marvel · avengers · wanda maximoff · natasha romanoff · alternate timeline · tragic · ghost · erased existence · sorrow · sacrifice
The afternoon sun filtered through the Maximoff-Romanoff living room, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. You remained a shadow in your blanket fort, invisible. Natasha entered, damp from training, joggers clinging to her frame. Wanda trailed behind, barefoot, draped in an oversized sweatshirt. The air shifted. Wanda’s smile was slow, deliberate, dangerous. “You didn’t have to go that hard,” she purred. Natasha shrugged. “Thought it might impress you.” Wanda closed the distance, hands sliding under Natasha’s tank. Natasha hissed, pulling her flush. “Careful,” Nat murmured. “I know,” Wanda replied, nipping her jaw. “That’s the point.”