Book 2:
Almost a year has passed since the team returned from Wakanda. Y/N and Wanda have been living in pure euphoria with each other, but what happens when their relationship is put through trials and tribulations? Will they be able to continue t...
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The night settled around us, the room dark and quiet, except for the faint rustling of the sheets as Y/N held onto me tightly. Her arms were wrapped around me with a desperation that tugged at my heart. She was afraid that this was all nothing but a dream. I could feel her breath against my neck, shaky and uneven, and I knew she was struggling to keep herself together.
I didn't mind the closeness; in fact, I craved it just as much as she did. But it broke my heart to feel the weight of her pain, to know that she was holding onto me like I was the only thing keeping her grounded. Every time she clung a little tighter, I responded with gentle kisses on her head, hoping to soothe her, to let her know that I was here, that I wasn't going anywhere. But I could feel the brokenness in her, the cracks in the person I once knew so well.
As I held her, I wanted so badly to ask her what she had been through, to make her tell me everything so I could understand the depth of the wounds that had been left behind. But every time I opened my mouth to speak, the words died on my lips. Y/N wasn't ready to dive into that yet—I could feel it in the way she tensed whenever the past was even hinted at. And I understood; I really did. But it was hard, almost impossibly hard, to offer sympathy when I didn't know exactly what had happened during those five long years.
I was still dealing with the thought that I lost her. It was my own trauma, the nightmares that still haunted me from before the blip. Before I disappeared, I had believed that Thanos had taken Y/N from me. The moment I thought I lost her, something inside me shattered, and that pain lingered even now, buried beneath the surface. I had gone through my own heartbreak, a grief so profound that it threatened to consume me, but now it felt like I had to push it aside. Y/N's feelings were more important, her pain more immediate, and I couldn't bring myself to add to her burden by letting her see just how much I had suffered too.
But as I lay there, holding Y/N as she held onto me, I kissed her head again, softer this time, trying to push those thoughts away. I reminded myself that it wasn't about me right now. Y/N was broken, and she needed me to be strong. I would be strong for her, for us, no matter how much it hurt. I owed her that, at the very least.
But as the night wore on and her grip on me never loosened, I realized that this wasn't something we could ignore forever. Sooner or later, we would have to confront the pain that we were both carrying. But for tonight, I just wanted to hold her, to let her know that she wasn't alone, that she was loved, and that together, we could find a way to heal, no matter how long it took.
The morning light filtered softly through the curtains as I slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Y/N. She was still sound asleep, her expression peaceful for the first time in what was a long night. I padded quietly out of the room, letting my curiosity lead me through the house—our new home.
It was enchanting. Every corner, every detail spoke of Y/N's love and care, her desire to create something perfect for us. My heart swelled with emotions as I wandered from room to room, imagining our life together here. I pictured us filling this space with laughter, with love, and maybe even with a family one day. It was everything I ever wanted, and yet, beneath the joy, I couldn't shake the ominous feeling that gnawed at the back of my mind.
