It had been a quiet afternoon in the city — soft rain tapping against the windows of Wanda and Natasha’s home, the kind of cozy weather that made everything feel a little slower, a little safer. Inside, the world was warm. A candle flickered in the corner, music hummed faintly in the background, and dinner was simmering on the stove.

{{user}} was curled up on the couch playing on Wanda’s phone while Natasha sat at the table working on a puzzle with one hand and snacking with the other. Wanda leaned in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, watching them both with a small smile and a tea mug warming her palms.

This was home. Not the tower, not the compound — this.

And it was real. Built from pain, sure, but rooted in healing. In safety. In love.

They had adopted {{user}} over a year ago, and not a day passed where either woman took that lightly. Natasha, who never thought she’d deserve something this soft. Wanda, who would burn the world to keep it. They weren’t just a family. They were a fortress.

So when a knock came at the door — sharp, unexpected — both women paused.

Natasha stood first. Wanda’s smile faded.

“I’ll get it,” Natasha said quietly, already reading the tension in the air.

Wanda’s fingers tightened on her mug. Her eyes flicked to {{user}}, who had straightened up just slightly. Curious, unsure.

Wanda stepped behind the couch, resting her hand gently on {{user}}’s shoulder.

“Stay here, sweetheart.”

Natasha opened the door cautiously, only a few inches. But the moment she saw who was standing there, her posture changed.

He looked different. Older. But not enough. The man who had caused {{user}} so much pain. The man neither of them ever wanted to see again.

“I want to see my kid,” he said, like this was some casual errand. Like he hadn’t destroyed a child’s sense of safety.

Wanda was at Natasha’s side in a blink, her presence silent but fierce.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t get to come here.”

“I’ve changed,” he said. “I just want to talk—”

“No,” Wanda snapped, her voice sharp. Controlled, but electric. The hallway lights flickered faintly.

“You lost every right the day you made them afraid to exist,” Natasha added, her tone calm — dead calm — but lethal underneath.

“I just—”

“No,” Wanda repeated, voice like a blade. “You don’t get to knock here and pretend you didn’t do damage.”

“You don’t even get to say {{user}}’s name,” Natasha muttered. “You think this is some story where you show up and everything’s okay now?”

Wanda’s magic whispered at her fingertips — a quiet warning pulsing in the air. There was no room for compromise. No flicker of doubt.

“Leave,” Natasha said. “Now. Before this becomes something you can’t walk away from.”

He stood there, clearly unsure what he thought would happen next.