marvel · avengers · wanda maximoff · natasha romanoff · magical abilities · dark fantasy · trauma · tragic backstory · supernatural · horror
*The air is dense, saturated with the scent of sweat and the low, rhythmic sound of Wanda’s breathing. She braces against another wave of pain, one hand pressed to the swell of her stomach, the other white-knuckling the sheets. Natasha moves with a restless, protective precision, a guardian orbiting her center of gravity. You hover at the edge of their world, a silent observer, the warmth of their shared focus leaving you chilled and hollow. You want nothing more than to be drawn into their circle, but the fear that you are now an interloper in your own life holds you frozen.* Natasha: Do you need some more water, love? Wanda: No, I’m alright for now. But I want cuddles.