#pietro imagines

[thatboisus]

yall ever read a fanfic so majestic it completely altered your entire life

[dinogoofymutated]

Jealousy headcannons! Multi/GN!Reader - Cable, Gambit, Nightcrawler, Quicksilver. Ok I know this wasn't on the schedule butttt Yeahhhh. Cable is going to have an extended version of his fic, and I might do the same for the others but no promises! Also I know that Cable's written half is literally just the snippet I shared with some minor edits but bear with me please his stuff is in the works!!! TWs: Jelousy. Barfights. No violence on Reader but men are creepy. Mentions of sex work. Cable and gambit make public spectacles it's just what they do. The return of wolverine and the X-men Pietro bc I love him

Cable

Look, any man who comes over to flirt with you after you walk in with a legit wall of muscle has to be either stupid or blind.

Cable is by no means a very jealous man. He's not gonna care if a man (or woman) approaches you and starts up a conversation. He might get a little frustrated if they start flirting with you, but he trusts you. He knows you can take care of yourself and he doesn't want you to feel like he's got you on a leash.

But when someone is being persistent, not taking no for an answer, and hell, putting their hands on you? He doesn't take it too well. He's more of an overprotective type when it comes to his flavor of jealousy.

    “That beer for me, Beautiful?” The voice of a stranger cuts through your thoughts, and to be honest, you don’t even think he’s talking to you until you realize how close to you he is. He’s sat on the barstool next to you, leaning towards you like he can’t quite catch his balance. You make a face at him, nonchalantly moving Cable’s beer closer.

    “Last time I checked it wasn’t.” You say curtly. The man has a smile hiding behind his pout as he leans a little closer to you, oblivious to the way you casually recoil from him.

    “Oh c'mon, don’t play hard to get. I’m chill!” You can tell this guy is most definitely drunk, and you find yourself trying not to roll your eyes at him. If only he knew what kind of trouble he was in.

    “Sure you are. But believe me, my Husband is not.” You tell him. You're not married, but to be honest, you knew this guy wasn't going to leave you be if you left him with some vague label. Didn't matter anyway, however, the stranger laughs in your face, and his breath smells like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, a nasty combo that repulses you. You point back at the corner booth where the cable was sitting just a few minutes before, hoping that he’d at least back off at the sight of the six-foot hunk of muscle you call a lover. Unfortunately, He doesn't. 

    “What Husband?” The man says mockingly, and when you look at the booth you find yourself pointing at an empty seat. The sight lights a small flicker of anxiety in you, and your face falls as the man sets a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. It’s not there for long before the weight suddenly disappears. You snap your head around, feeling relief when you see the man’s wrist caught in Cable’s literal iron-clad grip. 

    “This Husband.” Cable grunts.

    All of the blood drains from the stranger’s face in an instant, but it doesn’t take long for the attitude to come back. He tries to yank his arm out of Cable’s grip, but Cable’s arm doesn’t move an inch. To be honest, the sight kinda made you blush a little. Sure, you had seen Cable’s strength many times, but this… well. This was different. The guy starts to yank a little more aggressively, and all Cable has to do is clench his hand for the asshole to yelp and give up. You set a placating hand on his shoulder, and Cable glances back at you. His gaze softens, and he sighs before letting the guy go.

    “What’s your problem, man?” The stranger spits as he holds his bruised wrist. You had already gathered your things and were getting ready to get the hell outta dodge, giving Cable’s shoulder a hard pat as you desperately tried to keep him from getting in a barfight. Cable ignores the guy, walking close behind you as you start to walk away.

    “ -s’ an ugly bitch, anyway.” The stranger mumbles under his breath, but not nearly as quiet as he should’ve. Cable stops in his tracks, wheels around, and slugs the guy with his left arm. There's a sickening crunch and the bar goes silent as the drunken stranger is violently knocked from his seat. Your first instinct is to scold Cable, but the guy had it coming anyway. You look around, and with every eye in the bar squarely on you and Cable, you decide you’ve definitely stayed past your welcome.

Gambit

Gambit is probably the most jealous man in this lineup. Again, He will get fidgety and somewhat aggressive when someone approaches you and begins to flirt, but he trusts you. He doesn't want you to think he doesn't, and as a result, he tends to grit his teeth and bite his tongue to keep himself in check.

There's definitely a very, very thin line in between "I don't want to be overbearing" Remy and "This guy needs to take the fucking hint" Remy.

He's mostly fine with drunk bastards, He thinks they're funny, and as long as they're not bothering you for the most part he'll keep the aggression to a minimum. -But the one thing he absolutely cannot stand is snobby pricks who think they can steal you from him because he's a "swamp rat."

"It's a shame to see such a lovely creature like you standing here all alone." You try not to roll your eyes at the man that approaches you. You and Remy were supposed to have a nice, romantic night out. It was your anniversary, and Remy had told you that he wanted to pull out all the stops for this one. Unfortunately, fate wasn't on either of your sides today. The X-men needed Gambit, and you told him that the plans can wait for another time. Remy, in a very gambit fashion, told you to dress up anyway and he bet he would meet you there. Definitely a rather High-stakes gamble, but you loved him, so you said you'd hold him to it.

Unfortunately for you, it looked like the restaurant was hosting an event at the bar for what looked like a rather stuffy- sorry, High-end law firm. You had been content with waiting for Remy, even if the waitress clearly looked convinced he was standing you up. You had ordered something to drink while you waited, and caught the wrong kind of attention during your trip to the bar.

"I'm not alone, I'm waiting for someone." You say, flashing him an annoyed smile. He smiles back in a smartass kind of way, flashing you his Rolex as he pushes up his glasses. Great. He thinks you're a sugar baby- or maybe a sex worker. Either way, you really wished he was anywhere but here.

"Right. I'll be honest with you, I know you've been waiting here for what- and hour now? Hour and a half? Any guy that leaves you here for that long is not worth your time, sweetheart." You cringe at the nickname, but he clearly can't seem to tell. At this point, you start debating your options. You could run to the bathroom, but there weren't any windows you could crawl out of and he could wait at the door for you to come out. You could try to leave, but you didn't want Remy to think that you left him hanging. It's probably best if you stay and wait for him, but man was this guy getting on your nerves.

"Again, I'm waiting on someone. I'm choosing to wait on him, and frankly, I'm not interested in you." You say bluntly, getting more and more aggravated. The man only smirks at you.

"You're certainly a fiesty one. Don't worry, I like it when they play hard to get." He sends you wink that makes you want to sock him, and to be honest, you start to think about it. The bell at the door of the restaurant dings, and you glance over, face breaking out in a smile at the sight of the man you had been waiting on.

Remy was still in his x-men suit, obviously having come fresh from the fight. He's got some dirt on his face, and his hair is a little messier than normal, but you had never been so happy to see him.

"Well, don't you clean up well." You joke as Remy walks to your table. He chuckles, barely sparing the other man a side-eye before picking up your hand to kiss it.

"Sorry, Chère. Originally, I planned on changin', but I couldn't stand the thought of leaving you here for another moment." Remy's fond gaze turns into a bit of a glare when he finally looks over at the gobsmacked man across the table from you. "I see you've made a new friend?" You roll your eyes at that, shaking your head. Remy gets the message.

There's a gasp from the other patrons of the restaurant, as the sound the contact made was rather loud. There's already a red mark forming on the mans face as you take Remy by the hand and begin to lead him out of the restaurant. Remy is looking at you like he'd fallen in love with you all over again.

"You've been waiting all this time for some Cajun freak?" The man blurts out, finally having found his words.

"Watch it, Mon ami." Remy's shoulders tense as he snarls at the prick. You stand up, giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze before you walk in front of the man. The side of his mouth slightly upturns as you do so, right before you slap the everloving shit out of him.

"I know you really wanted for us to eat here, honey, but to be honest? I like your cooking better anyway."

Nightcrawler

Kurt? Jealous???

Absolutely. He absolutely gets jealous. Kurt is much more of a "cat" kind of jealous than a Guard Dog kind of jealous though. He's not going to do anything crazy like punch anyone, but he's gonna brush up against you, slide his tail around your waist, hold your hand. He wants reassurance from you more than he is angered by whoever is flirting with you.

That's not to say he's not angry. He doesn't like the way some people look at you like a piece of meat instead of the intelligent, beautiful person you are, and he's not afraid to call people out on it.

Kurt knew that the guy you were talking to right now was only stopping to ask you for directions, but he really didn't like how close to you the guy was. Kurt had gone off to get you something to eat from the street food vendor nearby, telling you to just relax and he would be back soon.

When he returned with food in hand, it was obvious to him what was happening, but he still couldn't help but frown. The man is leaning into your space as he shows you the map in his hands. It's fine. There was obviously nothing really going on, the stranger must have been simply touchy. He then watches as the man sets a hand on the back of your waist to point at a building up ahead, and Kurt's mind quickly changes.

Obviously, you had stepped out of the stranger's reach quickly, uncomfortable with the action, but Kurt still slinked up to your side like a cat, pulling you close with his tail as he hands you your food, resting his newly freed hand behind your back.

"There you are, Meine Liebe. I hope you didn't wait for too long." Kurt says sweetly, giving you a grin. You smile back at him, thanking him for the food. You felt relieved to see him. Sure, the stranger that had been speaking to you seemed to be a nice man, but there was a certain amount of comfort and security Kurt provided when he was near you. Kurt makes a show of leaning in and kissing you on the cheek that makes you giggle. The stranger clears his throat after a quick moment.

"-Sorry if I interrupted your date. I appreciate the directions!" He says quickly, face flushed red from embarresment.

"You're perfectly fine! I hope you're able to find what you're looking for alright." You respond sweetly, waving as the man walks off. Kurt is pouting again when you look at him, tail still wrapped comfortably around you. You can't help but giggle.

"You're so jealous." You laugh. Kurt gives you an innocent look as he brushes off the accusation.

"Whaaat? No. Ich habe dich vermisst. That is all!"

Quicksilver

I'm not even gonna lie the fic half of this is just part of that enemies to lovers hcs that I wrote

anyway!!

Pietro is a very pouty, bratty kind of Jealous.

Like sure he trusts you and all but you actually looked at someone else while they were speaking to you? >:[ Don't look at them. Look at him. Smile at him not them. You're laughing at something they said? Well, he's funnier than them!!

He's just, so pouty over the smallest, pettiest things. He just needs a smooch on the forehead and some reassurance and also possibly cuddles, and he'll be fine. God he's such a brat ILHSM

However, If someone is actually flirting with you or going too far and making you uncomfortable, he will in fact throw hands. Or do his speedster thing and find a way to embarrass them, like pantsing them or planting something embarrassing on them. One time he snatched a guy's cell and called his wife before planting it in the man's pocket so she could hear all the flirting he was doing. Now that was fun.

"So I heard you had dinner with the wolfie guy tonight." The sound of Pietro's voice makes you yelp in surprise. You whirl around to see him leaning against the wall of your room, arms crossed. You scoff, and pick a pillow off of your bed to chuck it at him. He catches it easily.

"His name is Logan, and No. Not really. All we did was happen to sit next to each other at dinner." You turn back around to sit at your vanity, but Pietro is already there, sitting on the stool with the pink pillow tucked into his arms.

"So you did have dinner with him?" He pouts. You roll your eyes at him, holding back a laugh as you shove him off the seat. He looses his balance for less than a second before there's a gust and he's sitting cross-legged on your bed, having tossed the pillow to the side.

"What does it matter to you, anyway? You're not even supposed to be here, Pietro." You tease as you sit down, unable to keep yourself from smiling. You comb through your hair as you ready yourself for bed, still grinning like an idiot as you hear Pietro huff and haw.

"Why shouldn't it matter?" He asks, watching as you complete your routine. "I- I have a reason to care." He stutters out cheeks flushing a light pink that reaches his ears. You cover your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

"Don't laugh!" Pietro objects, and it sends you into a fit of laughter as you stand back up and flop onto your back on the bed next to him.

"He's not my type anyway." You say. It only takes a second before Pietro is leaning over you, caging you between his arms. There's the ghost of a grin beginning to form on his face, simply at the sight of your own cheesy expression.

"What is your type, then?" He asks, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

"Let's just say I prefer a man who can keep up with me." You say with a wink that may or may not have been the most terribly, corny action you could have done. Pietro doesn't seem to care as his face is split with an equally as corny grin.

Both of you are caught off guard by someone calling your same from the hallway, and then a knock shortly after. You take Pietro's moment of distraction and quickly lean up, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Pietro looks absolutely shocked.

"You better get going." You whisper. He smiles at you, almost in disbelief, and then he's gone, the window left open and the breeze catching on curtains, blowing gently.

[ginnsbaker]

My Sundown

Summary: You’ve been a Hydra agent for as long as you can remember, when Wanda Maximoff and her brother, Pietro, volunteers for Hydra's human experiments.

Word count: 10K+ | Tags: Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader | Warnings: Only mentions of smut. Hurt/comfort. Reader is a little older than Wanda. Some angst. | A/N: I missed writing for Wanda, and have always wanted to write canon-ish oneshots for the MCU character. Main Masterlist

-

When they first bring her in, she looks like she's been through hell—eyes hollow, skin pale, a storm simmering just beneath the surface. Her hands tremble, not from fear, but from the sheer, unbridled power flowing through her veins. The room seems to shrink under the weight of it, as if even the walls are aware of what she’s capable of. The other recruits are scared and jittery, but she’s different. Her brother too—both rough around the edges, like two sides of the same scarred coin.

“Where did they round up these rats now?” you mutter to Lev, who’s standing dutifully beside you—the only person you've let close enough to be called a friend in all your years with Hydra.

“Sokovian volunteers,” he corrects you, eyes fixed straight ahead, mirroring your own unblinking focus on the twins. Maybe he feels the strange energy coming off them too, or maybe it’s just the routine numbness that sets in after years of blindly following orders.

You nod slightly, though the term volunteer feels like a cruel joke. No one truly volunteers for this. 

“Agent.” 

Dr. List’s voice yanks you out of your thoughts, dreary and impersonal. He calls everyone that way, as if you're just another tool, interchangeable and anonymous. It’s an intentional tactic—strip away the names, and you strip any sense of humanity.  Without a name, you’re not a person; you’re just a weapon at their disposal.

But you know he means you.

You step forward. “Sir,” you reply, maintaining a ramrod straight posture, your eyes fixed on a spot just beside his perpetually scowling face. It seems all villains share that same dour expression, but if this woman—this girl—makes it through the experiments and officially joins the ranks, she might just break the mold, looking more like an angel than a monster. You quickly shake off the thought, stifling a grimace at the odd turn your thoughts have taken.

When you risk a quick glance at her, you catch a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips, as if she knows exactly what you were just thinking.

“You’re to oversee Wanda Maximoff’s progress,” Dr. List continues without sparing you a second glance. “Ensure she complies. If she doesn’t…” He lets the threat hang, but you don't need him to spell it out. You know what Hydra does to those who don't meet expectations.

“And the boy?” you ask, genuinely curious about the other twin.

Dr. List gives you a sharp look, like he suspects something. Questions are frowned upon here, but ever since you laid eyes on Wanda, a persistent tingling has crept up the back of your neck.

To put it bluntly, she unnerves you, and you'd much prefer to deal with her brother.

“Strucker decided to…take a more hands-on approach with him,” Dr. List says.

“Understood, sir,” you reply crisply, reaffirming your commitment to your orders. You steal another glance at Wanda, only to feel a rush of heat when you realize she’s been watching you the entire time.

-

Wanda looks even more formidable once she’s showered and changed into fresh clothes. You can’t decide if it’s because the sinister gleam in her eyes remains untouched or because the grime and hardships of life on the streets have been washed away, revealing a haunting beauty beneath the dirt. Clean, she’s striking—but that beauty only makes her more dangerous. You’ve tried to delay any direct interaction with her, but this morning, Dr. List visited to follow up on the initial assessment, leaving you no more time to postpone. After a week of stalling, you’re out of excuses, and there’s a lot of ground to cover.

As she steps out of the small bathroom, her damp hair clings to her shoulders, softening her otherwise sharp features. The moment she becomes aware of your presence, her gaze locks onto you, and she begins to comb the wet tendrils back with her slender fingers. Your hand tightens around your keycard involuntarily as you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Wanda is just like any other volunteer who entered the organization and never left its walls to see the light of day. Besides, you’re armed, and Wanda is not. It’s ridiculous to be this on edge around someone who's at a disadvantage.

“You,” Wanda murmurs, her accent rolling off her tongue like a slow, winding river.

“Shall we begin?” you ask, keeping your tone even and detached. You can’t afford to let her see how much she frighte—affects you.

Wanda ignores your request. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, studying you with a keenness that makes your skin prickle. You meet her stare, determined not to show any cracks, even though your heart's hammering away.

Finally, she nods—a small, almost imperceptible movement. 

You clear your throat and motion towards the small cot given to them as beds. “Please, have a seat,” you say.

This time, Wanda complies without a word. 

You glance around the room, searching for a seat, and silently berate yourself for not arranging one beforehand. It’s a small oversight, but it makes you feel foolish. With no other option, you settle against the farthest wall, opposite her, and lean against it, though it doesn’t make you feel any more grounded than you did a second ago.

In your hand is a file detailing everything Hydra knows about her, which isn’t much. You open it with a practiced ease, flipping through the pages, but you’re aptly aware of her eyes on you, watching your every move.

“Wanda Maximoff,” you start. “The procedures you're about to undergo are highly experimental. Hydra won't be held responsible for any injuries, no matter if they're permanent or temporary.”

Including death. But you are prohibited from disclosing this to avoid causing panic or stress among the subjects.

Wanda says nothing, her expression unreadable, but you can sense she’s lingering on a thought. Not sure what it is, you go on, falling back on the lines you've memorized these last few months.

“These procedures will enhance your natural abilities, giving you powers beyond what you may or may not currently possess. However, there are risks involved. Do you understand the nature of these risks?”

Wanda nods again. It’s the same answer you’ve received from countless other volunteers, most of whom had no idea what they were truly signing up for. But there’s something different about her, something in the way she holds herself that tells you she knows exactly what she’s getting into—and she’s not afraid.

“There will be a series of physical and psychological evaluations. We will push you to your breaking point and beyond. It is crucial that you cooperate fully. Resistance will only make the process more difficult, both for you and for us.”

You scan her face for any sign of fear or hesitation, but she's a blank slate. It’s as if she’s made peace with whatever fate awaits her here. That bothers you more than you’d care to admit.

“We will also be conducting interviews throughout the process,” you continue. “These will assess your mental state, your thoughts, your fears. Everything you say will be documented, and nothing will be private.”

Wanda's eyes narrow a touch, the first sign of any emotion since she sat down. It’s subtle, but you notice it. Maybe the thought of her mind being picked apart like a lab specimen is getting to her more than the threat of physical harm. Or it could be something else entirely.

“We’ll begin the physical tests tomorrow,” you say, closing the file and hugging it to your chest. “For now, you should rest and eat as much as you like. Your room is monitored constantly. If you need anything, just ask, though your movement around the facility will be restricted.”

The mask of indifference slips back into place. Wanda leans back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows in a display of casual ease. 

“Do you have any questions?” you ask, mostly because you have to, not because you really want to know. You figure she won't ask anything—most are too scared or too defeated to speak up. 

But Wanda Maximoff isn't most people.

“Why do you do this?”

You can’t help it—a faint smile begins to creep across your face at her question. Most volunteers, when they ask anything at all, are fixated on their own impending ordeal, too scared of what's coming. 

But Wanda isn't asking about herself; she's asking about you. It feels like forever since anyone showed that kind of interest.

Pausing at the doorway, you turn your head just enough for her to see the profile of your face. 

“I do what I'm told,” you say, dodging the deeper question she posed—the real why behind your actions. The truth is, you stopped asking why a long time ago. Reasons tend to blur into excuses when moral lines are crossed in an organization you once trusted.

You're already tapping your keycard against the scanner when Wanda speaks again.

“Will doing what you're told bring them back?”

Her question spins you around so fast it's almost like whiplash. How did Wanda know about that? Was it just a wild guess meant to throw you off? Whatever it was, it worked.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words stick in your throat. You don’t even remember the last time you even thought about them. You've never shared this with anyone—not even Lev. Only a handful of Hydra figures were ever privy to your past.

Wanda couldn't possibly know. Unless—

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda says, her tone dismissive as she curls into a fetal position, turning her back to you.

If your theory holds, Wanda might be the key Hydra has been searching for—the one who can unlock the powers of the scepter that have eluded so many others. Her apparent ability to read minds could be the very breakthrough Dr. List has been waiting for. 

Finding yourself hesitating to report this discovery surprises you. It’s almost ironic how your conscience decides to kick in now, just when Hydra's goal seems tantalizingly close with the acquisition of the twins. You know what Hydra would do if they realized just how special she is, and the thought of them twisting her into something monstrous is something you can’t even begin to imagine.

-

In the days that follow, you keep quiet about your suspicions regarding Wanda’s innate abilities. You tell yourself that Dr. List will probably uncover them through his experiments soon enough. It’s definitely not because you're worried about what they might do if they decide to fast-track her program.

Yes, you’re just staying out of it, certainly not because you want to protect her.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

-

Your next face-to-face with Wanda comes a week later.

Though you have merely been observing her through a two-way mirror, you've been plagued by sleepless nights since your last meeting, and not even the strongest sedatives at your disposal have helped. Thoughts of her well-being nag at you, despite Hydra's strict rules limiting interaction between volunteers and handlers to prevent any emotional attachments. Such attachments have formed before, and Hydra has always dealt with them ruthlessly.

When you enter her room, she's in the same position as before—curled up on her cot, making herself appear small and almost childlike. She looks up as the door closes behind you, her eyes meeting yours with a quiet recognition. 

As you step closer, the hollowness of her cheeks, the dark circles under her eyes, and her pale complexion are unmistakable. The word weathered hardly does justice to the toll her first week has taken. You know exactly what she’s been through. The tests here aren’t just tests—they’re torture, meant to break people down, body and mind. Even with her powers and confidence, Wanda shows the same signs of strain. She's slight, frail, and clearly, she's had as rough a time as anyone else here.

This time, you come prepared with a metal chair and a freshly prepared tea set next to it, and take a seat across from her.

“How are you holding up?” you ask, although the answer seems painfully obvious.

Wanda shrugs, barely moving, as if the effort to appear okay is too much for her. But then she surprises you.

“How long until Hydra enhances my powers?”

You weren’t expecting that. After everything she’s been through, she’s asking for more? You thought she’d be wary, maybe even broken by now. But the question says otherwise. She’s been through hell, and she’s still pushing forward, demanding more. Is she courting death?

“You seem in a hurry,” you say, hiding your worry behind a soft chuckle. 

Her eyes narrow. “I didn’t come here to wait around. If they want to use me, they need to make me stronger.”

Use me.

How disconcerting. She’s asking for more—more pain, more trials. As if everything she’s endured isn’t enough, as if she needs it to become something greater. It’s reckless and foolish, to say the least.

“We’re moving as fast as we can—”

“Move faster.”

“Wanda,” you say quietly. “What you’re asking for... it could break you.”

“I’m already broken,” she declares, cold and matter-of-fact. “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

It’s only when you notice the disgust in her eyes that you realize you’ve been looking at her with pity. Wanda is about to snap back, likely to tell you she doesn’t need your sympathy, when her expression shifts abruptly to one of curiosity.

She tilts her head, studying you—or maybe, with the mirth in her eye, it’s more like she’s mocking you. 

“You look at me like that again, and I’ll ask you a question,” Wanda says, her voice low, almost a whisper.

You stiffen, uncertain of what's coming next, but before you can say anything, she continues.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

The question startles a laugh out of you, abrupt and a bit too loud—almost like you're trying to convince both yourself and Wanda how absurd she’s being. But as the laughter dies down, you feel your face heat up, your cheeks flushing a telltale red that you can't hide.

“No,” you say, your gaze dropping to the floor as you shake your head. You clasp your hands behind your back, one finger nervously picking at a cuticle. “This isn’t what this is about.”

Wanda smirks slightly, her lips twitching, amused by your discomfort. “Isn't it?” 

For a split second, you start to doubt everything. Did you really want to sleep with her? It's been ages since you've even considered intimacy with anyone—maybe too long. Life here doesn't leave space for that kind of thinking, and even if it did, the situation wouldn't allow it. Your heart's been shattered so often you're sure there's nothing left to give—especially not to someone you've only known for a week.

Wait—love?

This is, at best, lust—nothing more.

“No,” you repeat with more conviction.

Wanda’s smirk fades into a slow, knowing smile. “Fine. Just know the offer stands if you ever change your mind.”

A proposition. It’s not the first time you’ve received one, but this offer sticks with you longer than you’d like. Wanda’s already spent too much time in your thoughts, and you’re desperate to shake her off and get back to the task at hand. But she makes it maddeningly hard to do so.

Without looking at her, you clear your throat and begin the routine interview. You refuse to focus on the fact that she’s just openly considered a physical encounter with you—and you’re definitely not considering it in return. 

“Have you noticed any unusual side effects since the last session? Headaches, nausea, dizziness?” you ask, skipping the pleasantries.

“No,” she says dryly. “No headaches. No nausea. No dizziness.”

You jot down her answers, ignoring her evident disinterest in the proceedings.

“Any changes in your sleep pattern?” you continue.

“No.”

“Any unusual pain or discomfort?” you ask, forcing yourself to meet her gaze, but her focus is on the rings on her fingers. The prisoners—volunteers, you correct yourself—aren't supposed to keep any personal items. It baffles you how she managed to hold on to those cheap pieces of metal and silver.

It takes Wanda a moment to respond. “Just the usual soreness.”

You suspect it's more than just soreness. She’s probably downplaying the pain, so you make a note beside her answer.

“Alright, we’ll keep an eye on that. Any changes in your mood? Irritability, anxiety, anything like that?”

Wanda shrugs. “Depends on the company, I suppose.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Noted. We’ll stick with the same regimen for now. Any concerns or questions about the next phase?”

“What happened to them?” Wanda asks, steering the interview off course.

Annoyance flares up as she probes again, prying into your business. “Don’t you already know?” you snap, your patience wearing thin.

But Wanda doesn’t even blink. She isn’t scared, and that just irks you even more. She should be, if she knew what you’ve done to others who’ve pushed your buttons. You’ve never hesitated to throw your weight around with those who make your job harder.

“Sometimes what really happened and how we remember it are two entirely different stories,” she says, taking a deep breath before she continues. “Our mind protects us from the truth. It obscures what’s real, and what’s not becomes all we remember.”

You're stone-still, your mind drifting back to the past Wanda keeps prodding at. You don't even have a picture of your family anymore. Their voices are gone from your memory, and you're barely holding onto their faces. It used to tear you apart, thinking about them, but now there's just emptiness. You realize Wanda can’t rattle you—she has no leverage because there’s nothing left inside you to disrupt.

You’ve got nothing.

“Y/N?” Wanda presses, her features tightening with concern. 

You consider throwing her blunt words right back at her, but you hold off. Instead, you set the clipboard down on the counter with a soft clack. Turning to the medical cart, you grab a tray of needles and tools, then bring it over to her bed. Wanda's eyes widen slightly, and she scoots back as you sit down on the edge of the mattress. It’s satisfying to finally see her react with something other than that usual smug, unshakable attitude. You pick up a syringe, fill it with a bright yellow liquid from an unmarked bottle, and swipe a cotton ball soaked in alcohol over the top.

“What’s that?” Wanda asks evenly, though you can detect traces of doubt in it that suggest she’s trying to put up a brave front. 

“Supplements.”

Wanda raises a skeptical brow. 

You lift the syringe slightly, letting it catch the light so she can see exactly what you’re holding.

“May I?” you gesture toward her arm.

Wanda eyes you warily, then gives a quick nod.

With her consent, you scoot closer until your knees almost touch. You gently roll up the sleeve of her scrubs, exposing her arm. This close, you can see the goosebumps on her skin and feel the slight tremors running through her. You hadn't noticed before, but she's shivering—not from the cold, but probably from a fever.

Instinctively, you press your palm against her forehead. Wanda flinches but doesn’t pull away. Slowly, she settles into your touch and lets out a small sigh.

“You're hot,” you blurt out, and then quickly realize the unintended double entendre. Fortunately, Wanda lets it pass without comment. You retract your hand and hold the syringe up to her arm, poised but something stops you.

“What are you waiting for?” Wanda prompts impatiently.

You're thinking of straying from the usual protocol, knowing the yellow meds might worsen Wanda's condition, especially with her fever spiking. Deciding against it, you put the syringe down and grab another bottle off the cart, this one filled with a clear liquid.

“Change of plans,” you murmur, prepping the new syringe. You nod at her for her arm, and she shifts closer, making it easier for you. When you depress the plunger, it's quick—so quick that Wanda barely feels the needle's prick.

You pull out the needle and press a small bandage onto the spot. “All done,” you announce.

Wanda massages her arm, feeling no real pain at the injection site. “T-Thanks,” she murmurs softly.

You acknowledge her gratitude with a nod and start collecting your notebook and tools. As you rise to leave, Wanda's hand shoots out, her fingers wrapping around your wrist urgently. You turn, meeting her striking, green eyes.

“I’m sorry about your family,” she murmurs quietly. Her words solidify your suspicion: she came to Hydra with powers already in tow. Mind reading or memory extraction would be invaluable to Hydra, and now, with even more power at your fingertips, you find yourself hesitating to use it.

If Dr. List catches wind of your hesitations, the reprisals will be brutal.

You glance down pointedly at where she's holding your hand, but Wanda doesn’t let go.

“It was a long time ago,” you whisper.

“Time doesn't really heal that kind of loss,” she says, still holding onto you.

“No, but you learn to live with it,” you reply, feeling the truth of your own words.

Wanda's hold slackens but remains. You feel awkward standing there, yet something holds you back from pulling away. You hadn't realized until now how starved you were for such a simple, human connection.

“I lost my parents the same way,” she shares.

“I'm sorry,” you say, and you really mean it. You can't read Wanda like she seems to read you, but in this brief moment, with the walls down, you decide to ask, “Is that why you came to us? To avenge your parents?”

Wanda's grip loosens completely, and she lets go of your wrist. You rub the spot where her fingers were, still feeling the warmth she left behind.

“‘Avenge’,” she spits out. She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them close. “I hate that word. Pietro and I, we're here to stop them. I wish… I wish they’d just leave Sokovia alone. They won’t leave because we can’t fight back.”

Your own past with Hydra comes to mind as she speaks. Back then, you joined because you were out of options. No country to fight for, no people to call yours. It strikes you how different Wanda's motivations are—rooted in something far more personal and noble. She deserves more than what Hydra can offer. 

Wanda looks at you, waiting for an answer. When you don't say anything, she pushes, “Do you think we made the right decision coming here?”

You're all too aware of Hydra’s real agenda. They're not about peace. They're here to extend their control, to bend the world around their so-called divine mission. 

“Sometimes, you don't know if it’s the right choice until it's too late to change it,” you say, knowing it’s not much of an answer. It's just the bitter truth you've come to know. It's all you can offer Wanda.

“Can you do me a favor, Y/N? Will you look after Pietro?”

The same way you’ve been looking out for me, Wanda thinks to herself, relieved that there’s only one telepath in the room.

“No promises,” you say.

Wanda gives a slight nod and starts to withdraw again. She settles back down on the cot, turning away from you, the conversation clearly over.

-

Lev sneaks into your room just before midnight, the door giving a soft creak as it swings open. Though friends, you typically keep to your own spaces. You blink sleepily at him, fighting to sit up and shake off the grogginess.

“Dr. List decided to skip ahead,” Lev says in a rush, closing the door with a gentle click. “He’s moved forward with exposing the twins to the scepter.”

“When?” You're wide awake now, sitting bolt upright in bed.

Lev’s eyes dart to the small window in your room before returning to you, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “An hour ago.”

That can’t be good. It’s far sooner than anyone had anticipated. Dr. List’s decision to advance the timeline without further testing could have unpredictable consequences. You swing your legs off the bed, your brain ticking through the possible scenarios.

“What’s the status now? How did Wan—the twins react?” you ask, grabbing your jacket and shoes and throwing them on without taking your eyes off Lev.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. They rushed them to the Observation Chamber right after the exposure. Everything’s been kept under wraps.”

You pace a few steps, mulling over your next move. Exposure to the scepter has been lethal for everyone. Even with Wanda's unique abilities, there’s no guarantee she’ll pull through when others haven't.

“We need more information. Can you get access to the observation logs?”

Lev nods, though his expression shows his apprehension. “I’ll try. But security has been tighter since the exposure.”

You catch the anxious twist of his mouth at the idea of sneaking around, and choose to spare him the risk. His relief is palpable when you tell him, “I'll handle it myself.”

He sighs in relief. “Be careful…”

Only a select few can get into the Observation Chamber, and your badge isn’t on that list. You're going to need something stronger than just caution.

-

You slip your underwear back on, feeling Laura’s eyes tracing the contours of your body. 

After Lev left, you headed straight for her. Laura Brown, the Hydra director's daughter, hadn't seen you in almost a year, but the nature of your previous encounters left little doubt she'd be open to reconnecting.

Laura reclines on the bed, a sheet loosely draped around her, smirking as she watches you.  “I knew you'd come back eventually,” she purrs, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.

You straighten up, deliberately avoiding her eyes as you button your shirt. “I need a favor, Laura.” 

She leans back against the headboard, the sheet falling to her waist and revealing her bare chest. “This sounds serious.”

“I need to get into the Observation Chamber. Tonight,” you say. You despise asking her—or anyone, really—for favors, but you need to see Wanda. It's imperative.

Laura's eyebrows go up, her smile growing. “Direct and desperate. What's in it for me?”

“What do you want?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.

She thinks it over, then answers, “Keep me company tonight, no strings attached. Just like the old days.”

“Done.”

Laura claps her hands, clearly pleased, and tosses you the badge from the bedside table. 

You pick it up, feeling a bit degraded, like you're picking up coins someone's thrown your way. “I'll be right back,” you promise.

-

The guards give you weird looks as you show up at the Observation Chamber. They had clear orders: only Dr. List or Baron Strucker can go in. But dropping the director’s daughter’s name does the trick. You flash her badge and they let you pass, no more questions asked.

The hallway is pitch-black. This place had been sleeping until now, woken up by the fact that Pietro and Wanda Maximoff hadn’t died like the others who met the scepter. Clearly labeled doors mark the new, grim function of the space.

You think about heading straight to Wanda's room, but you remember her earlier request and decide to check on Pietro first.

The soft beeping of monitors greets you as soon as you step inside his room. He's in rough shape, alive but barely hanging on. You quickly check the chart posted next to the door—it shows low blood pressure and a high dosage of Epinephrine administered, with a note that his chances of survival stand at only 57% as of 11:30 PM.

He looks much thinner and more worn than the last time you saw him, his condition evidently worse. His eyes are bloodshot, his skin pale and stretched tight over his bones. As you move closer, you notice his body trembling, a sheen of sweat covering him despite the room's chill.

Quickly, you pull the extra covers from beneath his bed and wrap them around him, trying to stabilize his shivering. Then, you snag a water bottle from a nearby stand, helping him take slow, measured sips. 

Pietro looks at you, his eyes filled with confusion and pain, struggling to form the words. “Who are you?”

“Just someone who made your sister a promise,” you say, scooping up some water in your palm and gently drizzling it over his head. Pietro sighs in relief. “Get some rest now, and try not to die.”

His eyes flutter shut in seconds, his breath smoothing out as sleep claims him. You linger just a moment to make sure he's really out, then hurry off towards Wanda's room. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear pulsing through you. Pietro was in rough shape; how bad might Wanda be? You cling to a shred of hope that she's holding up better.

The air stays heavy as you enter Wanda’s quarters. You tread lightly, making sure not to disturb her sleep, and check the medical chart by her bed. Unlike Pietro’s dire prognosis, Wanda's stats are steady, but still troubling. Her breaths are regular, without the distressing shivers that torment her brother.

What strikes you is how normal, how peacefully she's sleeping, despite her recent exposure to Loki’s scepter. 

Relieved to see her condition isn’t more severe, you end up at the foot of her bed. There isn’t much to do after confirming she’s stable, and you know you should head back to Laura. But leaving Wanda’s side proves difficult once you're there. Almost immediately, your mind floods with ideas on how to get her out of Hydra’s clutches. If they fully realized her potential, it wouldn't just be dangerous for her—it'd be catastrophic for anyone in their path. Internally, you start plotting escape routes and thinking about who might be willing to help.

It’s strange to think how you went from one of Hydra’s most devoted agents to scheming against them.

Lost in your plans, you're jolted back to the present when you feel a gentle nudge against your thigh. Wanda's foot is pressing against you. She's awake. You look up to find her eyes open, wary and searching.

“Y/N,” she murmurs, her voice raspy from lack of use. “What—what happened?”

You subtly shift on the bed, making sure her toes aren't touching you anymore. You're not sure when you became so acutely aware of Wanda’s proximity, or of the points where your bodies meet.

“What do you remember before all this?” you ask.

She rubs her forehead, straining to recall. “There was a room... a stone emerging from the scepter. Bright lights… then nothing.”

You nod, already knowing half of what Wanda just told you. This is the first time anyone has lived to tell about their experience with the scepter, and you were hoping for more insights into how it unleashes its power. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about trying it yourself, wondering if you could resist its effects. Being Hydra, curiosity about power was a constant temptation.

“You weren't supposed to be exposed to the scepter yet,” you admit quietly. “Dr. List sped things up, maybe because he suspected—”

“Pietro,” she cuts in, her thoughts finally catching up. “Was he exposed to it too?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes widen, clouded with worry. “Is he okay?”

“He’s alive,” you say. “I just saw him before coming here. He's stable, but it’s precarious.”

Wanda’s face crumples as soon as the words leave your lips. Before you can react, she throws her arms around you, her face buried in your shoulder. You freeze for a moment, uncertain how to respond. It’s been so long since you’ve held someone like this, since you’ve allowed yourself to care enough to even consider it. But then you feel it—tears, warm and wet against your neck. She’s crying.

After a moment, you hesitantly wrap your arms around her, holding her as she trembles against you. You can feel her fear, her desperation. It cuts through your defenses, the ones you’ve built so carefully over the years.

You tighten your hold on her, offering what little comfort you can, but inside, you’re battling your own fear. You can’t afford to care about her this much—not here, not now. But as you hold her, feeling every shake of her body, you know it’s already too late.

Wanda's sobs slowly subside, and you pull back slightly, intent on offering some kind of reassurance despite how foreign it feels to you. You reach up, brushing away her tears with your thumb, trying to find the right words, but they don’t come. Instead, as your hand lingers on her cheek, she pins you with a quiet stare. Before you realize what’s happening, Wanda leans in and presses her lips softly against yours.

The kiss is brief, just a fraction of a second, but it leaves you utterly breathless. She pulls back almost immediately, watching you, waiting to see how you’ll react. For a heartbeat, you're stunned, but then something ignites inside you, something you’ve been holding back without even recognizing it. 

Acting on pure impulse, you reach up, grasp the back of her neck, and pull her in for another kiss. In an instant, you take control effortlessly, letting the animalistic and Hydra part of you come to the forefront. Your thumb presses roughly against her chin, coaxing her mouth open, and you slide your tongue in, staking your claim. Wanda responds with a gasp, her hands clutching at your shoulders, but you’re too far gone to think about anything except the taste of her, the way her body molds against yours.

You tilt her head back, deepening the kiss further, your other hand sliding down to grip her waist, pulling her closer still. The feel of her, the heat of her skin under your fingers, it’s intoxicating, and you can’t get enough. You've never allowed yourself to want someone this much. Just as you think you can't hold back any longer, Wanda's hand captures yours and guides it under her shirt. You're startled to find out she's wearing nothing underneath when your knuckles brush against her hardened nipple. That unexpected discovery is what compels you to pull back.

Wanda's lips leave yours with a wet sound, and she begins kissing down your jaw to your neck.

“Wanda, wait—”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” she says. Her breath is hot against your skin, and you feel her tongue trace a line up to your pulse point, leaving a fiery trail that makes you shiver. “You can claim your reward, you can have me.”

Her words snap you out of the haze, that single word—reward—ringing in your ears like a warning bell. You quickly place your hands on her shoulders, pushing her back gently but firmly.

Wanda blinks, confusion and hurt flashing in her eyes as she looks up at you. “What’s wrong?” She knows she’s attractive and has already glimpsed your desire for her during your visits, reading it in your thoughts. It’s why she finds your rejection so absurd—frustrating, even, given her openness.

“I'm not here for that,” you say, your voice coming out rougher than you intended.

“Then why are you here?”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, unaccustomed to openly discussing your feelings. “I came to see how you're doing after... after the scepter.”

“I'm fine,” she answers flatly.

You nod, still feeling the residual heat of her closeness. “Do you feel any different?” you ask, partly out of concern but mostly to shift the conversation elsewhere.

“I'm just tired,” Wanda says, closing her eyes and running a hand through her tousled dark hair. “Can we do this tomorrow?” She sounds a bit let down, assuming you're here just for a routine check—looking for any new powers or changes—as if she had hoped for something more personal.

“I'm sorry,” you quickly say. “I’m not here on any official orders. In fact, I shouldn't even be here.”

This revelation softens her look, her eyes narrowing slightly with renewed interest.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “I'm working on getting you and Pietro out of here. It's not set yet, but—”

“Out of here?” Wanda cuts in, her eyebrows knitting together in puzzlement. “Why would I want to leave?” 

“You got what you came for, right? The power of the scepter? Now you can leave. Hydra isn’t what you think,” you explain, trying to make her see the danger.

“Look who's acting all self-righteous all of a sudden. You've been here for years, and I've seen you do things,” she retorts sharply.

“Stop looking into my mind,” you snap, irritated by her knack for sifting through your thoughts without permission and using your past against you. Just because she can doesn’t mean she should.

“You’re saying I’m wrong?” she sneers.

You shake your head. “Look, I’m just trying to help—”

“If you really want to help, just do your job.”

Her words hit you harder than any physical blow could. You knew better than to let someone get this close, to allow your emotions to cloud your judgment. But there’s no one to blame here but yourself. Wanda didn't even have to do much to earn your solicitude; it was your own doing, your own need to make things right that led you here. 

Hydra’s training kicks in like second nature, and you shut down the emotions before they can show, your face hardening into a mask.

“Alright, Wanda. I'll do just that.”

-

It’s easier the second time you’re with Laura that night.

After Wanda's dismissal, you find Laura’s body to be the comfort you need. You lose yourself in her, the way she responds to every touch, every move you make. Pushing everything else from your mind, you focus solely on her, making her come again and again until she’s too bone-tired to do anything but black out beside you.

After it's over, you slip out of her bed, leaving her to sleep off the night’s weariness, and return to your room. You don't think about Wanda. Not even once.

In the following days, Wanda's recovery is swift—too swift for your level of clearance. Dr. List decides she’s beyond your oversight and assigns her to a higher clearance team. You’re left dealing with new recruits, volunteers who are eager yet naïve, none of whom survive the brutal exposure to the scepter. Each failure hardens you a little more, cements the necessity of detachment. 

But even with countless deaths on their hands, Hydra doesn't back down. If anything, they’re more driven now, hungry for more power, spurred on by the success of the twins. Pietro develops superhuman speed, a skill Hydra quickly puts to use by dispatching him to enemy territories for intel. Wanda’s abilities become more varied, showing signs of what could be categorized as psionic powers. She demonstrates capabilities that suggest telekinesis, manipulating objects without touching them, and telepathy—which she employs at her whim. 

Sometimes you wonder if she ever peeks into your mind anymore. But then, with the kind of power she wields, why would she even bother with what you're thinking? You're not special. Not even your badge, which doesn't get you into sections of the base without currying favor with Laura Brown first.

The Sokovian base is sprawling, and encounters with either of the Maximoff twins are rare but unavoidable. Pietro remembers your visit that night. Now and then, he nods at you politely. Wanda, on the other hand, acts as if you don’t exist. If you pass her in the hallways, she looks through you as if you're invisible. So, you make it a point to stay out of her way, blending into the dull walls and shadows as much as you can.

This detachment suits you in a way. It allows you to focus on your duties, on surviving one day at a time in an environment where the stakes are always high and the consequences often lethal.

It leaves you with nothing to lose, because there's no one left to lose.

-

Weeks pass quietly until rumors start floating around that Wanda's been seeing someone inside the complex. It’s hard to call it dating, really, since concepts like love and trust struggle to take root in a place as bleak as this. It’s probably just two people keeping each other company through the colder nights. Still, you can’t shake off how much this bothers you. 

But it's not surprising. The twins' popularity has only grown, especially since, months later, no one else has matched their extraordinary feat of surviving an Infinity Stone—a term you picked up only after Hydra discovered what was really behind Loki's scepter.

Sometimes, you find yourself observing Wanda from afar, trying to figure out if there’s any substance to the rumors. Who makes her laugh? Who does she choose to sit with at meals? The more you notice your own scrutiny, the more you recognize a feeling of jealousy stirring within you, an emotion that’s prevalent among your peers but not in this regard. You're bewildered and annoyed by your own reaction—why should who Wanda spends time with matter to you? Whatever she does, whoever she fucks—it's none of your business.

You hate this feeling, but you combat it by heading to Laura’s room every night, as if she’s the cure you need to keep yourself in check.

-

“They’ll betray us someday,” Lev murmurs as you both amble through the dense woods, taking a rare break from the base for a smoke. He breathes out slowly, watching the smoke curl upwards. You don’t have to ask to know he’s talking about the twins.

“No sooner than Hydra will throw us under the bus when the Avengers show up,” you reply, stepping around a fallen branch. “We’re all expendable. You know that, right?”

Lev takes a deep drag, his gaze fixed on the trail ahead. “Yeah, I know,” he says at last, releasing a plume of smoke. There’s something in his eyes, a look that tells you he’s not saying all he could about the twins.

You eye him suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Lev glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's deciding how much to share. After a moment, he nods.

“Okay, I wasn't planning on telling you this yet, but I've been handed a special assignment—the Maximoff Contingency Plan,” he reveals.

You scoff at him. “You’re the contingency plan?” 

“No, not just me,” Lev chuckles darkly as he tosses his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. “I'm involved, but it's more than that. We're working on a weapon, one that borrows from the tech of the Infinity Stone.”

The seriousness of what he's saying sinks in. Leveraging the power of an Infinity Stone means they're not messing around.

“And what's this weapon supposed to do?” you ask, not sure if you want to hear the answer.

Lev’s expression darkens. “You know what weapons are supposed to do,” he says tersely, turning to head back. “Let’s go.”

Hydra does not tolerate treachery. Even the mildest punishment is a swift death—a quick end, but an end all the same.

-

It’s only a matter of time before the Avengers find the Sokovian Base. Tensions had been mounting and Hydra's movements had become increasingly aggressive, drawing unwanted attention. When it all goes down, you’re in your room, scrambling to suit up and arm yourself with pistols—not to confront the Avengers, who are essentially gods, but to fight for your way out.

As the base descends into turmoil, you hear that Wanda and Pietro are attempting to escape. Hydra has a ruthless protocol for such situations: eliminate the entire unit to prevent any leaks. It's cleaner to destroy and rebuild than to let loose ends compromise the organization. Knowing about the contingency plan to eliminate the twins, you grab your radio and contact Lev, asking where he is.

“You’re just in time. I need backup. I've got Wanda Maximoff in my sights, waiting for the right moment to take her down,” he radios back.

“On it, I’m with you,” you reply, feeling the sweat bead on your forehead as you move toward his location. When you get there, you find Lev, poised and ready, his eyes fixed on the target through the scope of his rifle. You scan the surroundings, looking for hazards until you spot Wanda among the debris. Iron Man's missiles have turned the area into a deadly maze of flying rocks. From her fingertips, streams of red magic swirl, skillfully steering the massive boulders away from crushing both Hydra agents and civilians.

Wanda isn’t trying to escape—she’s helping fend them off. Seeing her save these lives, something inside you breaks. Lev has his rifle aimed at her, ready to pull the trigger while she's busy playing the hero. The possible outcomes flash through your mind: Wanda dead or imprisoned by the Avengers. The thought is unbearable. You've spent months pretending you didn't care, but now, faced with the reality of losing her, you realize all you want is for her to live, to be free—something you've long given up for yourself.

You're about to dissuade Lev, to argue her worth, her potential, anything to stall, when an explosion nearby startles Wanda. She turns, momentarily distracted, and Lev's finger tightens on the trigger, ready to end it all.

But you're faster.

He collapses with a shocked gasp, the life leaving his eyes as he hits the ground. The noise of his body falling draws Wanda’s attention. She turns just in time to see what you've done—for her. Her eyes, wide and questioning, boring into yours.

Why did you save me? They seem to ask you, those green orbs that have hunted you ever since you looked into them. There's no time for lengthy explanations—not that you have a solid one anyway. But with each passing second, the chance of escaping undetected by these so-called superheroes dwindles.

“You need to leave, now!” you yell at her, but she doesn't budge. Instead, she looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time with something other than disdain. It’s the same look she gave you the night the scepter awakened her powers. It’s a look that tells you that maybe she’s been pretending too, these past few months.

You’re about to sprint toward her, to drag her to safety if you have to, when a blur of motion sweeps her away. Pietro appears out of nowhere, whisking them both out of the base before the Avengers close in. 

For a second, you're left standing there, surrounded by the wreckage and the friend you just betrayed and killed. There's no time to grieve, no time to second-guess leaving his body behind—it's pure instinct that forces you to move quickly. You head towards an exit known only to the most important figures of the organization, a piece of information you picked up from Laura. She wouldn’t have given it away if you weren’t frequently sleeping together, those personal liaisons caused by trying to forget Wanda.  

It’s strange, in a way, how you both just ended up saving each other.

-

Several weeks after the Avengers demolish the Sokovian base, Wanda finds you at a small cabin you own on the outskirts of Novi Grad. The modest structure sits on a 2-acre plot near the woods—a spot you picked up when your stint in Sokovia stretched past thirteen months. You never really planned on settling here; you thought you’d be moved to another location and sell this land at a profit eventually. But life, it seems, had other plans.

You’re chopping wood beside the cabin when you feel her presence. Dropping the axe, you straighten up and spot her at the edge of the clearing. Your eyes quickly sweep her surroundings for any sign of Pietro, but it appears she has come alone.

“Why did you do it?” she asks once she's close enough. You take a few moments to take her in, hardly believing she's actually here, and touched by the thought that she sought you out. You've missed her presence, even though the last few months have only found you both inhabiting the same compound, breathing the same air but never speaking. 

Sometimes, lying in bed at night, you wonder why you can’t shake Wanda from your thoughts. You’ve even entertained the idea that she might have hexed you, that her magic has somehow ensnared your mind and… maybe your heart. It seems like the only logical explanation, because since the day you met, Wanda has never really left your mind.

“I did what I thought was right,” you finally answer, tucking your hands inside your pockets, not knowing what else to do with them.

“He was your friend,” Wanda points out softly. 

Your lips curl into a strained smile; of course, she’d know. She knows things about you that you'd never voice out loud. Wanda’s ability to read minds makes hiding anything impossible. Does she understand how deeply you care for her? She must. Wanda has always seen right through you, so why does she need to ask?

“Did you ever think about me after that night?” she asks out of nowhere. The night the Infinity Stone changed everything, when you were closer to her than you’d ever been before.

You're taken aback by her directness. This, too, she probably knows the answer to because you've thought of little else. 

“Everyday,” you say.

That night, you invite her to your home, the first person ever to share the space you once believed would always be just yours. Your living room is snug, with a three-seater couch and a medium-sized TV mounted on the wall. There’s also a fireplace that lights up the space with an amber glow as you hand Wanda a cup of hot chocolate.

You and Wanda find yourselves chatting about lighter topics. She shares her favorite shows from childhood, and you're surprised to learn she’s a big fan of American sitcoms. You enjoyed them too when you were younger, but not to the extent that you'd watch entire seasons over and over like Wanda did. Your preference leaned more toward books, gobbling up Agatha Christie novels when you were younger.

While you're in the middle of sharing a particularly funny memory from one of those old sitcom episodes, Wanda suddenly leans in and kisses you. Though your first instinct is to dive back into the kiss, you pull back instead. The last time you were this close, things escalated quickly before they crashed and burned.

“Are you sure?” you ask, searching her eyes for an answer. Learning from past mistakes, you want to make sure it's what she really wants.

She nods, her eyes steady and invitingly dark. “I’m sure.”

You close the distance between you, kissing her to your heart’s content. Before long, clothes are discarded, and you move from the couch to the bed, leisurely exploring each other, discovering how to bring one another to new heights of pleasure. 

As you lie next to her afterward, breathless and tangled in the sheets, you realize there’s no way to pretend anymore—you care too much to go back.

-

The quiet doesn’t last long. 

Tony Stark’s experiment goes awry, giving rise to Ultron—a global threat with ambitions that soon become clear. It seeks to bring about what he perceives as peace, by any means necessary. And just when you thought you and Wanda might have found some peace, she tells you she’s joining Ultron.

“It’s too dangerous,” you tell her. The twins and a robot against the entire Avengers team? The numbers alone put the odds against them. “We can stay here, help the people around us, and actually make a real difference.”

She shakes her head, her jaw set. “You don’t get it,” she argues. “You never will. You’re not…”

Special. Go ahead, Wanda, say it. Say what you really think of me.

“...you don’t have powers. You don’t know what it’s like to be able to change things and then just stand by, powerless.”

You were bracing for it, but it hurts all the same.

“So what am I then, Wanda? Just a bystander? Someone not worth listening to because I don't have powers?”

“I’m saying I have to do this,” Wanda mutters solemnly. “I’m the only one who can do this.”

You can see in her eyes that she’s already made up her mind. You’re still racking up your brain for something that might make a difference but she speaks again.

“I’m doing this for Sokovia,” she says quietly. “For everyone who's suffered because of Stark.”

You say nothing. Her fierce loyalty is one of the things you adore about her.

Wanda steps closer, her hand reaching out to touch your face, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “I’ll come back,” she promises. “When this is over, I’ll come back to you.”

You nod, resigned to the reality that you must let her go. “I’ll be here,” you say, your voice thick with regret that you can’t do more to protect her, to make sure she’s safe. “Waiting for you, right here.”

-

Pietro Maximoff dies riddled with bullet wounds—over a dozen of them. You learn the details of his death through a tabloid, days after witnessing Novi Grad being torn from the ground. 

A week later, Wanda comes back to you, just as she promised, but she’s not the same. The light in her eyes is gone, replaced by a ghostly void. It’s a look you know all too well, the same one you’ve seen staring back at you in the mirror for years.

A loss of purpose.

In the days that follow, you try to restore some normalcy, but nothing feels right. You cook meals she barely touches, sit beside her during long stretches of silence, and listen when she occasionally finds the strength to talk. It's tough, seeing her struggle, but you stay by her side, hoping things will begin to heal.

But they don’t.

Every day, you see it—the guilt, the pain, the loss. She tries to find reasons to keep going, but nothing seems to hold. And as much as you want to be the one to help her, to pull her out of this darkness, you know you're not enough. Not this time.

Wanda is adrift, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t anchor her to this life you’re trying to build. She’s lost her brother, her home, and whatever sense of justice she thought she could achieve by joining Ultron. And you—you’ve been running from your past for so long, and you’re simply tired of it.

You start thinking about what’s best for her, about what she needs to move on and find a new purpose. Deep down, you recognize that maybe the best way for her to truly heal is if you step aside.

-

Like Wanda, you don’t trust Stark. So, with the skills you’ve honed during your time with Hydra, you manage to find a way to contact Steve Rogers instead.

The conversation happens one afternoon, over a phone call. You tell him everything—your past with Hydra, the things you’ve done, and why you’re ready to turn yourself in. He listens without interrupting, letting you confess everything. You mention that Wanda's with you, and make it clear this isn't about trying to reclaim some lost sense of patriotism. You're doing it for her.

“You did the right thing by coming to me,” Steve says when you finish. “Wanda has so much potential. She deserves a chance to become who she’s meant to be.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice dropping to a whisper. You’ve known it all along, perhaps better than anyone. It’s why you’re doing this, even though it feels like tearing yourself apart.

Over the course of the conversation, you and Steve work out an agreement. You’ll serve a reduced sentence in exchange for all the intel you have on the remaining Hydra heads still out there. You’ll act as an informant, helping to bring them to an end, once and for all. And maybe, after you’ve paid your dues, there’ll be a chance for you to live something close to a normal life. When the call ends, you're washed over with a feeling of real freedom, despite knowing it might cost you Wanda all over again.

Later that night, you find Wanda in the kitchen, stirring a pot and humming a tune you don't recognize, looking more alive than she has in weeks. Seeing her like this is bittersweet; she’s here, but soon, you might not be.

She notices you and gives a small, relieved smile. “You’re back,” she says.

“Yeah, I had a craving for this specific brand of red wine…” You say, tossing out a casual lie since you did swing by the grocery store, and errands are a regular part of your routine.

“Red wine?” Wanda perks up. “Perfect, I’m just about done with dinner. It should pair nicely.”

The kitchen smells foreign but amazing, and you can't help but compliment her. “It smells incredible in here,” you say as you start setting the table. 

Wanda smiles softly as she turns down the stove and grabs a bowl to serve. You set out two wine glasses and place them on the table.

You pour a generous amount of red wine into each glass and watch as Wanda carries the meal over. 

“Thanks for dinner,” you say with genuine appreciation.

“Try it and tell me what you think,” she urges, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she watches you with anticipation.

You take a bite, the flavors unique and perfectly blended. Looking up, you see her watching you, eager for your reaction.

“Well?” she asks impatiently.

You laugh, then wipe the corners of your mouth with your thumb. “Don't you already know?” you tease, hinting at her telepathic abilities.

Wanda pretends to be offended, crossing her arms. “I haven’t read your mind in a long time.”

You can’t help but be a little skeptical of her claim. “Since when?”

Wanda blinks, her gaze veering away as she hesitates, clearly not eager to revisit the memory. 

You give her a gentle nudge, mimicking her earlier prodding “Well?”

Wanda turns to face you, her bottom lip pushed out slightly in a pout. “Since I saw you were sleeping with the director’s daughter.”

Saw? Did she see everything I did with Laura? The thought that Wanda witnessed it all like a scene playing out in front of her makes your stomach twist. You blush, mortified. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” you mumble, looking away.

Wanda shakes her head, trying to dispel her lingering jealousy. “I shouldn't have been peering into your head that much to begin with,” she says softly.

Your ears catch on a particular phrase. “‘That much’?” 

It’s Wanda’s turn to blush, her cheeks flushing deeper as she quickly downs the rest of her wine and then holds out her glass for a refill. Deciding to show some mercy, you pour her another glass without prying further. The conversation stalls into an awkward silence until you finally decide to break it by giving your verdict on the dinner.

“By the way, this is delicious,” you say, adding another serving to your plate.

Wanda's face lights up, her smile stretching so wide that she looks almost like a giddy child. But then, she is young. You can’t help but imagine how she'll fit in with them. Steve, in particular, seems like he’d be good for her. Even though you don't know him well, that one phone call was enough to get a sense of his character and leadership. He seems like the kind of guy who'd really look out for Wanda, in ways you can't.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Wanda suddenly asks.

Your smile falls a little, but you manage to keep it there. You wish she could read your mind now, that she could understand the choices you’ve made today better than you could ever explain them. You’re not abandoning her—you’re setting her free from this life. You've done too many unspeakable things to ever truly deserve a quiet life with her. Eventually, your past will catch up to you, and the opportunity for Wanda to do something good might slip away if she’s still tied to you. You wish she could see how much you care for her, how much she’s changed you. Because of her, you’ve felt the desire to be good again, to be human again. To open yourself not just to grief, but also to love.

You wish—

“Maybe we can visit that lake you mentioned? I've spent my whole life in Sokovia but never really left Novi Grad,” Wanda suggests.

“Rain check?” you say, trying your best to sound like tomorrow isn’t goodbye. Steve wanted to move quickly, and you’ll be expecting him and a small squad tomorrow, no later than noon. “I’m thinking I might just stay in, catch up on some reading.”

Wanda cocks her head, a puzzled look on her face. You’ve been the one pushing her to get out of the cabin more, so your answer isn’t what she’s expecting. But she likes the idea. She just wants to spend time with you. The hole Pietro left in her heart is only bearable when she’s with you.

“Okay,” she mumbles, starting to clear the dishes. You place a hand over hers, silently telling her you’ll take care of it later. Leaning in, you plant a soft kiss on her lips.

“You want to go to bed early?” you whisper quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

She looks up at you, a playful gasp escaping her lips. 

“Just to sleep,” you add quickly. I just want to hold you all night, one last time.

“I might not be sleepy right off the bat, maybe if you tire me out—”

“Naughty,” you chuckle softly, giving her nose a gentle tap.

“You love it.”

“I—” Love you. You want to say it, but you don’t want to make it harder for you both when the time comes.

Without another word, you grab her hand, holding on to this moment, to her, for as long as you can.

[literaryavenger]

Happy Birthday

Summary: It's your birthday and the only person who doesn't seem to be excited about it is you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death. Angst. Fluff. Language probably. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This story was completely self-indulgent, but I hope someone out there likes it!

Masterlist

You’ve always been very reluctant to celebrate your birthday.

You haven’t had a birthday party since you were 12. The following year your mom died a couple of days before and neither you nor your family were in the mood to celebrate anything.

It wasn’t by any means unexpected, she had been sick for a few years, but it still hit you hard.

You were the youngest and were far too young when she first got sick to really understand everything going on.

You were 8 and all you really remember is watching your mom get more and more sick until eventually there was nothing more the doctors could do.

Her death hit you hard and you closed yourself off, never talking about it or even crying after the day of her funeral. To this day you’ve still never cried, in front of others or even by yourself.

You started exercising to channel all your energy, refusing to do anything more like the therapy your family suggested. 

When you were 15 you discovered SHIELD and decided you wanted to help others, so you signed up for the SHIELD Academy, working your hardest and pushing yourself to your very limit.

You ended up being not only the youngest cadet ever, but the youngest to actually graduate and then the youngest recruit at SHIELD at only 16 years old.

Natasha was very impressed when she heard about you and took a liking to you, convincing Fury to make you part of her team during her missions and teaching you everything she knows.

That’s how you ended up in the Avengers Initiative, not that you felt you didn’t deserve it since you know how hard you worked and everything you gave up to work towards this achievement. 

The team themselves were initially skeptical since you were barely 18 during the battle of New York, but they were quickly proven wrong when they saw how well you handled yourself against the Chitauri. 

You were devastated when SHIELD fell, but carried on as an Avenger, battling Ultron and then moving to the Compound with the team.

You met the actual Bucky for the first time when you were 22, during the whole Civil War thing with Baron Zemo. Like Natasha, you were on Tony’s team, fighting mostly Pietro, but the conflict eventually ended. 

It took Tony some time to get over the whole “Bucky killing his parents while brainwashed” thing, but, as he likes to say, he can’t call himself a genius without admitting that Bucky didn’t have much of a choice. 

Thanks to Tony’s help Shuri was able to find a solution to Bucky’s brainwashing faster than she would’ve alone, meaning Bucky didn’t have to go back into cryo and was pretty quickly cleared to join the team, about a year after the airport battle in Leipzig.

You were warmly accepted by everybody and, the more the team grew the more you felt at home with these people.

And now you wish you could burn down the whole compound because, somehow, Tony convinced you to have a birthday party for the first time in 13 years because, in his words, 'you only turn 25 once'.

Good news is you managed to make him limit the guest list to the team and other people close to you like Maria Hill and Fury. Bad news is you’re still gonna be the center of attention, which you hate.

You couldn’t stop Tony from making everyone dress up for the party, and you couldn’t stop the team from getting you gifts even though you insisted all you wanted was everyone together and to have fun with them since for the longest time nobody ever even knew when your birthday was. 

What you didn’t realize was that the only person more worried than you about your gifts was Bucky.

Since he joined the team the two of you have gotten close, starting with his first training with the team where he very loudly told Steve about his disbelief that someone as young and small as you could actually be an asset to the team.

You quickly put him in his place by taking him down after less than two minutes of sparring, taking full advantage of his underestimating you because he “didn’t want to hurt a pretty little thing like you.”

Admittedly he was impressed and wasn’t shy about letting you know that, while the rest of the team snickered at his initial shock when you pinned him down.

You became friends after that, not as close as you’d like but friends nonetheless.

If you were honest with yourself you’ve been harboring a little crush on the supersoldier, but he’s never shown any interest so you resigned yourself to just being his friend.

Something that you did come to treasure, though, is your and Bucky’s late night talks.

It started with you walking in on him in the kitchen on a late night where you couldn’t sleep, nothing new to you, but the two of you barely talked other than acknowledging each other.

You took a bottle of water and left.

A couple of days later you ran into him again and you stood there in silence while you made yourself a cup of tea and then left for your room.

A few days later again he was just sitting there and said nothing as you made your tea, except this time you put a cup in front of him and silently took a seat next to him at the counter.

Two nights later when you arrived at the kitchen he was already there with a cup of tea in front of him and one in front of the seat next to him.

You didn’t want to assume it was for you, but you took a chance when you noticed it was the cup you always used, a blue mug with Stitch on it that says “Let’s get weird”. Your favorite in fact.

You hesitantly sat down next to him and, without you having to ask or without even looking at you, he told you that the nights you stay up late because you can’t sleep you tend to be more quiet during the team dinners and while you hang out afterwards.

You didn’t say anything in return and just sat there, trying not to overthink how much he seemed to watch you.

But the more nights you spent like that, the more you two talked and you gathered quickly that Bucky is a very observant person, nothing more.

You loved the time you spent together after dark where you’d talk about everything and anything, but come morning it was almost as if it never happened, which you came to accept.

It weirdly made the nights you spent talking even more special, which was almost every night.

But back to the present, you’re currently getting ready with Natasha and Wanda, who know much more than you about hair and makeup and are always happy to help you out with getting ready for Stark parties. 

You put on the black cocktail dress with rhinestones all over the corset and a slit down the left side, then the three of you make your way to the party room and you take a deep breath before entering.

Everyone is already there, all dressed up in fancy clothes as they all shout “Happy Birthday”.

You laugh and say hi to everybody while they all take turns hugging you, there’s not too many people but everyone important to you is there.

Even Laura and Clint’s kids are there, which you consider a second family at this point, since Laura always did treat you like a daughter.

You hate to admit that it's a nice party.

Knowing you, everyone makes an effort to not put you too much at the center of attention and you just go around talking to your friends like every other party.

Eventually time comes for the cake and, the moment you kind of dreaded, opening the gifts.

Since it's the first birthday you allowed the team to celebrate everyone decided to go all in for your gifts, which you picked up on from the very first gift you open.

Pietro got you a first edition of “The Picture Of Dorian Gray” which is your all time favorite book, Wanda and Maria got you a leather jacket and an amazing pair of boots that you knew were expensive because you were all out shopping together when you came across them.

Steve got you a gold heart-shaped locker with a picture of the team inside it, Natasha got you a charm bracelet with a little charm to represent everyone on the team, and Sam got you a cute necklace with your birth stone on it.

When you open Fury’s gift you start laughing since it's a gun, a SIG SAUER P226 to be precise, which is very Fury.

“It was my first gun when I joined SHIELD.” He says with a smile and you smile back, knowing how much thought he put into this gift.

You open Clint’s gift next, a bow and arrow that he already taught you how to use, and Laura got you a pair of diamond earrings.

Your heart melts when you open Lila, Cooper and Nathaniel’s gifts, respectively a friendship bracelet, an Avengers action figure of yourself and a Stitch plushie.

The three of them hug you tightly as you say thank you and now you only have two gifts left, Tony’s and Bucky’s, and they’re both little boxes. 

You open Tony’s next, thinking it’s some fancy necklace or earring but you frown when you see a car key.

“Is this the key to your car?” you ask Tony, knowing full well you’re holding the key to an Audi R8 Spyder, the car Tony’s let you borrow so many times you’re now wondering if he’s gifting you his spare set of keys.

“No.” He says casually “It’s the key to your car.”

You’re even more confused and simply stare at him with your mouth gaped, not really processing the information.

“Y-you… You got me a car?!” You almost yell out of shock and everyone else starts laughing at your antics when you start basically jumping up and down and hugging Tony, squealing like a little girl.

“Well, come on, let’s go see it!” Tony says enthusiastically after you’ve calmed down, and you get up, just as enthusiastic, but are stopped by Steve’s voice.

“Wait, wait. You have one gift left.” He says, picking up the small box and giving it to you. “It’s from Bucky.”

You were so pumped up by the car, you almost forgot about it and completely miss the mischievous look Steve gives Bucky and the murderous glare Bucky gives back.

You also miss Bucky starting to protest before you open his gift, but he instantly shuts up when he sees your face falling the second you open it.

It’s a small necklace with a blue rose in it, it really looks like something you’d give a little girl more than a 25 year old woman.

You look at it for a minute, running your finger on it before you raise your head and look at Bucky.

The whole room goes silent as they all watch you worriedly, everyone noticing immediately that tears are streaming down your face.

Nobody understands what’s happening and nobody knows how to react or what to do, it’s like they’re all frozen by the sight of you being vulnerable for the first time ever. 

Meanwhile Bucky’s heart is beating so loud he’s sure everyone around him can hear it, and he feels himself starting to panic at the thought of having ruined your birthday with that stupid gift.

Everybody else got you expensive gifts and all he did was get you a small, cheap necklace that reminded him of a story you briefly talked about once on one of your late night talks about a necklace you had as a kid.

He saw it at the mall while looking for a gift for you, remembering the sweet smile you had on your face when you mentioned it and the fleeting sad look he thought he saw when you told him you lost it when you were 12.

He was really proud of himself for that gift, but the more he saw the other gifts you got the more he regretted his choice, especially after Tony gave you a fucking car.

And now you were crying, not saying anything while just looking at him.

He doesn’t know what to expect from you at the moment, nobody does, he thinks you might yell, throw his gift back at him, tell him how much you hate it and him.

But you surprise everyone by throwing your arms around Bucky’s neck, hugging him tightly while crying into his shoulder.

You honestly forgot telling Bucky about that story and certainly didn’t expect him to remember it, especially since you always got the feeling that he didn’t care about your talks as much as you.

You just assumed that come morning he deleted everything you told him to make room for more important things, and you didn’t blame him.

But he didn’t.

What you didn’t tell him about the necklace is that your mom gave it to you because blue roses were her favorite, you had that necklace since you were born but you somehow lost it the day of her funeral.

That day you lost the two most important things in your life and cried yourself to sleep, and that was the last time you allowed yourself to be weak and cry.

Until today.

Bucky hesitantly wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back hoping to get you to calm down. He looks around at the rest of the team, panicking a little and not knowing what to do.

Everyone else is as clueless as he is, never having seen you in such a state before.

Bucky starts apologizing, his heart breaking at the sight of you crying, and he feels horrible that it’s because of him.

You shake your head quickly and pull away a little to look at him, wanting to reassure him you’re not sad or angry but incredibly happy, but words refuse to come. You take a deep breath to calm yourself and finally manage to speak.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.” It’s quiet, but it’s something, and it’s enough to make Bucky let out a breath of relief at knowing you don’t hate him or his gift.

He brings you back in for another tight hug, almost forgetting about everyone else in the room as you hug him back without hesitation.

You’re honestly not even embarrassed at crying, all you care about at the moment is Bucky, his arms around you while he lets you bury your face in his neck, like you’ve been wanting to do for years now.

“Happy birthday, doll.” He whispers in your ear and, for the first time in 13 years, you really feel like it is.

[violet-harmon2011]

Can we get some Peter maximoff hcs pls? :3🩶🩶🩶

yes omg

would randomly get the zoomies at 3am

in order to cure them, he NEEDS you to come to the local DQ to get blizzards

ofc he carries you there on his back in under 2 seconds

going to grocery stores late at night to push each other around in shopping carts

randomly throws you over his shoulder and dances or runs around

would dress up as whatever you want for halloween

he would be the linguini to your remy, the woody to your bo peep, the romeo to your juliet, the ghostface to your tatum, the jake to your tricky, etc.

long distance doesn't exist for you guys

you're his first serious relationship, so he cares about you a LOT

feels like a lost puppy without you

clingy king

will barely let you go to work/school in the morning and will be on top of you when you get back

secretly loves it when you steal his headphones and listen to his music

he thinks you look adorable bopping your head and dancing around when you think he isn't watching

you're always mad when he forgets to eat and faints bc of it

but you can't stay angry for long bc he's just an overenergetic golden retriever

so you just always make sure to carry protein bars and such with you in case he forgets again

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You smacks their ass as they walk past (Part.1)

Each X-Man reacts with a mix of surprise and playful teasing when you smacks their ass as they walk past, leading to affectionate and mischievous moments.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Warren Worthington III, Bobby Drake, Alex Summers, Pietro Maximoff & Jean Grey

Logan (Wolverine):

You’re in the kitchen, mindlessly going about your business, while Logan’s at the counter slicing through a loaf of bread. He’s focused, as usual, with that familiar scowl on his face that never quite leaves. The kitchen is quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the faint sounds of his knife slicing through the bread. You can’t help yourself—you watch him for a moment, admiring the way his muscles move under his tight shirt, the raw strength in every little motion. He looks so serious, so in his own world.

As you pass behind him, you smirk to yourself. It’s too tempting. Without thinking twice, you let your hand drift out, and with a sharp flick of your wrist, you smack his ass, enjoying the solid *thwack* that follows. You don’t stop, just continue walking like nothing happened, a satisfied smile curling on your lips.

Logan freezes mid-slice. For a beat, he doesn’t say a word. Then you hear the low rumble of a growl deep in his chest. “Really, darlin’?” His voice is thick, a little rough around the edges, and you can hear the amusement creeping in. He turns his head, one eyebrow raised, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You glance back at him, feigning innocence, but you can see the way his eyes darken just a bit. He drops the knife, turning slowly, taking a step toward you. His movements are deliberate, almost predatory. “You think you can just walk by like that and not face the consequences?” His voice is a low, gravelly whisper, sending shivers down your spine.

Before you can respond, Logan’s hand is on your waist, pulling you back against him. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “If you’re gonna start somethin’, sweetheart, you better be ready to finish it.” There’s a playful challenge in his voice, a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s not about to let you off the hook that easily.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit):

Remy is leaning against the couch, casually flipping through a deck of cards, as he often does when he’s bored. The two of you have been lounging around the living room all afternoon, and there’s an easy, comfortable silence between you. He’s dressed in that effortless way he always is—dark jeans that hug him in all the right places and a shirt that’s just tight enough to show off his lean muscles. He catches you looking at him, flashing you that mischievous smile, the one that makes your heart skip a beat.

You roll your eyes at him, but you’re already plotting something in your head. You stroll past him, heading toward the kitchen, but as you do, you let your hand dip down and smack his ass, hard enough to make him jump a little. You don’t stop, just keep walking like nothing happened, a satisfied smirk on your face.

“Mon dieu, cherie,” Remy’s voice comes out in a playful drawl, full of that Southern charm he’s famous for. He’s immediately on his feet, tossing the cards onto the couch and following you into the kitchen. “You really gonna hit an innocent man like dat and walk away?” You glance over your shoulder, and he’s grinning, his red-on-black eyes glowing with amusement.

Before you can get far, he’s behind you, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you back against him. “Y’know, cher, dat’s gonna cost you somethin’,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. There’s a heat to his words, and you can feel the playful threat behind them. “You know what happens when you mess with de Ragin’ Cajun, right?”

He spins you around, pressing you up against the counter with that wicked grin still plastered on his face. His hands slide down your sides, landing right where you’d smacked him. “Might have t’ return de favor,” he purrs, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to your lips. “You know Remy always collects his dues, mon amour.”

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler):

You’re in the middle of tidying up the bedroom when you spot Kurt near the door, his back to you as he’s sorting through some papers. He’s muttering to himself in that soft, lilting German accent that you love so much, completely unaware of your eyes on him. His tail sways lazily behind him as he concentrates, and you can’t help but grin to yourself, an idea forming in your head.

You move silently, making your way over to him, and just as you pass by, you raise your hand and give his firm ass a playful smack. The sound is sharp in the quiet room, and you immediately keep walking, acting as if nothing had happened. But the reaction is instantaneous.

Kurt yelps in surprise, his tail flicking up and curling in the air as he turns to face you, a mix of shock and amusement on his face. “Liebling!” he exclaims, his yellow eyes wide with playful disbelief. “Did you just…?” His voice trails off as he stares at you, his mouth hanging open in mock offense.

You glance over your shoulder at him, feigning innocence. “What? I didn’t do anything,” you say with a smirk, knowing full well he doesn’t believe a word of it.

Before you can blink, there’s a familiar "bamf", and in an instant, Kurt’s teleported right in front of you, his arms wrapping around your waist as his tail curls mischievously around your leg. “Oh, so you think you can get away with that, meine Liebe?” he teases, his voice low and filled with amusement. “You know I won’t let that slide.”

His lips brush against your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he continues, “Perhaps you need a reminder of what happens when you provoke a demon.” The way he says it is both playful and sultry, sending a thrill down your spine. His tail tightens its grip on your leg, holding you in place as his hands move to your hips.

Kurt’s mischievous smile is contagious, and you can’t help but laugh as he presses a light kiss to your lips. “Next time, I might just have to teleport you somewhere… private,” he adds with a wink, his tail flicking playfully as he pulls you closer, the two of you lost in your little game.

Scott Summers (Cyclops):

You’re sitting at the dining room table, flipping through some documents when Scott walks by with his usual purposeful stride. His posture is perfect, as always, and that stern expression he wears doesn’t falter. He’s got a natural air of authority, but you’ve seen the softer side of him that few others get to witness. As he walks past you, that teasing side of you sparks to life, and without warning, you reach out and give his ass a firm smack.

The sound echoes in the quiet room, and Scott stops dead in his tracks. For a moment, you think maybe you’ve startled him too much, but then he turns slowly, adjusting his visor in that way he does when he’s trying to keep control. “Really?” he asks, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement. “You’re feeling bold today, huh?”

You grin, leaning back in your chair as if daring him to react. “What? You can’t handle a little fun?” you tease, enjoying the way his jaw clenches ever so slightly.

Scott doesn’t let himself smile, but you can see the ghost of one tugging at his lips. He strides back toward you, placing his hands on either side of your chair, leaning down until his face is mere inches from yours. His eyes are hidden behind that visor, but you know that intense gaze is focused solely on you. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice low and authoritative, “I could make this a teaching moment if you keep testing me.”

There’s a flicker of challenge in his tone, and you can’t help but shiver at the way he’s so controlled yet playful all at once. “Maybe I want to be taught a lesson,” you reply cheekily, smirking up at him.

Scott’s lips quirk into a small smile at that, and he leans in even closer, his breath brushing your skin. “Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish,” he warns softly, his tone filled with promise. You know Scott is all about discipline and control, but with you, there’s always an undercurrent of heat simmering just beneath the surface. And right now, you’re enjoying pushing all his buttons.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto):

You’ve just finished straightening up a few things around the living room when you notice Erik standing by the window, his arms crossed and his expression distant. He’s always deep in thought, his mind constantly working through plans, strategies, and the weight of his responsibilities. But in moments like these, you love pulling him out of that serious headspace, even if just for a second.

As you walk past him, you let your hand trail along his lower back before delivering a quick, playful smack to his ass. You know it’ll catch him off guard, and sure enough, Erik’s head turns sharply toward you, a mixture of surprise and amusement flashing in his steely gaze. “Liebling,” he says slowly, his deep voice laced with a dark chuckle, “I hope you realize what you’ve just done.”

You meet his gaze with a mischievous smile, shrugging casually. “What? Can’t a person have a little fun?”

Erik narrows his eyes, though you can see the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He steps toward you, his movements smooth and deliberate, until he’s standing directly in front of you, his towering presence almost intimidating. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warns, his voice low and dripping with intent.

His fingers reach out, brushing against your arm with a feather-light touch before sliding to your waist. “You should know better than to provoke me,” he continues, his tone growing softer, more menacing in a way that sends a thrill down your spine. There’s always something about Erik’s raw power that makes moments like these feel electric, like you’re on the verge of something intense.

You raise an eyebrow at him, refusing to back down. “Maybe I like living dangerously.”

Erik’s smirk widens, and without warning, he pulls you closer, his hand firm on your waist. “Careful, Liebling,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Next time, I might not be so gentle.” His eyes gleam with the promise of something more, and you can’t help but smile, knowing that with Erik, every moment is charged with tension and passion.

Warren Worthington III (Angel):

Warren is pacing around the room, his wings fluttering slightly as he moves. He always gets restless like this, especially after long missions, and you can see the tension in his shoulders. His wings, magnificent as ever, brush against the walls with each step, and you can’t help but admire the effortless grace he carries with him.

You decide to lighten the mood, and as you walk by, you reach out and give his ass a playful smack. It’s quick, unexpected, and you’re already a few steps ahead by the time Warren stops and turns to look at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really, Y/N?” he says, a soft laugh escaping his lips. There’s a twinkle in his blue eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting into that charming smile you know so well.

“What?” you reply innocently, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Just wanted to see if you’d notice.”

Warren chuckles, shaking his head as he folds his wings neatly behind him and strides over to you. “Oh, I noticed,” he says, his voice smooth and playful, like silk brushing against your skin. He steps closer, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling you back toward him. “You’re lucky I find it cute when you get cheeky.”

You grin up at him, but before you can say anything, Warren’s lips are by your ear, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “But you should know… you’ve got my full attention now.” There’s a teasing edge to his words, and you can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours, his wings subtly enclosing around you, as if shielding the two of you from the world.

His fingers glide down your back, lingering just above where your hand had landed on him. “You know,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck, “if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask.” His lips brush the shell of your ear, and you can feel the playful energy between you shift into something deeper, more intimate. Warren always knows how to turn a simple moment into something unforgettable, and as his wings wrap around you, you know you’re in for more than just playful teasing tonight.

Bobby Drake (Iceman):

You’re standing by the counter, organizing some groceries while Bobby flips through a magazine at the kitchen table. His legs are kicked up, as casual as ever, when you pass by. Feeling playful, you give his ass a swift smack as you move past him. The sound echoes in the small space, and it’s enough to catch his attention immediately.

Bobby jerks, almost spilling his drink in surprise, before whipping around to face you, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed from both the slap and embarrassment. “Woah! Y/N, what was that for?” he asks, though there’s no hiding the grin pulling at his lips.

You shrug, flashing him an innocent look. “Just making sure you’re awake.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he stands up, crossing the room to stand next to you. “Oh, I’m awake now, alright,” he teases, sliding his arms around your waist, his touch cool against your skin. “I didn’t know you had it in you to get so… bold.”

His playful tone matches the mischievous glint in his eyes, and you can’t help but laugh along with him. “What? You can’t handle a little fun?” you challenge, enjoying the light banter between you two.

Bobby leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “I can handle anything you throw at me, but don’t think I’ll let you get away with that.” His voice is laced with a teasing edge, and you feel a cool breeze sweep through the room, a subtle reminder of the icy powers he wields. You know he’s up to something, but before you can react, he presses a quick kiss to your neck and steps back with a wink. “You’re gonna pay for that, you know.”

Alex Summers (Havok):

Alex is sprawled out on the couch, looking through some reports when you walk by. His feet are up, and there’s a focused look on his face, the kind he always wears when he’s trying to deal with the endless responsibilities of being an X-Man. You take the opportunity as you pass, leaning over to give his ass a firm smack, catching him completely off guard.

Alex sits up instantly, his eyes narrowing playfully as he turns to you. “Did you just…?” he starts, not quite believing what just happened. He’s still processing it, a mix of amusement and shock spreading across his face.

You grin, crossing your arms as you raise an eyebrow. “What? Just thought I’d remind you who’s boss around here,” you tease, knowing it’ll get a rise out of him.

Alex chuckles, shaking his head as he stands up, his presence commanding yet relaxed. “Oh, is that right?” he asks, his voice low, a hint of mischief lacing his words. He walks toward you, closing the space between you quickly. “Well, I think you’re about to find out that I don’t take orders so easily.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin, his energy always simmering just beneath the surface. “You like playing with fire, huh?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Careful, Y/N… you might just get burned.”

The tension between you sizzles, and there’s a playful challenge in his eyes as he leans in closer. Alex has always had that perfect balance of power and charm, and moments like this remind you just how intoxicating he can be.

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver):

Pietro is a blur of motion, zipping around the room as he organizes everything at lightning speed. You’ve gotten used to his constant fast-paced movements, but that doesn’t stop you from messing with him whenever you get the chance. As he darts past you, you reach out, timing it perfectly to give his ass a swift smack.

In a flash, Pietro skids to a halt, spinning around to face you, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and excitement. “Did you just smack me?” he asks, his voice incredulous but laced with laughter. “I didn’t even see that coming!”

You grin, leaning against the counter as you shrug casually. “Maybe you’re losing your touch, Speedy.”

Pietro narrows his eyes playfully, zipping right in front of you in the blink of an eye. He’s so close, you can feel the rush of air from his speed. “Losing my touch? Oh, you’re in for it now,” he teases, his lips curling into that trademark smirk that always makes your heart race.

Before you can respond, he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re lucky I find this little game of yours amusing,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. “But don’t think for a second I won’t get you back. Faster than you can blink.”

Pietro’s hand slides down your side, and you can feel the energy buzzing off him, the tension between you electric. His eyes gleam with mischief as he tilts his head slightly. “Next time you try that, you better be ready to run,” he warns, but there’s no real danger in his tone—only the promise of more playful banter to come.

Jean Grey:

Jean is standing at the stove, her mind likely a million miles away as she stirs something in the pot. You’ve always loved watching her in these quiet moments, the way her hair seems to glow in the soft light, her expression so calm and serene. As you walk by, you decide to playfully break the stillness and give her a quick, teasing smack on the ass.

Jean gasps in surprise, her stirring hand freezing mid-motion as she looks over her shoulder at you, eyes wide with a mix of shock and amusement. “Y/N!” she exclaims, her voice half-laughing, half-scolding. You can see the blush rising on her cheeks, and it only makes your grin widen.

“What?” you reply innocently, trying your best to look like you didn’t just commit the playful act. “I couldn’t resist.”

Jean sets the spoon down and turns fully toward you, hands on her hips, but there’s a sparkle in her eyes. “You’re trouble, you know that?” she says, though the smile tugging at her lips betrays any attempt at a stern tone.

Before you can respond, you feel a subtle tug in your mind—Jean’s way of playfully reminding you she’s always got the upper hand when it comes to your little games. She steps closer, her fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “You know I could have you pinned with a single thought,” she teases, her voice soft yet teasing. “But I think I’ll let you off the hook this time… unless you want me to show you what happens when you mess with a telepath.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling the warmth of her body as she presses closer, her lips ghosting over your ear. “Think you’re fast enough to get away next time?” she whispers, her breath hot against your skin, leaving you anticipating her next move.

[fandomnerd9602]

Pietro: you need a girlfriend. I dare you to kiss the next woman you see

Y/N: (huffs) fine

Wanda walks in…

Y/N:

Pietro: no! Don’t you dare

Y/N: I won’t. Wanda’s not a woman…she’s a goddess.

Wanda smirks and summons Y/N to her instead…

[pietropatrol]

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. 

[padsmoony04]

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch. 10

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Ch.Notes: no notes this ch

Summary: Natasha and Wanda have a talk about their feelings for you. After that emotional conversation they meet you at the hospital to visit Dragos.

An: If I were to say things get more real next chapter how would you feel...

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

The rest of the work day drags for Natasha and Wanda. Both women having other things on their mind. However, with Kate and Y/n out of the office on a hectic day like this, they couldn’t afford to dwell too much.

“Sestra, can we call it a day? I've never taken this many calls in my life,” Pietro barges into his sisters office.

“If you want to go home, then go,” she waves her hand dismissively at him.

“What’s got you so snappy?”

When Wanda’s eyes meet Pietro she’s glaring at him, “If you haven’t noticed I’m trying to run the company our father built on my own.”

Pietro raises his brow, “On your own? Discrediting my work is normal for you, but to act as if Y/n wasn’t running this place last night is bullshit.”

“Well she’s not here now,” Wanda mumbles under her breath.

“Why? Where is she?”

Wanda can’t hide the small clench in her jaw, “Kate took her home. She wasn’t feeling well.”

“She’s in good hands sestra if that’s what's worrying you,” Pietro tries to console her.

Wanda doesn’t want to speak about it any further, “I’m going to see papa whenever I’m done with this do you want to come?”

The way that Pietro's goofy features turn serious never cease to amaze Wanda, “I can’t tonight, I have a date.”

Wanda rolls her eye, “You’d rather get laid than see our father?”

Pietro shakes his head, “No, but this isn’t just some girl. I want this to be serious and I can’t afford to stand her up.”

The red head is slightly surprised, but she nods along, “I’ll tell him about it, I bet he’d be glad to hear you taking something seriously for once.”

He chuckles a bit before going quiet. He looks at Wanda similar to the way a needy child looks at their parent.

“Do you think he’ll wake up?”

“He has too,” the words are heavy as they leave her lips. She has a small smile placed on her face as she continues, “Mama will kill him if he doesn't.”

“Don’t work too hard sestra,” he speaks sincerely taking his leave.

“Enjoy your date,” Wanda says as he walks out of the door.

When he leaves she lets out a heavy sigh. For the first time today she lays her head down on her desk, exhaustion starting to plague her.

Thoughts of her responsibilities as the person in charge rain down on her. This was the end goal that she wanted, but never at this great of cost. She wished her father would wake up and reclaim his place because she didn’t feel ready.

She was focusing as hard as she could, but her mind always strays to her brother’s best friend. Your delicate skin pressing against hers in the morning or the strong arms that wrapped around her waist, or those doe eyes that she could sense staring at her.

Wanda debates for a moment before pulling out her cell phone and dialing the girl. It rings for a while before there's finally an answer.

“Hello.”

“Hey, little krolik. I just wanted to check on you. Nat told me you went home today,” Wanda keeps her tone level.

You sigh on the other end of the line, “I’m ok. I think I just got a little overwhelmed. I’m sorry for stepping out, I know that's not how we do business.”

“It’s no different than me leaving yesterday. This line of work takes a toll on you.”

She can’t see it, but you nod, “I’m feeling better now. I still want to go see pa- Dragos. Maybe I could have Kate drop me off and I’ll meet you two there?”

“You’re with Kate?” Wanda can’t stop herself from asking the question.

“Yeah she took me home and decided to keep me company,” you say nonchalantly.

“I could’ve taken you,” Wanda tries to play it cool.

You disagree with her, “I didn't want to bother you while you were working. It was a hectic day, truth be told I didn't even want to leave.”

Wanda’s tone is strong as she speaks, “I will never be too busy for you Y/n.”

“Wanda-”

“I mean it. I know I’m supposed to move past it, but I missed a lot while I was gone. I couldn’t be there for you like I wanted to. Now that I’m back I’d like to be there for you as much as I can. I still want to be the one you lean on,” Wanda let herself be vulnerable with you.

You were taken aback by her admission. It felt like it was impossible for you to come up with a response. It wasn’t like she was saying something you hadn't heard from her before, but her words felt heavier somehow.

“I know you'll be there for me, Wanda . You don't have to prove it.”

Wanda frowns lightly, “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m just- it’s hard knowing I’m not the first person you come to when you’re in need. I know you've grown out of needing people for the most part, but I don’t know. I’m not making any sense. Nat and I will meet you at the hospital.”

Wanda doesn't give you a chance to respond as she hangs up the phone. She scolds herself about how needy she sounded during the call.

“I think I’m finished up for today, whenever you’re ready to go,” Natasha strolls into the office.

Wanda stares at the computer screen for a moment, “I should be ready in half an hour.”

Natasha plops down on the couch of her wife’s office. It’s silent for a moment until Nat shifts on the couch which makes noise fill the office.

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

“ About what?” Wanda keeps her attention on the screen.

“What I said about being jealous of Kate?”

Wanda’s brow furrows, “Not particularly.”

Natasha strides over to the woman’s desk chair and places herself in Wanda’s lap. Wanda’s arms loop around the woman’s waist holding her in place.

“We need to talk about this moya lyubov,” the spy places gentle kisses on the base of Wanda’s neck.

The other woman whines, “Why?”

“Because we’re married and you’re in love with Y/n,” Natasha states plainly.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “You were jealous too.”

Natasha nods, “I was and I don’t have a problem admitting it.”

Wanda’s face buries itself in the crook of Natasha’s neck, “So what does this all mean?”

“I like her too,” Natasha states bluntly.

“ I don’t want to lose you,” Wanda’s voice is small as she speaks to her wife.

Natasha softly places her hand on Wanda’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet, “You will never lose me Wanda. I married you because I’m completely, utterly, madly in love with you. That feeling hasn’t gone anywhere.”

“I love you too,” Wanda’s eyes shine as they bore into Natasha’s.

“ I think we should think about what it would be like to add Y/n into our relationship dynamic,” Natasha speaks, but it sounds like a question.

Wanda tenses briefly, “I can admit that I have feelings for Y/n, but I don’t know if I can act on these feelings Nat.”

“Why not?”

Wanda closes her eyes, “I’ve known her too long, Nat. She’s the same age as my little brother, not to mention she's his best friend. If she doesn’t feel the same way, this will ruin everything.”

“Detka-”

“I don’t know if it’s better or worst that we both want her. How would we even tell her Natasha? I don’t want to lose anymore time with her,” Wanda begins to get emotional.

Natasha cups her wife’s face in both of her hands, “Baby, I know you’re scared. This is scary, I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that you love her and I think I could too. We’ve spent so much of our lives sacrificing for others, but I’m ready to sacrifice something for my own sake, aren’t you?”

“I am, but not at the expense of my relationship Y/n. I just got her back, Natasha. I’m not saying I never want to tell her, but I can’t do this now,” Wanda tries to turn her head away from her wife.

Natasha doesn’t let her, but instead places a soft kiss on her wife’s lips. Wanda relaxes under Natasha’s touch, feeling all of the stress of the day seeping out of her body.

“ Don’t hide from me, Wanda. I want you to share your feelings, I won’t ever judge you,” Natasha whispers against the taller woman’s lips.

“I don’t want to disappoint you. I know you’re ready but-”

Natasha shakes her head, “It’s not just about me, it’s about us. I don’t want to push you to do anything you aren’t ready for. If you want to pursue Y/n, I’m with you, but if you don’t, I'm still with you.”

Wanda nods softly, “I want to, but I- I need time.”

Natasha kisses her again, “Whenever you’re ready baby. Now finish up so we can go.”

“You’re not going to move?” Wanda questions her wife.

Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh, “ You can’t work around me?”

Wanda scoots herself into the desk. She slightly pushes Natasha to press into her further. The spy’s head is in the nape of Wanda’s neck.

“I can and if I’m being honest it’s my preferred method of doing work,” Wanda begins to focus on the computer again.

She works diligently with her wife in her lap. Having Natasha there makes her work go by a little faster and feel a lot less stressful. She finishes up within the hour.

Once she’s done Wanda shoots a text to Y/n saying that they were headed to the hospital. The girl replies saying she’ll meet them there.

Natasha drives, one hand on the wheel and the other holds Wanda’s hand. Her thumb caresses the back of the passengers hand trying to provide comfort, knowing that this was not an easy task for her.

Wanda had only visited her father once. She hated seeing him in such a fragile state. It almost didn't feel like he was her father. He couldn’t be the same man that took her to the city fair, the same mam that placed flowers in her hair, the man that invested his entire life in her dreams, it couldn’t be. This wasn’t the man that kept her safe from her nightmares, because looking at him in this state was beginning to feel like one.

When they arrived they went inside the building.

“If you don’t tell me what room he is in you won't live to the end of the week to regret it,” you argue with the receptionist.

Kate’s behind you her hand resting on your shoulder trying to pull you out of the conflict.

“It’s family only mam, one more outburst and I will have security throw you out,” the receptionist said causing a vein to pop in your neck.

“Is there a problem here?” Natasha speaks up first.

“Nothing that concerns you,” the receptionist snaps at the spy.

You interrupt, “You don't talk to her like that.”

Before things escalate any further Wanda slams her hand on the receptionist’s desk with her card under her palm.

“Now tell me what room my father is in, “ Wanda’s eyes look fiery as she stared at the receptionist.

The receptionist looks at the card bestie her eyes go wide, “Terribly sorry for the mix up Mrs. Maximoff, didn’t know she was in your company.”

Wanda peers down at the receptionist, “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. I don't ever want to hear you address either of these ladies in a disrespectful manner again.”

“Yes, Mrs. Maximoff sorry about that. It won’t happen again. He’s in room 286,” the receptionist looked ten sizes smaller.

You can’t help but give the woman a death glare as you head towards the elevator. Kate stops you on the way.

“I’m going to head home are you going to be alright?” Her eyes subtly glance in Wanda and Natasha’s direction.

“I’ll be fine Katie,” you reassure her.

“Ok just checking. Text me later and make sure you're taking care of yourself,” Kate pulls you into a tight hug.

The sound of someone clearing their throat ends your hug with the doe eyed girl. Kate smiles at you upon the release of the hug, she then waves goodbye, leaving you with the married couple.

“And you’re sure you and Kate aren’t dating?” Wanda can’t help, but comment.

You roll your eyes, “Positive, Katie and I are just friends.”

“What did you do after you left work ?”

You all pile into the elevator as you answer, “Nothing really. We just watched some tv and ordered some food. How was it at the office?”

Wanda goes to answer but Natasha stops her, “No work talk out of the office.”

“Well then what are we going to talk to Dragos about?” You attempt to joke in hopes of brightening the mood.

“ You can call him Papa you know?” Wanda takes her time looking at you.

“I know-”

She cuts you off, “Mama too.”

You nod to yourself, “I know, it’s just not my normal.”

Natasha speaks up, “It honestly feels like you’re fighting against their names when you say them. Mama and Papa sound natural coming from you."

“It feels like they are my parents.”

“They are,” Wanda grabs onto your hand as you approach Dragos’ room.

The air feels different when you enter the room. It’s hard to look at him in such a state. He lies still on the hospital bed with machinery hooked up to him. There are less machines than originally, but still too many in your eyes.

Flora sits by the side of the bed with her hand in his. The view is somber, it takes nearly everything in you not to cry. Almost as if she can sense the tension building in your body, Wanda squeezes your hand.

“How’s he been Mama?” Wanda’s moved closer to her mother’s side, dragging you with her.

“The same, but the doctors are saying that's a good thing for now at least,” she sighs heavily.

“And how are you Mama?” You ask looking over the woman’s features.

Flora sends you a small smile, “I’m tired sweetheart, but I’ll live.”

“Have you been going home?” Wanda questions further.

“To shower and change clothes.”

Wanda’s voice takes a stern tone, “Mama, you need to rest.”

The older woman shakes her head, “I can't leave him for too long.”

“He wouldn’t want you spending all your time here,” you say softly.

“It’s not about what he wants for once. If he didn’t want me here he would’ve listened when I told him going to meet Fisk alone was a bad idea,” she glares at her sleeping husband.

“I’ll have his head for this,” Wanda gets agitated at the mention of Kingpin.

“Blowing up the ports wasn’t enough?” Flora comments.

“Power move, just to prove that there are no cracks in our business affairs,” Wanda’s jaw sets.

Flora looks at her daughter, “He’s not going to take this lying down.”

“I know.”

You squeeze Wanda’s hand to reassure her, “ We’ll be ready for him."

Flora lets out a sad laughter, “You sound just like him Y/n.”

“ That’s a compliment for the ages. I hope I could be half of the person he is,” your gaze falls into your lap.

“You already are. You kids have always made us both so proud.”

You desperately want to ask more about Dragos’ condition, but you refrain. The conversation stays light as you reminisce about the man.

Natasha doesn't say much, but her presence does provide someone to share with. She's hearing most things about her father-in-law for the first time. She's getting a good look into the man he is.

She pays attention to the way you and Wanda both light up when sharing stories. It warms her heart to see the two of you looking genuinely happy for the first time in weeks.

When it’s time to go the mood drops a bit, but not too much. It’s when Natasha goes to follow Wanda and Y/n out of the room when Flora stops her.

“You make sure they're taking care of themselves,” Flora hugs the redhead and whispers in her ear.

Natasha nods, “I will Mrs.Maximoff.”

They head home after that, exhaustion finally catching up to them.

A small dilemma plagues your mind when you get home. Part of you wishes to go with Wanda and Natasha into their apartment where you know you can get a good night's rest. The other part of you tells you that you shouldn't make it a habit. It's a lose-lose situation.

Begrudgingly you decide to go to your own apartment.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you try and give a small goodbye.

Wanda grabs your forearm, “You can come over tonight, if you need to. No matter the time. Alright, little krolik?”

Your eyes shift over to Natasha who smile, showing agreement with her wife, “The door is always open for you.”

You struggle to keep your composure, “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

Your house feels extra empty as you enter. The weight of the day sets into your system. Getting ready for bed seems pointless as you know you won’t be getting any sleep.

Staring at the ceiling seems different, knowing that across the hall was the woman that you had spent your teen years pining over. Yet, knowing that she could love you didn’t make your heart flutter like it was supposed to. It sent an anxiety running through your chest.

You knew that she was probably curled up in the bed next to her wife. Her drop dead gorgeous, kind hearted, Russian spy, wife. A woman in a league of her own, in her own right.

The thought didn’t make you jealous, but it had an adverse effect on you. You wanted to be there, to be involved, to be a part of what they had.

You groan placing a pillow over your head in a dull effort to quiet your thoughts.

Your phone rings on the dresser and you pick it up, and mumble a hello with the pillow still over your head.

“Come over.”

“Natasha?”

There’s a hum over the line, “Yes, are you coming or do I need to come get you?”

You shuffle out of the bed, keeping the phone to your ear, “Is something wrong?”

“Well-"

She’s cut off by her wife, “Come to bed little krolik. I need the extra warmth.”

Natasha chuckles, “Wanda refuses to sleep in your absence. She’s getting a little grumpy.”

“ I’m not grumpy. Tell her to hurry,” Wanda argues with Natasha.

This makes your heart flutter like it’s supposed to, “Are you sure it’s ok Nat?”

“ Lisichka I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you back in our bed.”

You feel a blush take over your features as you exit your home.

“ Ok, open the door,” you murmur and it takes no time for the spy to let you into her home.

Natasha looks exhausted as she grabs you by the arm and drags you wordlessly to the bedroom.

Wanda’s already in the bed and when she sees you she does a grabbing motion towards you. You shake your head before climbing into the bed. She wraps her arm around your waist and snuggles closer to you.

“You sleep here now. It’s better for all of us,” She mumbles against your skin.

“Ok,” you don’t fight her on it, knowing she’d probably forget in the morning.

You look up at Natasha shyly. She still stands over the bed. In a similar fashion to Wanda, you stick out your arms for her.

Natasha grins as she climbs into your arms. You carefully drape your arm over the spy, resting your hand against her flat stomach.

For the second night in a row you find yourself comfortable in their bed. You all think about how you shouldn’t indulge in this feeling, scared it won’t last.

It’s like the couple can read your mind. Wanda’s hold on you tightens and Natasha turns to face you. They keep you safe in their embrace and the thoughts in your head quiet.

No one says anything, but you all feel it. There’s a shift in your relationship and you won’t be able to ignore it for much longer.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader

[toothfa-1-ry]

I'LL BE BACK BEFORE YOU EVEN KNOW IT P.M

Snap

And that's all it took to wipe out half of humanity,

Snap, lesser than even 5 seconds and yet Pietro Maximoff could swear that it was all the time it took for his entire world to screech to a sudden stop

And so he ran, he ran to you and in a blur, no less than 5 seconds there he was right next to you, eyes widened and frantically holding you, looking at you

"are you alright- are you fine are you feeling okay"

Pietro was many things but not the idiot he usually pretended to be, he wasn't the idiot you and his sister would call him though neither of you would believe that he was

He knew that something was wrong with the air suddenly.

Wakanda was a beautiful place even amidst the ongoing war but something was wrong, something was wrong in the universe the minute Thanos snapped his fingers and Pietro knew it, and he knew that you and everyone around him could feel it too.

"dragâ mea- look at me hey- look at me" Pietro commanded, his voice filled with urgency as he spoke to you

"he snapped his fingers didn't he?" You muttered "something really bad is happening Pietro- i- I don't think thanos was bluffing about wiping off half of humanity"

"no- your fine. We are both fine- we're okay" Pietro gripped your hands enclosing them with his, the both of you were going to be fine, he thought, the both of you had to be fine-

You could hear shouts from afar, surprise, shocked, and full of grief. You knew, whatever Thanos had planned had already started

"P- Pietro I don't- I" you began shaking, you felt weird, you felt as if though you might just turn into dust and fade away

"no no no- no your going to be fine no you can't-" Pietro firmly refused to believe that something would happen to you "let me go check- nothing bads going to happen to you or me princesta- nothing bad"

You could hear his accent thicken even more as he began rambling. You knew he was worried despite the words he was saying, despite what he told you he believed

Pietro turned "nothing bads happening, we both know Thanos was just bluffing he was lying- he was trying to scare us he would never- let me go check princesta I swear I'll be right back"

He began talking really fast, desperate to prove to you that it was a lie, desperate to prove to himself that it was all a lie. Thanos's plan, everything. He was going to prove it

"no wait Pietro!" You suddenly shouted out just before he sped away

"dragâ please- y/n? Y/n!"

You look down at yourself and then at Pietro who stared at you in pure disbelief

He shook his head furiously and blinked as fast as he could to hide his tears

"no- no! No your not going- I'm not going to let you go too" his arms enclosed your body as he hugged you tightly as if though that would prevent your body from being faded away

"Pietro- don't.. don't-" you choke back your words "Pietro look at me, please look at me"

Pietro stubbornly refused to let go despite you pleads, he refused to answer back to opting to hold you even closer

"I can't let you go- don't ask me to do such things you know I can't" his voice trembled as he spoke, his voice never trembled like that before

"Pietro" you spoke again, your shaky voice trying very hard to appear calm but miserably failing

"please y/n please" he begged

"Pietro!" You shouted, shaking away from his hold, leaving space between the both of you, you look into his red teary eyes and he looks into yours

You hands clasp his face gently as he shakes his head softly murmuring no repeatedly,

"oh Pietro-" your forhead touches his and you can hear his sobs

"please don't go-" his voice cracks "you can't go my love"

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm always going to be with you- "

Pietro shook his head

"look at me, my sweet sweet boy, please look at me"

His blue eyes looked straight into yours and you felt the air inside of you vanishing

"I'll be back before you even know it"

You manage to mutter out before you too along with half of humanity vanished away. Away from the life you had half lived, away from the dreams you had half dreamt and away from the people you had truly fully loved with all your heart.

You couldn't hear Pietro's cries after that, his screams, his grief. You couldn't hear his agony and his pleads because you didn't exist, atleast not anymore, maybe now, solely on his memories.

-

He ran, like he always used to

Except this time, he seemed to forget to stop. He forgot to sleep, to eat, he would survive of course, he was bred to survive, to never stop,

So that's what he did, he never stopped running

The world still needed saving. Just this time not from robots and aliens but rather saving from it's own self agony, it's own crippling depression.

And Pietro was still a part of the quote un quote Avengers, whether he wanted to or not so he always found himself running to help people and forgetting that he too needs help

He has seen the look in people's faces, he has seen the very same in Nat's and the same face would stare at him everytime he faced a mirror

A face of regret, guilt and perhaps even self hatred. Pietro was disgusted at himself

He hadn't shaved for a while, his roots were outgrown and his eyes that you once described as a tsunami of emotions now remained still like a frozen lake during winter

But even so, he never stopped running, except he didn't know what he was running towards or rather, what he was running from.

He stopped calling himself a part of the Avengers, even though Nat and Steve still did, it made no sense, the Avengers had broken down years ago and half of the members no longer existed.

Tony was tired and done. Pietro knew he had all the right to be, he saw the state he was in when he came back from space,

Barton was-

Barton couldn't care less, Pietro didn't cared either. They both lost everything, but sometimes Pietro wished that atleast the both of them could have held on to one another but it was no use now, after all he didn't even try to stop Barton when he came to give him a final goodbye

The world had darken. He thought the world was a cruel and evil place before but now it was nothing, it was just a huge shadow and every where he went he was reminded of his failure, a failure as a hero, a friend and a failure towards you.

He was running when he got a call from Natasha

"Pietro- where are you?"

"running" a short reply came on one end

".. something came up" Natasha paused and Pietro could hear the hitch on her breath

"Pietro" she repeated his name again "I think- sorry" she corrected "we think we can bring them back"

Pietro finally stopped

"Nat.. don't do this to me, please- don't I cannot- I cannot do it, not anymore" the sokovian boy said

The other line remained silent, after all what could Natasha even say

"do you really believe that we can bring them back?" Pietro asked

"it's..it's almost impossible but.. I believe in it Pietro- it's a crazy dysfunctional idea but I believe in it and so does Steve"

Pietro wanted to run away

"the question is do you?"

He really wanted to run away

"I want to believe in it too" he whispered back

Pietro already lost his parents once and he swore that he won't lose his sister, but he ended up losing everyone he loved

"Bruce is on it and Tony-"

Natasha paused at his name and Pietro held his breath

Mr Stark

"Tony is still deciding" Natasha carefully placing her words

" we'll be waiting for you in the tower. You know where" Natasha said

"okay"

"okay, hey Pietro?"

"yea?"

"I seriously believe in this okay?"

Pietro doesnt reply back, he doesn't need to, he knows it has to work, he had to see you again.

-

[dinogoofymutated]

Kissin and shit - Morph, Colossus, Gambit, Quicksilver. Heehee. here they be! I might or might not do more. It really depends bc I'm doing these as a writing exercise more than anything lol. TWS: Alcohol consumption mentioned, lots of overly enthusiastic smooching. Sexual references but no smut.

Morph

    “I love you- I love you so, so much” Morph doesn't have a minute to reply to you as you kiss them senselessly. Every once in a while when you separate to breathe, they try to speak, only for you to interrupt them with more kisses each time. Morph hums in a confused but happy sort of way. You’ve basically thrown yourself onto them, kissing them again and again until they loose their balance and the two of you topple backwards. The moment you realise you’re falling your hands slide behind their head to cushion the fall, and after a wide-eyed moment of shock both of you are laughing.

    You kiss all over their face, eyelids, cheeks, that little bump where their nose would be- and you don’t stop even as they start to fully fall victim to their laughter. God- did you love that sound! You catch their lips in a kiss again, and they hum in appreciation, panting when you finally pull away with a genuine smile on their face.

    “Not sure what I did to deserve that, but can you tell me so I can do it again?”

Colossus

    Piotr is struggling to keep up with your fiery, passionate kisses. He’s just a quiet as he always is, but you can feel his chest heaving against your own. His breath hitches as you drag your teeth across his bottom lip, before moving your kisses down his neck. You’re gentle with your kisses and nips- lavishing him with all of your love. He’s still silent, not a sound leaving his mouth, but you can feel his large hands squeeze around you just slightly. 

    “Piotr? Are you okay?” You ask when you finally pull away. He’s more red than you’ve ever seen him before, flushed from his ears and all the way down his neck. He doesn’t respond to you at first, his blown pupils looking back and fourth from your lips to your eyes a he fights the urge to pull you closer and kiss you until the next morning. 

    “Yes… Yes. More than okay.”

Gambit

    “You’re so drunk.” You giggle, hands buried in Remy’s hair before he pulls you into another drunken kiss. They’re wet, messy, and sloppy kisses, but you can’t seem to get enough of them. You can taste the alcohol on his toungue as it slides against your own, feeling the slight sting of the taste.

    “Pot callin’ the kettle black, Cher. You’re just as drunk as I am.” Remy chuckles, having pulled away for just a split second before you reel him back in again, your skin buzzing with delight from the feeling of his body against yours. His hands drift down to your thighs before he’s hiking one up against his hip.

    So what if you were both a little drunk? To be honest, even if you were sober, you knew that the two of you would still have ended up in the same place you are now- smoochin.

Quicksilver

    “We really need to get going.” You say, and yet you’re still kissing Pietro, holding onto his tie that he hadn’t even been able to put on before the two of you had gotten carried away. He snorts a laugh against your lips, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist in a split second, his lips hardly leaving yours the entire time.

    “To what? Father’s stupid gala? We have plenty of time.” Pietro sighs, pressing his forehead against your own, pretty, white lashes resting against his cheekbones with his eyes still closed. “I’ll just zip us over when we’re done.” He says, walking you over to your desk where he sets you down- french kissing you the entire way there. You hardly have time to pull away and breathe to respond to him.

     “Believe me, Speedy, if we don’t get going, we’re going to be here all night.”

[natti-ice]

Amusement park date imagine!!

CW: fear of heights, mentions of food

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Spending the whole day at the amusement park together, eating greasy food and standing in long lines where you both can sneak a kiss or two. You hug him from behind as you wait in the longest line for the most popular roller coaster in the whole park, he knows you’re nervous about how high it goes so he gives you a little encouragement “it’ll only be two minutes max, baby” he whispers to you as he gently rubs your arm, he can feel your heart pounding against his back “I’ll hold your hand the entire time”Once on the ride you cling onto him as it starts to move, you’re completely terrified at first but as it goes on you find a lot of comfort in him being there with you.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader / Pietro Maxmioff x fem!reader

Summary: Nothing is as it seems.

Prompt: "You look familiar. Where do I know you from?"

Warnings: crossover au, death, pietro, reader, and james are all sixteen, ending is very much up to interpretation (open-ended lol), confusing on purpose 😉

~ @simp-for-fictional-people this is SO niche and so different then anything I usually write! i hope this is what you wanted, lovie!! ~

ps: while i personally fan-cast James as Aaron Taylor-Johnson in my head and use him for headers, i try and write his physical descriptions more ambiguously in my other james works because i know there are plenty of other amazing James fan-casts (including poc!james, which i really love)! however, for this story's purposes, he's supposed to look like pietro 😁 ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

Dead.

The word rings in your ears but you don't register it. You slide through the rubble, knees scraping the pavement to reach him. Alive? You hope as you see a glimmer of those blue eyes you love so much behind the strands of silver. You whisper his name, the letters feeling wrong on your tongue as you kneel beside him. 

You see the blood seeping through his costume and your heart sinks. Dead. Dead. Dead. It's a taunting chant as you push him up to lean his head on your knees, pushing his hair away from his eyes. His eyes, which are staring at you but there's no life behind them anymore. 

"No," your voice is shaky as you clutch him, your skin vibrating as your vision blurs. "No. No. No. No," you chant to counter the voice in your head. You bend over and kiss his forehead. No response. You try his cheek as tears stream down your cheeks. "Pietro," you plead, "wake up."

Anger courses your veins as his blood stains your hands. Your head is pounding so loudly you can barely think. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

The team calls your name. You feel like the world around you is spinning as you feel your powers acting up as you hold him closer to you, crushing his face into your chest as you sob. You feel hot and misplaced as your head is throbbing. 

Your name is screamed again but this time, you can't even see them as a blinding green light surrounds you, catching the gimmer on your wrist—the small silver bracelet Pietro had given you for your sixteenth birthday—and you fall unconscious. Your head hits the pavement, making everything turn dark. 

His hand touches yours, the background blurry. He looks like a carefree kid again, those rosy cheeks so full of life and future. "Y/n/n, wake up," Pietro whispers, grinning as you stare into his blue eyes. "Wake up now."

You startle awake, sitting up as your chest heaves. You blink, dried tears still on your cheeks. You glance around the room, it looks ancient. You're dressed in clothes you don't immediately recognize as your head continues to throb.

From your bedside, a boy jumps up. He's wearing the same clothes, only his with red accents as opposed to your green ones. His dark hair is curled messily across his features and his glasses rest lopsided on his head. "Thank Merlin!" he exclaims, his British accent thick as he rushes up to you and leans over you, smiling. "Are you okay?"

You blink, looking at his features intensely. His smile, the way his nose curves, the swoop of his hair. His eyes. 

The same ones flash in your head. 

"You look familiar," you whisper, tilting your head with confusion, "Where do I know you from."

The boy laughs. "Y/n/n, it's me. It's James."

James? James? James? For some reason the name sticks on your tongue. You look at him as your memories rush back. James. Pietro? James. 

"Jamie, right," you shake your head, touching your scalp and frowning. "Shit, what happened?"

"You fell and hit your head pretty damn hard, love," James kisses your forehead tenderly. "Madam Pomfrey says you have a small concussion," he smiles and again you have a weird sense of déja-vu.

"I had the weirdest dream," you tell him and look down at your hands, almost expecting to see the green light from around them. Your frown deepens when you see the silver bracelet from your dream. You hold your wrist up. 

"James? Where did this come from?"

James looks at the bracelet and shrugs. "Why're you asking me? It's yours." 

You turn the bracelet around, frowning again as you see a hint of two small initials engraved onto the metal.

P.M

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese, @longlivedelusion, @fangirl-swagg, @tansgirlfriend, @brokeaesthetic , @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld

[lesbian-deadpool]

Y/N pointing to Thor: Guy who has a boss health bar.

Y/N pointing to Tony: Guy that has a "divorce playlist".

Y/N pointing to Pietro: Guy who makes "your mom" jokes to their siblings.

Y/N pointing to Wade: Guy who is polyamorous only to grow their army.

Y/N pointing to Vison: Guy who calls it "Maroon 7.13" adjusted to inflation.

Y/N pointing to Sam: Guy who says "no homo" but proceeds to say the absolute most homo stuff.

Y/N pointing to Scott: Guy that is just kinda there, nobody knows why.

[urdreamydoodles]

Hello!!! I just found your page and yes I already I love your work!!

If it’s no trouble, may I ask for X-men characters with a Pregnant s/o headcanons? Like how they would be when you tell them you’re pregnant, how they are when you’re pregnant, and how they’d be during labor! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Could I also ask it be with: Logan, Scott, Gambit, Ororo, Colossus, and Kurt??

If not it’s totally okay! Have a great rest of your day 💖💖

X-Men x Pregnant!Reader

How they handle your pregnancy

Each X-Man reacts differently to your pregnancy, from initial surprise and joy to unwavering support during labor, reflecting their unique personalities and love for you.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Kurt Wagner, Colossus (+ my personal addition : Erik Lehnsherr, Wade Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Pietro Maximoff)

Thank you for saying that, hearing that my work is liked makes me really happy, thank you ♡ And it's not a trouble at all — love the prompt! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

When you tell Logan you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is a mix of shock and silence. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his gruff exterior cracking just enough to reveal how truly taken aback he is by the news. He’s been through so much, lost so many people, and had so many regrets in his life that the thought of bringing a child into this world overwhelms him. But after a long, quiet moment, his eyes soften, and he gently places a hand on your stomach, the roughness of his calloused palm contrasting with the tenderness in his gesture. His voice, usually gruff and low, is quiet when he says, "I’ll protect both of ya… no matter what."

During your pregnancy, Logan becomes fiercely protective. He’s always been the protective type, but now it’s ramped up to an entirely different level. He doesn’t let you do anything that might risk your health or the baby’s, even if it’s something small like lifting a grocery bag. He makes sure you’re comfortable, constantly checking in with you—though he tries to act like he’s not worried. You often catch him watching you, eyes filled with a mix of awe and uncertainty. He tries not to hover, but you can see how much he cares. The moment you’re uncomfortable, he’s there, ready to do anything to help. His biggest fear, though he never outright says it, is that something will happen to you or the baby, so he keeps an almost obsessive eye on both of your well-being.

When labor begins, Logan is a mess of emotions. He’s usually the calm in any storm, but seeing you in pain makes him feel helpless in a way he’s not used to. He holds your hand, trying to keep you calm, though his own heart races. "I’m here, darlin’. You’re strong. You got this," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your forehead, staying close, trying to mask his own panic. When the baby finally comes, and he hears that first cry, tears fill his eyes. He never thought he could experience something so beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Logan would quietly hold the baby, marveling at the tiny life you both created, knowing he’s going to protect this child with everything he has.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

Telling Remy you’re pregnant is like lighting a firework. He’s always been a charmer, quick with a grin and a flirtatious quip, but when the news sinks in, his eyes light up with uncontainable excitement. "Mon dieu… I gon’ be a papa?" he says in disbelief, his signature grin widening as he pulls you into his arms. His hands immediately find your stomach, even if there’s no sign of the baby yet, and he plants a loving kiss on your lips. Remy is the kind of man who loves with his whole heart, and now, the idea of a family with you makes him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Throughout the pregnancy, Remy is absolutely doting. He spoils you beyond belief, making sure you have everything you need. He constantly brings you little gifts—flowers, chocolates, or even things for the baby—and he can’t help but talk to your belly every chance he gets, whispering sweet nothings in French. "Cher bébé, you gon’ have de best life wit’ us," he coos. He’s also incredibly playful, making jokes to keep your spirits high during the more uncomfortable parts of the pregnancy. If you’re feeling tired or sick, he’s quick to comfort you, but he does it with his usual playful charm. "You look beautiful, ma chérie, even wit’ a lil’ bump," he teases, kissing your cheek. Remy’s energy makes the whole experience feel lighter, more fun, and less daunting.

During labor, Remy’s usual calm and collected demeanor falters. He’s still his charming self, but there’s a frantic edge to his words as he holds your hand. "You okay, chérie? I’m right here wit’ you," he reassures, though you can see the worry in his eyes. He’s not used to seeing you in pain, and it shakes him more than he thought it would. As the labor progresses, he stays by your side, whispering sweet encouragements in French and English, never letting go of your hand. When the baby finally arrives, he’s completely overwhelmed, tears of joy running down his face as he holds your child for the first time. "Our lil’ miracle," he says softly, his heart full to bursting with love for both you and the baby.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

When you tell Scott you’re pregnant, he’s stunned, standing still for a long moment as he processes the news. Scott, being the logical and responsible leader he is, has always thought about the future and the possibility of a family, but hearing it from you makes it real in a way that both excites and terrifies him. "We’re… we’re going to be parents?" he asks, his voice soft with disbelief before his arms wrap around you tightly. You can see the joy in his face, mixed with the weight of responsibility that’s already setting in. He’s already planning everything in his mind—how he’ll protect you, the future he’ll build for the three of you, ensuring that you and the baby are always safe.

Throughout your pregnancy, Scott is incredibly attentive and thoughtful. He’s the type to read all the parenting books, meticulously prepare for every scenario, and ensure that you’re comfortable and healthy at all times. He schedules every doctor’s appointment, makes sure you’re eating well, and insists that you take things easy. He’s also incredibly emotional during this time, though he tries to hide it. You often catch him looking at you with a softness in his eyes, one hand resting protectively on your stomach. "I love you so much," he says out of the blue one night, his voice filled with quiet awe. Scott takes everything seriously, and your pregnancy is no exception—he’s already planning how to be the best father he can be.

When the day of labor arrives, Scott is calm and composed, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He’s a natural leader, but this is out of his control, and it scares him more than he’ll admit. He holds your hand the entire time, murmuring words of encouragement, but there’s a tightness in his voice that betrays his worry. "You’re doing great, we’re almost there," he says, though you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are. When the baby is born, Scott is overcome with emotion. He’s usually so controlled, but in this moment, tears stream down his face as he holds your newborn in his arms. "We did it," he whispers, looking between you and the baby with a sense of awe and love so profound it leaves him speechless.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

When you tell Ororo you’re pregnant, her reaction is calm yet filled with quiet joy. She has always been a steady presence, and that doesn’t change even in a moment as life-altering as this. You watch as her eyes widen slightly, and she takes a deep breath, letting it out with a smile that’s filled with nothing but love. "A child," she says softly, as if testing the words out on her lips before she steps closer, pulling you into a tender embrace. She kisses your forehead, her fingers gently brushing your stomach. "We will raise them together with the strength of the earth, the wind, and the skies," she whispers, her voice filled with a quiet reverence for this new journey you’re about to embark on together.

During the pregnancy, Ororo is a pillar of strength and grace. She watches over you with care, making sure you feel supported and at peace throughout. Her connection to nature allows her to sense even the smallest changes in your well-being, and she’s quick to help ease any discomfort you feel. She spends hours talking to your growing belly, whispering stories of the world, of the sky, and the beauty of the elements. Her presence is soothing, and she brings you peace in moments where the discomforts of pregnancy are hardest to bear. At night, she holds you close, her hands resting protectively on your stomach, often saying a quiet prayer to the earth for your safety. "You and our child are my heart," she says softly one evening as you drift off to sleep, her love for you as powerful as the storms she commands.

When the time comes for labor, Ororo is a calming force by your side. Even as the pain begins, she stays with you, her hand in yours, reminding you to breathe, to focus on the world around you. "Feel the wind, my love, let it guide you," she murmurs, her voice steady as she helps you through each contraction. You find yourself drawing strength from her presence, her deep connection to the elements grounding you. When the baby finally arrives, she cradles the tiny life in her arms with such tenderness that it brings tears to your eyes. "Welcome to the world, little one," she whispers, her eyes filled with awe and love. Ororo knows this is a moment of great power, not just in the birth of your child, but in the creation of a family bound by love and strength.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

When you tell Kurt you’re pregnant, his first reaction is pure, unfiltered joy. His golden eyes light up, and in an instant, he’s pulling you into a tight embrace, his tail curling around you protectively. "Mein Gott! You are serious, ja?" he asks, his excitement palpable. When you nod, he lets out a delighted laugh, teleporting you both into the air for a brief moment in his excitement before bringing you back down gently. He cups your face in his hands, pressing kisses all over your cheeks and lips, his happiness absolutely infectious. "I am going to be a papa?!" he repeats, as if he can’t quite believe it, but the pure joy on his face shows that he couldn’t be happier. He immediately begins to talk about your future together, about how he’ll be the best father, about how lucky the child will be to have you as their mother.

Throughout your pregnancy, Kurt is an absolute ball of energy and love. He’s always fussing over you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re happy, and doing everything he can to make you smile. He talks to your belly constantly, telling your baby stories of his own childhood, sharing his love for adventure and his deep faith. "You will be loved, little one. So very loved," he whispers often, his tail lightly wrapping around you as he presses his head to your stomach. Despite his own rough upbringing, Kurt is determined to make sure your child is raised with nothing but love and joy. He’s so excited for every little milestone, constantly asking how you’re feeling, and making sure that you never feel alone or overwhelmed. He even starts knitting baby clothes in his spare time, determined to create something personal for your child.

When labor begins, Kurt is nervous but tries his best to stay calm for your sake. He teleports in and out of the room, fetching things, bringing you water, doing anything he can to help. "You are so strong, meine liebe, you’ve got this," he says, though you can see the nervous energy in him as he paces slightly. When things get intense, he stays by your side, holding your hand tightly, his usual calm demeanor replaced with pure awe at what’s happening. The moment the baby is born, Kurt is overwhelmed with emotion. Tears fill his golden eyes as he looks at the tiny life you’ve created together. "Our little miracle," he whispers in awe, his tail brushing gently against the baby’s tiny hand as he cradles them carefully. His heart is full, knowing that this is the start of a new, beautiful chapter for your family.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

When you tell Piotr you’re pregnant, his first reaction is one of quiet shock. His gentle nature has always been a core part of who he is, but the idea of becoming a father leaves him momentarily speechless. He stares at you for a moment, as if processing the magnitude of what you just said. Then, slowly, a smile breaks across his face, and his massive arms gently pull you into a warm, protective embrace. "We are going to have a child?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with wonder. His metal form, cold to the touch, somehow feels comforting as he holds you close, his hands resting gently on your stomach. "I… I will do everything to protect you and our child," he promises, his deep voice filled with determination and love.

Throughout your pregnancy, Piotr becomes an even more protective and attentive partner. He’s already used to being careful with his strength around you, but now he’s even more cautious, always making sure you’re comfortable and safe. He spends hours drawing and painting, creating art that reflects the love and joy he feels for you and the baby. His gentle nature shines through as he constantly checks in with you, making sure you’re well-rested, eating enough, and not doing anything that could put strain on you or the baby. "You should rest, moya lyubov’," he says softly, offering you a cup of tea or a warm blanket whenever you look the least bit uncomfortable. He talks about the future often, about how he wants to raise the child with the same love and care his family gave him, how he wants to teach them to be strong but gentle, like him.

When labor begins, Piotr is a bundle of nerves beneath his calm exterior. His metal form shifts, and you can see the tension in his usually composed demeanor. He stays by your side, holding your hand gently, though you can tell he’s trying not to show just how worried he is. "I am here, love, you are so strong," he says softly, his voice a low rumble as he reassures you throughout the process. As the labor progresses, he’s there every step of the way, doing whatever he can to help. When the baby is finally born, Piotr is overwhelmed with emotion. He carefully cradles the tiny life in his large, metal arms, his eyes shining with tears as he looks at you with pure love. "Our family," he whispers, his deep voice filled with awe and devotion. "You have given me everything."

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

When you tell Erik you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is one of deep, contemplative silence. You watch as the weight of the news settles over him like a heavy cloak, and for a brief moment, there’s an unreadable look in his sharp eyes. He’s always been a man burdened by the past, his life filled with loss and pain. But then, his expression softens, and he reaches out to touch your face, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. "A child," he murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to believe it. Slowly, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "We will give them the world," he promises, his voice low and filled with the intensity that only Erik can bring. Though you can tell the news has stirred up memories of his past, the joy he feels for this future with you is undeniable.

During the pregnancy, Erik becomes fiercely protective, bordering on overbearing at times. He’s always been a man who values control, and now that you’re carrying his child, that instinct is heightened tenfold. He monitors everything, making sure you’re safe, making sure you’re comfortable, and making sure nothing threatens you or the baby. His magnetic abilities become almost a subconscious part of how he protects you, moving objects out of your way before you even realize they’re there, adjusting the temperature of the room without a second thought. Despite his intensity, there’s a tenderness in the way he speaks to your belly, as though he’s already trying to form a connection with your unborn child. "You will be strong," he says one evening, his hand resting on your stomach. "I will make sure of it."

When labor begins, Erik is calm but incredibly focused. He’s been through many battles in his life, but this is something different—a battle of a more personal kind. He stays by your side, his hand gripping yours tightly, though you can see the tension in his jaw as he tries to remain composed. "You can do this, my love," he says, his voice steady despite the worry in his eyes. As the contractions grow stronger, he channels his abilities to make the environment as soothing as possible, dimming the lights, adjusting the metal fixtures in the room to make everything feel more comfortable for you. When the baby is finally born, Erik is silent for a long moment, staring at the tiny life you’ve both created. Then, without a word, he takes the child in his arms, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability as he gazes down at them. "I never thought I would have this again," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

When you tell Wade you’re pregnant, his reaction is, unsurprisingly, over the top. He stares at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open comically for a moment before he suddenly breaks into a huge grin. "Are you serious?!" he shouts, throwing his arms in the air and spinning around in excitement. He grabs you and starts bouncing you up and down, all the while chattering on about how you’re going to have the coolest kid in the world. "Oh man, this is going to be awesome! Our little baby Wadelette, or Wadelino!" His excitement is infectious, and though his humor never stops, you can tell there’s genuine love and excitement behind his wild antics. He talks about everything from baby names to what kind of mini-costume the kid will wear, all while being completely and utterly himself.

During the pregnancy, Wade is a chaotic but devoted partner. He’s constantly hovering, making ridiculous jokes to keep your spirits up, and finding the weirdest ways to pamper you. "You’re eating for two now! Gotta keep that belly happy!" he’d say, handing you a tray of the strangest food combinations you’ve ever seen. Wade has a way of making even the most uncomfortable moments of pregnancy into something funny, but when the serious moments hit, he’s surprisingly thoughtful. He talks to your belly in exaggerated voices, telling the baby stories of his adventures and promising to be the best (and weirdest) dad ever. Though he can’t quite stop being himself, you know that beneath all the humor, Wade is completely committed to you and the baby.

When labor hits, Wade is... well, Wade. He’s running around like a madman, alternately panicking and cracking jokes to try and keep things light. "Okay, okay, I’ve got this! I’ve fought ninjas, I’ve blown up buildings, how hard can this be?!" he says, though the genuine concern in his eyes gives him away. As things progress, he becomes a little more serious, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement between his nervous ramblings. When the baby is finally born, Wade is struck speechless for once in his life. He stares down at the tiny bundle in awe, his usual mask of humor slipping as he gently takes the baby in his arms. "Holy crap," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "We made a tiny person." He looks at you with wide eyes, his usual bravado replaced with pure, unfiltered love.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

When you tell Wanda you’re pregnant, her initial reaction is one of quiet, overwhelmed emotion. You watch as her eyes fill with tears, her hands trembling as she reaches out to touch your face. "A baby?" she whispers, her voice filled with disbelief. For Wanda, this news is a dream she never thought possible, a hope she had long since buried beneath the weight of her complicated life. She pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as she tries to process the enormity of what this means for the both of you. Her powers flicker around her, responding to her heightened emotions, but she calms herself quickly, pressing her forehead to yours. "I never thought I would have this chance," she says softly. "But now… now we can have a family."

Throughout the pregnancy, Wanda is a bundle of emotions—both excitement and worry. She’s incredibly protective, her powers always at the ready to keep you and the baby safe, but there’s an underlying fear that something could go wrong. Despite her concerns, she embraces the experience fully, surrounding you with warmth and love. She spends hours researching everything about pregnancy, reading books, and using her magic to ensure you and the baby are healthy. She talks to your belly every night, using her magic to create little illusions of what she imagines your child might look like. "You will be so loved," she whispers to your stomach, her hands gently resting over the growing life inside you. Despite the fears that linger in the back of her mind, Wanda finds joy in the journey, grateful for the chance to experience this with you.

When labor begins, Wanda is nervous but focused. She holds your hand, her magic swirling around the room in gentle pulses, trying to ease your pain and keep you calm. "You’re so strong," she says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "I’m here with you." As the contractions intensify, Wanda uses her powers to help as much as she can without interfering too much, guiding you through the pain with a steady hand and reassuring words. When the baby is finally born, Wanda is overwhelmed with emotion. She cradles the newborn in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she gazes at the life you’ve created together. "Our child," she whispers, her voice filled with awe. "I can’t believe it… they’re perfect."

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

When you tell Pietro you’re pregnant, his reaction is fast—literally. He zooms around the room at breakneck speed, his excitement palpable as he tries to process the news. "Wait, wait, wait—seriously? I’m going to be a dad?!" he exclaims, coming to a sudden stop in front of you with wide eyes and a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He’s so thrilled that he can barely stand still, constantly moving from one side of the room to the other, muttering excitedly to himself about baby names, future races, and all the things he’ll teach your child. "They’re gonna be fast, I just know it!" he says, already imagining a little speedster following in his footsteps. His excitement is contagious, and though he can be overwhelming at times, you know that Pietro’s joy is genuine and heartfelt.

During the pregnancy, Pietro is both attentive and hilariously impatient. He’s constantly zipping around, checking on you, fetching things, and making sure you’re comfortable. "You need anything? Water? Snacks? Foot rub?" he asks at lightning speed, already halfway out the door before you can answer. His energy is boundless, and though it can be a bit much at times, you appreciate how much he cares. Pietro is always talking to your belly, encouraging the baby to hurry up and grow faster. "Come on, little one, we’re all waiting for you!" he says with a grin, pressing a kiss to your stomach. Despite his impatience, Pietro is incredibly sweet, and he does everything he can to make sure you feel loved and supported throughout the entire process.

When labor begins, Pietro is a whirlwind of nervous energy. He’s constantly pacing, moving from one side of the room to the other, his speed betraying his anxiety. "You’re doing great, babe, really great!" he says, though his voice is tinged with nervousness. He tries to stay calm for your sake, but you can tell he’s on edge, desperate for everything to go smoothly. When the baby is finally born, Pietro’s world comes to a complete standstill for the first time in his life. The moment they place the baby in his arms, everything around him slows, and for once, he’s not in a rush to go anywhere. He stares down at your newborn child, his usual cocky smirk replaced with a look of pure awe and disbelief. "Wow," he whispers, his voice soft and reverent. "I… we made this." His hands, usually moving a mile a minute, are gentle as he cradles the baby close, eyes wide with wonder as he examines every little detail of their face.