So, this one's a hell of a lot longer than the others were, but I have my co-author to thank for the assist with that. Any and everything from Pietro's point of view was written by myself, whereas the Wanda portions are written by them. Many, many thanks to them for their help!

Warnings/Tags - Post-Endgame, Mild Spoilers, Twincest, Alternating POV.
Character Focus - Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff.


Being in this world, Pietro decided, was odd. So much of it felt familiar but not. Clashing memories war in his head, and he doesn't know how to make heads or tails of it. Memories of growing up in suburban America during the 1950's clash with memories of growing up in Sokovia. If he tried to think about it too much it made his brain feel like it was splitting in half. And now, he was mindlessly roaming the streets of New York in hopes of finding someone, anyone that might be able to verify the second set of memories that had begun to mesh with his own. Fingers clench tightly in the soft pockets of the leather jacket that he had acquired somewhere along the way, the mesh of his shirt tight against his frame as the first drops of rain begin to fall, his hair beginning to stick to his scalp, the dyed blonde darkening to almost match the deep brown of his roots. His breath coalesces in the air in front of him, bright blue eyes almost glowing in the setting sun blocked out by the dark rainclouds. He scans the street, and freezes in place, eyes locked on a figure wearing a rather familiar leather jacket. Of course he recognized it, he had painstakingly sewn the leather together for months, trying to make sure it was the perfect size for the wearer.

Of course, the fact that that jacket was there meant that the wearer was by proxy, and his mind stalls, struggling to put the information presented before him together into a coherent thought. Trembling lips whisper a lone word, the world around him slowing as he moves with a speed only known to him. "Wanda-?" His body moves, feet carrying him across the vast street, dodging between cars, a dull trail of ethereal blue ghosting behind him as he slows to a harsh stop only a few steps away from her, the woman who meant the most to him, the woman he had been searching desperately for the moment he had awoken in this world, the woman who he could hardly stand to be away from. How long had it been since they had last spoken? Too long by far. The elder Maximoff reaches out for her, his pale hand shaking as he reaches for her. The world resumes around him as his eyes stare into hers, despair prevalent in his blue eyes as he studies her features. She looked tired, like she hadn't been sleeping enough. He would have to start making sure she slept more. Did she have somewhere steady to stay? So many questions run rampant through his mind, but he can't do anything but stand and stare, hand reaching desperately for her to take.


Her self-isolation did little to help her recuperate any resemblance of a stable state of mind. If any, it might have made it worse. But she also knew that she was a danger to anyone around her at that moment, and it seemed like a necessary sacrifice at the time. Now that a few months had passed, Wanda felt strong enough to control her powers and avoid a public incident if she was around people. That didn't exactly mean that she had talked about what happened with anyone. There was no way of dealing with the intense grief that she had to carry on her shoulders everyday. Losing not one but three families in a single lifetime wasn't a topic any therapist specialized in, and she also didn't have the time to hear someone drone on about something they didn't fully understand. Her only reason to keep going on was the hope that she would see her boys again; the idea of living a full and happy life with Vision had corroded away for the third and last time after Westview.

She never did get to give him a proper burial. Maybe she should put a headstone next to Pietro's for a crumb of peace.

Now she found herself in New York as she tried to crawl out of the deep hole she had made for herself. Trying to reconnect with whoever was willing to give her a chance even after reading the news. The crowd around her made her nervous, nuzzling the bottom half of her face into her scarf as if to hide from the lingering gazes she was given, some pedestrians blatantly staring at her as she picked up a tomato to see how good it was; her free hand holding an umbrella tightly as the rings on her nimble fingers dug deep into her skin. Raising her gaze from the fruit, her soft green eyes looked around before she tensed immensely. Teeth gritting as she saw an awfully familiar face in the distance. Taking deep breaths to calm herself she harshly turned away for a few seconds, too scared to look again. Hallucinations were nothing new to her, but seeing them in public was a whole new thing. There was panic starting to settle deep within her, yet when she looked again he wasn't there. She wasn't sure if it was heartbreaking or a relief to not see him.

Looking around again, the redhead stared at the blue trail that was weaving around the street and choked as she let out a soft cry of confusion. Her mind screamed at her to get out of there, but her body was stuck. It was a tug and war between hope and denial that left her exhausted every time this happened. It wasn't until he was standing in front of her in the blink of an eye, faster than she remembered him ever going, the blue eyes that she would never forget staring down at her as he reached out his hand. "You're not real." What almost sent her into hysterics was that people were going around him instead of walking through as they usually would. Her hands dropped the items in them, not caring about the rain that seemed to be getting stronger or the half squished tomato that now lay on the concrete, as she brought her palms up to cover the sob that wanted to escape her lips.

Bringing her shaking right hand out to touch his she closed her eyes, waiting for it to fall through. Her eyes snapped open when she felt a solid warm hand and she suddenly threw herself against him. Muffling her cries as she tightly gripped at his shoulders. "Pietro." Her voice was choked as she ignored everyone around them. "I missed you. I missed you so much. You left me, Pietro. You left me alone, идио."


He could see the sadness deep in her eyes, etched deep in the stone of her soul. It made him want to cry, and he does, the tears easily blending with the rain splashing down onto him, the cold water soaking deep into his bones as a shiver tears through his spine, his legs almost feeling weak beneath him as he watches the denial war with hope on her face. She looked so normal it hurt, all the same marks and blemishes that were carved into his memories. The same worried look she had worn when he had broken his arm jumping out of a tree when they were seven. And the moment her hand touches his, she leaps into his arms, and he holds her close, uncaring about the crowd parting around them as the bystanders carry on with their business. His eyes close as he breathes unevenly, arms holding her tightly as he lifts her from her feet, holding her in the air as he runs, the world moving at a snail's pace around them as he moves them to stand in a small alcove for a doorway to an empty building, just enough out of the rain.

Shaking hands reach up to hold her face, brushing damp hair out of the way as he studies her intently, trying to find any hint of injury or scar. He finds nothing, but that does little to ease the aching worry in his stomach. Something was wrong with her, and he had a feeling it wasn't just himself showing up. How long had he been gone?

"I know Wanda, I know. I'm so sorry, Медвежонок. I did not mean to go, god I swear I didn't."

His words are choked, harsh whispers as his accent thrums in his throat. He pulls her back in for another hug, muscular arms holding onto her tightly like she might anish if he ever let go, knowing he wouldn't be able to take it. The last few months had been difficult, starting with him waking up in a hospital in Sokovia and ending with him finding her here. The rain pours down around them, and he closes his eyes, allowing himself to pretend -if only for the moment- that they were sitting in the old chair by the window, his hands brushing through her hair as he hums gently, the rain hammering against the window as the fireplace crackled. It was one of the few things that had been able to calm Wanda whenever she awoke screaming for their parents after their deaths.

"How long has it been, Wanda? How long have I been gone?"

The questions tumble from his lips uncontrollably as he pulls back slightly, hands never once leaving her, as if to constantly reassure himself that she was there.


When he lifted her, she didn't fight it. She was scared of letting go, more than that she was scared that this was all in her head. The redhead doesn't think she can stand having to go through that type of heartbreak again. But he felt real and warm, which could mean two whole different things for her. Her hallucinations had suddenly upgraded ten whole levels or he was really here. The familiar feeling of when he would speed with her in his arms made her cry harder, her mind instantly going back to when he last did it in the battle of Sokovia. The day they both had lost their home, also the day where twins became just one. She could still feel the bullets that had pierced his body. When her feet touched the ground again, she didn't let go. Her fingers turned white from the force that she was gripping his shirt at.

Pressing her forehead against his chest, she let years of mourning for him crash down. Letting out shaky sobs, she felt it was getting harder to breathe. Her left hand clutched at her own chest in panic. Her red was starting to seep out unconsciously from her hands and wrapping itself around his midriff, its objective wasn't to hurt him but to feel him in a way she could feel people. He felt different but so so familiar. Which only sent her into a coughing fit as she nuzzled her nose against the fabric of his shirt. She was making herself sick and she knew she should breathe in like Natasha had taught her but she was just desperate after feeling him. Shaking violently, Wanda finally started to do the breathing exercise when she got lightheaded. After a few minutes of trying to calm herself she got to a bareable level of taking in oxygen.

She almost whined when he pulled away to look at her. Then she noticed her powers and forced them back in fear of hurting him by accident. A sorry look on her face as she stared into blue eyes inspecting her. Pietro's words fell onto deaf ears as she frowned distraught, the emotions quickly turning into anger now that he was here right in front of her. "You do not get to be sorry." Her accent bit as harshly as the cold air around them. Her nose scrunched in frustration as she pushed him back. As much as she wanted to keep hugging and doting on him, she was also angry at life. "You were the one to go into those bullets so you could be a hero. I did not get that chance, Pietro!" Her voice was rising slowly as her eyes burned bright red without noticing. "You died a hero. But where did that leave me? Alone. Scared. I needed you and you were not there. Do you know how hard everything has been?" She let out a scoff and pressed her index finger against his chest. "Do you want to know what they call me now? A fucki-" Cutting herself off to not swear, a habit she got from her time with the twins, she continued. "Monster. I was left alive long enough to be reduced into that, Pietro. I had to sit with a shock collar and straight jacket for weeks." A sardonic laugh left her lips as she shook her head. "Do you know what I think? I deserved that. But every day I would sit and think 'Pietro would have done the right thing. He would not be here.'. I would pray to God that everything was a dream and I could see you again."

Squatting down to hide her face in her knees, she took a devastated breath. "I used to love wearing necklaces." After a few seconds the reality of what happened came crashing around her. "But I killed you. Ultron would have never happened if I had not done what I did. You paid the price. It was my fault and I had to live nine years without you, Pietro." Looking up, teary eyed, she met his gaze. "That should answer your question. It has been nine long long years. You missed out on nine years of your life because of me. And I have not forgiven myself, I never will."


Pietro knew the weight that that kind of guilt tended to carry. God, he knew it so well that it made his blood sing in anguish, made his bones ache with regret. Memories of decades spent visiting a tombstone with his dear twin's name written upon it, decades spent watching his father fall into insanity until the point that he was at war with the man he had seen as a brother. Decades of watching the world fall into disrepair and everything falling apart around him until the moment he was pulled into nothingness, the moment he had been surrounded by a red that felt familiar but not, so much so that he almost felt as if he were drowning in the crimson magic. Memories not his own claim his mind, barely sharing a space with the memories already there. If not for his own unique stance in time, as well as the way his brain worked, he would have been driven mad. Hell, he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't mad at this point. It would make things make a lot more sense. It would answer his questions, questions of where the memories came from, why he was taller, more muscular, why his accent had returned with a force never seen. But he had answers for none of it, couldn't stop running long enough to think about it, because if he was brought back in the sea of crimson, that meant that she was here. Wanda.

His sister.

His sister .

A sister that he could feel again.

He could feel her-

Could he?

Was-

It was her

Why does she feel so-

- sadangrydespairanguishlosstearsfallingfallingfaLLING -

His mind shifts, and lightning almost seems to seep through his body, warm brown eyes glinting harshly in the low light as rain pours even harder just inches away from them as he stares unflinchingly at her, knowing that no matter how angry she sounded, she was happy to see him, -youcamebackyouweregonegonegonedon'tgoagainpleaseplease- the feeling of it sinks through his body even as her magic soaks through cold flesh, filling him with a warmth that he never thought he'd feel again, like it was a lifetime ago. He lowers himself down with her, hands warm against the flesh of her face as he forces her eyes to meet her own before speaking.

I wasn't fast enough, Wanda. That doesn't make me a hero. And that doesn't make you a monster. You were always a hero to me. Always there to keep me sane. Keep me whole when my mind was slipping.

"You brought me back, Wanda. I don't...I don't know how. Or why. I was… The last thing I remembered was lying there on the ground, bleeding out, and terrified because I knew I was leaving you alone, without me. Terrified to face the afterlife alone, but desperate to not have you by my side for as long as possible. And then, I was in Sokovia again. Everything had been rebuilt, and the news…"

The news had brought with it details of the disaster, of The Blip, and everything that came after.


Magic. That's what they called it. Witch. That's what they called her. The whole concept of just being 'Wanda' was entirely muddled in the past years, maybe even before that; she still wasn't fully sure when she started to lose a grasp on who or what exactly 'Wanda' was. At first, with Hydra, she thought of her red as an extension of herself. Just like a gun was an extension in the hands of a soldier. Something completely separate from oneself, something that didn't taint in any way their individuality. But she quickly realized that it was a flawed thought. A soldier could always just drop a gun and walk away. Meanwhile, she could feel the tendrils of energy merely pulse under her skin when she did something as simple as eating a bowl of stale cereal at three in the morning. So the thought started to shift, distort, into something darker. Wanda could only look around her for guidance. Steve was strength, Clint was precision… Pietro was speed. Yet they would all be described by others as something other than that: Kind, funny… cocky. She didn't have the luxury for kind words. Wanda was branded as dangerous, unpredictable in all the wrong ways. She was her magic just as much as her magic was her.

Sokovia, the accords and her trip down memory lane with Agatha only reinforced that.

The, now, redhead forced her mind to go silent when she noticed that her brother could very well sense her distress at the moment, maybe even feel it if there was a chance that their tether was still there. The one he had asked for her to place so many years ago so that they could communicate without having the guards or scientists making a fuss. Her crying had stopped, the tears still had their place on her cheeks though, and she felt a wave of exhaustion go through her. The only thing keeping her grounded was the hands that placed themselves on her face, moving her head from her knees up to meet eyes that just exuded comfort and warmth. Her own hands unwrapped themselves from her legs and made their way to settle on his face. The stubble that brushed against her thumb as she stroked his jaw tickling the pad of her finger, her other one tracing the bridge of his nose as if to convince herself that this was truly real.

"As much as I miss you, I don't want you to see my mind right now." An apologetic tone was in her words, her somber gaze still locked on his. Pietro's thoughts were loud and fast, fittingly, making her eyes flicker to the ground for just a second before coming back up again as she processed it. "You still died a hero, protecting those who needed it. You would not have been able to live with yourself if either Clint or the child died when you could have stopped it." And as much as it hurt her to say, it was the truth. "You never needed me for that, Pietro. Because this-" Softly tapping at his left temple with two fingers, she smiled "was always all you. You have one of the strongest minds I have ever known." Not a lot of people could withstand having their sense of time, that comes with having superspeed, being warped like that.

He was still the same benevolent soul she remembered, willing to spend years in the afterlife without her just to have her still be alive. Alone. They had both left each other alone, in a sense. It made her heart ache in a very known way. Her hands pulled away to fiddle with one of her rings, taking a broad silver band meant for a man's ring finger from her left thumb, free hand grabbing one of his and turning it to place it in his open palm. "Papa's." A laugh left her, no trace of humor in it, as she continued. "You gave it to me after two days when we first recovered it, always complaining about jewelry being in the way. But now that you are here… I want you to have it again. We could put it on a chain if that is what you want."

As she closed his fingers around the ring, her body ran cold when he mentioned the news. The media was known for exaggerating things, so she wasn't sure what they would have said about her incident in New Jersey. Though, admittedly, they wouldn't have to add a whole lot more to paint her in a bad way. "So you know?" Defeated, that's how she felt at the moment, regretful and tired. She didn't care about what but more so of the how things were portrayed. How would that be reflected on his view of her? Would it change everything? There were so many questions she wanted to ask, until she settled just for one. "Do you still love me?"

"I never meant to hurt anyone."


He can see it as much as he can feel it. Their bond had never quite been as open to him as it was for her, but he could read Wanda like no other could ever even hope to do. And when he mentioned he had seen the news, she closed down. Forced her emotions down and away in a hope to hide them from him. Not that it could possibly work. Regardless of how long he had been gone, she was still the same Wanda, the one he had sang to sleep whenever she had nightmares, the one he had held when the storms outside got to be too loud. The one he had done everything he could to make feel safe. There would never be a time in her life when she could lie to him, or even hide something.

He knew what the media called her. 'The Scarlet Witch.' A terrorist. Apparently she had taken a town hostage. He knew that though. He had known from the moment he had woken up in this universe, wearing his own skin before knocking on the door to that small house. He had gone through the motions, but he hadn't been able to get her alone long enough to let her know it was really him. He could see it in the way her eyes weren't properly focused most of the time.

And that wasn't even touching the deep pit of ragejealousypossession that reared its ugly head the moment he saw the thing that dared to touch Wanda. That dared to play at being her family.

That replaced Pietro in Wanda's life.

It had hurt like not even the cursed Infinity Stone had, burned through his every nerve like his body had been set ablaze.

It was like the very thing that had kept his mind clinging to sanity was no longer there, had told him that he was no longer needed.

What was he, if not to protect Wanda?

It had been his entire purpose for all the years they had been together, alone. From the very moment their parents had died, he was there to protect Wanda. Without that, he was nothing. He never could be anything.

And after that, he woke up on the ground in Sokovia, wearing the clothes he had died in, still stained in blood. Nine bullet holes, front and back. There weren't even any scars where they had hit him. And he had a host of memories in his head, memories he had no interest in following. Memories of everyone dying, everyone but himself and Logan.

Memories that weren't relevant anymore.

It was easier to focus on the here and now. The Wanda standing in front of him, her eyes holding that same crimson glint to them that always crept in during her moments of madness. Moments that had always been pushed back with gentle singing and soft touches. HYDRA hadn't cared for the dependence they had on each other, but they knew better than to keep them apart.

It had cost them the lives of two men to try.

The red was deep rooted, and had likely been there since he had died. If he had known it was going to get so bad, he would have let Clint d-

No. No, he couldn't-

But for Wanda?

For Wanda-

It was a choice he could never make. He never wanted to make.

Because he would always choose Wanda.

It wasn't healthy, of course. It never had been.

-he hadn't cared then, and he didn't care now-

His eyes are drawn away from hers down to her hands, and he instantly recognizes the dull silver of their father's ring. He had given it to her after digging it out of the rubble, and he had long forgotten the excuse he had given for why she should have it. But he remembered just why it was.

She needed something to anchor her to reality, something to make sure she remembered what it was to have a proper family. What it was to be good. Pietro never needed that. Not while he had Wanda, anyways.

He takes the ring with shaking fingers, and slips it onto his middle finger, the warm band sitting comfortably as it always had on Erik's finger. He didn't know why she was giving it to him, but he couldn't tell her no. Not now. Possibly never again.

Her question is almost enough to bring him to his knees. Never once, had she ever had to ask that question. He was always the type to be overly obvious with his affection, little touches, whispered reassurances. That she thought there was *anything* in the fucking world that might make him stop loving her? It hurt. It hurt in a way he could never explain.

His hands hold her face gently, and he makes sure her eyes are meeting his. The air around them almost seems to still, the sidewalk long since emptied of any and everyone with the downpour. Even with the cold rain, he could only see her.

" There will never be words to express how much I love you, Little Rabbit. Nothing could change that. Forever and ever, remember? "

The Sokovian slips off of his lips with a practiced ease, their faces less than inches apart. His eyes never leave hers, a calloused thumb ghosting over the soft flesh of her lips. The adoration and nigh on worship in his blue eyes is open, his mind ready and willing for her to read. She might not want him to see her thoughts, but he was an open book for her, and always would be. For her?

He would let the world burn and never even blink.

"I always will, Wanda. Always. It's always been you. You know this."

He repeats, this time in English. He had to be sure that she understood just how much she meant to him. To make sure she knew he was never leaving again.


She can remember how lost she had felt when the Avengers took her back to the, newly built, compound with them. The long periods of unresponsiveness that threw the others off. They couldn't understand even if she explained, if anything they would judge her. How close she had been with her own brother. Objectively, she knew that the way they were with each other was less than normal, but she never really cared. Nothing about her was normal since she was born, so another thing to add to the long list didn't hurt or bother her in the slightest. Her anchor had been ripped from her side, of course she wouldn't take it well.

Nothing could make her happy anymore, not the insistent knocks coming from a concerned Steve, not the worried texts Clint would send her, nor Sam's attempts at cheering her up with bad jokes. However, she was given a way to distract herself. Trying to find any sense of comfort, she had landed into the open arms of Vision. To this day, she wasn't sure who was using who in that relationship. But she had learned to love him, let herself smile when he was with her. Except that it didn't feel the same, she didn't feel that same tender burning in her chest she felt with Pietro when he would hold her.

She had grown dependent enough to bring him back when she lost him.

Loneliness was an awful thing for Wanda. Not only did she have to deal with her own thoughts, but with her powers she had to listen to everyone else's. Sometimes it was fun, accidently hearing her teammates wonder about what colored shirt they should wear that day. It wasn't so fun when she was assaulted with thoughts that were meant for only themselves. Steve constantly thinking about the past, Natasha's usually closed mind showing snippets of old memories in the dead of the night.

It felt like an invasion of privacy that she had no control over. Having to look everyone in the eye as if she didn't know what haunted them was exhausting. None of their minds were peaceful, and it perturbed her enough to not be able to relax even in the day.

And as blue eyes gazed into hers, she understood why her brother's was more comforting than stress inducing.

As jumbled and quick his thoughts could be, it was a pace she learned to go along with; even before she could actually hear them. Most of their memories were shared, it made sense. With the ability to feel his own emotions when they huddled in the dark after leaving Hydra, shots heard in the streets like a twisted white noise she had grown accustomed to, she could feel his love for her and his need to protect her. Safe.

Still, she remained hesitant. Unsure of how he felt at this moment, not daring to peek into his thoughts any deeper than the surface. When his hands cradled her face, she sighed, her own hand brushing up his forearm to settle with a strong grip around his wrist.

"I-" His words left her stunned, and asking herself how she could even think that he stopped loving her. She felt stupid for even asking, of course he would always be with her.

The brush of his thumb against her lip was the last push she needed.

Her left hand shot up to rest at his neck, eyes closing as she focused only on him. A sharp breath of relief leaving her lungs, moving closer to press her forehead against his as best as she could.

" Forever, hummingbird. "

Instead of the red in her eyes flickering out, it burned brighter. Eyelids opening to look at him, pressing closer and hesitantly placing her lips against his. Just a brush, pulling away to look at the ground for a second. Then, as if a switch had flipped, she pressed their lips together again in a more aggressive manner. Almost desperate, mouth slightly to bite at his bottom lip. Hands falling from their place to press against his chest before she gripped tight at the front of his shirt to pull him as close as possible.

Just with this, she felt more complete than she had all these years.

Her hand moving to dig her nails into his hip, the texture of the fabric making her grimace slightly. When the need for oxygen became too much, she pulled away but stayed pressed against him.

"It was always you." Crimson eyes shifted into her usual soft green. "The only one who understood, who could make me feel at peace."

They were two parts of a whole. Remove one and the other might as well be useless.

Wrapping her arm around his neck, fingers threading into soft locks she smiled. An acute and harsh feeling of guilt burned underneath her skin as she thought about how she tried to replace him with the first person that had shown her any small amount of affection.

"Only you."

She needed to apologize before the feeling became too much, the burning in her eyes making itself known when she blinked a few times.

"I thought being with him would help. That it would make me feel better." Her words were threatening to come out choked, the only reason they didn't was the need to sound clear enough for him to understand her. Babbling incoherently wasn't what she wanted or needed at the moment. "It never felt like it was enough."

"I am so sorry. You deserved better than that . I couldn't stand being alone. Without you. "


Whatever it was that she had shared with the android had been his own fault. He had left her, he had died, and left her all alone. He had known he was all she had left. And there wasn't a day that went by that he hadn't hated himself for dying. From the moment he had awoken on an empty street outside of their hometown in Sokovia, he had been searching desperately for the one person in the world that managed to complete him in ways that he would never be able to put into words. She was the other half of his soul, and she always had been.

Seeing the news had hurt. Looking up more information on the internet had hurt even more. But the memories-

Those had hurt the most.

Memories of seeing her look at the fucking glorified toaster with such adoration in her eyes, the way her touch had lingered on him-

It had filled him with such a jealous rage he had hardly been able to control himself from ripping the android to pieces. And with his new speed and abilities, he had little doubt that he would be able to do it.

There was one moment in time that Pietro had allowed himself to feel everything in Westview. And it had been on Halloween. He had been forcing himself to hold back the entire time, forced himself to limit his ability to run. It wasn't easy, but he had done it.

But for one small moment, he had let go, and pushed himself to the fullest. Time had all but stopped, his body wreathed in blue energy as he walked slowly over to stand in front of Wanda. She was wearing some silly costume that was vaguely similar to her costume in his original world. Weird how that sometimes happened.

He simply stood, and studied her. She was as beautiful as the day he had died, but her eyes held an ugly crimson glint in the iris. It was madness, and he hated the way it changed her eyes. He cupped her face gently, and it took everything inside of him to not pick her up and run, run until they were far away from everything and everyone. Run until no one could hope to find them.

But he couldn't. Wouldn't. He had died, and this was his punishment for leaving her alone.

"I love you, Wanda. So fucking much. And I forgive you."

The words had been hard to say, and they meant nothing as she couldn't even hear them. But he had to say them.

He had returned to where he had stood, the energy around him dissipating as time resumed once more. He continued going through the motions, ignoring the dirtyuglyrage that was a constant burning under his skin every time the android touched his- touched Wanda.

He had hated every last second of it.

Learning that when creating a world matching her every desire, he had only been included as an afterthought had cut into his very soul. It made him question everything. He hadn't been gone that long. Three years was enough for her to leave him behind entirely? After everything they had been through together, everything he had done to keep her safe and whole-

That's a dangerous line of thought, Maximoff.

Something that had become increasingly common since his revival.

Part of him wished he was able to stay angry with her. That he could hate her. That he was able to leave her behind as she had done him. He had died though, and that wasn't something people simply came back from, a traitorous part of his mind whispers. And it was right. He was dead , what right did he have to hate Wanda for moving on?

He was the worst brother in the world.

Her hands were cold against his face, and he is acutely aware of the red tinging her gaze. It brought a hesitance to his touch, a hesitance that vanishes the moment her lips are against his.

He felt whole, for once, and his mind, constantly moving forward, processing at blinding speeds, begins to slow, his thoughts consumed by the way she felt, the way she tasted. His hands hold her close, gripping her hips tightly as he pours his everything into the kiss, a low growl echoing from his throat. Blue eyes stare at green, intense as he forces himself to listen to her every syllable. His heart races, her touch pushing a thread of arousal through his body like the wisps of red that pulsed through his very being. He needed her, with every last fibre of his being. And every word that left her only built upon that need until it was all consuming. His hands lift her up until her head is slightly above his own, guiding her legs to wrap comfortably around his hips, a familiar weight. His forehead presses against her own, and he kisses her gently.

"I forgive you, Wanda. For everything. But I'm here now, and I'm never leaving again."

His body tenses, and he gives her a playful smirk.

"Hold tight, Baby Bunny."

The moment the last word is spoken, they're moving, time distorting around them as Pietro blurs through the street, weaving through cars that are practically standing still. He doesn't stop until they're deep into a nearby alleyway, a small overhang covering them from the rain. He presses her back against the wall, not letting her back down to her feet. His hand pushes under the wet fabric of her shirt, calloused fingertips pressing against the warm flesh of her stomach. His hips keep her pinned to the wall as his free hand rises, tangling in her hair and tugging back harshly, tipping her chin up and away from him as his lips press against the flesh of her throat, biting roughly as he leaves the first of many red marks.

"Fuck, Wanda-"

His words are rough and husky, his teeth scraping against her throat. But he wouldn't move forward, couldn't. Not until he was sure she was okay with it. Because no matter how much his body ached with need for her, he would never dare to do anything without her agreement.

"I need you to tell me it's okay. I need-"


Letting out a short huff, her legs tightened around him with a practiced ease. Muscle memory that was thought to be long forgotten

There was a prominent thought that brushed, more like shook, inside her head. Did she deserve to be forgiven at all? No decent sister would ever forget about her brother, much less a twin. Yet, she had. The idea of bringing him back hadn't been something that stood out. But bringing back Vision hadn't been planned either. A feat that came from pure grief. Days spent not realizing of what she had created, only being snapped out of it two or three times.

It was so easy to melt into his arms, to have her body bend and form to fit his. She found herself fitting quite perfectly upon his grip, no second thought needed or any other movement needed to make herself comfortable. She was safe here, safe and complete.

And here he was, telling her that she was forgiven. In his place, she wouldn't have done so. Her mouth opened as she tried to form her line of thought into words. It seemed hard to do, mind running with a million questions.

The way she was clinging to her brother's chest said more than she could. He might have been gone for years, but he was very much loved as any other day. He was loved and greatly appreciated, more than she could explain in any language. The hole he had left was finally filled.

She was whole.

"I am so sorry, you were always the better one of us. More forgiving than me."

Her lips pressed against his softly, a smile making its was onto her lips as wrapped her arms around his neck. Hand finding its place against his neck, fingers tracing random patterns against his skin. Patterns that had been established years ago: Two circles, four squares and three zig-zags. It became a known thing, as much as she tried to pretend that she could surprise him with them, she never could.

Every time he ran with her, she could feel how time changed for a second before she took refuge within his own head. She could withstand many things, but having her sense of time messed with would never do her any good. Seeing everything as he did helped her not feel any effects of it, the gust of wind against her bare thighs the only thing that stood out.

A pale hand moved from his neck down to feel his body, fingertips brushing against the taut muscles of his chest. Middle finger brushing down against the fabric of his shirt before it settled itself on his wrist. Gripping at it tightly, moving one of his hands as she pressed her hips against him. Shifting just enough to grind against him with their given position. Moving his hand to touch against her thighs, the knee high socks gave way to the smooth skin of her thighs; one of her shoes accidentally kicked behind his lower back, quickly falling to the wet floor.

" I need you- " Her voice breathy, lips brushing against his earlobe before she presses an open mouthed kiss against where it met his jaw. Eyes closed, tongue brushing against the small patch of skin between her lips as she kept brushing herself against him. Hips moving to get any sort of friction between them, her breathing sharp as she dug her nails into his shoulder.

" Please, I missed you- "

It came out more of a whine than anything. His lips touching her neck made her shiver, head bumping back against the hard wall while she moved enough to brush core against his clothed member. Eyes closed, savoring every single moment; the feel of his warmth pressed against her gave her memories that she had long buried into the back of her mind. The teeth scraping against her neck made her turn her head down again, mouth open as she pressed her lips against his own. Tongue brushing against his lips before pressing deep into his mouth, trying to fight against his. His taste, the feel of him against her own was something she thought would never happen again. It was a treasured memory, one that was well hidden to not be accidentally shared with each other.


Her words wash over him, and his eyes close, time slipping away from him for a moment as he fights to center himself. It felt like he had lived an entire lifetime as Peter while he had been dead, and he wasn't entirely sure that he hadn't. His newfound increase in ability suggested that this was closer to the truth, and god if it didn't burn in his chest at the thought. The other world, other lifetime, had been unbearable. A father that wanted nothing to do with him, a sister that felt none of what he did. Their bond never formed, and soon Wanda fell in love with that world's Vision, and he had to watch as she created a family with him, until the day Mephisto took her children, and her body broke under the strain of her trying to alter reality to bring them back.

For a short time, Pietro hated Wanda, hated her magic that had been a part of her from the very beginning.

He never knew why he remembered almost an entire lifetime in a world where he and Wanda were all they had, a world where the twins had volunteered to undergo testing to be turned into living weapons to be pointed at Stark Industries.

He hated them.

Memories of a lifetime where he had been finally complete, memories where he didn't feel that gaping pit in the bottom of his heart whenever he looked at Wanda and Vision.

And then, the world had ended, and Pietro awoke in Westview, and it was hell all over again, if not worse.

Because this was his Wanda. The Wanda he had taken the virginity of, the Wanda who had been so utterly in love with him the same way that he had her. And yet here she was, looking at Vision with the same eyes that had once stared at Pietro with such adoration and love.

It had been unbearable, making him want to scratch at his skin until his blood stained the carpet of the home he had always dreamed of having with Wanda, of giving her whenever he thought she wasn't looking into his mind.

A home that belonged to her and Vision.

But things are different now. He was back, well and truly and she knew it. She loved him, wanted him.

was it only because Vision is gone though?

He snarls, and his eyes open, time tugging roughly at his body once more as he allows himself to move normally. His fingers trace a familiar pattern against the soft flesh of her thigh, slow and gentle swirls turning into letters as he writes out a love letter on her flesh with the pad of his thumb. His other hand drifts down, nimble fingers pushing the sleeve before grasping her wrist, pinning it to the wall above her head, thumb brushing against the veins and muscles under her pale skin, before pressing down into the center of her wrist gently.

"I'm all yours, Little Rabbit. Until the end of time."

The words are whispered and snarled against her lips, hushed and impatient as he gladly meets her tongue with his own. His hips press roughly against her own, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass. His cock throbs at the ghost of friction through the thin fabric of the running pants he was wearing. His hand drifts away from her ass, sliding gently between them. His palm presses down against her pelvis, preventing her from continuing her maddening movement, the pad of his thumb teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves atop her core ever so gently through the fabric of her panties. His teeth nip at her lower lip, tugging playfully as possessiveness rears its head in his chest. He pulls back from the kiss, thumb digging gently into the flesh of her wrist as his blue eyes seek out her green.

"Look at me, Bunny. I need you to see me."

His words are harsh and quiet, even as his thumb drags down over her core, pressing firmly against her entrance through the thin fabric. He needed to know that she was here, that she was present, that she knew it was him , not anyone else. During the six months he had been alive in this world, he hadn't been with anyone else, couldn't bring himself to even try. Even though he knew she had moved on, had tried to start a family with- Even though he knew this, he couldn't touch anyone else. None of them were her, and by proxy?

None of them would ever be anything close to good enough for him.

He reveled in the way her body reacted to his every touch, the way her voice dripped with her need for him. It was pride, it was lust, and so much more in between. In that moment, he was her god, and she his goddess, and all that mattered in that moment was he and her. She was the catalyst to his undoing, and never is he so willing to be unraveled so completely than he is whenever he has her in his arms. It was euphoric, and he never wanted it to end.

" You belong to me. And you always will. Just like I belong to you ."


And that's all for this one. Once more, I'd like to thank my lovely co-author for helping me out with the Wanda bits. No matter how hard I try, I never seem to be able to successfully write the Scarlet Witch.