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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

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Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OC — Post-Age of Ultron AU

Summary:

After surviving Ultron, Pietro Maximoff never expected to find a home, let alone love — especially not with Odette, a quiet healer carrying her own scars.

Between meddling teammates, unexpected double proposals, a wedding officiated by Thor, and a family that refuses to mind their own business, Pietro and Odette discover that real love isn’t loud or perfect.

It’s messy, steady, and fiercely theirs.

Warnings/tags: angst, trauma, eventual smut, mentions of mental illness: anxiety and agoraphobia, emotional healing, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff and humour, Pietro is awkwardly romantic, team chaos, Tony as a father figure, tired uncle Steve, sister Nat, SPOILERS wedding/happy ending.

Odette still sat beside Vision, their hands loosely clasped. No one had spoken in a while. There was no need.

Then the footsteps.

Fast. Familiar. Growing louder.

Pietro.

He came around the corner like he’d run the entire compound searching for her—and maybe he had.

His eyes locked onto her and—

Stopped.

Because she wasn’t alone.

She was with Vision.

And she looked... safe.

His breath caught. Not from the sprint.

From something uglier.

Jealousy.

Insecurity.

Fear.

He blinked. Then forced a light tone that didn’t land right. “There you are.”

Odette stood quickly. “I just needed air.”

“With him?” Pietro said it sharper than intended. “You couldn’t find me?”

She frowned. “I didn’t know you were looking—”

“Well, I was.” His jaw was tight. “I’ve been tearing through the halls while you were up here having some… philosophical tea party.”

Vision looked between them. “I’m not currently equipped to steep tea, but I would if it helped.”

Odette’s brows pulled together. “Pietro, what’s going on?”

“You tell me,” he said, arms folded. “I walk in and see you holding hands with a guy who literally doesn’t have a pulse, and suddenly I’m the irrational one?”

Her mouth parted—hurt flickering across her face. “I wasn’t hiding. Vision found me. I didn’t even know I needed someone until he just listened.”

“I always listen.”

“I just... needed someone else.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Pietro went quiet.

Vision, still perfectly composed, turned his head slightly. “Ah. Conflict born from emotional misalignment. Fascinating.”

Odette sighed, stepping back. “I don't mean that how it sounds... this isn’t what I wanted.”

“No,” Pietro said, quieter now. “Me neither.”

Vision stood now as well, his tone neutral but observant. “May I suggest that jealousy is not a flaw, but a reflection of deep investment—one which should be voiced, not punished.”

Odette looked away.

Pietro looked down.

They were close, and yet, for the first time in weeks, not together.

And Vision?

He just blinked slowly and said, “I will leave you two to handle… whatever this is.”

Then glided down the hallway like a graceful chaos ghost leaving Odette and Pietro alone in awkward, tense silence neither knew how to break.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in Tony's workshop...

Tony had taken over one entire wall with printouts, screenshots, post-it notes, and at least six different strings in various colours. It looked like a cross between a conspiracy theory breakdown and a child's art project.

Clint, Sam, Natasha, and Steve stood in a loose semicircle, pizza boxes open and rapidly emptying behind them.

Clint pointed at a blurry security camera still. “This guy has shifty eyes.”

Sam deadpanned, “That’s literally Bruce.”

“Okay, but why was he in the med-bay at 2 a.m. on a Tuesday?”

Steve frowned. “He’s the lead medic, Clint.”

Natasha sipped a beer. “We’ve officially entered delusion.”

Tony turned toward the board, whiteboard marker clenched like a dagger. “One of you morons is leaking compound intel and trying to humiliate my emotionally stunted adopted daughter, and I will find you.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Any actual suspects?”

Tony slapped a new picture onto the wall with a flourish. “Boom. Janine. Logistics intern. She complimented Odette’s hair too enthusiastically last week. Suspicious.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “You need sleep.”

“I need justice.”

Natasha sighed and took a seat. It was going to be a long few days.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pietro's room was dim. Just the blue glow of the moon through the windows and the flicker of a muted TV screen playing something he wasn’t watching.

Pietro sat on the floor, back against his bed, head in his hands. Still dressed from earlier. Still hearing Odette’s voice— needed someone else.

He hated how fast it had all gone sideways.

He’d gotten jealous.

Not just jealous—unravelled.

Over Vision.

And what was worse… he hated that part of him understood it.

Because Vision was calm. Patient. Articulate. Perfect.

And Pietro?

He was always the storm. Never the shelter.

There came a noise at the door, the knock was soft.

He didn’t look up. “Not now.”

But the door opened anyway.

Of course it did.

Riley.

“Sorry,” she said, stepping in slowly, all soft concern. “I just… heard what happened. Thought you might want to talk.”

He finally looked up, eyes narrowed. “How did you hear?”

She smiled. Just enough. “Word travels.”

He didn’t respond.

She moved closer. Didn’t sit—just hovered nearby. Hands clasped in front of her like she wasn’t trying to look too eager.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see,” Riley added, voice quiet, “but I get it. The way it feels when someone you care about connects with someone else.”

He stayed silent.

She knelt beside him now. Too close. Not touching.

“I saw them together,” she murmured. “Her and Vision. It’s… intense.”

Pietro flinched. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know body language.” She sighed, like it pained her to say it. “She looks at him the way she used to look at you.”

His jaw clenched.

“I’m not saying she doesn’t care about you,” Riley continued, voice barely above a whisper. “But she’s never really let anyone in the way she lets him in. Maybe it’s just easier with someone who doesn’t feel so much all the time.”

That landed like a knife.

Because Pietro did feel too much. Always.

And Odette had never made him feel like that was a flaw.

Until today.

He stared straight ahead, trying to breathe evenly.

Riley stood, slow and graceful. “I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just… I hate seeing you hurt.”

Then she leaned down, close enough to brush her lips to his temple.

“Maybe some people are meant for peace,” she whispered. “And some of us are just fire.”

And with that—she left.

Leaving behind silence.

And smoke.

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

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Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OC — Post-Age of Ultron AU

Summary:

After surviving Ultron, Pietro Maximoff never expected to find a home, let alone love — especially not with Odette, a quiet healer carrying her own scars.

It’s messy, steady, and fiercely theirs.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Neither spoke right away. Odette moved toward the bed, pulling her hoodie off slowly, the post-training flush still lingering on her skin. Pietro hovered near the dresser, watching her like she might flicker out of the room if he blinked too hard.

Her shoulder was red—already bruising from one of their faster exchanges. She hadn't been bothered to heal it yet.

“I told you not to hold back,” she said, catching him looking.

“I didn’t,” he replied. “You just hit harder than you look.”

She smirked. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He crossed to the nightstand, opened the drawer, pulled out the little first aid tin he never used until her.

Wordlessly, he sat beside her and gently tilted her toward him. His fingers were careful. Reverent. Like touching her too fast might shatter something neither of them wanted to break.

“I'll heal it later. You don't need to,” she murmured.

“You didn’t have to knock me on my ass.” Pietro shrugged, secretly just wanting a reason to be close to her.

“I did it for feminism.”

Pietro laughed under his breath, shaking his head.

She turned her face toward his. “Why’d you really do it?”

He went still.

Then, voice low: “Because I like seeing you strong. Fierce. You’ve always been powerful, Odette. But now… now you know it.”

Her breath caught, just a little.

He pressed the cooling pad to her shoulder, watching her flinch and then relax into it.

“I saw the way they looked at you after,” he added. “Not because you’re with me. But because you are you.”

Odette looked down. “You make me braver.”

“No,” he said gently, brushing hair behind her ear. “I just gave you room to see it.”

Her hand slipped into his.

And they sat like that—bruised, sweating, hearts loud in the silence.

Not lovers.

Not yet.

But something older. Something honest.

Something earned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been an exhausting day.

Not physically. Not even from training. The emotional weight of being seen—on the mat, in the halls, in headlines—hung over Odette like fog.

At dinnertime Tony was still fielding calls from PR damage control.

“‘The Speedster and the Survivor’?” Sam had read aloud. “Yikes. Who’s leaking this crap?”

“Someone on the inside,” Natasha had said coolly. “Has to be. These aren’t guesses. They know things.”

Things like what time she started her rounds.

How often Pietro left the gym to walk her back to the med-bay.

How she'd taken to wearing his hoodie in the mornings.

The intimacy of it all—stripped, dissected, sold.

Odette felt like glass again.

But when she knocked gently on Pietro’s door that night, he opened it without question.

Without asking why.

Without looking away.

She lay beside him now, his bed-sheets pulled over them both, their bodies turned toward one another. The lamp was dimmed to a warm gold. He was shirtless, sleep-warm, one hand resting near her hip.

Not touching.

Just there.

“I feel like they’ve taken pieces of me,” she said softly. “And scattered them online.”

“They don’t have you,” Pietro whispered. “They just have stories.”

“But someone’s feeding them. Someone close.”

“I’ll find them.”

The way he said it—quiet, absolute—sent a thrill through her that had nothing to do with vengeance and everything to do with safety.

She shifted closer, forehead touching his. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” he said. “But neither was everything you survived before this. And you still became the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

Odette’s voice shook. “They called me "his new obsession". Said I’ve "tamed the untameable.”"

Pietro smirked faintly. “You didn’t tame me.”

“I didn’t?”

“No. You saw me. That’s worse.”

She laughed—quiet and aching.

And then, gently, Pietro lifted her hand to his chest, placed it over his heart.

“I used to think I’d never belong to anything,” he murmured. “Not a place. Not a team. Not a person.” He met her eyes. “And now I want to belong to you.”

Odette blinked, tears gathering at the corners of her lashes. “I don’t want to hide this. Us.”

“Then we don’t.”

“They’ll tear us apart. They'll ruin it.”

“They’ll try,” he said, voice low.

And with that, he finally pulled her into him—carefully, like she was something sacred. Her head tucked beneath his chin, their legs tangled like a secret.

And they slept. Peacefully.

And somewhere beyond the door, someone else was watching.

Someone who knew what they shared.

And couldn’t wait to twist it into something cruel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The article hit just after sunrise.

Not speculation. Not rumour. Confirmation.

An "inside source" claimed Odette and Pietro had shared a bed. Gave exact details—too specific to guess. The room. The hour. What they'd been wearing, how they were "flushed and sweaty as they locked the door behind them."

It was invasive.

Humiliating.

The team reacted exactly how Odette feared—and not at all how she expected.

Tony stormed into the common room already mid-rant, phone in one hand, coffee in the other. “I swear to God, I will gut every comm tech in this place until someone admits who leaked it. This is my house. My rules. Nobody fucks with my kid.”

Clint tossed a folder across the counter. “That’s the third private line tapped. Someone’s either listening in or tailing her movements.”

Sam, arms crossed, shook his head. “This stopped being funny a long time ago.”

Steve tried to stay calm—but the look in his eyes was deadly. “We find the source. Fast.”

And Natasha?

She said nothing.

She just stood in the corner, a knife in one hand, slicing an apple in perfect, silent motions.

Odette sat in the far chair, watching it all unfold like she was floating above it. Too tired to cry. Too proud to ask for space. She didn’t want pity.

She wanted to breathe.

So she slipped out of the room—quietly, unnoticed.

But someone followed.

Vision found her sitting on the floor beneath a tall window, her knees drawn up, cardigan sleeves over her hands.

She didn’t flinch when he approached.

“I hoped I might find you here,” he said gently.

Odette blinked up at him. “Not joining the war party downstairs?”

“They have their roles,” he said. “And I have mine.”

She smiled faintly. “Which is?”

“To see the truth when others are too angry to look.”

He sat beside her, folding his legs neatly.

“I’m not embarrassed,” she said after a moment. “Not about Pietro. Not about… sharing that space.”

“No,” Vision agreed. “You are not embarrassed. You are betrayed.”

Her throat tightened.

“I have read hundreds of articles about love,” he continued, tone thoughtful. “Observed it. Asked questions. But until recently, I did not understand the cost.”

“What cost?”

“The vulnerability. The risk. The way love invites others to witness something sacred—and dares them to destroy it.”

Odette stared at him, stunned.

“Most beings,” Vision added, “fear being exposed. But you—Odette—you chose love even when it meant being seen.”

He looked at her then, eyes soft and strangely warm.

“That is not weakness.”

“It feels like it.”

“No,” he said again. “It is the rarest kind of strength.”

A pause.

Then, softly: “You are not the sum of someone else’s leak. You are not what they wrote. You are what you chose. And he chose you, too.”

Her eyes stung.

She didn’t speak.

She just reached over and took Vision’s hand.

And he let her.

They sat there in silence. Not hiding.

Just being.

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

Text

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OC — Post-Age of Ultron AU

Summary:

After surviving Ultron, Pietro Maximoff never expected to find a home, let alone love — especially not with Odette, a quiet healer carrying her own scars.

It’s messy, steady, and fiercely theirs.

Wanda was the first one into the kitchen that morning. She moved quietly, hair pulled back, sweatshirt oversized. She was pouring coffee when she glanced out the wide window overlooking the courtyard.

Then she stilled.

There, curled up on one of the outside lounge chairs, she saw them.

Pietro and Odette.

He was stretched on his side, still in last night’s clothes, one arm slung over her waist.

She was tucked against his chest, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, head resting near his collarbone.

Not scandalous.

Not preformative.

Just… peaceful.

Like neither of them had slept that soundly in years.

Wanda smiled into her coffee.

A few minutes later, Sam walked in, saw her expression, and followed her gaze.

“Well,” he muttered, “guess Romeo does sleep eventually.”

“They look happy,” Wanda said softly.

Steve entered next, took one look, and just said, “About time.”

Then Tony.

Tony did not say “about time.”

He squinted.

Groaned.

And made a dramatic show of covering his eyes with his coffee mug.

“We need rules about horizontal cuddling in shared spaces.”

“They’re not doing anything,” Wanda said flatly.

“They’re being adorable,” Tony shot back. “Which is somehow worse.”

But still—he didn’t stop watching.

Not until Odette stirred and blinked blearily toward the glass. When her eyes met his through the reflection, she froze.

Tony raised his mug in a salute.

And walked off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that morning...

Odette stepped into the lab expecting an awkward quip or a sarcastic lecture.

Instead, Tony just looked up from his bench, motioned her in, and said, “Sit.”

She did.

Quiet.

Bracing.

“I’m not gonna threaten him again,” Tony said, not looking at her. “Mostly because he already looks like a kicked puppy when it comes to you.”

Odette blinked. “Then what’s this?”

He glanced at her. “This is me… trying not to "parent" badly.”

She didn’t speak.

He sighed.

“I know I’ve made you feel like you had to be okay all the time,” Tony said, voice softer now. “Useful. Controlled. Perfectly stable. You’re the one person in this place who doesn’t ask for anything, so we all forget you might need something.”

Her throat tightened.

“But then you go and fall for a human lightning bolt,” Tony continued, finally smirking. “And suddenly I’m reminded you’re still young. Still figuring things out. Still healing.”

He met her gaze.

“And somehow, with him? You look lighter. Like you’re finally not holding the whole damn world alone.”

Odette swallowed hard. “You’re not disappointed?”

Tony shook his head. “No, kid. I’m relieved.”

A pause.

Then—“Just don’t let him leave crumbs in my workshop.”

Odette laughed—quiet, but real.

Tony leaned back in his chair, looking smug again. “You two make sense, you know. Took me a while to see it. But you do.”

She smiled, almost shy.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

And in that moment, she realised—maybe she didn’t have to explain why she felt safe with Pietro. Maybe it was just known.

Like music through a wall. Like the thread between them.

Like love that starts slow… and never lets go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That afternoon in the training room...

The room was humming with movement: bodies hitting mats, gloves smacking pads, Natasha shouting instructions like a drill sergeant with a grudge.

Odette usually observed from the sidelines—ready with cold packs, not combat.

Not today.

Today, she stood barefoot on the mat, tied hair, bandaged knuckles, heart racing. Natasha had asked if she wanted to try. Just drills. Nothing fancy.

Then Pietro smirked from the other end of the room and called, “I’ll take her.”

Natasha raised a brow. “You sure?”

Pietro cracked his neck. “I’ll go easy.”

Odette rolled her eyes. “Please don’t.”

The room paused. Like, literally paused.

Sam looked up from his push-ups. Wanda stopped glowing red. Tony—watching from the balcony—nearly dropped his protein shake.

Natasha smirked. “Your funeral, Maximoff.”

They squared off.

She was focused, measured. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a human storm-cloud.

And then—movement.

He forced himself to move as human speed, came at her with a feint, testing speed.

She ducked under it, spun on her heel, and swept low.

He dodged—barely.

And grinned like she’d kissed him in public.

“Oof,” Sam muttered. “This is gonna be gross.”

“She’s doing well,” Steve noted, eyebrows raised.

“She’s thriving,” Wanda said under her breath.

Tony squinted. “Do I need to hit a fire alarm, or are they going to make out on the mat?”

Pietro came at her again, fast—too fast—but slowed at the last second, his hands hovering just above her waist.

“You hesitated,” she said.

“Did not.”

“You did.”

He smirked. “Sorry, sweetheart, I was distracted. Didn't know you were so… bendy.”

Odette flushed and raised a brow. “Keep talking. See how long it takes me to drop you.”

“Threats? Already?” he teased. “And here I thought we were bonding.”

Odette moved—quick and clever—slipping under his arm and catching him just off balance. Enough to make him stumble.

The room erupted.

Nat whistled. Sam shouted, “SHE GOT HIM!”

Pietro, on his back now, just blinked at the ceiling. “Okay. I deserved that.”

Odette leaned over him, grinning. “You definitely did.”

He stared up at her like she’d just rewritten gravity.

And Tony, watching from above, shook his head and muttered, “Unbelievable.”

Steve laughed.

Natasha just said, “They’re in love.”

Wanda: “They’ve always been in love.”

Tony sighed and muttered to himself like a man defeated. “If they start making heart eyes during briefings again, I’m cutting the power to the training floor.”

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff mcu #avengers #mcu #marvel mcu #pietro maximoff fic #pietro maximoff x oc #multi chap fic #romance #slow burn #eventual smut #team chaos #flirting

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

Text

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OC — Post-Age of Ultron AU

Summary:

After surviving Ultron, Pietro Maximoff never expected to find a home, let alone love — especially not with Odette, a quiet healer carrying her own scars.

It’s messy, steady, and fiercely theirs.

Odette was returning from lunch, clipboard in hand, focus narrowed to the patient charts she’d promised Bruce she’d review by end of day. Her cardigan sleeves were pushed to her elbows, dark hair in a low, loose braid. She looked calm. Sharp. Composed.

Until Riley stopped in her path.

Riley. The Intel officer "with dimples". She was leaning against the wall like it was part of her, arms folded, smile tight.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Riley said.

Odette blinked, coming to a slow stop. “About what?”

“Pietro.”

A beat.

Odette said nothing.

“I just think you should know…” Riley took a step closer, voice soft, syrupy. “You’re setting yourself up for disappointment. He does this. Gets bored. Finds a new soft thing to chase.”

Odette’s lips parted—more in surprise than anything else.

Riley went on. “He likes the idea of you. That shy, broken-girl charm. But it wears off.”

Odette tilted her head, slowly closing the clipboard. Her voice was quiet. Level.

“Did it wear off with you?”

Riley faltered. “Excuse me?”

“Whatever it was. A night? A week? A few flirty missions? Did it wear off with you—or was it never real to begin with?”

Riley’s expression darkened. “You think you’re better than me?”

“No,” Odette said. “But I think he sees something in me he didn’t see in you. And that bugs you.”

Riley straightened, something sharp in her stare. “Don’t get too comfortable. You’re not exactly built for long-term affection.”

Odette looked her in the eye, calm and unflinching.

“I wasn’t built for anything,” she said. “But I survived everything.”

She turned without another word and walked past her.

What she didn’t know—what she couldn’t see—was Pietro leaning against the hallway just around the corner. He’d heard all of it.

And his heart? It felt like it had been pulled out of his chest and lit on fire—in the best way.

Odette didn’t know she’d just changed something in him.

She didn’t know she’d just become the person he would never walk away from.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that day, late evening...

It had become a quiet ritual: Odette stopping by Pietro’s quarters at the end of long days. Sometimes they barely spoke. Sometimes they shared food and music and silence. Other times, they lay side by side—not touching, just breathing.

Tonight, it was raining. Soft and steady.

She sat cross-legged at the edge of his bed, braiding her damp hair with slow, absent-minded fingers while Pietro scrolled lazily through the playlist they shared. His hoodie hung from her shoulders. She didn’t even remember putting it on anymore.

“I like the rain,” she murmured.

“It’s the only thing in this place that doesn’t talk too much.”

She smiled at that.

He glanced up at her. Held her gaze a little longer than usual.

“I heard what you said to Riley.”

Odette stilled, the braid slipping from her fingers.

“What?”

“In the hallway. By med-bay.”

Her chest tightened. “You were—spying on me?”

“Technically,” he said, stretching out beside her, “I was loitering in your general direction. But yes. I heard everything.”

Odette dropped her gaze. “I didn’t want to cause drama. I just… didn’t want her thinking she knew me.”

“You didn’t cause drama.” He sat up now, serious. “You levelled her with one sentence. It was incredible.”

Odette’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re not… embarrassed?”

Pietro leaned in. “Are you kidding?”"

“I’ve been flirted with, chased, had people throw themselves at me—none of it ever stuck. You didn’t chase me. You challenged me. You saw through all the crap. And now? You’re not scared of people trying to rip you apart, you’re scaring them.”

He gave her a slow, reverent smile.

“I’ve never wanted someone so badly, and still wanted to protect them more.”

Her breath caught.

“I know we’re taking this slow,” he continued. “But you should know… I’m all in. Even if we’re still moving in inches.”

Odette looked at him like he was the first real thing she’d ever believed in.

Then, voice trembling: “I’m not easy to love.”

“Good,” Pietro murmured. “I’m not easy either. But I’m not going anywhere.”

She reached for his hand.

He didn’t kiss her.

He just pulled her in and let her fall asleep with her head on his chest, heartbeat steady beneath her cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The scream was muffled.

Not loud, not panicked—but it still yanked Odette awake.

She sat up in a rush, blinking sleep from her eyes. Her fingers instinctively reached out across the bed.

Empty.

She slid off the mattress and found him on the floor. Pietro was curled in on himself, back pressed to the wall, hoodie soaked in sweat. His eyes were open but distant, like he was trapped in the space between memory and panic.

She didn’t speak at first. Just knelt slowly beside him and let her presence exist.

Then, softly, “You’re okay. You’re here.”

He didn’t respond. Just rubbed a trembling hand down his face.

“Pietro,” she whispered, placing her palm over his hand. “Look at me.”

When he finally did, she saw it: the raw grief. The flicker of shame. The exhaustion of a thousand days spent being fast enough to outrun it all.

But not tonight.

“I saw her,” he said quietly. “My mother. My father. I was trying to reach Wanda but it—everything was falling again. Sokovia. The building. I couldn’t move fast enough.”

“You’re here,” she said again, firmer now. “You're okay...”

Odette moved closer, sitting against the wall beside him, legs tucked beneath her. She reached out and gently pulled his head to her shoulder, one hand combing through his sweat-damp hair, the other resting over his heart.

“I have nightmares too,” she said. “About the lab. About when they’d use me to keep the soldiers alive longer. Some of them just long enough to suffer...”

Pietro flinched.

“I used to think I was broken because of what I lived through,” she whispered. “But then I met you. And I didn’t feel so broken anymore.”

He didn’t speak—but she felt it when he exhaled. The shift. The soft collapse into safety.

“You don’t have to run,” she said. “Not from this. Not from me.”

Pietro's hand found hers. Clutched it like it was the only thing holding him together.

“I don’t know how to let people stay,” he admitted.

“Then let me be the first to try.”

They stayed like that, pressed together against the wall, the room dim with only the faintest light spilling from the hallway.

And when Pietro finally drifted into sleep again—head against her shoulder, breathing even—Odette didn’t move.

She just kept holding him.

Because she knew him.

And he knew her.

Like old songs. Like scars. Like something you never meant to carry but never want to let go of.

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff boyfriend edition #pietro maximoff mcu #avengers #mcu #marvel mcu #eventual smut #slow burn #romance #idiots in love #emotional healing #angst #hurt/comfort #trauma #anxiety #agoraphobia #mental health #mental illness

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

Text

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OC — Post-Age of Ultron AU

Summary:

After surviving Ultron, Pietro Maximoff never expected to find a home, let alone love — especially not with Odette, a quiet healer carrying her own scars.

It’s messy, steady, and fiercely theirs.

The hallway lights had dimmed for the night, the compound hushed. Odette’s bare feet barely made a sound as she padded down the corridor, arms wrapped tightly around her middle, Nat’s words still echoing softly in her mind.

You made each other stop.

When she opened her door, she expected darkness. Silence.

But the lamp near her window was on, casting a warm amber glow—and there he was.

Pietro.

Curled up in her reading chair like he belonged there, hoodie pulled over his hair, legs folded awkwardly because the chair was a bit too small for his frame.

He looked up immediately, as if he’d heard her footsteps before the door opened.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” she whispered back, uncertain as to why he was in her room.

“I didn’t want to crowd you,” he added quickly, eyes flicking to hers. “I just—didn’t want to be far either. So... I loitered.”

A smile tugged at her mouth. “You loitered in my room?”

“Like a gentleman.”

She stepped inside, closed the door gently behind her. “You could’ve gone to bed.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t want to sleep if you were still replaying everything alone.”

Odette blinked. Somehow, he knew.

She crossed to the bed, sat on the edge. After a beat, he stood, moving slowly—so she could stop him if she needed to. She didn’t.

He sat beside her.

Not too close.

But close enough that their knees brushed.

“I don’t know how to be in something that matters,” she said quietly, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. “Every time I care, it feels like an opening. A weak spot.”

“Yeah,” Pietro murmured. “I know the feeling.”

She looked down. “I feel like both the shield and the wound.”

“I don’t want to scare you away.”

“You couldn’t,” he said instantly.

“Even if I have bad days?”

“I’ll sit through them.”

“If I freeze up? Shut down?”

“I’ll wait.”

Her voice shook. “What if I’m too much?”

Pietro leaned forward then, forearms braced on his knees, gaze never leaving hers.

“Then I’ll match you, heartbeat for heartbeat. I don’t need easy, Odette. I need you.”

Her hand reached for his—slowly, but without hesitation now. And when their fingers met it wasn’t about comfort.

It was a choice.

A quiet, defiant, soul-deep choice.

They sat like that for a long time, the night wrapping around them like a secret. No kisses. No declarations. Just two people who had spent too long on the outside finally letting someone in.

And neither one pulled away.

One week later...

They weren’t together in the way people expected.

No PDA. No make-out sessions in hallways. No candlelit dinners or dramatic declarations.

Just presence.

Pietro walking her to the med-bay every morning.

Odette saving him the last blueberry muffin in the kitchen like it was a sacred ritual.

Training sessions where they barely touched but moved in tandem, like they’d been practising for years.

He never hovered, but somehow, he was always there.

And it drove people insane.

Especially the women who’d had Pietro’s attention before.

They watched with a mix of curiosity and bitterness, trying to piece together how this happened. How the quiet, skittish girl with storm-dark eyes had gone from a ghost in the compound to the only person Pietro actually stayed for.

“He used to flirt with everyone,” one agent whispered over coffee. “I thought he’d get bored in a week.”

“Did you see them at the gym yesterday? She handed him his towel like it was foreplay.”

“I heard he turned down an actual date with Riley from Intel. And Riley has dimples.”

Odette heard it all.

And it made her want to disappear again.

But then there’d be Pietro—slouching into her office with two cups of coffee and zero patience for anyone’s passive-aggressive commentary.

“They’re jealous,” he told her simply, dropping onto her couch like he owned it. “They wanted the version of me I let them see. You’re the only one who got past it.”

She looked at him. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m glad you did.”

That night, in the quiet of the common room, she sat curled on the far end of the couch while Pietro played something aimless on the TV. His feet were kicked up, and he wasn’t even pretending to watch.

She glanced over at him, voice barely a whisper. “Why are you still here?”

He looked at her, brow furrowing.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not like them. I’m not fun. I don’t flirt. I freeze. I overthink everything.”

“You’re not like them,” he said, slowly, “because you’re real.”

Odette looked down at her hands. “You could have anyone.”

“I did.”

He reached out, gently taking her hand, grounding her again.

“And I walked away from every one of them the second they started looking through me.”

His voice softened.

“You look at me. And it’s terrifying. But I think I’d rather be terrified with you than numb with anyone else.”

She didn’t cry.

She just leaned her head on his shoulder, finally letting herself rest there.

And he didn’t move.

He just stayed.

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

Text

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OC — Post-Age of Ultron AU

Summary:

After surviving Ultron, Pietro Maximoff never expected to find a home, let alone love — especially not with Odette, a quiet healer carrying her own scars.

It’s messy, steady, and fiercely theirs.

It started with the press.

Photos leaked from the compound event. A blurry shot of them dancing. Another of them leaving the balcony together. Nothing scandalous—but enough to spark whispers. The mystery girl. The Maximoff boy. Headlines ran wild.

Tony brushed it off at first. “Tabloids are vultures. You’re fine. You’re not even tagged by name.”

But it didn’t stop the murmurs in the halls. The curious stares from agents who didn’t know her story. The sudden uptick in interns suddenly needing “medical attention” just to get a glimpse of the quiet girl who apparently tamed the speedster.

Odette hated it.

She felt eyes on her everywhere.

She stopped taking her coffee in the common room. Skipped lunch in the cafeteria. Moved between wings like a shadow.

And Pietro noticed.

He found her outside the gym one afternoon, standing alone with her arms crossed tight around her chest.

“They’re talking again,” she murmured. “I heard them in the elevator.”

He didn’t ask what they said. He didn’t need to.

“I just wanted to exist here. I didn’t want to become someone’s story.”

“You’re not,” Pietro said, voice low, firm.

Odette blinked up at him.

“I don’t care what they say,” he continued. “Let them write headlines. Let them wonder. They don’t get to claim you just because they finally noticed you exist.”

Her lip trembled slightly. “You say that now. But eventually the novelty will wear off. And I’ll still be the weird girl who hides in Tony’s lab.”

Pietro shook his head, stepping closer.

“I don’t want novelty. I want you.”

She looked at him like she couldn’t decide whether to kiss him or cry.

Instead, she whispered, “I think I’m scared of being someone’s soft spot.”

“Why?”

“Because soft spots get exploited. Used.”

He was silent for a long beat. Then:

“Okay. Then don’t be mine.” He stepped closer, fire in his voice. “I’ll be yours. You want to be guarded? I’ll guard you. You want to be left alone? I’ll clear a hallway. You want to disappear into the shadows again? Then I’ll build a world where shadows are safe.”

Odette swallowed hard.

He wasn’t smooth when he said it. He wasn’t trying to be. His voice cracked halfway through.

And that’s what made her believe him.

She took a shaky step forward. Then another.

And when she kissed him this time, it wasn’t her first.

But it felt just as world-altering.

Like two people choosing each other against all odds—one broken girl who never got to be soft, and one boy with the world’s weight in his chest, learning how to carry it for someone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later in the Avenger's briefing room...

The briefing had ended, but the tension hadn’t.

Steve hung back, arms crossed, eyes flicking between Pietro and Odette, who stood at the far side of the room. She was quiet, posture slightly stiff, aware she was being talked about before anyone had even spoken.

Wanda lingered in the doorway, watching her brother carefully.

Tony, of course, paced in that dramatic way only he could pull off.

“So,” Tony began, finally turning. “Let’s talk about the giant headline-shaped elephant in the room.”

Pietro raised a brow. “Is this the part where you tell me you disapprove and I pretend to care?”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Don’t try me, Maximoff. You may have survived Sokovia, but no one survives me when I’m in overprotective pseudo-dad mode.”

Odette flinched slightly. Pietro noticed. His jaw tightened.

Steve stepped in, voice gentler. “No one’s mad. We’re just… concerned. Odette hasn’t had an easy life. If this is a phase—”

Pietro cut him off, sharp. “A phase?”

“She’s not like the other girls you flirt with,” Steve added, softly, but firm. “She’s not someone you can run from if it gets complicated.”

“I wasn’t planning to run,” Pietro said, eyes narrowing. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Tony held up a hand. “Look, nobody’s doubting your trauma credentials, speedy. You’ve had it rough. But so has she. She’s not some PR liability or fangirl you get to screw around with and drop when the compound drama cools down.”

Odette opened her mouth to speak, but Pietro beat her to it.

“Okay, first of all,” he snapped, “have any of you actually talked to her? Because you’re all acting like she’s some wounded animal I picked up on the side of the road.”

Tony's expression faltered.

“She’s not fragile,” Pietro continued. “She’s not a charity case. She’s the reason I’m alive. She’s the one person here who looks at me and doesn’t see the mess. So maybe back off before you start pushing her back into the shadows you all left her in.”

Odette sucked in a sharp breath, stunned.

Steve glanced at her, then Pietro. “We’re not trying to push her anywhere. We’re trying to protect her.”

“She doesn’t need protecting from me,” Pietro said, voice steel. “You think I’d let anyone touch her wrong—including me? I’d tear myself apart before I hurt her.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, you’re already dramatic together. This is gonna be exhausting.”

“Aw, you do approve,” Pietro said, mock-sweet.

“I’m not hugging you.”

“I’m crushed.”

Tony scoffed and stepped forward, slowly. His gaze moved to Odette, not unkind. “I just need to know you're ready for this.”

Odette finally spoke, voice steady but soft. “I wasn’t. But I am now.”

The room went still.

Pietro reached out and took her hand—not for show, not to prove a point. Just because he wanted to.

Tony groaned. “Fine. But if I catch either of you sneaking off into empty offices or broom closets, I will launch you into low orbit.”

“No promises,” Pietro grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sky was painted in deep blue and gold, the sun already gone but the day not quite finished.

Odette sat curled up on the cushioned bench near the railing, fingers around a lukewarm mug of tea she hadn’t really sipped. She’d slipped away from the chaos downstairs the second she could. Pietro had offered to stay, but she’d asked for a moment alone.

She didn’t realise she wasn’t alone until a soft voice spoke behind her.

“You know, for someone who used to flinch when anyone stood too close… you’ve gotten awfully comfortable with a certain silver-haired speedster.”

Odette turned her head slowly.

Natasha Romanoff was leaning casually against the stone wall, arms folded, face unreadable—except for that glint in her eyes.

“Wasn’t expecting an audience,” Odette said, voice dry.

“Didn’t need one. You two lit up the entire compound with your tension the other night. It’s impressive, honestly. Most people don’t get that kind of gravitational pull."

Odette sighed, then looked back out at the horizon. “You think it’s stupid.”

Nat pushed off the wall and walked over, sitting beside her—just close enough to share space.

“No,” she said after a beat. “I think it’s brave.”

Odette blinked. “Really?”

“You’re letting someone in. After everything.” She looked at her, steady. “That’s not stupid. That’s impossible for some people.”

Odette hesitated, voice small. “Everyone else seems to think I’m fragile. Like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“They think they’re protecting you.” Nat smirked. “Badly, but still. And Pietro…?”

Her smirk deepened. “Pietro’s completely wrecked.”

Odette’s eyes darted to her.

“Oh, come on,” Nat said, amused. “He watches you like you hold the off switch for the whole world. I’ve seen snipers with less focus.”

A beat passed. Then:

“You like him.”

Odette’s throat tightened. “Yeah.”

“That's a good thing.”

“I’m just scared he’ll realise I’m not what he wants. That I can’t give him the kind of easy, normal relationship most people want.”

Nat was quiet for a long time. Then:

“I don’t think either of you are built for easy.”

Odette looked at her.

“That’s a compliment, by the way.” Nat smirked again. “Easy’s boring.”

Odette finally laughed. Just a little.

“I’ll tell you this,” Nat added, finishing the last of her own tea, “if anyone gives you crap for being happy—just send them my way.”

Odette smiled. “You’ll make them disappear?”

“No,” Nat said. “I’ll make them uncomfortable. It’s more fun.”

They sat in silence for a while after that. Comfortable.

And just before she left, Nat said, “You two are good for each other.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re both used to running. And somehow… you made each other stop.”

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

Text

Part 2

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OC — Post-Age of Ultron AU

Summary:

After surviving Ultron, Pietro Maximoff never expected to find a home, let alone love — especially not with Odette, a quiet healer carrying her own scars.

It’s messy, steady, and fiercely theirs.

They hadn’t even noticed how many eyes were on them until the music faded into something peppier and Odette let out a quiet laugh against Pietro’s shoulder. Just a soft sound—quick and shy—but it lit something in him.

And that’s when they looked up.

Because Tony Stark, naturally, was pointing.

“Is that our resident Florence Nightingale slow-dancing with the human pinball machine?”

Natasha leaned back against the bar, sipping her drink. “Don’t ruin it, Tony.”

“I’m not ruining it, I’m observing. This is an observation. Scientific.” He waved his glass in their direction. “That’s Pietro Maximoff. Mister I-Don’t-Slow-Down-For-Anyone. Look at him. Practically moving in reverse.”

Wanda, nearby, gave a small, quiet smile. “It’s good for him.”

Steve raised a brow. “You’re not worried?”

She shook her head. “For once, no.”

Sam let out a low whistle. “He’s got his hands all up on her back, too. That’s not a charity dance, that’s a ‘you’re the only person in this room’ kind of hold.”

Bruce glanced up from his drink. “I didn’t even know Odette danced.”

“She doesn’t,” Tony said, eyes still trained on the pair like he was watching a wildlife documentary. “Which means this is either a medical miracle or a side effect of exposure to excessive Eastern European charm.”

“Careful,” Natasha warned with a smirk, “he might start charming you next.”

“I’m immune,” Tony sniffed. “And also her father figure, which means I reserve the right to have a full-blown breakdown about this later.”

Steve smirked. “You’re already having one.”

“I’m pre-gaming the breakdown, Steve.”

Across the room, Odette caught sight of them all watching—and immediately ducked her head, her cheeks flushed. Pietro, ever the little shit when he wanted to be, just smirked and leaned down to whisper something in her ear.

Whatever it was made her laugh again. And now even Natasha was grinning.

“Well,” Sam said, raising his glass, “I give it a week before they’re making out in a hallway.”

Tony groaned. “You’re all monsters.”

“She’s smiling,” Nat said quietly. “I don’t see that often.”

No one replied. Because it was true.

And Pietro—still gently leading Odette off the floor, his hand brushing hers, gaze fixed only on her—was smiling too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Odette stepped out onto the balcony off the west wing, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses still faint behind her. The cold nipped at her skin, but she welcomed it—needed it to calm the heat still curling in her chest.

She should’ve slipped away an hour ago. But his eyes had followed her across the room like gravity, and now—

“Trying to vanish again?”

She didn’t have to turn around to know it was him.

Pietro’s voice was lighter now. Not teasing, exactly. Just… drawn to her.

“I wasn’t vanishing,” she said softly. “Just needed air.”

He came up beside her, close enough that his arm brushed hers. “You were glowing back there.”

She glanced at him, frowning as she then looked down at her hands. “You mean my healing thing?”

“No.” He looked at her, and this time, it wasn’t flirtation—it was something real. “Just you.”

Odette went still.

The wind picked up slightly, ruffling her hair, and Pietro instinctively reached to tuck a strand behind her ear. His fingers lingered, just for a second longer than necessary.

“I don’t know what this is,” she said, voice nearly lost to the breeze.

“Me neither.”

“But it’s…” She struggled for the word.

“Loud,” he finished for her. “In my head. Like I’ve been running my whole life and just slammed into a wall made of—” He stopped himself and gave her a crooked smile. “You.”

She laughed softly, then bit her lip. “You don’t slow down for anyone.”

“I did tonight.”

He wasn’t wrong. And that terrified her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The music from inside changed again—upbeat, but fading. The party was ending.

“I should go,” she said, halfheartedly.

“You don’t want to.”

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

She turned to look at him—and that’s when it happened.

The pause.

The breath.

The moment where everything narrowed down to nothing but his eyes on hers and the way his fingers brushed her wrist like a spark searching for something to ignite.

He leaned in slowly—so slowly she could’ve stepped back. Could’ve stopped it.

She didn’t.

And when their lips met, it was like something in her chest snapped free. Not just the kiss—what it meant. That she wanted. That he saw her. That maybe something in him recognised her in the same, terrifying way.

It wasn’t perfect. It was urgent. Surprised. Real.

And when they broke apart, she stared at him like she was still catching up to what just happened.

“So,” he said quietly, breathless. “That was either the worst idea I’ve ever had…”

“Or the start of a very complicated one,” she finished.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night...

Back in her room, Odette sat on the edge of her bed, fingers brushing her lips like she was trying to replay the moment in real time.

Her first kiss.

She hadn't even realised until she was back behind closed doors and the world stopped spinning. All the noise—the music, the chatter, him—had faded, and now it was just her and the knowledge that something irreversible had just happened.

Not because it was Pietro.

But because it was real.

Because she let it happen.

She wanted it.

And that was… terrifying.

Her fingers trembled slightly. Not with regret. With disbelief. With adrenaline that hadn’t quite worn off.

No one had ever looked at her like that. Like she was alive. Like she belonged in the world she so often stayed hidden from.

And God, he had. One kiss, and he’d carved out space in her thoughts like he’d always been there.

She curled into the blanket, the smell of garden air and his cologne still clinging to her.

The next morning in the Avengers kitchen Odette shuffled in wearing one of Tony’s oversized Stark Industries hoodies and leggings, hair still damp from a quick shower. She was hoping to sneak in, grab coffee, and vanish before—

“Well, well, look who’s glowing.”

Tony.

Perched on a stool, coffee in hand, already way too smug for the hour.

Odette froze. “Good morning.”

“I bet it is.”

Natasha raised a brow from where she sat cross-legged on the counter. “You missed dessert last night.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Too busy playing footsie under the stars?” Sam offered as he wandered in.

“O-kaaay,” Odette muttered, grabbing her coffee and turning toward the exit.

But she nearly ran into Steve, who gave her a quiet, knowing smile. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You’re allowed to be happy.”

Odette blinked. “I’m not— I mean— I just…”

“You kissed him, didn’t you?” Wanda asked gently, emerging from the hallway.

Odette flushed, retreating slightly. “It was… a moment. That’s all.”

“Sure,” Tony deadpanned. “And I’m not Googling how to legally adopt Pietro so I can revoke his dating privileges.”

“Tony,” Natasha warned.

“I’m just saying. He better be serious. Or fast enough to dodge a repulsor blast.”

Just then, the kitchen door whooshed open—and in sped Pietro, hair still tousled from sleep, wearing a plain shirt and joggers.

He stopped dead at the sight of Odette.

Then smiled. Wide. Soft.

“Hi.”

The room collectively paused.

Odette blinked. “Hi.”

Sam leaned toward Steve. “They’re disgustingly cute. I want to vomit.”

Pietro turned to Tony. “You don’t need to threaten me. I’m already terrified.” He placed a hand to his chest mockingly.

Tony rolled his eyes as he sipped his coffee. “Good. Now eat something and hydrate. You’re on thin ice, Maximoff.”

Pietro grinned, but when he caught Odette’s eyes again, his expression shifted—gentler. The world dulled around them, just for a second.

He walked past everyone and handed her a clean mug.

“I thought you’d want fresh coffee.”

Odette blinked again. “You… made me coffee?”

He shrugged, a little shy now. “Peace offering. I wasn’t sure if you’d talk to me after last night.”

She smiled, the smallest curve of her lips.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

Tony groaned dramatically. “Nope. I’m out. I draw the line at morning-after gooeyness. I’m going back to the lab.”

As the others filtered out—Natasha smirking, Steve offering a supportive pat, Sam gagging for show—it was just them again.

Odette took a sip from the mug. "I erm... I'm on early shift. I'd better go. Thanks for the coffee."

Pietro nodded as she walked by him, watching from the corner of his eyes. When she turned to look back at him before disappearing from sight he managed to hide his smile... but not from Wanda, who was watching him from the corner of the room with a knowing smile of her own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that day the compound’s noise had faded again—training drills, mechanical clanks from Tony’s lab, even Sam’s music echoing faintly down the halls. Odette needed out. Somewhere still.

She found herself on the same path behind the compound, where the garden curved into low stone benches and quiet green corners. The place they’d danced near. The place everything changed.

She sat, wrapped in a light cardigan, thumb tracing the lip of her mug. Just breathing.

Pietro found her ten minutes later.

He slowed as he approached, eyes scanning her posture, the way her shoulders dipped. He didn’t sit right away—just crouched beside the bench.

“You okay?”

She nodded, but it wasn’t convincing.

“I just…” she sighed. “Last night was a lot.”

“I know.” He sat beside her this time, leaving enough space to be respectful—but still close. “I wasn’t expecting it either.”

Odette looked down at her hands. “It was my first kiss.”

His head turned instantly. “What?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Pietro blinked. “But—” He stopped himself. “Sorry. That’s not a bad thing. I just didn’t… I would’ve slowed down if I knew.”

She smiled faintly. “You did slow down. That’s what scared me.”

Pietro looked at her then—not surprised. Not teasing. Just listening.

She went on, voice quiet. “Most of my life has been about survival. Trauma, healing, routines. Not relationships. Not… wanting things for myself. Especially not things that make me feel exposed.”

He reached out—carefully—and touched her hand. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I want to,” she said. “Because I don’t regret it. I just… need you to know that it meant something to me. It wasn’t casual. I don’t do casual.”

Pietro exhaled like he’d been holding something in since last night.

“Good,” he said softly.

She glanced at him.

“Because I don’t want casual either.”

Odette’s heart jumped, but she didn’t speak.

“I’ve never really had anything steady,” he continued. “Not growing up, not since. I flirt. I joke. But I don’t usually feel like someone sees me.” He nudged her gently. “Until you.”

Her eyes welled slightly, not from sadness—but from the weight of being understood.

Pietro leaned his shoulder into hers.

Not a kiss.

Not a move.

Just closeness.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I think I could get used to this.”

And for the first time in years, Odette let herself believe she could too.

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

Text

Odette (an MCU OC.)

"Quiet, gentle, and stronger than she looks, Odette was born with the power to heal herself and others—a gift that once made her a prisoner of HYDRA. Rescued by the Avengers as a teenager, she’s spent the years since living quietly behind the scenes: mending wounds, rebuilding trust, and trying to find her place in a world that sees her only for what she can do, not who she is.

She doesn’t like the spotlight. She doesn’t rush into things. Her past left her cautious, scarred, and more comfortable in the background."

Age: Early twenties

Powers: Healing (can heal herself and others); powers glow softly when activated. Using her powers drains her physically and can be harmful when overused.

Background:

Survived an accident at age 13 that killed her parents.

Was kidnapped by HYDRA afterwards, experimented on and used to heal their soldiers under duress.

Rescued during a mission led by Tony Stark. Tony became her guardian; she sees him as a father figure.

Personality: Quiet, emotionally intelligent, gentle but not weak. Suffers from PTSD, anxiety, and mild agoraphobia.

Role in the Team: Works as a medic; prefers staying in the background.

Relationships:

Closest to Tony, Steve, and Natasha.

Face claim:

Grace Mckenna.

#marvel mcu #oc #Odette #OC #The Chaos You Keep

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

Text

Part 1.

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OC — Post-Age of Ultron AU

Summary:

After surviving Ultron, Pietro Maximoff never expected to find a home, let alone love — especially not with Odette, a quiet healer carrying her own scars.

It’s messy, steady, and fiercely theirs.

The new Avengers compound glittered like a jewel that night, tucked away beyond the tree line and humming with quiet pride. Lights strung along the terrace cast a golden haze over the lawn where finely dressed guests sipped champagne. A string quartet played softly from beneath the eaves. It was Tony’s idea—of course it was.

Pietro Maximoff leaned against a column just beyond the crowd, arms crossed, his shirt open at the collar. He hated crowds. Hated the way people looked at him like a story they weren't sure of the ending to.

Then he saw her.

Across the patio, in a soft blue dress that caught the moonlight, stood a girl he didn’t recognize. Not a politician’s daughter. Not a donor’s date. She looked too still for that—like she was bracing against something invisible. She held a flute of champagne in one hand and seemed to be talking herself out of leaving.

Black hair. Dark blue eyes.

She glanced up—and Pietro froze, as if his entire body refused to run.

The quartet began a new song. Something sweet. Piano and strings.

He didn’t know her name, but he knew the look she wore. Like she’d survived something and wasn’t sure if she belonged here.

Their eyes met.

And when she didn’t look away something tugged in his chest. Not pity. Not interest. Recognition.

He stepped forward.

She noticed.

A flicker of unease passed through her—then softened, like she’d decided not to be afraid.

"Hi," she said quietly as he stopped a few feet away.

"Hi," he replied. He hadn’t meant to smile, but he was.

"You're Pietro."

"You know me?"

She nodded. "I was there. In Sokovia."

He blinked. “You were in the city?”

“The Jet. I healed you.” Her voice was shy, like it wasn’t a story she told often. “You don’t remember. You were nearly gone.”

A pause.

He stared at her, slow understanding blooming like dawn over ice. “That was you?”

She nodded again.

Something like awe swept over his face. “You saved me.”

She shifted slightly, lips curving. “You looked different when you were dying.”

He laughed—sharp, surprised, boyish. “I bet.”

For a moment, there was no crowd, no compound, no past.

Just a man who wasn’t supposed to survive.

And a woman who made sure he did.

He should’ve said something clever. Or grateful. Or a thousand things that might capture what it meant to look into the eyes of the girl who pulled him back from the edge of death.

Instead, Pietro offered his hand. “Do you want to walk?”

Odette hesitated—just for a second—then slowly placed her hand in his.

His grip was warm. Steady. And just like that, she let herself be led through the crowd and away from the bright lights and laughter.

They wandered past the edge of the terrace following a stone path that curved into a small garden behind the compound. It was quiet there. Safer.

Pietro finally glanced at her. “You seem more comfortable now.”

“That’s… deceptive,” she murmured with a faint smile. “It’s just practice.”

“You don’t like parties either?”

“I like when they end.”

He laughed again, and the sound made something ease inside her. He wasn’t what she’d expected from everything she had heard. She’d imagined him as larger-than-life. Fast, unpredictable. But here, in the dark with the air thick with jasmine, he just felt human.

He tilted his head. “Why haven’t I seen you before?”

“I tend to avoid attention.” She hesitated. “I stay near the medical wing most days. Or Tony’s workshop, if I need quiet.”

“Tony’s workshop?” His eyebrows lifted. “That’s his cave. He doesn’t let just anyone in there.”

“I think he keeps me around so I’ll nag him about hydration and sleeping.”

“You’re one of the team, then?”

“I’m… adjacent,” she said softly. “Useful, but not a fighter.”

“You saved my life.” His voice was low now. Serious. “That makes you more than useful.”

Odette looked away, heart fluttering in her chest.

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was a breath—shared, weighted with something unnamed.

Finally, Pietro said, “Do you remember anything I said? Back then?”

“You didn't say anything, you weren’t conscious.”

“I was hoping I said something charming. Maybe a thank you.”

“You did mutter something in Sokovian when you came round. I assumed it was swearing.”

He grinned, unrepentant. “Sounds right.”

Their hands were still loosely linked.

He looked down at them, then back at her, a little quieter now as they wandered slowly back toward the terrace, the hush of the garden giving way to distant music and the low murmur of guests.

Still, they didn’t let go of each other’s hands.

Pietro glanced sideways at her, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles, almost absentmindedly. “So... Tony throws a party to raise money, but really, it’s just to get people to admire his lighting system.”

Odette smiled. “And his taste in alcohol. And architecture. And himself.”

He gave her a look, half-grin, half-conspiracy. “You do know him.”

“I told you. I hide in the workshop.” She gave him a sideways smile.

They reached the edge of the terrace, music drifting out in full again—slower now. Romantic. The kind of song that softened the corners of even the most cynical guests.

Pietro stopped walking.

Odette paused too, suddenly aware of how close they were to the crowd. The nerves started to stir again in her chest—but before she could retreat, Pietro spoke.

“Dance with me.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “I… don’t usually…”

He took a step closer, voice low, teasing, but gentle. “Neither do I. I’m fast, but not graceful.”

“That’s not comforting.”

He chuckled. “Come on. Just once. One slow dance. You can say you did something reckless tonight.”

She blinked at him. “Dancing with you is reckless?”

“You have no idea.”

He held out his hand again—not demanding. Not presumptive. Just… offering.

Odette hesitated.

Then slowly, carefully, she placed her hand in his again.

Pietro led her a few steps onto the edge of the terrace. No one was watching them closely. And even if they were, it didn’t matter. The song swelled, slow and sweet. His hand found the small of her back, warm through the fabric of her dress. Her other hand slid to his shoulder."

They swayed quietly in time with the music, his movements relaxed but attentive. He wasn’t trying to impress her. He just didn’t want to let go.

Odette spoke softly. “I’ve never danced with anyone before.”

“Then I’m honoured.” Pietro smiled, gaze focused on her like the rest of the world was fading.

A beat passed.

Her breath hitched.

She didn’t know what this was, what it could be—but she knew in this moment, wrapped in music and moonlight and the arms of a boy who should have died but didn’t, she didn’t feel invisible anymore.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t either.

Click Here for more info about my OC "Odette."

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

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Master list:

Fics:

Pietro x reader - “Catch me if you can. (But don’t break the bed.)”

Multi chapter fic, rom-com energy, smut, the other Avengers are tired, furniture damage.

Part 1.

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Pietro x OC - "The Chaos You Keep."

Multi chapter fic, romantic slow burn, angst, trauma, emotional healing, love story, team avengers chaos, father figure Tony Stark, eventual smut, awkwardly romantic Pietro.

Part 1.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Headcanons:

Pietro as a boyfriend SFW and NSFW

Misc:

OC CHARACTERS:

Odette (MCU). "The Chaos You Keep."

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff mcu #pietro maximoff headcanon #pietro maximoff smut #marvel mcu #mcu #avengers #master list #headcanon #imagine #fanfiction #fic

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

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Part Four

The morning after “The Incident,” you and Pietro tried to sneak into the kitchen like nothing had happened.

He was freshly showered, hair still damp, wearing one of his usual tight shirts and a cocky smirk. You were in leggings and an oversized hoodie, trying your best to hide behind him like it might somehow make you invisible.

It didn’t work.

The second you walked into the kitchen, everyone turned.

Tony was already at the coffee machine, lifting a mug with a far-too-innocent smile. “Good morning, bedbreakers.”

Natasha didn’t look up from her toast. “Did the floor survive the night, or should I call maintenance again?”

Steve was trying not to laugh, but the twitch in his jaw gave him away. “Just glad you two didn’t use the gym mats. We need those intact.”

Bruce, ever the calm one, sipped his tea. “There’s a fine line between healthy intimacy and a structural hazard.”

Clint? Clint took it personally. He slapped his cereal bowl onto the table. “I can’t unsee it. Do you know what it’s like to walk in on someone mid-thrust? There are places in my brain that have been forever altered.”

Pietro grinned as he poured orange juice, entirely unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

You kicked him under the table.

Tony set down a folder labeled Furniture Budget Q1 with a loud thunk. “Since you’re clearly breaking things with your… enthusiasm, I expect financial contributions. Or, better yet, soundproofing donations.”

You buried your face in her hands. “Oh god...”

Natasha smirked. “Oh, sweetheart. We’re just getting started.”

Steve finally cracked a smile. “At least now we know who to blame when the couch gives out.”

Clint muttered, “If they break the pool table, I’m leaving the compound.”

Tony took a sip of coffee and looked at Pietro. “So. Just out of curiosity—what exactly were you doing that broke the bench in half?”

Pietro didn’t even flinch. He leaned back in his chair, arm slung around you.

“She was on top. Got a little intense. I’m very proud of her.”

You kicked him again. Extra hard.

Tony just raised his mug in salute.

“To young love and property damage.”

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff boyfriend edition #pietro maximoff mcu #pietro maximoff smut #no y/n #18+#short fic #multific #avengers #mcu

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

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Part 3

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon.

The compound was unusually calm. Tony was tinkering. Bruce was nose-deep in research. Natasha and Steve were sparring in the gym. Clint—poor, sweet Clint—was just looking for his bow, which he’d left in one of the guest training rooms.

He opened the door to 3C, casually stepping in…

And immediately regretted every life choice that led to this moment.

“OH MY GOD—”

Pietro, fully nude, was tangled with his equally naked girlfriend on the now very broken training bench. You were arched over him, mouth open mid-gasp, Pietro’s silver hair a mess of sweat and heat as his head snapped up like a deer caught in headlights.

“CLINT?!”

Clint had already thrown a hand over his face. “WHY. WHY is this the THIRD TIME I’ve walked in on someone on top of someone in this damn compound?!”

You squeaked and scrambled to yank Pietro’s shirt off the floor, covering yourself. Pietro rolled off, cursing in Sokovian and fumbling for pants he couldn’t find.

From the hallway came heavy footsteps.

“Clint?” Steve’s voice. “You okay?”

You let out a strangled sound of horror.

“Oh no.”

Clint turned just as Steve entered—and froze mid-step. “…Seriously?”

Natasha peeked in next, took one glance, and sighed. “Knew it.”

Tony was right behind her with a cup of coffee. “Do I even need to say it? I said you two were the reason for the furniture casualties. I said it.”

Bruce, dead last, turned back around without even entering. “Nope.”

Pietro, still shirtless and smug despite the chaos, finally stood and wrapped an arm around you as you flushed, mortified. “You’re all just jealous.”

“Of your sex life?” Clint muttered. “No. Of your ability to demolish beds? Still no.”

Tony raised his mug. “Honestly, I’m impressed. The damage report’s going in your permanent file, by the way.”

Natasha crossed her arms. “We’re also instituting a ‘no sex in shared rooms’ policy.”

Pietro just grinned. “So we get a private room just for sex now, yes?”

You groaned, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Can we please never speak of this again?”

Tony winked. “I’ll stop talking about it when you stop breaking my expensive furniture with superpowered sex.”

Part 4

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff boyfriend edition #pietro maximoff mcu #pietro maximoff smut #pietro maximoff x you #no y/n #18+#marvel mcu #short fic #avengers

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

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Part Two.

“Alright, who keeps breaking the furniture?” Tony’s voice rang through the common area as he stood over what used to be a perfectly good kitchen stool—now split in half like it lost a fight to a speeding train.

Natasha didn’t even look up from her coffee. “This is the third chair this week.”

“Fifth,” Steve corrected, flipping a page in his book. “You’re forgetting the guest room dresser. And the arm of the couch.”

Bruce raised a brow. “Someone also cracked the marble countertop in the west kitchen. That stuff’s reinforced.”

You sat with Pietro at the opposite end of the room, pretending very, very hard to be uninvolved.

You sip your tea way too quickly. Pietro was vibrating—whether from nerves or holding back laughter, it was hard to tell. He leaned into your ear and muttered something in Sokovian that made you choke on your drink.

Tony pointed a spoon dramatically. “Them. It’s them. It’s always the quiet ones! And that speedy little menace!”

Pietro blinked. “I do not break things. I am extremely gentle.”

You elbowed him in the ribs with a not-so-subtle snort.

“Gentle?” Clint repeated, deadpan. “You snapped a pool cue in half just trying to show off last week.”

“That was defective wood,” Pietro said smoothly. “Bad craftsmanship.”

Natasha smirked. “Was the couch arm also defective? Because someone’s nail marks were still in the leather.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then you clapped a hand over your face, clearly dying inside.

Tony squinted. “Wait—are those… bite marks?”

Pietro grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “Okay, time to go! We have a very important mission—urgent. Private. Classified.”

“You’re not even on the schedule—” Steve started.

“Goodbye!” Pietro said, already halfway out of the room you trailing behind, giggling uncontrollably.

The door slammed.

Bruce blinked. “So… should we tell them we installed cameras in the training room?”

Clint shrugged. “Let ‘em have their fun. Just send them the repair bill.”

Tony sighed, already pulling out his StarkPad. “That bed in guest room 3C isn’t going to replace itself…”

Part Three

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff boyfriend edition #pietro maximoff mcu #quicksilver smut #pietro maximoff smut #mcu #marvel mcu #fem!reader #pietro maximoff x you #18+

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maximummaximoff · 2 months ago

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The Love You Want (Part 1/2)

A/N: Long time no see.

Pietro Maximoff was a great teammate and a great "friends with benefits." That was, until you fell for him but he started to push you away. Now he was just a teammate with benefits. A charity gala put on by Tony causes tension between you and the speedster. Why is he so upset anyway?

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Warnings: Smut right out of the gate, sexual content, pining idiots, idiots who won’t communicate their feelings, language, angst, past trauma, jealousy

Words: 5,582

It was hard to not be bewitched by him. His half-lidded were partially obscured by a mess white-blonde hair, and his lips parted as he panted and tried not to fall apart below you.

But maybe it wasn't exactly him? Maybe the power you had to do this to him was bewitching? It was a slightly comforting thought. It put you in control.

You pushed his hair back, lacing your fingers through and pulling.

Pietro moaned and tightened his grip on your hips making you hum in appreciation. You tugged his head to the side to expose the underside of his sharp jawline.

Your lips latched to the sensitive dip just below his ear and jaw.

A string of curses in his native tongue vibrated in his throat. Something about you and the devil. Your Sokovian was still pretty basic.

Your hips collided at a more frantic pace and you unrelentingly nipped and sucked as you gave a rough tug of his hair for good measure.

"Fuck." English this time. “Fuck!

His hips stuttered and slowed. You continued to roll your hips, repaying the favor of him teasing out your own orgasm just moments earlier. You relished the way his thumps swirled lazily on your hip bones as he caught his breath.

Against your better judgment, you curled into him, chests rising and falling rapidly into one another.

"We have a brief in an hour." Pietro burst the bubble. He was already detangling himself from you, leaving apprehension in his wake as you kept yourself from locking your limbs around him.

"Yeah, I should probably go Shower." You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and looked down to your knees. It was getting harder to ignore the storm of emotion swirling in your chest.

Post-sex tended to end this way now. You need to nuzzle into Pietro afterwards was near desperate.

But he didn't like that. It was clingy. At least for your casual arrangement. Friends with benefits. Snuggling beyond the haze of orgasms was over the friend line. This was just a convenience.

Neither of you had to go out and find a stranger when the urges hit. There was no need for the small talk and making sure the one-night stand wasn't a psycho.

Pietro was here and you were just down the hall. You trusted one another and knew each other’s likes and dislikes. And importantly, unbelievably sexually compatible.

…Aside from your need to be held afterwards.

In a quick breeze, your clothes landed in a pile next to you. Pietro had already retreated into the bathroom by the time you looked up.

Getting dressed was you second least favorite part. Half of your hookups occurred post training or missions. Your clothes were either still damp with sweat or dirty, and sometimes both.

With running Shoes in hand, you padded barefoot down the hall to your own suite. But not without escaping the judging eyes of Wanda. She leaned against her doorframe, as if expecting you to walk by.

"A little extra training, Y/N?" Wanda prodded.

Heat rushed to your face. "Just some extra weight training."

"We were supposed to get showered and get lunch before the brief." Wanda narrowed her eyes at you. "Of which neither you and my brother did.”

“Really needed, uh, a spotter. We lost track of time. But we still had enough time for both."

Wanda rolled her eyes and retreated into her and Vis' room, not wanting to get into an endless argument about Pietro and you again. The last time you had, Wanda ignored you for two weeks.

****

In the end, you did not have time for both a shower and eating lunch. You had wasted too much time overthinking and compartmentalizing in the shower.

With your hair still sopping wet and wearing a pair of mismatching socks, you raced to the conference room.

All eyes went to you. Apparently, you were the last to show and the most unkempt.

"I feel asleep," you said dumbly.

“In the shower?" Tony quirked an eyebrow.

“So, what if I did?" you snapped, surprising yourself and the team. At least three set of eyebrows had crept into hairlines. "Sorry, just tired is all.”

You avoided Pietro's gaze. It was searing into your chest. You rushed to your seat next to Nat.

"Are you going to be okay for tonight?" Steve asked, concern creeping into his voice.

"Tonight?" you echoed, looking to Nat, hoping for some clarity. The look you she gave you was not at all helpful. Her eyes loudly asked why the hell you didn't know.

"The Stark Industry sponsored charity gala with the highlight of all the Avengers showing up. The gala you promised me you'd make it to three months ago." Tony turned to inspect you.

"I did?" You didn't recall even talking to Tony about it.

Pietro covering a laugh with a cough broke your internal scramble. "Sorry, has to clear my throat.”

Your phone buzzed and you looked down to see a text from the culprit himself.

PIETRO: 🤖✊✊✊🚪😜😻😜🐈🥵🤫🥵🫢😫🫨

That made sense, it you vaguely remember with that play by play. Tony had come to talk to you about something when Pietro was short circuiting your mental state.

You had been trying to sound normal as Tony spoke with you through the door. But Pietro was unrelenting with his head burrowed between your legs. It was truly a miracle you could even get a coherent word out.

Your memory was rendered useless as you were on the edge of an Earth-shaking climax. Pietro had to throw his hand over your mouth to muffle your cry.

"I did!” You confirmed with a confidence you did not feel. "Sorry, I have a hard time with my memory."

This earned an eye roll from Wanda. To be fair to yourself, your short-term memory was a bit fuzzy. Some things were worse off after your fall from the helicarrier in DC in 2014. Namely memory, at least not strong memories, and anxiety.

“What are we raising money for again?" Nat interrupted the uncomfortable silence that had crept in when everyone knew enough as to why you memory was not that great.

"Local shelters,” Tony shrugged. "Pepper would be able to put together a more thorough list if you want?"

"And you want us to what exactly?” Steve said, “Since we are the highlight?"

"Schmooze your ass off. You should be good at that, it's your origin story." Tony grinned.

Steve shook his head. "It's at least for a good cause."

"When you say we, does that include Parker? "Bucky asked.

"My dutiful intern Peter Parker, who is not a part of the Avengers, and a very normal college kid. No." Tony played clueless.

" And spiderman?" Bucky added for clarification.

"Out trapezing his neighborhood, looking to stop crime. I don't know what Spiderman has to do with any of us. Sure, he'll help out occasionally, but he's his own separate entity."

"An ally," you mused.

Tony clapped. " Yes, thank you. Ally. Our ally Spiderman will not be in attendance tonight. But my intern Peter Parker and his friends who have no association with said Spiderman will be.”

****

"I can't believe you forgot". Nat rummaged through her closet, trying to find something that would fit you.

"I forget a lot of things these days,” you responded, distracted as you sat on her bed thumbing through a magazine.

"How is that, by the way? You've failed to bring up that it was still a big issue." Nat narrowed her eyes at a cream-colored gown then shook her head. The gown landed on top of a growing mound of rejected dresses.

"How come Clint isn't subjected to this?" You whined, stopping on an absurd article.

"You changed the subject. And Clint has a family and life outside of our shenanigans."

You chewed the inside of your cheek as your eyes involuntarily stung.

"Shit." Nat groaned. "Y/N. I'm so sorry.”

"No, it's fine, really." You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to shake away the encapsulating grief. "It's been a decade, and you and Clint are my family. And you should be the last person to feel sorry for me." You focused back on the page. Nat had gone through 100 times the hell you had.

Sure, you had lost everything but your own life, barely, that day. But you and your parents had assumed the risk working for S.H.I.E.L.D..

They could have retired early and been professors in their studies. You could have lived nearby working as a nurse at the hospital. Not quiet, but not deadly. Most importantly, they would still be alive.

"They would be happy you survived and your ability—” Nat’s eyes caught on a shimmery, deep ocean blue, silk number and she grinned. "Perfect."

You hardly looked but agreed. Your eyes returned to being unfocused on the article.

"Y/N, what is so interesting?" Nat look over your shoulder. "Thirteen delightfully devious ways to blow his mind! Pique your interest there?” Nat smirked. The gown now hung from the full-length mirror in the corner of her room.

"Yeah right," you snorted. It was both a defense and a disguise. "Just keeping up with my peers.”

"I'm pretty sure your peers are not writing these articles. I cannot see anyone nearly in their 30s recommending to glue rhinestones around their pubic hair."

"Fair." You chucked the magazine and sized up the dress. "You know when I signed up to join the Avengers, I didn't see anything about being paraded around for money."

"You didn't sign shit. So now we're at the will and mercy of Stark because he funds our lifestyles. It can be fun. Though, I guess you don't have a date if you didn't know."

"Why would I need a date? As far as I'm concerned, I'm working." Your brows furrowed as you looked to Nat who was watching you closely.

"To help with conversation.”

"Do you have a date?”

‘No, of course not. Bucky and I are teaming up though. Which I realize may be a mistake now that I remember he is terrible at small talk,” Nat groaned.

You laughed at this. “So why don’t I go with one of the team?” A small voice inside whispered Pietro’s name.

"Thor is off planet."

"Lucky bastard."

"Bruce is tasked with trying to secure some data from a bioengineer."

"I can help Br—”

"No. I don't want you anywhere near Bruce for this. This bioengineer may have ties with Hydra—”

"Steve's gotta be available?” You quickly put the conversation back on the safer side.

"Steve is hitting up the major politicians and defense contractors with Sam. They are great for their PR. This would make you more visible if you joined."

You tensed. "That leaves Pietro and Peter. Platonically and professionally, of course.”

"Parker is not teaming up with any of us. You heard Stark, Parker’s just his intern. We don't want him associated closely to the Avengers,” she reminded you. "Besides, he'll have his girlfriend and friend with him. It'd be weird for you to hang out with college kids you supposedly barely know.”

“So, Pietro can be my date then.” You tried your best not to sound too pleased.

"I think he's taking that woman that writes the articles about him in that gossip magazine."

It was a bucket of ice water over your head. "That bitch?! The one who wrote that article about me being the most boring and clumsy Avenger featuring a picture of me spilling ice coffee on myself after a super sweaty, hot yoga class!?”

"Woah! It was just one article, right?" Nat shook her head, taken aback by your outburst.

"Oh no, far more unflattering pictures and articles. Somehow, it's only me getting the negative press. Why the fuck would he bring her? When he knows—” you cut yourself off to take a calming breath. "It'll be fine. But I swear to god, if a picture of me stuffing my mouth full of shrimp cocktails is featured next week, I will kill him."

"Relax, I don't think they could even get an unflattering photo of you in this if they tried." Nat held out the dress, grinning.

****

Nat may have been right. If Steve did a double take, in a very well-mannered, gentleman way, this dress was something.

The silk accentuated your shape and, in a daring first time move, you ignored the discomfort at having your scars exposed. The dress was backless with silk pooling in a “U” just above your ass. The cut outs at the curves of your hips trailed to just tastefully under your breasts. The slit up one leg reached your upper thigh. A small section of burns was visible if you settled your leg just right.

The large mass of your puckered skin did not see the light of day outside the tower. They were obvious and hard to ignore. The events leading up to the fall, and the fall itself, had imprinted on you in far too many ways.

"You look beautiful," Steve offered.

"Thank you." You graciously accepted for once in your life.

"Handsome as always boys." You included Bucky and Sam in this. Bucky you'd never seen out of sweats and black jeans for years. Him in a suit was quite jarring, in a good way of course.

"This does not look productive,” Tony teased, walking into the group with Pepper and Morgan. “These people aren't going to schmooze themselves."

"If I hear the word Schmooze one more time,” you murmured to Nat.

A low chuckle sounded behind you, and you turned to see the eerily groomed speedster in a tailored suit. The sight made you freeze and thankfully he was as dumbstruck by you. All the heat rose to your cheeks.

"Where's your date?" Pietro cocked his head, biting back a sly grin.

"You're an asshole for many reasons. This being one of them. You very well know—” You hissed, but caught sight of Sierra Lineheart, the damn gossip reporter, heading Pietro's way with two drinks in hand.

This was your queue to bolt in the opposite direction. If she couldn't see you, she couldn't report on you.

****

You were relieved to catch sight of 3 familiar college students standing next to a server with a tray of bruschetta. MJ was the first to notice your presence.

"Oh, hey Y/N. Long time no see."

"Hey, how's college?" You snagged a piece from the tray, wolfing it down in a single bite. God you were hungry. Why were you so hungry? Oh, right, you had let a stupidly sexy man distract you this morning.

This was all Pietro’s fault, he had made you miss lunch and he had basically made you blindsided by this event so you had no time to eat.

If Sierra Lineheart weren’t here, you would probably go to each tray and scarf down a few servings. So, your hunger was even more Pietro’s fault.

"College, you know how it is." Ned shrugged. You actually didn't, but nonetheless. You snuck another piece of bruschetta from the tray.

"Everything good?" Peter looked around suspiciously.

"Why wouldn’t it be?" You breathed, smoothing your free hand down the front of your dress.

"You seem very jumpy. Are you okay?"

"Do I? Yeah? Crowds. People. You know? Ahh! I, uh, need some fresh air." Your hands flailed as you talked, sending some of the tomatoes tumbling off the crostini. Peter snatched it out of your hand before it could do any damage. "Thanks. See you later."

You made a beeline for the balcony. It was thankfully empty as you gasped for air. Why were you upset suddenly? What was there to be emotional about?

You turned to go back inside but saw Sierra on Pietro's arm, a dazzling smile set naturally on her face as Pietro chatted energetically with the couple in front of them.

His gaze moved over to your direction, sending you diving behind a large potted plant.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called out and footsteps headed your direction. “Did I just see you tactical roll into a shrub?”

You thanked the heavens that it was Bucky. He was the least likely person to mention it to anyone else.

“No,” you groaned from your hiding spot.

“You're avoiding somebody." It wasn't a question. It didn't have to be when you were crouched behind a shrub.

"Yes," you sighed.

Bucky extended his hand out to you. "You shouldn't hide. Especially in that dress.”

If it wasn’t Bucky, you'd think it was flirting. He was just a straightforward guy, and you knew him well enough to call him a friend.

"You're avoiding too." you argued but took his hand. He gently pulled you to your feet and out from behind the shrub.

“Yes, but it's everybody. Not a someone. I’m pretty sure our reasons are quite different." Bucky peered behind you through the glass doors. “Who could be sending our brave YIN into this state?"

"Brave?" you snorted. "Not brave."

Bucky frowned. "I've seen you throw yourself into an active combat zone without a thought, to heal one of us on many occasions.”

"It isn't brave when I know that I'll come out alive 99 percent of the time."

“It still hurts you and it still leaves scars." Bucky nodded to the small bullet wound just under your left clavicle…one of your many. "And I remember… that day… in DC."

You flinched and wrapped your arms around yourself.

"I saw you try to save your parents from him. I heard him offer to spare you and bring him with you if you let him do his mission. I heard that you loved him, but you still fought him. You took the serum and threw yourself—”

"Stop! In the end it didn't matter!” The tears were threatening to spill over. “It didn't save them."

"I'm sorry I didn't do anything to help." Bucky’s eyes were soft and full of regret when they shouldn’t have been.

This caused a hysterical giggle to escape you. "Bucky, that wasn't you. You didn't even remember Steve and he's your best friend. I was a stranger who wasn't on the right side of the mission and actively trying to thwart Hydra. I'm lucky you didn't step in a try to help kill me. I don't accept your apology because you don't owe me one."

"Fair, and I have to accept that," Bucky mused.

"Therapy?"

"My own personal list." He smiled wryly.

"Well thanks for thinking of me though. If you were you, you would have helped, and that's what matters."

"So let me help you now.” Bucky nudged you with his shoulder. “What can I do to make you not hide in a corner, and try and enjoy the night?"

You looked back into the ballroom. You easily caught the bright white hair in crowd. Pietro was looking bored into the distance as his date talked to some benefactor. "I don't know, just keep me—”

Sierra reached over to sensual run her hand up his bicep and he tensed, his face twisting in a brief sneer of disgust. You paused as the gears started to turn in your brain. Pietro recovered and forced on the fakest smile you had ever seen him give.

"That mother fucker!" You threw your hands in the air. "Oh my god, he's an idiot!"

"I'm sorry, who?"

"Pietro. He brought that gossip column woman as his date. He's trying to make me jealous."

"Jealous?" Bucky looked back and forth to the speedster and you, piecing it together. "Are you dating?”

"Exclusively casual,” you seethed, "for a while. But right now, it appears he’s messing that up by thinking it'd be a good idea to make me jealous. Especially with her. Wanting me to believe he would choose her over me?"

"That is stupid and highly childish,” Bucky observed.

You scoffed in agreement.

"Want to return the favor?" He tilted his head in Pietro's direction.

"How so?"

Bucky gave you a mischievous grin.

"A taste of his own medicine."

****

Bucky guided you to the bar, his hand resting on the small of your bare back. Your path happened to be directly in front of Pietro.

It was innocent to Pietro's sight at first. He immediately fixed his gaze on you when you'd come back in. He was drinking you in, while attempting to put in more of an effort not to not look annoyed by his date.

But then Pietro’s eyes noticed Bucky's hand placement and your proximity, and his lips twisted into a sneer. You gave a relaxed smile and leaned into Bucky's touch.

"This may be too easy. He's ridiculously possessive,” you murmured.

"And you’re only being casual, why?"

"It was hard for me to trust men in that sense. Pietro was my friend. I trusted him enough. But not enough to consider a relationship. Pietro also has trust issues. It was a mutual attraction and it just made sense.”

"And now? What's changed?" Bucky helped you into the bar stool, quietly ordering two Manhattans.

"We’ve been in this, whatever this is, for almost two years. One day he just started being distant. Like I was just a one night stand each time. I don't think I can call us friends anymore. Our interactions are limited to work, antagonizing each other, and sex with no intimacy. I don't even know if there is a point anymore—” You took a deep breath and caught Bucky's frown. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I just vomited all that information on you. I should keep that to my therapist or finally get the courage to talk to Nat about it. You don't want to hear my ridic—”

"Y/N, " Bucky interrupted, placing your drink in your hand and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He had to pointedly ignore the glare starting to burn holes in his skull. "It is okay. It's definitely my 100-year-old man energy that makes you open up. And I'd like to think we're friends."

"I think we are."

"So, let me just put something out there, if you'll let me?” Bucky said softly.

“I'll allow it."

"You love Pietro."

You nearly choked on your drink. "What?"

"You've been exclusive for so long and even though he's been emotionally distant, you still stayed. If you didn't love him, you'd stop the arrangement because you're fed up."

"I-I, no, I don't think, I'm able to—" you scrambled to try and dissuade him from making any sense of your inner turmoil.

"You're scared, but not for the reasons you think. For once it's not because of your past. It's just normal. You're scared he may not feel the same, and that's okay. But maybe it's time you tell him?”

You rose an eyebrow at him, preparing to deflect. "You sound like a therapist.”

"You'd rather just his game than? Play jealously chicken until you obliterate your arrangement?" Bucky's tone was a warning.

"Yes,” you sniffed, feigning indifference.

"Okay." He watched you for a moment before giving you a warm smile. "As long as that's what you want. I won't mind pissing off Speedy."

You turned your body towards him, letting your thigh touch the inside of his.

"He started it," you breezed. "And with the worst person."

"Just remember that he is also going to be angry with you once this is all over,” Bucky grabbed your hand a placed a kiss on your palm.

"I'm already angry. So good. At least you're in on this. She thinks Pietro likes her. And I'm going to be the victim of the wrath if she finds out he used her for me."

You twirled Bucky's hand in your own, lacing your fingers together on top of the bar.

"He is ready to murder me," Bucky whispered in your ear. It looked pretty damning to anyone watching.

His hand trailed to touch the brush your hair from the back of your neck. One would think it would cause a rush of excitement being touched this way by Bucky. But it was not at all what you wanted. You would have been a puddle if it were Pietro. You leaned into Bucky’s touch to put on a show and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Not surprised, he does not like to share,” you smirked.

"You're good. But what are the odds he takes a swing at me?" Bucky’s thumb brushed your jawline.

"If you keep this up, highly likely. Though he has no right. He's made it abundantly clear tonight that it is nothing more than casual."

"What is going on here?" Nat saddled up the pair of you, looking back and forth.

"Act supportive," you said through a smile, placing a hand on Bucky's chest. "I'll explain later."

Shit, Nat was going to be pissed when she knew. But only because you kept it from her for a whole two years. Nat mimicked your bright smile and embraced the pair of you. "Why do I have a feeling I am going to want to kick your ass, Y/N?" she hissed.

"It'll be a funny story, so long as nobody else gets their asses kicked tonight."

"I make no promises. If he swings, I am going to swing back. I'm not going to let him get a hit in. He’ll become even more cocky,” Bucky said into your hair.

"I know, I wouldn't expect anything else of you Bucky. It'll be his fault. He brought her.”

Nat leaned casually against the bar, trying to glean something to clue her in to the conversation. She clocked the glare of a speedster with the conniving, piss poor example of a journalist in his company. Sierra was currently oblivious to Pietro's fixation.

"Y/N," Nat said through gritted teeth, "please, for the love of god, do not tell me you trying to make Pietro Maximoff jealous. Of all the people."

"I don't have to tell you. You just said it,” you mumbled into your drink.

"It's definitely working, he is eyeing me up." Bucky's hand went down to rest on your bare skin above your hip.

"He’s probably trying to remember which of your arms detaches.”

Bucky put on a good show of a real laugh, but it cut off abruptly. "If he tries that, Y/N, I will beat the shit out of him.”

You grimaced, maybe employing Bucky as your fake date was not a great idea. Pietro while improving, was still impulsive.

And he had been adamant that he didn't share…

Inserting Bucky may have been an explosive detonating in your face.

"Why would he even be jealous? It's not like you two—wait, are you two dating?" Nat glared at you.

"No."

"Exclusively casual is how she explained to me,” Bucky offered.

"That's honestly worse. You're fuck buddies? Since when?"

You tensed under your friend’s judgment. “Awhile."

"Y/N!”

"2 years,” Bucky added.

"I told you that in confidence!" You gaped at him.

"2 years?" Nat's voice rose. "All this time I've been trying to get you to hook up with anyone. But you've been with him, without any of us knowing?"

"Wanda does,” you grumbled.

"So, she's so cold with you because of this? You used to be friends, then you weren't?"

“She hasn't been too keen on the arrangement, no. Not sure—”

"Speedy is on the move," Bucky warned.

Pietro was nearly vibrating with rage as he approached. Sierra had to power walk to keep up with him. His eyes slid over Nat, to Bucky, and landed on you. His jaw clenched when he noted Bucky's hand still on your bare skin.

"Y/N, I'm sure you remember Sierra Lineheart. She does the Avengers articles. Sierra you know the team." Pietro never took his eyes off you.

"I'm very familiar. Good to see you all. Don’t worry, everything is off the record I am not here as press today." Sierra gave a giggle, leaning heavily into Pietro's side. He tensed and a wave of satisfaction crashed through you. That idiot.

He really was trying to make you jealous. But he was not comfortable with her. She wasn't a good option because she wasn't in on it. And he didn't trust her. He'd made the wrong move.

"You two look like absolute lovebirds. A romance in the team?" Sierra was far too jovial.

"How did this happen?" Pietro turned his icy glare on Bucky who gave a lazy smile in return.

"Yeah, you and Y/N? How could that happen?” It should have been an innocent question, but it felt like there was malicious intent behind it. Sierra had it out for you for one reason or another.

"Y/N is beautiful, smart, and she really cares about people. What is there to happen?" Bucky twirled a lock of your hair absentmindedly and gave a pointed look at Pietro. "Remember that time she healed you in the—”

Pietro paled a little as you felt the air rush out of your lungs at the mention of Pietro’s brush with death. Nat gripped your elbow, steadying the sway of your body. Bucky noticed and adjusted his hand further down your hip, squeezing to hold you in place.

A low growl rumbled in Pietro's chest; his trauma momentarily forgotten. That was his spot.

Had he not just been holding you there 8 hours ago? He would bet a month’s salary that small bruises had started to form. You loved that.

“So, Y/N, what battle are those scars from? From what I 've heard, you're more of a medic. Like the team nurse?" Sierra nodded to the prominent scarring just above Bucky's grip.

Pietro whipped his head to Sierra, incredulous.

"What? She put them on display. She wants people to ask." Sierra rolled her eyes.

Your jaw clicked. “Care to—”

“Yeah, we're going to go.” Bucky tried to steer you away from Pietro and Sierra, but Pietro‘s hand was around your wrist in a blink. Bucky was now two feet back from you.

"Can I speak to you?" Pietro growled and cast a glance at Nat and Bucky standing offensively. "Privately.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp and looked over his shoulder. Bucky made a hand gesture you interpreted as "go."

"Sure,” you acquiesced, letting Pietro lead the way.

His private place was an empty coat check. A sign on the counter stated they would be back in ten minutes. Pietro closed the shutters and whirled on you.

"What was that?" His nostrils flared. "You can't seriously be here with Bucky?"

"And why not? He's a perfectly respectable man," you defended your fake relationship. You weren't going to be the first to fess up.

"He's old enough to be your great-grandpa!"

You rose an eyebrow. “On paper? Sure. Physically? No. Is that your only concern? If so—” You made to move for the door.

Pietro appeared in front of you, pinning you to door.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the door. "I'm tired, Pietro. I'm tired of feeling like I’m just a warm body for you. I can't even call you a friend with benefits because we haven't been friends for a year."

Pietro looked at you sharply and opened his mouth to protest.

"When was the last we hung out outside of work or sex?” you interrupted. His answer was silence. “The day after you—” your voice got stuck in your throat. You cleared it and started over.

“The day after you almost died and I saved you, we were so close. Then the following morning—” An exasperated laugh came out of you as you shook your head. “it—it was like I was nothing to you. Like I was a stranger after a one-night stand."

The tears began to prick the corner of your eyes. "And then you kept pushing me away. Then you’d pull me right back to get off. Then poof, get out. I'm an idiot for letting you. But I was fucking desperate for any piece of you, so I always did. And every time I convinced myself that you won’t just toss me aside like the last time."

The tears were spilling over now. "Then you brought HER here! When you very well know she has some weird vendetta against me."

Pietro’s eyes were wide, but he still did not speak.

"Why?" You croaked. "Isn't what you're doing already enough? What do you think you have to do to me?" You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I told you I loved you that night. Which is a bit unfair because I said it while you were sleeping. But I said it out loud. Which was a big step for me.”

“Draga,” his said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t—”

The door to the coat room shoved open behind you and Nat’s head peaked in.

“Y/N? Tony’s looking for you. Something about some fancy doctor’s needing to be schmoozed with your medical knowledge.”

“Great.” You looked up at the ceiling, willing the waterworks to stop. “Thanks Nat.” You quickly made your escape. The room had started to feel like it was closing in around you.

“Y/N,” Pietro whispered. “I—”

“Don’t worry about it, Pietro. I understand okay. Best we just stop, right?”

You let go and walked away to do some goddamn schmoozing.

****

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