#ScarletVision fic

[this-is-chaos-magick]

Is it just me...or is the Wanda Maximoff/The Vision tag on AO3 kinda dry?....like I needed more post WV/dsmom scarvizh fanfics

[witheredwritings]

Soft in the Right Hands - Chapter Three

Summary: After meeting the Avengers, Quinn finds out more about her past, her parents and what might link her to Bucky. Just when she's ready to find the answer to all her questions, it goes horribly wrong. Word Count: 3.8K Warnings: PTSD, Angst, Violence, Blood, Injuries, Stalking, Death of Minor Characters, Kidnapping, Gambling, Addiction, and Tony Stark bc he needs his own warning for all the chaos he causes . Let me know if I missed anything!! A/N: The end is a bit gory, so if you're not into that, it might be best to skip that part. Please read the warnings before you continue reading! Love, the author <3

The morning after the pancake-fueled chaos in Stark Tower, Quinn wakes up feeling something unfamiliar—rested. For the first time in a long time, she hadn’t had to sleep with one eye open.

But peace doesn’t last long.

She finds Bucky already up, sitting at the kitchen counter nursing a coffee like it’s the only thing keeping him from murder. She’s about to greet him when the sound of an electric razor hums through the room. She turns—and nearly chokes.

Tony. Standing in the middle of the kitchen. Shaving his goatee.

Quinn frowns. “Uh… what are you doing?”

Tony, deadpan: “Making a sacrifice to the gods of self-respect. What does it look like?”

Bucky grumbles, not looking up from his coffee. “It looks like you’re making a mess.”

Tony points the razor at him. “You, Barnes, are in no position to critique anyone’s grooming habits.”

Steve walks in, takes one look at Tony’s half-shaven face, and sighs like a disappointed parent. “Tony.”

“Steve.”

“Why?”

Tony shrugs. “Felt like a change.” He gestures at Quinn. “Speaking of changes, our mystery guest still hasn’t explained why she was crashing on Barnes’ couch last night. Not that I’m complaining. I live for drama.”

Bucky’s jaw tightens. He shoots Tony a warning look, but Quinn surprises him by speaking first.

“It’s not that interesting,” she says, though her body language says otherwise. “I needed somewhere safe. Bucky said this was safe.”

Clint, appearing from literally nowhere: “That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

Quinn exhales sharply. “I didn’t kill anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Clint shrugs. “Good to know. But I was more asking who is after you.”

Silence.

Bucky sets down his coffee. “Quinn—”

“I don’t know,” she interrupts, voice clipped. “Not exactly. Just… people I don’t want finding me.”

That gets everyone’s attention. Even Tony, who had been fully prepared to continue shaving in the middle of the conversation, stops and actually looks at her.

Bucky frowns. “You said you got away clean.”

Quinn swallows. “I thought I did.”

Steve’s expression softens. “If you’re in danger, we can help.”

Her first instinct is to refuse. She’s spent years looking out for herself—trusting others has never come easily. But then her gaze flickers to Bucky. Despite his rough exterior, he hasn’t once looked at her like she’s a problem to be fixed. He understands.

So she stays silent, letting them talk around her, retreating into the quiet of her own thoughts. She isn’t sure how long she sits at the kitchen table, simply listening to the steady, comforting rhythm of their conversation. The smell of coffee and breakfast filled the air, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was somewhere safe. Somewhere normal.

But normal never lasted.

Bucky had been quiet beside her, responding only when necessary, his sharp eyes always watching. Not in a bad way—just aware. He always seemed to be waiting for something. A threat. A reason to leave. A reason to stay.

She understood the feeling.

Eventually, the others drifted out of the kitchen, their curiosity satisfied for now. Steve had gone to take a call. Tony had disappeared, mumbling something about an experiment. Clint had left after successfully stealing the last of the coffee.

That left her and Bucky.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either.

“You good?” Bucky asked finally, his voice low.

Quinn hesitated. Was she?

She’d spent the last year looking over her shoulder, staying three steps ahead of the past chasing her. But now, sitting here, she had slowed down.

And that was dangerous.

“I’m fine,” she said, though even she wasn’t convinced.

Bucky didn’t press. He just stood, motioning with his head. “C’mon.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

“Rooftop,” he said simply.

She hesitated. But then she followed.

The rooftop was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city below. A cool breeze brushed against Quinn’s skin, carrying the scent of rain and asphalt. She hugged her arms around herself, staring out over the skyline, feeling the weight of Bucky’s presence beside her.

Neither of them spoke at first.

She wasn’t sure why she had followed him up here—maybe because she was tired of sitting still, maybe because she didn’t want to be alone, or maybe because she knew he wouldn’t push her for answers she wasn’t ready to give.

But she was ready. At least, to give some answers.

“You were right,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “People like that don’t just pick random targets.”

Bucky turned his head slightly, waiting.

She exhaled slowly. “They didn’t come after me because of something I did. They came after me because of something my parents did.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. He said nothing, but she could feel the shift in his posture—more alert, more focused.

“I lied to you. They weren’t drunks or gamblers. They were researchers,” she continued. “Not for Hydra, but for something close enough to get them killed.” Her fingers curled around the railing. “I don’t know all the details. I was ten. But I remember the night they died.”

She swallowed hard. The memory was always there, buried deep, waiting for moments like this to surface.

“I hid under the floorboards,” she murmured. “Like my dad told me to. I heard everything. The gunshots. The voices.” Her grip tightened. “I saw their faces when they left.”

Bucky’s hands flexed against the metal railing, but he stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“They didn’t kill me,” she continued. “I think… I think they meant to, but something changed. They took me instead.”

She felt rather than saw Bucky tense beside her.

Quinn let out a breath. “I don’t know why. Maybe leverage. Maybe an experiment. Maybe just because they could. But they kept me foryears.”

She didn’t elaborate on what that meant. She didn’t have to. The silence stretched between them, filled with the weight of understanding.

Then, finally—

“I escaped,” she said. “When I was seventeen.”

Bucky turned fully now, studying her. “How?”

She hesitated, then answered.

“Arthur Meyer.”

Bucky frowned. “The man who owns the café?”

“He was an my old neighbor. The man who got my parents that job,” Quinn said, voice softer now. “Before. He was ex-military, used to work with terrorist organizations like Hydra. But now he works with…. people like you.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed slightly.

“He’s been running an underground network in the basement of the café,” Quinn continued. “A place for people running from Hydra and their kind. He got me out.” She exhaled shakily.

Bucky studied her for a long moment. Then—

“You think they’re after him too.”

It wasn’t a question.

Quinn swallowed. “I don’t know. But if they are or they found out what he’s been doing, so many lives are on the line.”

The silence settled once more, but this time, it carried weight—thick and unsteady.

Then, the rooftop door let out a slow, creaking protest.

Quinn turned as Clint strolled in, a manila folder in hand.

She frowned. “What’s that?”

Clint didn’t answer right away. He handed the folder to her instead.

“We ran a search,” he said. “On you.”

Quinn’s stomach twisted.

Bucky stiffened beside her. “Without telling us?”

Clint shrugged. “Standard protocol.”

Quinn hesitated, then opened the folder.

At first, nothing surprised her. Basic information. Discrepancies in her records—normal for someone who had spent years off the grid. But then—

She stopped.

Her breath caught.

Bucky noticed immediately. “What?”

Quinn flipped the page, her hands tightening on the edges.

A surveillance photo.

Of him. The Winter Soldier.

And beside him—

A girl.

Young. Maybe ten, maybe a little older. Tired eyes. Staring at the camera.

Looking straight at him.

Bucky’s blood ran cold.

Quinn’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Bucky… that’s me.”

Silence.

Bucky couldn’t breathe.

It didn’t make sense.

He didn’t remember this.

And yet—

That feeling, the strange familiarity, the way he had felt something click the first time he saw her—it wasn’t just paranoia.

It was memory.

Fragmented, buried, stolen—but real.

Quinn swallowed hard. “Bucky… who was I to you?”

He didn’t have an answer.

Not yet.

But he was damn sure going to find out.

The conference room was colder than Quinn expected. Not just in temperature—though Stark Tower had the kind of high-tech air conditioning that made the walls feel like steel—but in atmosphere. There was no easy banter, no lighthearted quips like there had been in the kitchen that morning.

Now, it was all sharp eyes and measured silence.

Quinn sat stiffly in one of the leather chairs, her fingers tightening around the mug of coffee that Tony had shoved into her hands before flouncing out of the room with a vague promise of “running diagnostics on the scary data.”

Bucky was standing against the far wall, arms crossed, a permanent scowl carved into his face. Steve was next to him, slightly more relaxed, but his sharp gaze remained steady on the redhead seated across from Quinn.

Natasha Romanoff was unnervingly still.

The Black Widow had an intensity that didn’t need to be announced—it just existed, woven into the way she held herself, the way her eyes flicked over Quinn as if memorizing every detail. Every shift of her body, every twitch of a muscle. She was studying her, and Quinn had the distinct feeling that no matter what she said, Natasha would be able to tell if she was lying.

“So,” Natasha finally spoke, voice smooth and quiet. “You’re the one Barnes has been keeping off the radar.”

Quinn fought the urge to bristle. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Natasha tilted her head, considering. “No? You show up at his doorstep, Hydra starts sniffing around, and now we’ve got ghosts from the past resurfacing.” She leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on the table. “That’s not a coincidence.”

Quinn swallowed, choosing her words carefully. “I never said it was.”

A beat of silence. Natasha’s gaze was heavy, searching. Then—

“Hm.”

That was it. Just a quiet, almost amused hum, like Quinn had done something mildly interesting.

Bucky sighed from his spot against the wall. “Just say what you’re thinking, Nat.”

Her lips twitched. “I’m thinking that if Hydra wanted her bad enough to keep her for six years, we need to know why.”

Quinn’s grip on her mug tightened.

Steve glanced at her. “You don’t remember much from that time, do you?”

Quinn hesitated, then shook her head. “Not in a way that makes sense. There are flashes of things, but…” She exhaled. “Most of it is a blur.”

Natasha watched her for another long moment.

Then, she moved.

Not fast. Just a shift—leaning back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. But it was intentional. A subtle change in posture that somehow felt less… predatory.

“So,” Natasha said, her voice losing some of its edge, “tell me what you do remember.”

Quinn hesitated. Talking about it wasn’t something she did often. The memories were jagged, scattered—shadows in her mind that never fully connected. But Natasha wasn’t asking to be cruel. She was asking because she needed the information. Because the more they knew, the more they could figure out who was after Quinn—and why.

She forced herself to take a breath.

“I remember being taken,” she started, voice quieter now. “It was after my parents…” She trailed off, clearing her throat. “After they were killed.”

Natasha didn’t react outwardly, but there was something in her eyes that flickered for just a second.

Quinn pressed on. “I remember the facility. White walls, no windows. Tests. Needles.” Her stomach turned, but she kept going. “And I remember escaping. I don’t know how—I just know that someone helped me.”

“Arthur Meyer,” Bucky said, his voice low.

Quinn nodded. “Yeah. My old neighbor. He got me out and brought me somewhere safe. An underground network for people running from Hydra.”

Natasha tapped her fingers lightly against the table. “I know Meyer.”

Quinn blinked. “You do?”

Natasha’s expression didn’t change, but there was something almost nostalgic in her voice. “He’s been in the business of keeping ghosts hidden for a long time.” She tilted her head. “You’re lucky he found you first.”

Quinn let out a breath. “Yeah. I know.”

Another silence settled between them, but this one felt different. Not quite comfortable, but not as sharp as before.

Then Natasha’s eyes flicked to Bucky. “And you? What do you remember?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Nothing.”

Natasha’s gaze lingered on him for a beat longer, like she was trying to decide whether or not to push. But then she simply nodded.

“Well,” she said, standing smoothly, “I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

She looked at Quinn again, and for the first time, her expression wasn’t guarded.

“You’re not running anymore,” Natasha said. Not a question—just a fact.

Quinn exhaled. “No.”

A small smirk tugged at Natasha’s lips.

“Good.”

An hour later, the team was gathered around Stark’s massive display screen, various files and documents flashing across the interface as Tony scrolled through information at an alarming speed.

“Alright, let’s start with the basics,” Tony said. “Quinn’s parents—Dr. Elias and Dr. Maria Ashcroft—were high-level researchers. Not for Hydra, but for a project with classified ties to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Which means,” Clint cut in, “they were either really smart, really dangerous, or both.”

Natasha’s expression darkened slightly. “Most projects like that didn’t end well.”

Quinn’s stomach twisted. “What were they working on?”

Tony tapped the screen, enlarging a heavily redacted document. “That’s where it gets interesting. Their work was connected to something called ‘Project Ulysses.’ Ever heard of it?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “No.”

Natasha’s fingers tapped lightly against the table. “I have.”

All eyes turned to her.

She exhaled. “Project Ulysses was rumored to be an offshoot of early super-soldier experiments. But it wasn’t about making soldiers stronger—it was about making them smarter. Enhancing cognitive abilities, reflexes, memory retention. The idea was that a soldier who could out think an enemy was just as valuable as one who could overpower them.”

Quinn’s blood ran cold. “And my parents were working on that?”

Tony nodded. “Looks like it. But here’s the kicker—there’s no record of their research ever being completed. Which means either they destroyed it…” He let the sentence hang.

“Or someone else took it,” Steve finished grimly.

Quinn’s hands clenched into fists. “And if Hydra had me…?”

Natasha’s expression didn’t change, but her tone softened just slightly. “Then there’s a chance they used you as part of their own version of it.”

The air in the room grew heavier.

Bucky’s voice was low, controlled. “Can we find out what they did?”

Tony’s fingers flew over the interface. “Give me a sec.” The screen shifted, pulling up more files—scattered reports, medical logs, encrypted data. His expression turned serious. “This is gonna take some time to decode, but I can tell you one thing right now.”

He turned to Quinn.

“They weren’t just testing you. They were tracking you.”

Her pulse spiked. “What?”

Tony tapped the screen, zooming in on an old log entry. “Someone’s been keeping tabs on you for years. Monitoring your whereabouts, your health, your—” His eyes flicked back to her, more focused now. “Your brain activity?”

Quinn’s breath caught.

Bucky stepped forward. “What does that mean?”

Tony shrugged. “Beats me. But whatever they were looking for? They haven’t stopped.”

Quinn swallowed hard, the weight of it pressing down on her chest.

Bucky’s voice was quiet, steady. “Then we find out who’s watching.”

It was nearly midnight when the breakthrough came.

Quinn sat curled up on the couch, exhaustion tugging at her, but she refused to sleep. Not when answers were this close.

Tony was still at his workstation, muttering to himself, while Natasha worked through more classified files with an unsettling amount of ease. Bucky sat nearby, arms resting on his knees, eyes sharp and alert despite the late hour.

Then—

“Got something,” Natasha said.

Quinn bolted upright. “What?”

Natasha pulled up a new file. “The tracking data on you? It’s still active.”

Silence.

Quinn’s heart pounded. “Meaning…?”

Natasha’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Meaning someone still has access to it. And it’s not Hydra.”

Bucky stood. “Then who?”

Tony whistled low. “Now that’s interesting.” He spun the display around, revealing an encrypted signature buried deep within the data logs.

It wasn’t Hydra.

It wasn’t S.H.I.E.L.D.

It was something else.

Something older.

Natasha’s face darkened. “Leviathan.”

Quinn’s stomach twisted. “Who?”

Steve’s voice was grim. “A Russian offshoot of Hydra. Older, quieter, and just as deadly.”

Bucky’s expression hardened. “And they still want her.”

Natasha nodded. “Which means whatever they started with you… they aren’t finished.”

Quinn exhaled shakily, every muscle in her body tensing.

Bucky placed a hand on the back of her chair, grounding her. “Then we stop them.”

Quinn looked up at him. At Natasha. At Steve and Tony and the others.

For the first time in years, she wasn’t running alone.

She nodded.

“Let’s do it.”

The hallway was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the cityscape outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Quinn stood near the glass, arms wrapped around herself as she stared out at the streets below. New York never slept, but in this moment, it felt distant. Like she wasn’t really here at all.

She heard Bucky before he spoke. His steps were quiet, controlled—he was always careful like that.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

Quinn turned, meeting his gaze. Bucky stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable, but there was something guarded in the way he held himself.

“I have to,” she said softly.

His jaw ticked. “You don’t have to do anything.”

She sighed. “Bucky—”

“No,” he cut in, stepping further into the room. “You don’t get to act like this is just some casual trip. You’re walking straight into danger, and you know it.”

Quinn clenched her hands into fists. “Arthur has answers. If anyone knows more about what my parents were working on, or what Leviathan is, it’s him.”

Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose. “And what if whoever's looking for you is already watching that place?”

She hesitated. It wasn’t an impossible thought. But she couldn’t just sit here and wait for Stark’s AI to magically figure out her past for her.

“I can’t keep running blind, Bucky,” she said. “I need to know the truth.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at her with something almost unreadable in his eyes. Then, with a quiet breath, he stepped closer.

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Quinn shook her head. “No. If I show up with an Avenger, it puts a target on everyone in that bunker.”

His eyes darkened. “You already have a target on your back.”

She exhaled. “I know.”

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Bucky sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Quinn—”

“I’ll be okay.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit.”

A small smile flickered across her lips. “I appreciate the confidence.”

He didn’t return the smile. Instead, he just studied her, his expression hard. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled.

“Fine.”

Quinn blinked. “Fine?”

His jaw was tight. “I’m not gonna tie you to the damn chair. But if you’re not back by morning, I’m coming after you.”

Something in her chest warmed, but she ignored it. Instead, she nodded. “Deal.”

Bucky didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue.

As she walked past him, he reached out, catching her wrist just for a second. She looked up at him, startled, but his grip was gentle.

“Be careful,” he murmured.

Quinn swallowed and nodded before slipping away.

The café door swung open with a quiet creak. The bell above it—so familiar, so ordinary—let out a soft chime, like a funeral bell.

Something was wrong.

Quinn froze just inside the entrance. The space looked the same—tables and chairs neatly arranged, cups stacked on the counter, the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. But beneath it, something else curled in her nose.

Copper.

She swallowed.

The door had been unlocked. Arthur never left it unlocked.

Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs as she stepped forward. The floorboards groaned beneath her weight, too loud in the unnatural silence.

She glanced toward the back, toward the supply shelf that concealed the entrance to the bunker.

It was slightly ajar.

Her stomach twisted.

Moving quickly now, she slipped behind the counter and pressed her palm against the hidden scanner. The shelf shuddered, groaning open just enough to reveal the dark stairwell beyond.

The bunker was always dimly lit, but this was different. This was pitch-black.

The emergency lights should have kicked in. The generator should have been running.

Quinn hesitated, fingers twitching toward the knife she kept strapped to her thigh.

Then she heard it.

A slow, wet drip.

Her blood turned to ice.

She clicked on her flashlight.

The beam cut through the darkness—before hitting something slick.

Red.

So much red.

It was everywhere. Spattered across the walls in jagged streaks, smeared along the floor in desperate handprints. It dripped from the ceiling in thick, congealing rivulets, pooling into blackened puddles that soaked into the concrete.

Bodies.

Slumped over tables, collapsed in doorways, strewn across the floor like discarded dolls. Their eyes were open—glassily staring, mouths frozen in silent screams. Some had their throats cut so deep their heads lolled at unnatural angles. Others… others had been torn apart.

Limbs severed.

Faces unrecognizable.

Something inside Quinn locked up, her breath catching in her throat.

A flickering light buzzed overhead, casting broken shadows across the carnage.

She staggered forward, swallowing down the bile rising in her throat.

Her boots slid against something wet.

Arthur.

She barely registered the broken glass slicing into her palms as she hit the floor beside him.

Arthur Meyer, the man who had saved her, was slumped against the far wall, his chest a mangled ruin. Blood soaked his shirt, pooling beneath him in a dark, sticky mass. His fingers twitched—just barely, but it was enough.

Quinn let out a strangled gasp, hands trembling as she grabbed his shoulders.

“Arthur—” Her voice broke. “Arthur, hold on.”

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, hazy with pain. Blood bubbled at the corner of his lips as he tried to speak.

She leaned in, desperate, tears blurring her vision.

“What happened?” she choked out.

Arthur exhaled a wet, shuddering breath.

Then—

His body jerked violently. His lips parted, his throat working—but the sound that escaped wasn’t human.

A rattling, gurgling noise tore from his chest, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Quinn reared back, a scream clawing at her throat.

Then she heard it.

The scrape of something shifting behind her.

Slow. Deliberate.

A presence in the darkness.

She barely had time to turn before a shadow loomed out of the black.

A flash of silver.

Cold steel pressed against her temple.

A voice, low and dripping with amusement, whispered in her ear.

“Found you.”

The last thing she saw was Arthur’s lifeless eyes staring back at her.

Then—blackness.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Don't hesitate to leave a comment behind <3

[scarletvisionss]

☮️give you my sunshine, give you my best☮️

Summary: Six years ago, a chance encounter with a handsome stranger left Wanda with more than just fond memories. Now she's raising their child alone, fully believing that she'll never see Vision again.

Then she matches with him on a dating app.

That's when things get complicated.

(An all human domestic AU that focuses on second chances, the triumphs and hardships of being a single parent, and what it means to be a family.)

[Explicit, Incomplete, Wanda/Vision, Single Parents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Meet Cute, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, Domestic Fluff]

Read it here!

Currently: 11/? chapters, 163k words

(For more edits of this fic, see here 🌞☮️)

Here's the official Spotify playlist for this fic, updated as the story goes! All the song recs I mention in the notes of this fic will go here 🥰

[jorviousdoesstuff]

Fairytale AU where Vision is the Prince/Knight in shining armor and he's tasked to save the princess that's been kidnapped from the cradle by an evil witch. But the thing is, there’s no princess in sight, and the witch looks awfully young for the centuries-old that he’d heard in the stories. 

[hibiscuslegacy]

ScarletVision AU where the people that crush on Wanda don’t know she’s in a relationship until she brings Vision by and introduces him as her husband. Vision reveals they have children by saying he’s a “proud papa-ya” and the people crushing on Wanda are just seeing Vision being his adorkable self and Wanda practically twirling her hair while looking at him.

I need fluff aus to survive this drought, any comic, fic, or blog recs are welcome!

[ashyblondwaves]

Oooh! Number 10 for the Maximoff Family. I headcanon wanda as suffering from nightmares often so one of the boys coming to wake up her and Vizh because they had a scary dream is 🥺🥺🥺

You got it! Also posted to AO3 if that's more your thang.

Outnumber Chapter 16: Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

The scream was blood curdling. The kind of scream no parent ever wants to hear from their child. 

“Billy!” Wanda blurted out, her eyes still closed. 

She and Vision sprung from their bed, a bleary eyed Wanda searching for her clothing on the floor as Vision easily phased into a pair of pajama pants. 

“Probably quicker,” he shrugged, speed walking out of the room. 

Wanda mimicked Vision’s actions, phasing into her pajamas rather than trying to pick them up off the floor. She padded out of the room, catching up to Vision as he burst through the twins’ bedroom door and went straight to Billy. 

Wanda made a bee-line for Tommy, the small boy lay in bed with the covers pulled up to his chin, clearly scared by his twins’ screams. 

“There’s…. There’s something in the walls,” Billy stammered, grabbing onto Vision with an iron grasp. 

“Is he ok?” Tommy whispered, his eyes darting from Billy to Wanda. 

“It was just a dream, son,” Vision said, loud enough for Tommy to hear, too. “I promise you, there’s nothing in the walls.” 

“But I heard it, daddy! I heard it,” Billy argued, tightening his grip around Vision’s body and whispering one last time, ”I heard it.”

“Dreams can be very vivid and feel very real,” Vision explained. “Let’s listen now.”

Wanda pressed a kiss to Tommy’s head and repeated the same with Billy. 

“Listen with daddy, boys. I’m going to check on Florence,” she said, slipping out of the room. 

As quietly as she could, Wanda opened the door to Florence’s room. The toddler was quiet and Wanda expected her to be asleep but there she stood in her crib, tears glistening in her eyes, her bottom lip jutted out. 

Once Florence saw Wanda her tears fell in earnest, a small wail escaping her lips. 

“Oh, Baby Bug!” Wanda cooed, plucking the little girl from her crib and holding her tightly. “I’ve got you.”

Twenty minutes later, all three children were settled down and back in bed. 

Or so they thought. 

It was quiet in Wanda and Vision’s room. Neither of them were asleep when they heard the slow creaking of the bedroom door and little feet pitter patter across the carpet. 

There stood Billy, holding tightly to his favorite blanket as he stared at Wanda. 

“There’s something in the walls,” he insisted. 

“Buddy,” Wanda said, exasperated. “Come here.” 

Billy crawled into Wanda and Vision’s bed, settled in between the couple and nestled himself under the comforter. 

The room grew quiet once more, the three of them just settling into a restful sleep when the door creaked again and this time, Tommy came plodding into the room. 

“Where’s Billy?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. 

Wanda knew he’d be following. The twins never slept apart. She patted the mattress, moving her legs to let Tommy crawl into the bed, too. 

Vision moved the covers over to let his son slip under them, bringing them back up over him after he was comfortable. 

It was mere minutes before the silence was interrupted again. This time it was Vision speaking that broke through the quiet. 

“Florence is all alone,” he said sadly. 

Wanda sighed. 

“Go get her,” she said through a smile. 

Vision left the room quickly, returning with a smiling Florence in his arms. 

“Our little missing piece,” Vision said, slipping into bed. 

There was no room for Florence to lay down in the bed, so instead she laid on Vision’s chest. She fell asleep quickly, content and with a hint of a smile on her face. 

The boys followed soon after, their breathing becoming slow and even and finally, Wanda and Vision were able to relax. 

The family of four slept contently together, no room in the bed for anything else as twin boys flailed and tossed themselves around during sleep and one little girl lay happily on her dad’s chest, out like a light. 

And the best part? No nightmares. 

[thespectralvision]

Chapters: 21/28 Fandom: WandaVision (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision Characters: Vision (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff, Darcy Lewis, Monica Rambeau, Jimmy Woo, Pepper Potts, Wong (Marvel), Agatha Harkness Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst, Heavy Angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Depression, Past Character Death, Sex, Rough Sex, Eventual Smut, Fighting, Canon Compliant, White Vision, Canon-Typical Violence, Mutual Pining, Demisexual Vision, Post-Episode: s01e09 The Series Finale (WandaVision) Series: Part 2 of Paprika Series Summary:

Overwhelmed with data, the White Vision leaves the Westview Anomaly to process everything. He encounters some friendly faces, but while they work to assist him with adjusting to his new life he can't help but feel there is still something missing. The Vision theorizes that the missing piece to everything is Wanda Maximoff...but he has no idea where she has gone.

Meanwhile, Wanda flees town, haunted by what she did and the voice of her dead husband and just wanting to find solitude and information about who and what she is. She seeks answers, believing that maybe if she can harness the powers she has unleashed she might be able to fix what happened and get her family back.

When they are finally reunited months later it becomes apparent that neither of their theories about who and what they are were entirely correct. Is he the same Vision who died in Wakanda, or something new? And how does Wanda fit into his new lease on life?

This story is an in-depth exploration into what Vision's return to the world and his struggles to accept who he is might look like going forward in the MCU, heavily inspired by the 616 comic canon and meta discussions about these characters and their relationship.

----

Wanda has a conversation with Clint about how she is doing, and then meets Vision in town, only for a rain storm to change their plans for the afternoon.

Posting a few days late but I wanted to get it out so we can keep this story moving!

[thatoneaspie]

“I’ll Never Let You Go”

A WandaVision AU

By thatoneaspie

| Synopsis: Vision comes home after a nighttime stroll to find his pregnant wife in a scary situation. The only difference to the canon of WandaVision is that Wanda’s pregnancy is not sped up and they know they’re having twin boys. Set in the 70s episode, but “footage” was not aired as a part of the “show”; both are not wearing 70s attire. TW: pregnancy, PTSD (implied), death (implied). |

For @visionismydaddy & @spidey-adhd who wanted more pregnant Wanda fics :,-)

“Wanda?”

Vision never slept. Not because he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to. However, Wanda preferred that he laid in bed with her at night, and he wasn’t going to argue with his pregnant wife.

Once she fell asleep, he sometimes went for a stroll around the quiet neighborhood to collect his thoughts. Things in Westview, NJ didn’t always make sense to Vision. The walks became more and more frequent with twin boys on the way. With the abnormalities of his home town strewn from his mind given the impending role of being a father, he found it most pleasurable to read books on pregnancy while walking in the refreshing night air.

Usually, when he came back home and went back to their shared room, Wanda was sprawled out on the bed and in a deep sleep. She loved to sleep on her stomach, and the new tenants were making that impossible these days, much to her dismay.

This time, when Vision walked up to the closed oak door, he heard hastened breathing on the other side instead of the usual light snoring with the rise and fall of her chest.

He opened the door, and saw an unusual scene in front of him.

Wanda, in her grey night shirt, scarlet shorts and bedhead bun, was sitting straight up in bed on the furthermost side, gripping the sheets with white knuckles. Head down, her eyes were shut and she was hyperventilating.

Vision quickly glided to her side, and put his hand on hers while sitting down next to her. “Wanda? My love, are you alright?” He whispered. She didn’t seem to hear him at all.

For a moment, he feared that she was having contractions. It was awfully early, she was only 6 months along...

But then, he saw her face up close, and realized what was going on.

Another nightmare.

They had been coming more frequently now as she progressed. The doctor said it was normal in someone who had gone through all that she had, but Vision had never seen her get as bad as this.

Her face was streaked with tears, and they flowed freely and silently. Her mouth was open in a half- scream, in a continued effort to catch her breath. Vision made a mental note of her red nose and swollen under eyes, that only made an appearance after she had been crying a long while.

Vision had never seen her have a panic attack before, and wasn’t quite sure what to do. Her nightmares had only been a matter of her waking up in a sweat, then falling back asleep on his chest after they did a short round of deep breathing exercises together.

This was unprecedented.

“Wanda.” He said again, in a soft voice.

“Vizh.” She croaked back. It was so quiet that should he have been even a millimeter farther away, he wouldn’t have heard her. “Hold me. Please.”

Vision picked her up gently, coaxing her fists to release the sheets below her, and put her on his lap. She was shaking like a leaf, and she gripped the sweater he was wearing while curling up on his chest. He wrapped one arm around her, and the other stroked her hair. She was dangerously warm from her elevated heart rate and subsequent sweating. They laid there for awhile, Vision holding his wife while she cried and protecting her from the unknown horrors of her mind.

“It’s not real, Wanda. It’s not real. You’re alright. I’m here.” Vision repeated intermittently.

She opened her eyes after some time, almost out of a trance, and took him in. Her green eyes searched him in urgency, making sure everything was in place. With a trembling hand she touched the Mind Stone in the middle of his forehead, not believing it was truly real. Vision cradled her cheek with his hand, and she sunk into it with a shaky sigh of relief. He wiped the tears as they continued to fall.

“You were dead.”

Vision watched as her face grew wary again, and the tears increased in speed and her panic returned. “Thanos... killed you... you were... dead...”

“Shh, my love. Shh.” Vision whispered. “I’m right here. It was just a dream.” He had no idea what a “Thanos” was, but it wouldn’t stop him from reassuring her that he was alright.

Wanda gripped his hand and rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. She flinched at a feeling unshared by Vision.

“What is it?” Vision asked.

“The boys... they won’t stop kicking...”

Vision gently moved his free hand to her stomach, but not before asking “May I?”

He knew that he didn’t have to ask, but it always made Wanda chuckle, even in a moment like this. She nodded.

Gently pushing up the bottom of her shirt and exposing her bare belly, Vision placed his hand gingerly on the middle of her swollen stomach, taking in its curve.

“Oh my.”

“Yeah... they’re going crazy in there...”

“Hi there, little ones. It’s your dad.” Vision says, changing his tone to make it clear that he is talking to his unborn sons. “Your mommy is okay. I know you’re worried about her. But you don’t have to kick her so hard. I’m taking good care of her out here, so no need to worry.” His thumb moves back and forth on her exposed skin while his the rest of his hand stays in its original spot, tracing an imaginary line, doing his best to bring comfort to the growing babies inside and their mom alike.

Wanda gasps, sniffling. “They stopped!”

“That they did.” Vision smiles, about to move his hand.

“Wait! Don’t mov —keep it there, please?” Wanda asks, putting her hand atop his own.

Vision smiles as she looks up at him. He breathes a sigh of relief that her vitals are back to normal (he’s able to check them while they are touching) and wipes the last tear away from her face. He leans his forehead into hers, the Mind Stone cooling her glistening brow. They speak in whispers as they take in each other, eyes closed, simply treasuring each other’s presence.

“Vizh?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Can you hold me until I fall asleep?”

Vision holds her tighter, grinning as her eyes flutter open and closed. “I’ll do you one better.” He whispers, breaking their contact and kissing the top of her forehead. Wanda relaxes deeper into his chest as she drifts off again, head falling where his mechanical heart lie below. Their hands still rest on Wanda’s bump.

“I’ll never let you go.”

[visionsofus]

Hey, my city has just been put into lockdown :( so I thought I might send a prompt... maybe something about some of the times Vision phases through Wandas wall? Idk but I hope you're well and I love your writing :)

hello! I am so sorry to hear that your city has been put into lockdown! I hope you are staying safe and looking after yourself. I bumped this to the top of my list so I could get you something nice to read quickly. It's mainly about Vision comforting Wanda but I hope it brings you some comfort too!

Mixtape track # 28: Time After Time cover by Theresa Sokyrka, Jesse Brown

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you

synopsis: Three times Vision phased into Wanda's room unannounced and found her in varying states of disarray/ injury. Aka a fluffy comfort fic for those of you who need it.

Warnings: mentions of blood and stitches, illness (flu), mild swearing

Vision was sitting at the kitchen counter, a novel before him when Steve hurried into the kitchen and began rooting through cabinets. Vision placed a finger to mark his page and glanced up in confusion.

“Is there something you need help with, Captain?” He asked, curious at Steve’s haste. The captain jumped visibly, and Vision looked down sheepishly. The team was yet to grow accustomed to his presence in the Compound and he was still learning to be something like human. It was a slow process.

“Vision,” Steve said, a hand pressed to his chest in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Vision nodded. “What are you looking for?”

“Cold and flu medicine,” Steve replied, turning back to the cabinets and pushing aside two different bags of coffee beans and a pot of sugar. His hand scraped around the back of the shelf to no avail. “I know we had some here somewhere.”

Vision tilted his head curiously. There weren’t many at the compound who could fall ill, Steve and himself included. Tony was away with Rhodey in New York for the weekend, Clint was with his family, and from what Vision knew of Natasha, she didn’t seem the kind of person to accept medicine.

That only left one other person in the enormous building he now called home.

“Is Wanda okay?” Vision asked his voice sound slightly strained, even to his own ears. He hadn’t quite mastered control over tone yet but was getting better at identifying such markers in other’s speech.

“She’s okay,” Steve mulled as he moved things around, moving to another cupboard. Vision heard the concern in his voice. Forgetting his page, he shut his book all thoughts now directed to Wanda. Where could she have contracted an illness? Perhaps it was overworking, of all of them, Wanda pushed herself the hardest. The last few weeks had been particularly rough with training every day, minor missions interstate, and relentless press appearances.

“Aha!” Steve cried in triumph, holding up a packet of cold and flu tablets.

“I can take them to her,” Vision said jumping to his feet and moving swiftly to Steve’s side, a glass in his hand ready to fill with water for Wanda. Steve jerked back a little, evidently, he was still not adjusted to the synthezoid’s super speed.

“Okay,” Steve sounded hesitant as he passed over the thin package. “Don’t smother her, alright? She’s not in a very good mood.”

“I won’t,” Vision said pleased as he filled up the glass with water and headed off down the corridor. As he walked, he quickly had a look at what ‘smothering’ meant – why Steve thought he might cover Wanda’s head with a pillow, Vision couldn’t understand. A little more looking revealed it could also mean overwhelm. Vision shook his head, he would make every effort to not overwhelm her, he just wanted to make sure she was comfortable and provide anything that might make her feel better.

Out of Steve’s sight, he hurried quickly down the corridor that led to Wanda’s bedroom. Once he was close enough to her bedroom he phased effortlessly through the wall, bringing the water and pills with him.

He arrived in her room to find that the lights were out and the curtains drawn despite it being mid-morning.

“Vision?” Wanda exclaimed, or tried to. Her voice cracked and she coughed most of the way through his name.

He hurried to the other side of her bed, concerned to see her covers pulled up to her chin even as sweat made her forehead shine.

“What did I saw about knocking?” Wanda said, her voice hoarse, her eyes struggling to stay open.

“That I should?” Vision said hesitantly.

Wanda murmured something in affirmation, and he felt guilty.

“Sorry, I will next time. I brought you some medicine.” He set the glass of water on her bedside table which was cluttered with tissues, empty glasses and unfinished books.

“Don’t need it, thanks,” Wanda murmured, turning onto her side.

Vision sighed. She looked dreadful, which was saying something as he rarely found her anything but beautiful. Concerned, he slowly reached out to press his hand to her forehead. Wanda shivered, feverish.

“You have a high temperature; the medicine will make you feel better.”

Wanda opened her eyes blearily and huffed in frustration. She heaved herself up to lean against the headboard and held a hand out for the pills. Vision popped two of the night pills into her palm before extending the water glass. She swallowed the medicine and shivered again.

“When did you start feeling bad?” Vision asked, trying to make conversation as he hovered about her room, not yet ready to leave her in such a state.

“Last night, but woke up feeling like the plague this morning,” Wanda mumbled, slipping back down onto the pillow. He moved forward to pull her pillow up so she was more comfortable.

“Okay, well we’ll keep an eye on your fever,” he said nervously more to himself, feeling the need to speak the instructions he had read about online aloud. But Wanda’s eyes were already closed, and it seemed she was relenting to an exhausted slumber.

Vision bit his lip, unsure if he were allowed to stay in her room while she was asleep. Glancing at her bedside table he decided to at least clean up on his way out. With the empty glasses stacked and the tissues in the bin he set about opening up a window a little bit to allow for some circulation. Even if Wanda felt cold, her fever needed to come down. Finally, unable to see a reason to stay Vision went over to adjust her blankets. Seeing that she was peacefully asleep he pressed his palm to her forehead, glad to feel that she felt a little bit less warm. She murmured something sleepily but didn’t wake.

Vision returned to her wall with the glasses in hand and phased through it once more, leaving Wanda to her fever dreams. For the remainder of the day, he kept a keen eye on Wanda, phasing through her wall each hour to take her temperature and replace her water glass. She remained asleep or at least didn’t acknowledge his care, though each time he left her mouth twitched up at the corners.

“Wanda!” Vision’s voice was a singsong as he phased through her bedroom wall, eager for their promised game of chess. He had taken up teaching her the game not long after he had learnt it himself. There was no one at the compound who could play that well but he always had fun with Wanda. Even when Vision knew all the tricks, she still surprised him. In exchange they had been following up each game with a few episodes of the Dick Van Dyke show. It was their Saturday night ritual now, though they had only known each other 6 months. Wanda had only just returned from the mission she had been on with Steve and Nat. Perhaps chess was off the table, but he hoped she would let him keep her company and watch some television. Vision struggled to understand how keenly he had felt her absence in the past week.

He phased through the wall and for a moment his sight was clouded. He emerged into the bedroom that he had slowly been acquainted with. Vision knew the view from her windows, the books on her desk, her guitar in the corner and the pattern of her bedsheets. His eyes checked off each of these features before looking to the bed. His heart dropped sickeningly when he caught sight of the figure laying atop the covers.

Wanda had propped herself against the headboard, her mouth twisted in pain as she nursed a gash that was bleeding all down her left arm.

“Wanda?” Vision whispered. Her eyes opened weakly, and she grimaced a smile.

“Hi.”

Vision was at her side instantly. “Hi? What do you mean hi? Are you okay what happened—”

“Shhh,” Wanda whispered, reaching out to grab his arm and squeeze. “Don’t want the others to know.”

“What do you mean?” Vision asked furiously. “You’re hurt, why didn’t you go the med bay when you got back?”

“Please,” she turned her eyes on him and he registered the pain behind her gaze. “Help me and I’ll answer any questions you want. I tried,” she gestured to the trail of thread she’d been using to stitch herself up with, “but my hands are too shaky.”

He ignored that she was half undressed, more focused on how her blood had soaked through the left side of her top and was dripping onto her bed. Vision spared less than a second before he was speeding away from her side. He trusted Wanda, if she said that she didn’t want the others knowing then he would wait to hear her reasoning. For now, he just wanted to alleviate her pain.

He thanked the gods for his super speed as he dashed down the corridor, down the stairs through two walls and into the empty med bay. He dipped in and out of the internet finding a reputable source for stitching up a wound even as he lectured himself for not understanding such an important procedure sooner. He grabbed more supplies, gauze and bandages, antiseptic and a fresh needle and tweezers. He sped back upstairs and arrived in Wanda’s room just as she was swiping tears away from her eyes.

“Sorry,” she winced, trying to sit up better as he set his supplies on her bedside table.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Vision said soothingly. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

“You weren’t supposed to see,” Wanda sighed, her eyes closed as he set about propping her arm up with a pillow and a fresh towel to mop up the blood.

“Lucky I entered without announcing myself then,” Vision murmured perching himself next to her tense body. He wasn’t usually squeamish and managed to maintain a distance when it came to gore. But seeing Wanda’s blood trickling down her arm had his heart thumping far too quickly. He took a few calming breaths.

Vision straightened her arm and watched her forehead contort in pain, sweat beading. Silently he took the medical scissors and cut off the thread and the mess Wanda had made of her wound. On closer inspection he was relieved to see it wasn’t too deep and that the blood had stopped flowing. He cleaned and numbed the area.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Vision murmured as he helped her sit up taller, so she was at a better angle for the stitches.

“Feels bad enough,” Wanda winced.

He frowned at her pain. “Tell me about your favourite episode of Dick Van Dyke,” Vision prompted as he set about threading the needle. Wisely, Wanda decided to turn her attention to her sweeping windows and the clouds drifting across the amber sky.

“Season 2, episode 20,” Wanda said. “It’s not necessarily my favourite but it’s the episode I’ve seen the most. Rob watches this movie with aliens and monsters, it was scary for me as a kid, but I found it funny how out of control it became—” Wanda broke off with a pained groan as Vision began the first stitch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Now it doesn’t scare me but it’s still eerie...” she trailed off to prepare for the next stitch. Moments later it was done, and she breathed out slowly as Vision tugged the thread gently, closing the wound.

“— it’s interesting to look back on the episode and –” She thumped her other first on her thigh as the needle dug in once more.

“—and see how far my life has changed since I first watched it – oh fuck that!”

Vision startled, not used to hearing her swear. “Two more and it’ll be done,” Vision replied, conscious that he was leaning over her torso and that there might have been easier ways to sit for stitching up the gash.

“Two more?” Wanda sighed her right shoulder slumping in defeat.

“Almost there, almost there,” he murmured soothingly, starting on the next stitch. Wanda cried out, biting her fist. His heart twinged painfully in sympathy.

“You’re okay,” Vision said, doing his best to be comfortingly. “One more and then it’s done, one more and it’ll be over.”

He continued to murmur small comforts, hoping his voice would distract her from the thin metal dipping in and out of her skin. Despite her pain he had successfully kept the stitches neat and hoped that they’d be suitable enough for healing. At least he had used the thread that dissolved as the wound healed and she could avoid the new pain of having them taken out once more.

As he pushed the needle in for the final stitch Wanda’s head lolled against his neck. He froze in fear.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, “just, keep going.”

Her head remained pressed into the crook of his neck, her breath warming his skin in slow, controlled breaths. Vision did his best to focus on finishing off his work. He completed the final stitch, tied it up and cut the needle free. As he moved his materials to her bedside table and picked up the gauze, he became conscious of Wanda’s shoulders shaking slowly.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, her voice thick with tears.

“It’s alright, Wanda,” Vision said with a comforting smile, though she didn’t raise her head. He raised a hand and gently stroked the back of her head in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “I’ll wrap your arm up and give you something for the pain.”

Wanda sniffled against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re the only one who can phase through physical walls.”

Vision smiled happily; glad Wanda couldn’t see his reaction.

Vision hovered; his hand raised to knock on Wanda’s bedroom door. He’d been standing there for a few moments debating on whether or not to disturb her when he’d heard the soft noises of Wanda’s cries. Vision knew how she sounded when she was upset. In the year they had been living together there had been a few nights he had spent sitting outside her door, listening to her cry and waiting for her to fall asleep. Often, all she’d allow him to do was bring her food or a cup of tea, insisting she be left to her sorrows. But Vision was struggling to bear it tonight. He worried that she thought herself a burden, that she locked herself up in her room on her bad days as a way to save the rest of the team from her anguish. But Vision hated seeing, or hearing, her pain.

Unable to wait any longer Vision side stepped the door and phased right through the wood. The room was dark, and the air was still, Wanda hadn’t left her bed all day. Quietly, Vision walked slowly to her bedside and crouched beside her curled up form. The covers were pulled up over her head, her arms wrapped around one of her cushions. His throat grew tight with emotion as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Wanda?” He whispered. The covers shifted and her head emerged, tear tracks looked as though they had made permanent lines down her face, dark circles hung under her eyes.

She didn’t say anything, just rolled over so that her back was to him.

“Is there anything that you need?” Vision asked removing his hand, hesitant to take her rejection, he’d wait until she explicitly asked him to leave. Wanda didn’t reply, her breath catching in her throat, and she shook her head slowly.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Vision said quietly.

“I don’t want to bother anyone,” Wanda whispered, her voice hoarse from not speaking. Vision raised to stand, hovering next to her bed. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, to banish all her sadness and protect her from fear.

“You could never be a burden to me, it is a privilege to be a part of your life.” His words sounded raw, even to his own ears and he heard Wanda hiccup emotionally.

It didn’t take much, just her hand emerging from beneath the covers to tug at the hem of his woollen sweater. It was all he needed to know she wanted him to say.

She shifted to make room and Vision settled onto the bed next to her. Almost reluctantly, Wanda slid closer though her face was still hidden. When he was close enough, he pulled a blanket from the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders. She leant in, sniffling tearily. When he held his arms open, she hesitated for a few moments, her body stiff with tension. Finally, she relented, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and allowing him to wrap her in his warm arms. The tears started again, and he rocked them back and forth as she trembled.

“It’s alright,” Vision whispered over and over. He rubbed a hand in circles on her back, holding her close.

They remained that way for a while, Vision let her cry as much as she needed, not feeling the need to ask what was causing her such anguish. She would tell him when she was ready.

“When you’re feeling up for it, we can go for a walk,” Vision said soothingly, “there are wildflowers out by the woods, I even saw some bluebells the other morning. Maybe you can point out some other flowers you recognise to me. I think the birds miss you out there.” He talked slowly about small things, none of them important but gradually her sobs slowed into hiccups.

“Thank you,” Wanda whispered into his shoulders, her hands tangled up in his jumper.

“It’s okay,” Vision said softly, “just because your brain tells you you’re alone, doesn’t mean it’s true. There are so many people who care about you. Whenever you need me, I’ll always be here.”

[wunderloss]

Just a short ScarletVision drabble taking place when Wanda is meeting up with Vision as a fugitive. Pure and concentrated fluff: you have been warned

We Stole These Moments

The winter wind blew haphazardly, icy currents encircling Wanda’s barren face as she sunk deeper into her scarf. A warm hand found hers at her side and she laced her fingers with Vision’s, swinging his arm slightly with content. He was deep into explaining the nuances of Shakespeare’s writing and its parallels with the entangled society of today; his honey-like voice on the precipice of overflowing enthusiasm in a way that made her heart soar.

“Wait, wait, what happened?” she interrupted, eyes widening at his retelling of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’.

“He turned into a Donkey,” Vision’s eyes glistened, moonlight drawing out the blues, so earnest that Wanda could not help but stop and stare. “Hey, is everything alright?”

Wanda gazed up at him, the concern that washed over his face tugging at her heart as she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest, “How is it that every time I look at you, I fall in love all over again.

Returning her embrace, he rested his chin on the top of her head and sighed softly, a comfortable smile resting on his lips, “I ask myself the same question with every moment we spend.”

They stayed like that, swaying slightly in the dark and simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence as the yolk of the sun slowly rose to illuminate the pair. They broke from the hug and continued their conversation, switching from topic to topic in a natural way that Wanda was sure she couldn’t replicate with anyone else; hands still intertwined and hearts full.

[this-is-chaos-magick]

Just wanna share my favorite scarletvision fanfic :b i've been rereading it over and over :b

[maximoffvizh]

fic: i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this)

[a self-indulgent fake-dating au]

'Hi! I’m Wanda Maximoff, I’m twenty-seven, and I love nothing more at the weekend than causing drama by going to weddings with someone who wouldn’t normally have a date. But really, I like weddings, and I know how much it sucks to go to a day that’s all about love alone. So, for a low price, I’ll go on your arm and we can make up a story about how we met on the Uber over. Very willing to cause as many family arguments as you want!

Open to creative suggestions for stirring up havoc! Send me a PM for rates :)'

Vision folds himself down into the armchair, casting a cursory glance at the game Sam is playing, some sort of shooter, and says, "Well, it finally happened."

"Gonna need to be more specific than that, big guy," Sam says without even looking up. "You finally stopped being a perfectionist about your end-of-semester project? You finally stopped hiding behind shelves in the library when you see your ex? Nebs finally asked Mantis out on a date before we all die and our cause of death is listed as useless lesbians?"

"None of the above," Vision says, and tosses a cream envelope down onto the table. Sam straightens up, pauses the game, and casts him a sympathetic look as he says, "My dad's getting married."

"Gossip blogs will be seething that I learned that before they did," Sam says, and sets his controller aside to move over and set a sympathetic hand on Vision's shoulder. "You okay?"

"I thought he wanted to take me for lunch to catch up," he says quietly, Sam squeezing his shoulder at his deadened voice. "We haven't seen each other in almost a year. But he just got very quiet and blurted out that he asked Pepper while they were in Tokyo for business last month."

"So is that a save the date?" Sam asks, and Vision nods wordlessly. "When's the shindig?"

"Six months," Vision says. "He...he asked if I wanted to be a groomsman."

"Do you?"

Keep reading at AO3

[scarletvisionss]

give you my sunshine, give you my best

Vision put his arm around Viv. “Did you sleep well?”

She rubbed her face sleepily against his bicep. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. Your breakfast is in the microwave - I made oatmeal, and it should still be warm enough. There’s fruit and honey to add to it, if you want.”

“Not hungry yet,” she mumbled, and tucked herself more firmly into the curve of his side. “Sleepy...”

Vision, who didn’t get these moments with Viv nearly as often anymore now that she was growing up and needing him less, melted, tugging her even closer and kissing her hair. “I love - oof, darling, you need a shower at some point today, please. I love you desperately.”

“Wanna help us?” Jules asked, gesturing at the popsicle stick castle. “We’re making a castle.”

Viv hummed. “I dunno. Maybe. I’m learning to be an engineer and stuff. Where’s Bea?”

“Bea is being Bea,” Jules said, and from the dining room Vision heard Bea shout, “I'M WORKING ON MY MASTERPIECE, GUYS, LEAVE ME ALONE.”

Viv tilted her head back and gave Vision a look that clearly said, What are we going to do with these crazy children living in our house?

“Be nice,” he said, lips twitching.

“Come help, Vivi,” Jules wheedled.

Viv sighed, but she was smiling when she slunk off of the couch and crawled over to the spot beside the coffee table where they were sitting. “Okay, what are we doing, and can I add a moat to it…”

[Vivian "Viv" Romanoff 🏳️‍🌈, age 11, from my ongoing Scarvis fic ☮️🌞. You can read it here on ao3.]

🥰🌞give you my sunshine edits🌞🥰

[runicmagitek]

Just Another Way to Scream Your Name: Chapter 1 (ScarletVision - MCU)

(( my post-canon Endgame fic I’ve been working on since I saw the movie. I had a lot of feels about this and I know this isn’t even my usual fandom, but I wanted to write this and share it with fellow fans. there’s more to come, so stay tuned! ))

She swore she heard him.

Not when chaos erupted around them and he murmured affectionate reassurance. Those honeyed words died with him until all that survived was his lifeless body in her arms. After that. When the world quieted and her consciousness blurred. They lost. Some more than others. Life and reality faltered, and she only focused on his tender whispers trickling into her mind.

What a tempting illusion. That’s what it was, right? She was no stranger to such tricks. But whatever it was, she wanted it. More than anything. Even if it meant fading out of existence, at least he would be there.

Thus Wanda closed her eyes, smiled, and leaned back into the void which consumed her.

Warmth enveloped her like a blanket. Perhaps it was an actual blanket tangled in her legs and draped across her shoulders. Again his voice lured her in. She rolled to the origin, weightless and effortless, and pried her eyes open.

[read chapter 1 on AO3]

[rainbow-squirrels-7]

it’s late for SVAD, which was June 1, but my yearly burst of inspiration to write fic culminated in the long-awaited ending to Complements! 

[alternateuniversescarletvision]

Christmas Prompt #1

Wanda is trapped on the side of the road in a snowstorm after her car breaks down and Vision is a stranger who stops to offer her a jumper, some hot chocolate and a new eye on the engine.