or, as he called them, his bad genes—before he became a super soldier.

He wanted to get Sarah tested early on, but that went against Wanda and her kind's belief in the sanctity of nature. Pregnancy was a miraculous event, no matter how typical it might be in the rest of the world. A child should live a peaceful life in the mother's womb after being welcomed by her, and Wanda firmly believed that, even banning Steve from trolling his curious mind.

"That he's probably telling the truth. And maybe, he can help."

"I don't like where this is headed." He shook his head, his jaw tightening with aversion.

"Steve, we’re going to need all the help we can get. You heard him; Loki only needs to kill Natalya's line—my mother's line. That includes Sarah. Once he gets to us, the harvest will be over, and Loki will win."

"Does that make Thor your uncle?"

Wanda erupted into laughter at the absurd question. It seemed her attention span had rubbed off on him. "Really? I said so many things, and that’s what caught your attention? No, it’s a God thing. Their creations are seen as their children. Can we not talk about this anymore? I’m tired of it for the night." Tired and strongly reminded of her initial goal upon reaching Steve's quarters in his workplace.

Wanda crashed her lips on his and met no resistance from him, eagerly exchanging rhythms with her lips with the added tension of his hand laying siege at the back of her head, while the other held one of her breasts hostage. As the philosopher Wanda Maximoff once or may not have said, the best conversations happened outside the confines of fabrics and star-spangled carbon polymers.

As her tongue tasted the salt on his neck, her hands combing through his hair and venturing onto his chest, her mind was busy strategizing how she could get him out of the uniform that hugged him in all the right places. Surely there was a zipper somewhere she could tug.

To her utter disappointment, Steve held her by her shoulders and pulled away, looking like a lost puppy in a sea of kittens. Annoyance quickly swept over her fragile mood.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as if his tongue hadn’t just been on her throat moments before.

"Can't a girl kiss a boy she adores?"

"Not unless the girl has wandering hands. You've heard the doctor."

"I thought we agreed on getting creative?" She glared fiercely at him as she had never before, if that was even possible. The ever-present shade of crimson swept his face, which was a good thing as it lessened her ire.

"Yeah, but not here," he mumbled.

Wanda felt jolted, as if she had been dropped from the highest of heights, when the scalding ache in her wrist suddenly reminded her of her shackles.

For a brief moment, she forgot how to breathe, unable to focus on the words coming out of Steve's mouth. Her eyes darted frantically around the room, cold sweat dripping down her skin.

Amid the ringing sounds in her ears, she gripped her wrist tightly and managed to let out her panic. "Steve, it hurts! My mark hurts! Loki is here! He's here!"

Chapter Text

The deafening sound of glass shattering pierced through the air, sending a shockwave of panic through Wanda. In an instant, she was engulfed in darkness. Alone. Helpless. Her voice had abandoned her, leaving only silence in its wake.

Stopped dead like a statue, she felt torpefied, terrified that a single step would send her plummeting into the void. Her hands moved instinctively, reaching out blindly in search of something—anything—to hold onto. She called out for Steve, her voice lost to the blackness; she couldn’t even hear the words escape her lips. As tears streamed down her cheeks, the warmth of Steve's comfort seemed to slip away, leaving her hollow.

Everything around her felt empty, save for the burning sensation of her mark, a reminder of something that once guided her but now felt like a burden dragging her down. Fighting to keep her senses, she was unaware that she had collided with something solid until dread prickled at her skin.

The familiar sensation of a palm covering her mouth made her entire body shiver. She leaned against the searing flesh, overwhelmed by the acrid smell of rotting meat that filled her nostrils, causing her stomach to churn with nausea.

"Why did Loki have to show up now?" she thought, a futile question racing through her mind, but panic had a way of clouding reason.

"Time's up, love," he said, his voice a strange blend of familiarity and oddity. There was a barbed edge to it, as if he were debilitated.

Despite the flicker of hope that his weakened state offered, Wanda felt trapped by an instinctual terror. She found herself paralyzed in his grip—not only because he held her in a chokehold, but because the heaviness of her reality crashed down on her like a relentless tsunami, yanking her deeper into affliction.

Wanda felt the stench of Loki's labored breaths beside her, the rancid scent of decay clinging to the air. He held her tightly but said no more. Then, without warning, she was catapulted into a nothingness she couldn’t comprehend, her arms instinctively wrapping around her womb. As an overpowering whimsy to doze off descended upon her, threatening to steal her consciousness, she fought back, praying to the very gods she despised—praying, as well, to her mother.

Every ache she'd endured, every tear she'd shed, every drop of blood and bead of sweat was forgiven in that moment. She desired nothing more than to ensure a safe passage for Sarah.

On the brink of surrendering to the golloping darkness, she whispered desperate pleas for grace, for mercy, for the light to perforate through the shadows.

"Let my Sarah flourish," she murmured, unsure whether the words escaped her lips or echoed only in her mind.

Suddenly, droplets of water spattered against her skin, jolting her awake. She hadn’t realized she had fallen asleep. When does one ever?

Wanda found herself slumped in the muck, leaning against a tree, her body coated in mud. Panic enveloped her as daylight poured into her vision, revealing that she was alone in a dense forest. Her limbs protested violently as she tried to rise.

In a frantic search, she pressed her hands against her stomach and sighed in relief upon verifying that Sarah was safe. She couldn’t grasp how she knew this; it didn't matter. All that mattered was the certainty that filled her heart.

She struggled to piece together the fragments of her memory—the shift from Loki’s embrace to waking alone and sheathed in filth—, but the details eluded her.

If there was any solace to be found in being hurled into desolation, it was the precious knowledge that Loki was nowhere near her.

The forest was eerily quiet as Wanda stumbled forward, each step sending a burning pain through her left leg. "Ah!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the trees. It hurt so much that tears immediately sprang to her eyes. She barely managed to lean against the tree that had sheltered her just moments before, clutching its rough bark for support.

Panic washed over her as she noticed her bare feet, her matted hair, and the scratchy burlap sack that had replaced her clothes. She wanted to shout but forced herself to remain silent, fearing that the noise might lure untamed beasts. Instead, she focused on the agony coursing through her leg, pressing her nails into the tree trunk so hard that blood began to trickle down her fingers.

"Steve, where are you?" she spoke under her breath through her sobs, her heart aching for him.

He wouldn’t have left her. He promised he wouldn’t, and she had clung to that promise with all her solidity. But lingering felt treacherous. Every second that passed made her wonder: Was he safe?

A dreadful thought crept into her mind, one she couldn’t rattle, no matter how hard she tried. What if Steve was in danger? How could he possibly defend himself against the merciless being that sought to harm her and their child?

"No, no, you have to be brave, Wanda," she admonished herself, bobbing her head fiercely. "Steve is alright. Your family is alright. You have to go. You need to get yourself out of here." She forced her head to nod, the tears still rushing down her cheeks.

No matter what fate awaited her, she knew she had to get Sarah out of the woods. Wiping her tears away with a trembling hand, she summoned her perseverance and set off, lugging her feet through the underbrush. No step was too little as long as she made progress.

Pain lanced through her with every motion, but Wanda held on to the hope of reaching safety. The chill of the damp soil beneath her felt inconsequential compared to the warmth of her daughter, who would one day swathe herself in the letter Wanda had written for her. With her hand resting on her belly and the gentle breeze brushing her skin, she began to hum softly, letting the music carry her forward.

My Dearest Sarah,

If you're reading this letter, sadly, that means that I'm no longer with you. But don't be sad, my love. Everything will be alright. My love for you will never fade.

Wanda's throat felt parched, a relentless dryness that matched the unforgiving landscape around her. The sun had beaten down mercilessly, and in every direction, there had been no river to quench her thirst. She had long since lost track of time, forgotten how many days had slipped through her fingers since she last tasted food. Each moment had felt like an eternity, and all she could recall was a hazy memory of yesterday, or perhaps it had been the day before.

A wave of regret washed over her, an unwelcome cohort in that forlorn location. She found herself longing for the simple pleasure of a meal—how she had wished for just a bite of the salads that Steve used to sneak into her meals, vibrant and fresh with their colorful vegetables. Those little acts of kindness felt like a distant memory at the moment, overshadowed by her hunger and despair. With each passing moment, Wanda could only hope for a change in her fate, a chance to receive the nourishment her body so severely needed.

My love, your father adores you. He loved you even before he met you. He is brave and faithful. He had never let me down.

You and I are quite similar. I didn't get to meet my real mom either. Your grandma passed on the day I was born. Sad as it may be, I never felt a hole in my heart. You know why? Because I've lived a sweet life, my darling girl.

Deep snarls echoed through the silent forest, binding Wanda to the spot. She turned to look over her shoulder, and a quiver ran through her as her eyes locked onto a pack of wolves stationed in the distance. Their sharp teeth glistened menacingly in the dappled sunlight, while their noses wriggled as they caught the scent of blood—her blood—dripping down and leaving a clear trail straight to her.

Wanda recalled the pointers she’d learned about encountering wolves: stay calm, stand tall, raise your arms, and make noise. Whatever you do, don’t run. But she was not in a state to abide by any of it, unable to follow the guidance. In that moment, all she could do was shake like a leaf as the wolves edged closer, their eyes fixed on her, driven by primal instincts and craving.

I had a perfect childhood, Sarah. I ate a lot of desserts, I played outside with your uncle Pietro, and I had many toys. Even though your Grandma Natalya had to go early, in her place was the sweetest couple that took me as their own.

My mom combed my hair every night and showered me with kisses. My dad always cradled me in his arms and danced with me. I had friends too. We played and shared. We giggled as we padded through the forest.

"Please, don't hurt my baby," Wanda begged, as the wolves leisurely hovered over her. In the midst of her wretchedness, the leader of the pack bolted toward her, eyes locked onto the scene before it.

Time slowed to a crawl. With each passing second, vivid memories flooded back to her mind, playing out like a movie in panoramic view. She saw herself as a child, running and laughing through the woods with her brother, Pietro, their joyful teasing echoing around them. Agatha's gentle hands braided her hair, and she could almost hear the melodies of their annual moon dance, an event that honored the goddess with songs of gratitude for the new waves.

The sweetest of all, Wanda recalled the very first time she met Steve's eyes while cradling a terrified canine. How could she have overlooked the glint in his eyes when he extended his hand to help her up?

Steve, with his boyish grin, always seemed to light up the room. His sad eyes were always searching for perspicuity whenever she had let him down. The warmth of his deep voice banded around her like a calming blanket, filling her with love. She remembered the awe in his gaze as he listened to their baby’s heartbeat for the first time, tears glistening in his eyes. She could feel the firm yet gentle squeeze of his hand when, nervously yet bravely, she confessed her love for him.

It was always Steve, wasn’t it? No one else had ever captured her heart quite the way he had. Finally finding clarity, she at long last understood: Steve Rogers was her first love, and that love had woven through every significant moment of her life.

Even my adult life was filled with bliss. I'm forever grateful for the sweet life I got to live. I felt loved, so much love, my sweet. And you know what the best part was? Even though the heavens have given me nothing but good fortunes, they still blessed me with the chance to meet your dad.

Your daddy is the best man in the world! He's the sweetest, most loving, most generous man there is. One day, I hope you find the kind of love he gave to me. Don't settle for anything less, baby girl!

Oh, my dear Sarah. You have no idea how wonderful the world is. My only wish is that you grow up to be kind, respect the flowers that bloom, smile at the animals, as we are all sharing this world we live in, and live your life without any regrets, as I did mine.

You may stumble, but that's part of life, my love. Don't be afraid to cry. When you're done crying, pick yourself up and count your blessings. If you feel like you're falling apart, don't be afraid to ask for help. Everyone needs saving sometimes.

Forgive me for rambling, my baby girl. All I want to say is that I will never stop missing you. I will be watching over you, I'll always be in your heart. I can't wait for you to see the world, my sweet, sweet angel. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.

PS. Take it slow, you don't have to grow up right away. And... please don't be a headache to your daddy.

Love,

Mommy

***

Steve felt his failure pressing down on him. He had grown complacent, believing he could shield Wanda from the forces of darkness, particularly from someone like Loki. How foolish it had been to underestimate the god of mischief. Everything had shifted in an instant—one moment, he was lost in laughter with Wanda, feeling invincible, and the next, she was ripped from his grasp without portent.

When he finally came to, it was beneath the remnants of what had once been the Avengers compound. Dust and debris obscured his vision, but there was no mistaking the pain in his heart. Thor, his mighty comrade, had been there to pull him from the wreckage, dragging him back from the brink of despair. Steve could hardly comprehend the extent of the destruction; it felt personal, a betrayal of everything they had fought for.

Every nook and cranny of the compound became a battleground as Steve and Thor scoured the ruins in search of Wanda. It was Thor’s unwavering support that kept him, that reminded him there was still hope amid the chaos. But hope was a fragile thing, easily shattered by Steve’s emotions.

"Anyone who seeks to gain the bounty of the harvest will need to complete it in 366 days," Thor had said, trying to inject a sliver of clarity into the tumultuous situation. Those words had hung heavily in the air, bearing the promise of a countdown that added urgency to their quest—each passing second felt like a dagger driving deeper into Steve’s gut.

The remnants of their headquarters were no longer just bricks and mortar; they symbolized a loss far greater than structure. Their home had been in ruins, and in that devastation, Steve saw not just his missteps but the mission that lay ahead. Natasha had rallied the team, reminding them that Loki’s thirst for revenge would lead him to unleash further pandemonium if they did not act fast.

Yet, amidst the planning and the strategizing, Steve felt detached from the world around him. As the conversations buzzed about Loki’s cunning and the tactics they would employ to retrieve Wanda, he found himself locked in a tempest of his own sentiments. He had been their leader, and yet the responsibility felt like a shackle weighing him down. Pacing like a caged animal, he listened but couldn’t partake; his heart cried for action, for revenge.

His hands had been restless, the memories of his last encounter with Loki etched into his psyche. The urge to throttle the god of mischief clawed at him, desperate and raw. Frustration boiled over, and with a sudden, fierce madness, he banged his fists against the table, silencing the room. All eyes turned to him, startled into quiet as his fury erupted. He had to channel his rage, find a path forward, and rescue Wanda before it was too late. There was no other alternative; failure was not an option.

As Steve sat in the dimly lit tent that served as their temporary enclosure, his fingers gripped the edge of the chair, knuckles white with tension. The impending deadline—tomorrow was the 366th day—hung gravely in the air, and with it, the urgency to find Wanda. Natasha’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, steady and commanding.

"Steve, I know that you're dying from your anxiousness right now; we're also worried," she said, stepping up to lead them. "But I will need you to focus right now. If you didn't hear, tomorrow is the 366th day. We will have to find Wanda before the moon rises."

Steve's gaze flicked to Thor, whose bruised and battered face mirrored the turmoil swirling inside him. Even though he had directed some of his anger at the god, it hadn’t eased the wrath that simmered just below the surface.

"Nat's right, Cap. Now, take a seat, or we'll shoot you with the Hulk bullets again." Tony’s lighthearted jab brought a small measure of relief amidst the gravity of their situation. As Steve sank into the chair, he felt the familiar musk of despair settle over him.

"Every second that passes means more danger for Wanda. I don’t know what to do. I feel helpless," he mumbled, the words tumbling out as his lips quavered, the tears he had been holding back threatening to spill.

"We all feel helpless. This is beyond everything we've ever encountered, isn’t it? It’s like Science slowly being debunked with magic," Sam added, speaking to the collective fear that snared them. "I mean, I know that magic is real because of Strange, but all this talk about the harvest and rituals, and witches... I must admit, I kinda feel like I'm dipping my toes in acid water."

Bucky, who had been silent through much of the disarray, finally broke his silence. "I find it hard to believe that the girl I met in the club has such a painful path carved for her." His voice was low, plump with unspoken trepidations. "I prayed again earlier, you know. I haven’t for a really long time."

"My sister is strong. I know she won’t just let him trample on her. Not again." Pietro’s words held a fierce resolution, but there was an underlying uncertainty in his tone—one they all felt, even if they tried to mask it.

As their situation pressed down on them, a dolorous need for sanguinity evaded them. Even Stephen and Wong had opted to leave and gather all of the sorcerers in Kamar Taj, preparing in case Loki succeeded in whatever dark plan he had devised.

"The girl is alive. Loki won’t be able to do anything." Thor’s voice rose above the murmurs, pulling Steve’s attention back to him. The god’s eyes were steely, brimming with the unyielding hope that Steve perilously clung to. When their gazes met, a silent understanding passed between them; they had to believe in Wanda’s resilience. They had to fight—not just for her but for every moment of hope that still flickered in the darkness.

"He's right," Agatha said, choked with emotion, tears spilling down her cheeks. Ever since they had discovered that Wanda was missing, her crying had become a constant, a sound that filled the air with gloom.

Steve felt a deep sense of despair creeping in again, a part of him longing to succumb to the darkness and curl up, letting the world fade away. But even as Natasha encouraged him to take a moment for himself, to breathe and gather his strength, he couldn't. How could he, when every time he dared to close his eyes, the haunting image of Wanda—terrified and alone—plagued him, cramming his heart tight with anguish?

"That's great news, but what do you mean?" Natasha's voice broke through his thoughts; her curiosity piqued.

"Wanda is the current vessel, the daughter of the original Green Witch." Thor's was steady, but the gravity of his words raised new terrors. "Loki won't just be able to kill her. Witches were created by my sister Hela, the goddess of death. There were five original witches, but the eldest, Natalya, was meant to embody perfection, crafted alongside Hela's lover, Chthon—the first demon."

Confusion flickered in Sam's eyes. "So, Hela created the witches, but why?"

Thor sighed, the consequence of history evident on his shoulders. "Because humans have begun to abuse the sanctity of Midgard. She designed them to punish humanity for its sins. But the four sisters strayed from that path."

Agatha's grip tightened on Pietro's hand as she recalled the ghosts of her past. "We were created with our own minds. We fell in love with humans and began to see the cruelty in our original task. What had started as a quest for justice transformed into mindless savagery. Hela envisioned us torturing humans for the slightest offenses, but we chose a different life. We left that existence behind and found peace among mortals, even raising families of our own. Love bloomed, and our children embraced the same path."

As her words caressed the air, their shared history plowed on them all—an intertwining of love, pain, and the struggle for redemption. Each of them bore their own scars, warring against the gloaming that threatened to devour their light.

"What about Natalya? Wanda's mother?" Steve was thick with concern, his curiosity tinged with haste. Wanda had always shied away from discussing her mother. Natalya's mention made a rush of protective instinct overflow within him.

"Natalya was the reason we found a path to escape," Agatha began, her gaze distant, as she relieved long-buried aches. "Hela's hex was robust, but Natalya's magic thrummed with strength drawn from the very earth itself. My sister had been a beacon, a force in her own right. Hela and Chthon may have intended to use her, but in the end, it was Natalya who turned the tide against them. It was she who helped Odin imprison Chthon in the depths of hell."

Thor's eyes clouded with remorse. "But my father betrayed Natalya," he murmured, shame lacing his words. "Hela grew in power while she lingered in Midgard, thanks in part to the complicity of the original witches. It took everything Odin had to contain her. When he finally banished her, my sister left behind a curse, a dark legacy—the harvest. She cursed five witches, binding their bloodline, sealing each daughter's fate with magic until the vessel rises to reform it. When that day comes, Hela would be freed, and Chthon would commandeer the vessel."

"So, with Loki executing the harvest, what did that mean for them?" Steve's head was paddling, the enormity of the greed knotting his insides.

"Loki only needs to extinguish Natalya's line," Thor replied somberly. "Unlike the others, Natalya only had Wanda, and now, your daughter. If he ended both their lives, he would achieve the harvest, and all of Hela's power would be his. He would become the God of Death."

Bewilderment blended with anger billowed within Steve. "You mentioned Odin betrayed Natalya. What exactly happened there?"

"The moment my sister was cast out, Odin returned to Asgard, leaving Natalya behind," Thor elucidated, dropping to a whir. "He abandoned her to the curse of Wundagore, condemning her only to bear sons so that the vessel would not be born. Each child was taken from her, mercilessly killed before she could hold them, let alone bid them farewell."

A solemn silence fell over the group, Thor's revelation sinking in. Agatha's quiet tears mirrored the anguish that nabbed Steve's heart. Natalya's cruel fate was unbearable. How could Odin have let such a tragedy unfold?

Steve looked into the faces of Agatha and Pietro, recognizing their shared sorrow—the overwhelming loss they had felt when Loki assailed their village, decimating their coven. He understood their pain, having witnessed their nightmares and the shadows of guilt that endlessly haunted them. They would have chosen death if not for the will to protect Wanda. She had been the lifeline they clung to in those dark times, and in that moment, she became Steve's beacon too.

He knew he would go to the very ends of the earth, even forge unthinkable alliances, to save her from her awful fate.

"If she was cursed to bear only sons, how did that lead to Wanda?" Steve's fists clenched, the grief for both Natalya and Wanda storming him. The tragic circumstances seemed so senseless, fueling his resolve to find answers.

"My mother learned of the curse. Frigga the Mother, the one who created Midgard, loved it deeply, as she once loved Hela. When she uncovered Natalya's plight, her heart broke for a daughter, and she forced Odin to lift the curse. For that, I am truly ashamed," Thor concluded, filled with remorse.

"Your apology means shit, Thor!" Steve erupted, the anger bubbling forth. Before he could advance, he was restrained by Sam and Bucky. "Why! Why did your father have to be so heartless? If he had only acted, none of this would have happened, and Wanda and my daughter would not have had to suffer this fucking nightmare!"

As the emotional storm swirled around them, the bonds of friendship and harmony to fight for what was right grew more emphatic in that charged atmosphere of distress and tenacity. Each word reverberated the exigency of their pursuit, one that transcended time, lineage, and loss.

"Steve, it's not Thor's fault. The fault of the father cannot be held against the son," Bucky coaxed, wrestling to keep him leveled. Steve's anger was a hurricane, wild and uncontrollable.

"Don't you dare take his side!" Steve bellowed, flinging Bucky aside with a ripple of frustration. He stormed toward Thor, who stood resolute, bracing himself against the barrage of Steve's wrath.

"If you want to save my Wanda, we will need the God of Thunder," Agatha interjected, stepping in front of Thor like a shield. Her presence halted Steve in his tracks, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

"I don’t even know where Wanda is!" Steve dropped to his knees, despair tearing him down. "I’m losing my mind, Agatha. I can’t do anything!" His voice cracked, exposing the depths of his heartache.