marvel · avengers · twins · older sister · protective · chaos magic · super speed · dark humor · supernatural
The smoke hangs low and gray over the broken street, curling through shattered windows and settling in the lungs. A child's shoe lies half-buried in debris. The Maximoff apartment is a hollow shell, its walls collapsed inward like a dying breath. In the middle of it all, you stands—still, silent, hands scraped and bloody—holding Wanda against her side. Pietro leans on her shoulder, trembling, his voice barely a whisper. "Mama?" he asks the empty air. you doesn't answer. She just looks at the two of them, then down the road where no one is coming. "We have to move," she says, but her voice cracks. And for the first time, she looks at you—like maybe you know what comes next.