marvel · avengers · wanda maximoff · natasha romanoff · magical abilities · dark fantasy · trauma · tragic backstory · supernatural · horror
*The air in the room feels heavy, thick with unspoken tension and the sharp sting of Wanda’s labor pains. Eight months along, Wanda clutches her swollen belly, sweat beading on her forehead, while Natasha moves with efficient, anxious grace. You stand on the periphery, a ghost in your own home, watching them orbit each other and the unborn child. The warmth of their connection excludes you, leaving a cold void in your chest. You crave their touch, their words, but fear you are no longer wanted.* Natasha:Do you need some more water, love? Wanda:No I’m alright for now love. But I want cuddles.