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wndaswife · 1 year ago

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trying your hardest | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

After moving to America to join the Avengers, Wanda wants to finally make a friend to ease her loneliness. She hopes to become friends with you, and frankly, Wanda idolizes you, but her social skills are... subpar at best.

Word count: 5020

Tags: fluff, humour, some angst, emo wanda being a baby, a little thing, a small very tiny little thing, wanda has a very big crush on you :3 (she doesn't know it yet tho cuz she baby)

A/N: for plot purposes, imagine the avengers didn’t have a catfight after aou

gif credit to (i tried really hard and i CANNOT find who made this gif im sorry)

Wanda Maximoff never really had an education as a child. What education was available in Sokovia was expensive, and despite her father’s late working hours, the twins’ parents could only ever afford their apartment’s rent. The twins were homeschooled as well as their parents could teach them, but after the bombing, they were on their own.

Government-funded schooling helped them for only so long. The schools they were sent to were decaying, and always under dwindling government watch from ongoing airstrikes. The ground shook with explosive tremors as they commuted to school on foot. Wanda and Pietro stayed at an orphanage with hundreds of other children whose parents had passed due to the war — and the Avengers.

Even the government’s debt caught up with what was left of Sokovia. Billions of foreign debt not paid, volume of imports that had increased exponentially since Sokovia worked on rebuilding their country weren’t making enough revenue to pay exporters back. Hundreds of children were booted from government care and onto the streets. The twins attempted to learn on their own, to become informed educated people if they were to ever make a difference in the world, but in Sokovia, even resilience could only get one so far.

Then, Doctor Strucker came along, promising them the extermination of the Avengers, the Western terrorists who had made the already politically-unstable and war-torn country their battleground.

In hopes to cure the world from their terrorist reign, both Wanda and Pietro agreed to Strucker’s experiments, but the education they were given intended for them to become weapons. They knew little of real geography and world history — only HYDRA’s propaganda meant to poison their minds with blind hatred and little else.

When it seemed like you couldn’t be any more different from Wanda as it was, you were also the team’s brain. Stark and Banner specialised in physics and mechanics, but you were the team’s hub for everything else. From computer science to philosophy, you knew everything. No one exceeded you in developing team strategy, setting the stages for mission locations, profiling adversaries, and a dozen of other things Wanda couldn’t have even fathomed when she first met the Avengers in person.

It took Wanda only several moments to realise you weren’t a frontline fighter from your muffled voice in the Avengers’ earpieces to their callouts of your name as frequent, and perhaps even moreso, than their teammates that fought alongside them on the field despite your physical absence.

Y/N — that was your name.

When she had fought the Avengers in Novi Grad, creeping behind the Western superpowers like a heavy looming shadow, Wanda had looked for you. Strategically, it was a rational move. You were the centre of their battle, the heart of their teamwork.

And yet, you were nowhere to be found.

It was only until she had crept up behind Clint Barton when your voice grew clearer than ever before. From the tiny earpiece, you were controlling the field. Perhaps you were just outside, or maybe you were in another country. No matter the distance, Wanda supposed your hold on the battle would be no less effective.

It was the distraction of thinking about you, perhaps — Y/N, the invisible hand — or Barton’s sole intuition, Wanda did not know, nor did she have very much time to think it over, that had made it possible for him to counter her magic.

Then there was pain — immeasurable pain that Wanda hadn’t felt since Strucker’s experiments. It shot through her forehead like a dozen bullets had permeated through her skull. Pietro grounded her, and soon after, the twins targeted Banner.

Despite the rumours about him, the insatiable angry force he was told to be, his mind was the easiest to corrupt. Mental instability and insecurity racked his mind, and he quickly shifted into the green beast the Maximoffs had heard so much about.

Carrying his younger sister, Pietro took the two of them back to Ultron’s base.

They had won that day.

You were all Wanda could think about even while she and Pietro were off missions. You weren’t the Avengers’ frontline defence like Steve Rogers, nor were you the brute strength of the team like Bruce Banner. You held your team in your hands rather than tugging them along by their leashes although you likely could if you wanted to.

Y/N.

Who were you?

On the television after the fight on Novi Grad, Iron Man and Hulk’s brawl in Johannesburg was on the news. The city was in shambles. Pietro said something about the deaths of innocents and the success of his sister’s magic in having the Avengers turn against themselves. But Wanda could only think of what you had thought when Stark and Banner came back to their compound, beaten and sore from none other than their own fists. Wanda assumed the Avengers’ compound — wherever that was — was where you were too.

Wanda wondered how you were dealing with the fight at Johannesburg. What were you saying about her and Pietro?

Later that day, Ultron approached the twins in their bedroom and turned on the television. Despite having been offered separate bedrooms, they insisted on sharing one. Sitting atop their respective beds on the opposite sides of the room, there was someone speaking on the television about Johannesburg across from the interviewer. Their expression was stern but their eyes were solemn. Eyebrows were furrowed together, masking concern and worry; if Wanda knew anything, it was how to read someone.

“Y/N,” the interviewer began, and Wanda’s eyes widened, her head lifting from being held up by her hands, elbows on her pillow as it laid flat atop her crossed legs. “As the Avengers’ strategist, as many put it, how are you planning on handling the devastation that came upon Johannesburg, and the inevitable contact that the Avengers will continue to have with innocent uninvolved civilians?”

The question was packed, and the news station quite clearly had their own sentiments about the Avengers; they were setting you up.

So that was how you looked. Wanda swallowed and felt her chest flutter.

With your upper lip stiff and your posture unbelievably straight, you answered without equivocation. “A common misinformed perspective of any conflict follows the belief that there is any one party entirely responsible for the consequences of violent confrontation, such as the one we witnessed in Johannesburg,” you were saying. With the way her wide eyes were pinned on the television screen, Wanda didn’t notice the way her brother eyed her obviously piqued interest.

“I don’t believe the Avengers are the world’s most honourable superheroes,” you continued. Ultron shifted and Wanda’s head tipped to the side, her interest in you ever growing. “I don’t think anyone is, no matter whose side you’ve taken since the conflict recently — and perhaps even after the invasion of New York’s in 2012.”

That was The Incident, Wanda recalled, when the Avengers terrorised New York. That’s what HYDRA had always told her and Pietro.

“Despite whose side you may be on, as differing as our collective opinions may be, one thing is undeniable — we are all trying to reach a goal of peace for the world, fighting for what we believe is just. There is nothing more powerful than that. Perhaps, it is idealism that serves to be the strength of humanity.”

Ultron laughed morosely. He ridiculed your words, but Wanda wasn’t listening. Whatever you were talking about wasn’t only about Johannesburg. What were you referencing? Who were your words meant for?

Suddenly, your head turned to the camera and Wanda met your eyes. Everything in her froze, her eyes undeviating from your face.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” you spoke. Pietro looked over at Wanda, shock written on every inch of his face, and Ultron’s eyes darted between the twins, almost accusationally as he undoubtedly suspected coercion. Wanda almost expected you to step through the television screen and into her bedroom. “I know what you want.”

The screen was shut off suddenly, the black mirror of the television reflecting Wanda’s astonished expression. She looked away, shutting her eyes as she felt the burning gaze of Ultron on her. But your words reverberated in Wanda’s mind until your every feature and movement of your lips was memorised. Like a promise, like an ode, your words were immortalised within her.

Pietro wasn’t there when you took Wanda in your arms and saved her from a falling Sokovia. He wasn’t there when you laid her down onto the Helicarrier, nor when you took her hand and told her she’d be taken care of. Wanda cried into your chest at the sight of her brother’s body.

What would he have said if he saw the way your arm refused to leave from around Wanda’s shoulders as the two of them trailed behind his body while he was carried into the compound?

Pietro liked you, and would’ve loved to meet you. He referenced your broadcasted interview several times during their fight in Sokovia. He was proud to work with the Avengers, and proud to finally work towards their goal to help people just like them. He wanted to meet you.

Your voice was different from what Wanda remembered from the broadcast, and not because her memory had failed her, but because you were just… different. You were real, and not a picture on a wall or an untouchable reality forever separated from her by a television screen. As she watched you talk and laugh with the other Avengers, you were real.

But if Wanda was honest, she was much too shy to even start a conversation with you. Perhaps it might’ve been easier to approach you if you were an admired character on one of her favourite television shows, but it was exactly what made her admire you so much that also made her feel so shy around you.

Granted, there was much to adjust to now that she lived in America and was now a part of the Avengers, and she did believe herself to be a generally introverted person, but she was especially nervous around you.

Wanda had gotten enough confidence to speak with some team members. Natasha was welcoming and kind. Thor was easy not to feel nervous around, but his energy was far too much for Wanda to handle just yet. Bruce was much more comfortable to chat with, and Wanda found that he was able to be rather nice once he forgave her for her associations with Ultron. Steve was always very kind to Wanda and she felt very safe around him, with Steve always trying to make her feel like part of the team, but she found that they didn’t have very much in common.

And there was Vision, who seemed to have taken a liking to her since even before the final battle against Ultron. He was nice company, but she found her mind preoccupied thinking of you while in his company, wishing that it was you who gave her as much attention as Vision did.

However, she’d been wanting to start a conversation with you since the day she arrived at the compound. Initially, she needed time to herself, and along with Steve, you also made the effort to check in on her and give her your support.

Once she was finally able to gain some footing in adjusting to things while shouldering the weight of her losses, Wanda started becoming more active within the team by joining training sessions. During them, she found herself unable to stop looking at you, watching what you were doing, seeing how you interacted with everyone.

Even as the Avengers’ primary strategist that was almost never in the field, you still made efforts to train and stay connected and involved with the team — and Wanda quickly learned that training was a major part of team building.

You were everything Wanda wished she could be more like; you were the kind of person she had never thought existed in a world she believed was only full of cruelty and injustice until recently.

There was an upcoming party at the Avengers Tower in celebration of the assigned team’s return from a successful mission tracking down a recently-located HYDRA base still hiding out. It was almost any ordinary mission, but it was the first step towards steadily eradicating all of HYDRA’s bases, even after Strucker’s primary base was taken down in Sokovia. Though Steve did also tell Wanda that he felt that Tony also primarily wanted to find any reason to celebrate since it’d been some time.

Wanda hadn’t been to any of the parties yet, and she thought that she’d be able to use this one as a chance to start a conversation with you.

Wasn’t that what people did at parties? Talk?

Truthfully, she didn’t quite know for sure — she’d only ever heard about them through the sitcoms she watched as a child. She knew only of dramatised American portrayals of teenage parties through television.

Whatever it was people actually did at parties, Wanda was certain she would be able to make some effort to talk to you. At least in a social setting, it wouldn’t be strange for her to start a conversation with you.

Wanda made herself look nice and presentable, but not too formal since she didn’t want to overdress or bring too much attention to herself. She wasn’t sure what might happen if her plan to talk with you didn’t end up working, and if she was somehow left with nothing to do, she wanted to be able to slip away without anyone noticing, as if she had never made any attempt to come at all.

While deliberating whether it was better to arrive on time or a bit later once the party had been going on for some time, Wanda realised that at some point too much time had passed and her only option now was to join the party a bit later.

It was only once she arrived at the penthouse floor where the party was being held that Wanda finally realised how terribly thought-out her plan was.

What would happen if she didn’t get to talk with you? What would happen if she did, and she only made a fool of herself? Would it be better, then, to stay as two people who’d never conversed so that she might retain what impression you had of her now? Even if that meant she would never get to talk with you the way she wanted?

It was far too late now to change her mind if she wanted to, as she soon found herself walking further from the elevators and into the party.

The party was rather filled; mostly, they were familiar faces, but it looked like many brought guests, and some guests had brought some of their own. It seemed that Steve was right — atop of celebrating the taking down of the HYDRA base, this was also a social get-together.

She was still relatively at the edges of the room, so she was still going unnoticed. As she walked over to the bar, fidgeting with her fingers as she did, she took the time to look around and try to spot you. She reached the bar, crossing her forearms on top of its counter, and tried to draw the least attention to herself while avoiding eye contact with anyone as her eyes raked through the crowd.

Eventually she caught sight of you also at the bar, but at the very edge with your own drink, your back facing the party. Wanda’s chest fluttered and she felt she nearly stumbled moving one foot in front of the other when she turned to walk towards you.

She worried what would happen if someone suddenly approached you from behind, which would force her to then stop wherever she was standing and pretend she hadn’t just failed at her attempt to come up to you.

The pressing concern aided her greatly, and she was well on her way to coming up to you without hesitation. But once she actually made her way to your side and once you raised your head from your glass and looked at her, Wanda damned herself for being so distracted, now without a plan or even a terribly-planned script to follow in making conversation with you. She didn’t even get to look at what you were wearing.

It would be too strange of her to look you up and down before greeting you, right?

“Hi,” she said, hoping that the small smile she felt on her face was actually there lest she look like an absolute fool.

You turned around in your seat in order to face her, and now having your complete, undivided attention made Wanda’s legs feel like mush. “Hi,” you replied with a friendly smile. “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party yet.”

Wanda swallowed and nervously drew shapes against the bar counter with her fingernails, also trying her best to maintain a steady, friendly smile. “No — this is the first I’ve gone to. I haven’t been here for very long. I decided only a moment ago to come.”

“I’m glad you chose to come,” you told her and suggested for her to take the barstool beside you. Wanda lifted herself onto the seat and sat, facing you.

While you were talking, Wanda took the chance to look at what you were wearing. You looked nice, and Wanda thought you always dressed in a way that put-together, respected people did. She saw you in some likeness to the well-dressed characters on the sitcoms she liked — but, of course, modern.

Maybe she had been taking too long to respond, for you spoke again: “How have you been doing? I know that the move must have been rather hard to go through.”

When she took a moment to respond and found that a response wasn’t immediately escaping her, Wanda felt panic settle in her chest. She knew she should have planned out what to say. She looked like an idiot in front of you. She didn’t know the first thing about socialising or making friends.

“It was hard,” she said finally. “It is hard. Not so bad now. I mean, I’m trying to adjust.”

You nodded in understanding and Wanda felt herself losing your interest; she was sure that your responses’ intentions were now only to remain polite, to keep conversing with her because you knew she didn’t make very much effort to go out.

Then you asked, “Did you want me to order you a drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay — I don’t drink,” Wanda answered, fidgeting with her fingers between her knees. Truthfully, she’s never tried alcohol before. Maybe she should have taken you up on your offer.

“How have you been getting along with the team?”

“I think well. I like everyone. They’ve been very kind to me,” Wanda said. She could hear herself as she spoke to you; she sounded robotic and uninteresting. She thought she might try her hand at being honest about what she was thinking then and there. “But Pietro was always the most social of us both. It is hard to get along with others without him leading the conversation.”

Wanda must have not noticed how solemn she became after she mentioned Pietro, for you reached out and brushed her shoulder with your hand supportively, your fingers squeezing gently around her and lingering for a moment before letting your arm drop.

“I understand,” you sympathised. “You don’t need to pressure yourself into anything — really. I think you fit in here well, and I think you’ve been doing a wonderful job.”

That was the first time anyone truly supported Wanda like that; she was supported by the team as she was grieving the loss of her brother, always being told that she had a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand if she ever wanted someone to talk to.

There was something frustrating about the way the team approached her grief. They had to have anticipated that she would feel a bit better at some point — or at least well enough to get back to team member material.

In the way she was spoken to, Pietro and her struggles with his death were always approached as something she would get over at some point or another — like Pietro was something she was going to get over. She didn’t expect anyone to understand how she felt nor to share in her grievances, but it seemed to her that what she was going through was seen only as a temporary distraction to the rest of the team.

They were kind in giving her their support, but her grief never seemed quite real enough to them.

Granted, she was rather new to the team, so she understood, to some degree, their inability to understand her pain. But it was frustrating, nevertheless.

But with you, it was different.

You didn’t talk about Pietro or her struggles and pain like it was something to get over. You valued her as she was now, and saw her efforts as they were now.

Wanda felt slightly pathetic for how worked up she was getting over your response, be it as brief as it was, but what you said meant quite a lot to her. She felt, for the first time, that she was being spoken to as a real person rather than a ball of temporary grief and pain.

“Thank you… I really appreciate–”

She was cut off when you were called to meet one of Tony’s friends, an expert in software development who had even helped program some of the software you used for communication with the team while they were working on the field. Naturally, they wanted the two of you to meet.

For a moment, Wanda forgot how popular you were amongst your colleagues. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only that you had a certain kindness and authenticity about you that seemed signature to you. But if Wanda admired that about you, and if she idolised you, why wouldn’t anyone else?

You looked at Tony calling you over then at Wanda, who was awkwardly staring at the floor in some pitiful stance of defeat. It made your chest tighten.

This was Wanda’s first time joining in at one of the parties, and you were the first she spoke to. Moreover, there was a kind of sensitivity to her that you knew lay beyond her typical timidity.

Through the conversation with her, you could vaguely see Wanda’s eyes flickering behind your shoulder occasionally, where the floor’s balcony was. From there, one would have a view of the spacious training fields and the expansive forests beyond that separated the base from the main roads.

Tonight, there were clear skies and a rather prominent moon.

Gently, you tapped the back of Wanda’s hand that was resting on the edge of the bar to get her attention, and she raised her head and met your eyes.

“Would you like to step out onto the balcony with me?” you asked. “I’m not quite in the mood to talk with them right now.”

Wanda seemed to perk up and she straightened in her seat. She nodded, and when you stepped off from your barstool, she followed and trailed behind you as you headed for the balcony.

She watched from behind as you led her forward. She played idly with the tips of her fingers as she watched your hair brush against your back, watching the back of your head attentively as if it could tell her anything about you.

Frankly, she felt a bit starstruck.

A certain panic settled within her as you opened the balcony door and ushered Wanda outside and into the warm evening air; she didn’t know what to say now.

She wasn’t certain if she was interesting enough at all to have such intimate conversation with.

What could she say that could possibly be of interest to you?

In spite of the disappointed chatter and lighthearted jabs from the rest of the team in response to your very-obvious aversion to socialising, you closed the balcony door behind you until it clicked shut softly until it was only you and Wanda outside.

“Is it okay that you’re out here with me?” Wanda asked, looking at you as she stepped beside you.

“Of course,” you answered and walked forward until you could stand against the rails of the balcony. “Why not?”

Wanda appreciated how easy it was to talk with you, and how your relationship with the team wasn’t all that you were. “I thought that maybe you might prefer being out there.”

“No — I want to be here.”

Wanda flushed and she looked away, using the excuse of looking out past the training fields as an excuse to hide her face from you.

Making a bold move, Wanda thought that she might be honest with you; she had the real opportunity to make a friend, granted she pulled it off. “Y/N, I really appreciate you being so kind to me.” She garnered some confidence and turned her body and looked at you.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you replied bashfully, and Wanda noticed that you also seemed a bit timid. She thought you were sensitive, and she liked that.

“But also,” Wanda added, taking in a small breath, “I really appreciate your effort in being sympathetic towards Pietro and I, even when we did not deserve it — especially after Johannesburg. Before your interview broadcast, I had never known of such kindness. It seemed you knew more about what Pietro and I wanted before even we did.”

Without a thought behind it, Wanda’s eyes left yours and she added, “I wish he was able to meet you. I am sure he would have felt equally as stunned by you.”

You asked, “I stun you now, do I?”

Surprised by the realisation of what she said aloud, Wanda looked at you and at the sight of your slight smile, also realised that you were teasing her. She flushed and rubbed her warm cheek with the back of her knuckle and distracted herself with two of the party guests walking through the field.

Wanda reminded herself that she came to make a friend — to be friends with you. So she spoke again. “To be honest, yes,” she replied. “I think you are admirable; everyone seems to like you very much, and the kind of bravery and kindness you have is of a kind I did not previously know could ever be sincere.”

She finally said it, and now, Wanda felt anxious about what you might say next.

You shifted and repositioned yourself as you pondered for a moment in consideration. “Well, I have to confess that most if not all of my bravery is rather insincere — I’m truly not as brave as you might think. In fact, I would argue that you’re more brave than I; you’ve experienced so much, undergone so much change, and yet you seem to have more drive than anyone to try your hardest at adjusting and getting back on your feet.”

You thought she was braver than you? Wanda could collapse. She felt her chest flutter.

“But… the kindness,” you said, “is very sincere. I’m glad you see it that way.”

Wanda found herself stepping closer to you, feeling more comfortable in your company and feeling that she wanted to be closer to you physically, to hear your words within a closer vicinity and to see your face free of the soft shadows that the moonlight casted along the curve of your nose and the angle of your cheekbone.

“I think you’re really special,” you told her. “I’m happy that you’re a part of the team. I’m glad you’re here.”

In all her life, there was only one place Wanda ever felt she belonged — with her family. Over some time, what this meant was redefined with the bombing of her home when she was ten and, recently, with the loss of her brother. There was a feeling of loss, an empty pit that burrowed itself within the deepest depths of Wanda’s identity where Pietro and her family and some sort of identity should have been.

It was not only others and her country that she lost, but a part of herself, when all the landmarks she had ever belonged to were stolen from her. But if she could learn anything from still being able to stand where she was and try her best and be brave — like you said — in spite of all her loss and grief, it was that she was not all that she identified herself with.

She still existed, and was still worth something, even without all that was lost.

It would be difficult to even begin finding who she was, exactly, without Pietro and Sokovia and her parents and the truths of herself and the world that HYDRA had always taught her. But she hoped that you might be at least the first step to her self-discovery — you were her first friend.

“Are you alright?” you asked, tipping your head down slightly to try getting a better look at Wanda’s face.

Wanda had lost herself in her thoughts and forgot to reply to you. She must have been silent for a bit of time. “Yes, I’m okay.” She subtly swiped at her cheeks when she realised she was crying — perhaps it was from thinking of her family or of Sokovia, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the moment was that she started crying — as she looked over at the field for a distraction again.

Without another word, you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, bringing her against your body in a soft hug. It was wordless and quiet and casual — support and comfort without any conditions.

Every time Wanda believed that she’d fully grasped the world’s capacity for kindness, believed that there couldn't possibly be something more gentle than what you have thus far shown her, you prove her wrong.

She hoped she would never be right.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #elizabeth olsen

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ginnsbaker · 5 months ago

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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.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff #gender neutral reader #hydra #avengers age of ultron #Steve Rogers

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bgwlsmahf25 · 29 days ago

Text

If She Could, She Would pt2

pairing: Natasha x reader

Warnings: mentions of HYDRA; mentions of the Red Room; nat almost breaking your heart; bits of angst

Genre: fluff; sprinkling of angst

a/n: here is part 2 as requested! Hope you’ve enjoyed this story :)

“Hi.” You stared worriedly at Natasha then sighed. “That bad, huh?”

“Clint…” Her jaw was clenched and she had worry lines on her forehead. She was pacing up and down, deep in thought, occasionally glancing up to make sure you were still there.

“...is going to be fine,” you finished calmly. “I just checked in on him. Helen is confident. She’s the best at what she does.” You paused. “The mission?”

“Difficult.” Natasha chewed her lip. “HYDRA’s got two enhanced with them: a boy and a girl.”

You looked up as Maria walked in, Tony in tow. Natasha went straight to him and they began conversing in low voices. Maria walked over to you, handing you a tablet. “Find them. Anything you can.”

Several nights passed, each one longer than the last. You were the last to bed and one of the first to rise. You were mainlining coffee and sandwiches, afraid to leave your computer for a second in case valuable intel arrived at any second.

Papers were scattered across your desk, your floor and most of your bed. The papers started to grow in height, unwieldy stacks appearing across your room. You had long ago given up on team movie nights.

Tony persuaded you to briefly show your face at his party, but then Ultron emerged and the Avengers were no longer concerned with galas and gatherings. You started to delve into Ultron, tracking him through databases and mainframes, often ending with a burnt out battery, your computer smoking in protest.

One afternoon (or it could have been evening, you neither knew nor cared) there was a knock on your door. Startled, you looked up then awkwardly maneuvered your way to the door. Opening it, you found Natasha on the other side and you could tell from her face that she wasn’t happy.

“Come in.” You stepped aside, as much as you could, and she entered your room. “Forgive the papers. Research.”

“Y/n, how long have you been in here?” she said quietly.

“A while.” You stared at Natasha. “Why? What’s happened?”

“A lot.” Natasha sighed. “We’re… scattered right now. What have you found on the twins?”

You turned back to your laptop, groaning as you noticed smoke trickling out the side. Wrenching it open, you pulled the extinguished battery out and replaced it with a fresh one from the stack on your desk. You picked up a piece of paper and turned back to Natasha. “I was coming to find you, actually.”

“Why?”

“Have you ever heard of the Red Room?”

Natasha seemed to freeze, her shoulders tensing and a far-away anxious expression appearing on her face. She clenched her hands tightly into fists, the knuckles going white and let out a short, sharp breath.

“You have heard of them. Who are they?”

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t ask me that, y/n. W-why are you asking about them?”

“Natasha, what’s going on?” you said, dropping the piece of paper and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Tell me.” Her voice was harsh and cold and you reeled backwards in surprise.

“I, uh… I was in contact with someone. They were talking about the Red Room, they said to ask the Black Widow if I wanted to know more. It came up as a possible source of comparison for what HYDRA have done to the Maximoff twins - that’s the enhanced you saw at Strucker’s base.”

Natasha glanced at her phone as it began lighting up with messages. She ignored it and stared at you. “Give me the name of your source.”

“N-no, I can’t do that, Natasha. I promised to keep their identity secret.”

“Y/n, I’m not asking. Give me the name of your source.”

“No.” You felt suddenly afraid that Natasha might harm you, but you stared her down. “I’m not releasing that information to you.”

“I will find it,” she said, turning and leaving your room. “When I am back. We are off to Seoul.”

***

“Y/n! I don’t care what you’re doing in there, get your ass out here now!” Furious hammering began at your door.

“Alright, alright, jeez, I’m coming.” You opened the door to find Maria and some SHIELD agents on the other side. From Maria’s expression, you knew it wasn’t good. “What happened?”

“It’s Natasha. She’s been captured by Ultron. We need to find where he’s keeping her. I’ve got every resource on it, but I thought you should know.”

You stared at Maria in barely concealed horror. “Y-yes. I’m on it.” Sweeping papers aside, you sat down at your desk and began typing furiously, filling your screen with lines of code. Ultron’s sources began to attack back and you realised you were in for a long battle. “I’m coming, Nat,” you murmured. “I will find you. Whatever it takes.”

***

“They’re in Sokovia. They’ve got three minutes to suit up and we’re going there.” Steve looked at you, Maria and the rest of the SHIELD agents he’d assembled. “I need you here. Check all communications. If anything changes by one second, you tell me.” He started to leave the room, then put a hand on your shoulder. “Clint’s got a bearing on her. We’ll bring her back safe, y/n.”

You nodded, wondering why Steve was taking time away from his mission to tell you. You were worried about Natasha, but you’d barely seen her and her reaction to the news about the Red Room still played in your mind. She didn’t trust you and she was angry at you. And she was still in the hands of Ultron…

***

“It’s taking off!”

“The whole thing is moving!”

“There are people on it!”

“People. People, calm down!” Nick’s voice sounded amongst the chatter of the SHIELD agents, as you all watched Sokovia lifting into the air. “We will be going to their assistance. You.” He pointed at an agent hunched over a computer. “How many multi-person carriers have we got?”

“I, uh, sir…”

“Seventeen,” you said calmly. “At first count.”

“Seventeen? This is Sokovia we’re talking about. Find me more!”

“I’m on it, sir.” You reached over and prodded the other agent. “Look alive, Anders, we need quick fingers and even quicker minds for this job. Divert all non-essential traffic to other services. Then re-direct all carriers to SHIELD usage. Destination: Sokovia.”

“Right.” Anders seemed to be in a daze and you sighed.

“Guess I’m doing it myself,” you muttered, flexing your fingers and beginning to type. “If you’re not helping, Anders, then find me someone who will. Move it!”

He nervously jumped and scurried off across the room, frantically talking to other agents and pointing at you.

***

“You know,” another agent slid into a seat beside you, “the Black Widow wants Dr Banner.”

“What do you mean?” You felt fear creep into your mind. Had you lost your chance with Natasha?

“You don’t know? Something happened between Romanoff and Banner, I don’t know all the details, but I know that they’re an item.”

Your heart sank. She was gone and you’d never had a chance to respond to her gesture with the scrapbook. What were you supposed to do now?

“Agent?”

“Get on with your work,” you snapped. “I need a coffee.” You pushed your chair back and strode out of the room, feeling angry and sad at the same time.

Heading into the break room, you burst into tears, sinking to your knees on the ground, taking great gasping breaths. Your heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces and you cursed the day you met Natasha Romanoff.

***

“Ultron destroyed. Sokovia was also destroyed,” you said grimly. “Maximoff twins recruited. Not too many lost. I’d say that’s a win, sir.”

“Of course it’s a damn win,” Fury ground his teeth. “And I’m alive again.” He sighed. “I’ve been watching you, Agent y/l/n. You’re a quick learner. How ‘bout a promotion? Come and work in my office.”

“Sir, I - thank you, sir, I’d be honoured.”

“Alright, that's settled.” Fury followed your gaze to where Natasha was standing, staring blankly at the wall ahead of her. “Go on. My news for her can wait.”

You headed over, unsure what you wanted to say. Then you remembered that she was with Bruce Banner now and you started to walk away. You weren’t going to talk to her, you weren’t going to interact with her anymore. It hurt too much.

“I know you’re there. Aren’t you going to say hello?”

“I don’t know if I should.”

Natasha turned, taking you in. She bit her lip, a knowing look in her eyes, and took a step towards you. “Y/n.”

“No.” You put your hands up, whether protecting yourself or pushing her away, you didn’t know which. “No. You don’t get to - no. No more.”

“Y/n.” She continued to walk towards you. “Let me explain.”

“No.” You turned and began to walk away. “You don’t get to come close anymore.”

“This is about Dr Banner.” You froze. “This is about the rumours going around about me and him. You know how you feel about me, but you won’t say it because it looks like I’ve moved on.”

“You have,” you whispered.

“No.”

“Yes, you have,” you insisted. “I don’t have a chance anymore, and I’m not sure I ever did.”

“As if you were with me. As if you were beside me.”

“No. Don’t. Don’t say that, it’s not true.” Hurt flashed across Natasha’s face. “It’s not true.”

“As if you were walking right beside me. Watching the same movies. Eating the same food. Sleeping in tiny motels. Chasing leads that end in nothing. Taking photographs because you want the memories of travelling across Europe and Africa with me.”

“Natasha… no. You don’t get to worm your way in anymore.” Tears were starting to run down your cheeks. “My heart doesn’t belong to you.”

“But mine belongs to you,” she whispered.

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not true.”

“Will you let me decide what’s true?” she snapped, her patience finally breaking. “Let me explain, y/n.”

“No,” you whispered, walking away. “Not anymore. I won’t take it anymore.”

***

“Romanoff’s been training me.” Wanda eyed you curiously. “There’s something there, isn’t there?”

“Wanda, don’t push it,” you sighed, furiously beating some eggs. “Not if you want breakfast.”

“You’re doing it all wrong.” She leant forwards, taking your hand in hers and guiding your hand in a circular motion. “This will make eggs fluffy. That,” she mimicked your old movement, “will not do anything.”

“Whatever,” you sighed, handing her the bowl. “How’s training going?”

“You’d know if you joined us.”

“It’s not for me. I’m not an Avenger, I’m just a field agent.”

“Who works for the management of this place.” Wanda looked at you. “Your thoughts are loud.”

“Hey, get out of my mind!” you said, annoyed but not angry. “Leave my thoughts alone.”

“Y/n, even without reading your mind, I can see you’re unhappy.” Wanda’s tone was gentle and you sighed. “I know that you miss her. Why won’t you talk to her?”

“Wanda, she doesn’t want to hear from me.”

“Yes, I do.” You spun around to see Natasha walking into the common room, staring at you with an intense gaze. “You shut me out, not the other way around.”

“I didn’t - no, that’s…” You spluttered then sighed again, knowing she was right. “Whatever. Hello, Natasha.”

“Ooh, so formal,” she gently teased, sending you a brief smile. “Hello, y/n. I miss you. Why don’t you come to training?”

“You know why.”

“No. I don’t.” She leant on the counter beside Wanda and watched you, an amused smile playing around her mouth. “You’re the one who walked off.”

You grabbed Natasha’s arm and pulled her from the room.

“Hey!” Wanda called out, a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. “What about these eggs?”

“They’ll keep until I return!” you called back.

***

“You’re not an easy person to talk to nowadays,” Natasha remarked.

You unlocked your room and pushed her inside, shutting the door behind you. She looked around, intrigued to see what your room looked like without the stacks and stacks of papers. Spotting a photo of you and her on the wall, she stepped towards it.

“Leave that alone,” you said quietly.

“I’ve made you angry.”

“You didn’t have to accuse me of being a horrible person in front of Wanda. I’m not that bad, I’m just busy. I keep making time for you and then either you don’t show or you’re off on a mission.”

“First time I’m hearing about it.”

“In my head, Nat. I keep making time for you in my head,” you said impatiently.

“Why not ask me in person?”

“Because,” you whispered, and suddenly Natasha understood.

“Because you’re afraid I’ll reject you,” she said quietly. “You regret what you said all those months ago.”

“Of course I regret it!” you burst out. “I wish I’d stuck around and listened to what you were going to say but I missed my chance.”

“Not from where I’m standing.” She looked at you. “My heart belongs to you, y/n, whether Banner’s around or not.”

“But you’d pick him. For appearance’s sake, for the good of the Avengers, for the good of publicity… you’d pick him.”

“I have seen so much. So much of the world, of what it can give you but also what it can take away.” Natasha pointed at the photo of the two of you. “That was the first time I saw myself like that. Happier. Carefree. With no weight on my shoulders.” She stared at you. “I want that back, y/n, but you’re the only person who can give it to me.”

“Give… I have nothing to give you, Nat.”

“Love,” she burst out. “You have love to give me.”

“You’re making it really hard to say no,” you whispered, a smile creeping onto your face. “All I want is to say no, but you’re making that very hard right now.”

“I’m going to keep talking until you say yes,” she whispered. She sat down on the edge of your bed and watched you carefully.

Then she began to talk about her upbringing, her favourite book. The fact that she still read that book even now because it comforted her. About leaving Russia and the heartache that had caused. About meeting Clint’s family for the first time and being called ‘Aunty Nat’ and realizing life wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it was.

Then she started talking about you. The first time she’d met you and realised she was falling. The Christmas you’d gone ice skating together and you’d burst out laughing as you fell over. The way you made her feel inside. How she knew she could be herself with no fear of rejection.

“Natasha.” You reached out, placing a finger on her lips. She kissed your finger, making you smile. “Okay. I’ll try something with you.”

“You will?” Her smile was big and happy and you couldn’t help but smile back, taking in the green eyes that were staring so intently into yours.

“Yes.” You leant forwards and kissed her softly. “I will.”

“Now,” she murmured against your lips, “about the name of that source…”

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova!”

#fanfiction #fanfic #natasha romanoff #marvel #marvel fic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #wanda maximoff #fluff fic #age of ultron #marvel ultron #mcu ultron #the avengers #avenger

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itsanerdlife · 6 months ago

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Wicked Intentions 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader // (Seriously close) Steve Rogers x Reader // Clint Barton x Reader // T’Challa x Reader.

Warning: Violence. Language. Bullying. Girl Fights. Name Calling. Degrading Comments. Angst. Degrade of Woman (to a point). Criminal Life. Illegal Shit. Fights. Alpha Males. Stalking.

Characters: Peter Stark. Howie Stark. Bucky Barnes. Steve Rogers. Clint Barton. TC (T’Challa). Ben Reilly. Cledus Kasady (CK). Brock Rumlow. Gwen Stacy. Wanda Maximoff. Becca Barnes. Amore Lorelei. Kitty Pryde. Frank Castle. George Barnes. Joe Rogers. Winni Barnes. Pepper Stark. Wade Wilson. Eddie Brock. Warner Strucker. Barney Barton. Bobbi Morse. Pietro Maximoff. Logan.

A/N: This is a Bully Romance. High School setting. Mafia Family Life. Woman are on a lower level than males in their world. Just a heads up. This is the third installment of the series. Bad Intentions, Cruel Intentions, and Wicked Intentions.

Father: Meet at the house. All of you.

Glancing at the text as Bucky pulls into my father’s drive behind my brothers.

“What could this be?” Clint wonders as he pulls open the door for me.

“No idea Packman. Maybe it’s wedding stuff.” I shrug. But don’t miss the glance between the three of them. “Do you know?” I lift a brow at them.

“No idea.” Steve cuts his eyes to my brothers gathering outside their car.

“I’m sure you’re right, wedding stuff.” Bucky comes towards me, slipping his hand to the small of my back, guiding me forward.

“Ah huh.” I glance at him before my brothers. Becca looks to be edging into a nervous breakdown.

“Don’t go getting a head of yourself.” TC chuckles next to me.

I eye him slowly as we round the side of the house.

Something is off.

“You know if I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll torch all of your asses.” I comment cutting between my siblings, leaving the boys with them.

“Nothing to lie about smalls.” Howie’s quick to reply.

I turn on dime, forcing them all to stop.

Gwen looks down at her belly. Becca picks at her thumb nail. All six boys have blank looks. Wanda’s head tips looking past me.

“Something wrong, smalls?” My father’s voice making me turn around.

George, my soon to be father in law standing next to him. Another man with them I hadn’t met before.

“If my siblings come up missing, I’ve torched them and put them in the woods with brock.” I shrug, walking towards the three men. George chuckles, pulling out a chair for me at the patio table.

“Now that’s no way to handle your problems.” My father sighs.

“At least she makes jokes about Brock now.” Peter smirks pulling a seat out for Gwen.

“You’ll be next big brother.” I blow him a kiss, as Bucky sits next to me. He chuckles, reaching over to pat my thigh.

“You can’t put bodies in the same place, that’s how they get found.” He reminds me.

Glancing over at him, I smirk. “Bet Frankie knows some places extra secluded.” My father and George exchanging a look, smirking at one another.

“You weren’t kidding when you said she is ruthless.” The strange man comments. I notice Wanda isn’t sitting.

“Red?” I sit up, leaning forward.

My father nods, looking from the man to Wanda.

“What are you doing here?” She snaps suddenly.

My eyes cut to my father.

“Who is he?” TC stays standing, watching the man.

“My names Logan.” He spoke in a deep, gruff voice. Dark hair greying. Well built, a salt and pepper beard.

“He works for my father.” Wanda adds.

“Oh fuck.”

“Shit.”

“Fuck.”

“What’s he doing here?” I ask, looking at my father.

He clears his throat, adjusting in his seat.

“If he’s dead just say it and leave.” Wanda huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“He’s not dead.” George assures her.

“Your brother,” my father starts, only to be cut off by four voices.

“Brother?!”

“What brother?!”

“Wait a minute!”

“Hold the fuck on."

“Wanda has a twin, his name is Pietro.” I explain for them.

“How do we not know this?” Bucky looks to me.

I shrug. “Wasn’t important information at the time.”

“Pietro is getting released. Early.” My father finishes, nodding slowly.

“Fuck.”

“Me.”

Wanda and I blink at each other.

The guys look between us

“Released from where?” Steve wonders.

“Prison.” Peter replies.

“Your twin is doing prison time?” Bucky’s brow jumps up.

“With her father.” Howie adds.

It’s strangely quiet for a moment.

“The Russian Mafia is coming to town, boys. Strap in, a hurricane is calmer.” George shakes his head, looking at his boys. The three of them look from one another to my brothers.

“What’s this mean?” I straighten my spine.

Logan looks from Wanda to me. “Her wedding is to be done in the coming weeks.” Wanda’s hand drops quickly, Howie quickly grasps hold of one. “And he’s looking for an audience, with the Stark.” He nods. I look to my father. Only he’s looking at me. Glancing around, they all are.

“Me?” Snapping my eyes to Logan.

“Even in prison, he’s heard about you.” Logan nods.

“I’m not in charge yet.” It comes out like a whisper.

My father snickers. George chuckles softly.

“Oh darling if you think you’re not in charge, you’re wrong. Everything pushed at that table is with you in mind.” George levels me with a look.

I look to Bucky. He smirks at me.

“You’ll start sitting in and taking matters into hand in coming days.” My father explains.

“What?” I jump up.

My brother’s smirks at me.

“It’s only time you start running things, little miss.” My father smirks. I blanch for a second. “I’m not married. You’re not retiring.” I can’t quite grasp what’s being told to me.

“You’re marrying a tables son. You are the center of The Saintz and Brothers, as well as your own girl gang.” My father waves his hand at the table. Glancing around slowly.

“He isn’t wrong, Sweets.” Steve smirks at me.

Bucky slowly pulls me back down into my seat. “You know this, CK knew this, Brock knew this, Ben knows it. You are the push of all of us. Without question,” he smiles softly at me “since you walked into Saints.”

“We told you before.” Clint grins. “You want to take over, we’ll take anyone down and build you a thrown.” He shrugs.

“You know we back you on anything.” Howie winks at me.

“Ball up baby sister, you said you wouldn’t take over without the guys. It’s time to take over.” Peter smiles.

Looking to Wanda, Gwen and Becca.

Becca smirks at me. “And crush anyone who steps to you.”

When my eyes drift to TC, he smirks, shrugging. “You know I’m your right hand, no matter what comes.”

Leaning back in my chair, nodding slowly. “Fine.”

My father and George exchange a look, looking back at me.

“Just fine?” George chuckles.

“Smalls?” My father lifts a brow at me.

“My way.” Cocking my brow at him.

They laugh, nodding.

“That’s our girl.” George laughs.

“She already has a right hand?” Logan looks to my fathers.

“Problem with it?” TC cuts his look to him.

“Tony, your girl has her own mafia family.” Logan shakes his head. My father’s smirks, nodding.

“Spread the word too.” I lean forward, staring directly at him. “Speak it like gospel or what the fuck ever, make sure it’s known to all.” I warn him. He stares at me for a second, long and hard before he nods slowly. “Fuckers around here know don’t play with me or mine. Look what happened to the Kasady family.” I smile smugly at him.

“Like a fucked up Grim Brothers fairy tale.”

Howie licks his lips, grinning he looks to Peter, a cold look in his twin brothers’ eyes, smirking.

“Make it a warning. Make sure they know, they fear it. Like our father, only so much worse.” Peter tips his chin.

“I heard she’s called Satan.” Logan smirks at Peter.

“I am.” I reply, staring back at him. “Don’t ever second guess it, either.” I cut my eyes around the table, stopping on Bucky, before I stand, leaving the table, TC follows me.

----

Everything Peaches 12/8/22 @mo320 @ml7010 @kmc1989 @irepeldirt @joannie95 @nunu2888 @coley0823 @rileyloves5 @sexyvixen7 @duckestylez @abschaffer2 @drayshadow @shirukitsune @xoxabs88xox @carostar2020 @rosalynshields @destiel-artemis @hookslove1592 @CallSign-Vesta @royal-sunflower @iwillbeinmynest @bellamy-barnes @geeksareunique @happydeanpotter @fanfic-n-tabulous @steel-blue-eyess @mariekoukie6661 @wonderswrittings @bless-my-demons @notyourtypicalrose @lets-talk-about-xyz @loving-life-my-way @shinycupcakebaker @also-fangirlinsweden @stupendous-science @daughterofthenight117 @dandelionsmarkthegrave @physically-a-cheesecake @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

Bucky 'Fuck Me Up' Barnes: @nickyl316h @jbbarnesgirl @lets-roggerthat @this-is-mycrisis @kaylaphantomhive

Series Tags: @sebastians-love

#Marvel #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Avengers #Bucky x Reader #Wicked Intentions #Marvel Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Series #Avengers Fanfiction #Bucky AU Series #Intentions Series #Ama's Ideas

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redroomreflections · 7 months ago

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Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter 4

Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Note: This is a repost from my since deactivated account Natsxaddiction. I will be adding the shorter stories to here; 20 chapters or less - sorry TLH fans =(

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Chapter 4/20 (A completed story)

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

W/c: 3.2k

“Is Olivia still sleeping?” You ask as you look to the open doorway.

“She is,” Natasha answers simply. She stands with her arms folded and her legs shoulder-width apart. Nothing about her body language is welcoming or loving. She’s uncomfortable with you. You know Natasha so well and she’s prepared herself for a fight. As if you’d take it that far. Not after all this time.

“Do you want to sit?” You know you’re stalling. It’s stupid. You’re nervous to tell your wife about how you met. You’ve both gone over that day plenty of times. It’s nothing new. Natasha doesn’t respond. “We, um, our meeting wasn’t exactly the best. I guess you can gather that. Who told you? Tony? Steve?”

“Bruce,” Natasha supplies simply and she can see the slight confusion on your face. “I called him earlier. I figured he wouldn’t lie to me. Would get straight to the truth.”

“And he told you to ask me, right?” You conclude and she tilts her chin slightly. “I was raised by Hydra.” You begin slowly. You don’t even look to see Natasha’s face. Reliving all of the painful memories of your childhood is never easy. “I wasn’t. I don’t know much about the entire process. My father was a scientist working for Strucker. They had been planning and doing experiments for years. I grew up in the lab. My mother, god knows where she is, but I didn’t really mind. I was always excited to go to work with my dad. The experiments were innocent at first. Started with me standing in the same room as the scepter. Then things progressed.” You shake your head. “My father died and by then I was old enough to make my own decisions. Wanda and Pietro, the twins, were fifteen when they decided to join. I stayed to keep them safe.” You look over to Natasha to make sure she’s still listening. “I’m not telling you this to pity me but I just think you need to understand the magnitude of what we were dealing with. What we all went through at the hands of that man. Things should have been different.” You whisper to yourself.

“Anyway, I was loyal to my brother and sister,” You speak with a bit of defiance. “I couldn’t just leave them. After so many years of brainwashing and…” You don’t finish. You think she of all people would understand. “We were doing what we thought was right. I remained in the shadows. Up until a few years ago, I didn’t exist in the world. I was just another lost kid. So, we had the twins approach the Avengers first. Anything to get to Tony Stark. Wanda can slip into people’s minds and make them see their worst fear. We just needed to figure out what those were. Now she doesn’t need to do that but then,” You realize you may be rambling and that none of this may make sense to her. You lick your lips, finding your mouth to be dry, as you continue telling the story. Your story. “Do you, um, do you remember Morocco? Just a year before Ultron.”

Natasha’s eyes widen in horror. She remembers that night like the back of her hand. She’s always remembered it and played it over and over again in her head. The night she fell in love with a stranger. A woman she danced with well into the night. A woman that she stupidly let her guard down with only to wake up in the morning to an empty bed. The only thing she kept was the memory of that woman and how she made her feel. That and a tiny scar just below her…

Natasha doesn’t even give you time to react before she grabs your chin to turn your head. Sure enough there it is. The scar she remembers oh so well. It’s placed low on your right cheek. Something she thought was a birthmark up until now.

“That was you?” Natasha’s grip tightens for only a second. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. After all this time. All these years making up different reasons you left in her head. Sometimes she thought she imagined it. Other times she couldn’t stop thinking about that woman. About you. Now you’re standing here before her telling her it was all a scheme to get close to her. You can’t read the expression on her face and that terrifies you. She drops her hand, searching your eyes for something you’re not sure of before she backs away. “H-how does any of that make sense? I don’t understand. Was that in your plan? To fuck me and get information out of me? Are you really that deluded?” Natasha can’t wrap her head around what she’s being told.

“It worked. It was the only way to learn your fears,” You respond with a shaky voice. “I, we, I didn’t plan to sleep with you. I was supposed to befriend you and that was it. You were the one to invite me back to your hotel.”

“That makes it so much better,” She says sarcastically.

“I was supposed to dance with you and drug you and Wanda was supposed to come in and slip into your mind,” You confess. “When I met you it was different. You were different. It was nothing like I imagined. For that one night, I felt something and I went against my orders to be with you, and I- just…”

The stakes were high. You had Natasha, the infamous Black Widow right where you wanted her. You had to think quickly on your feet. You had to do something. Anything to get her to trust you.

“You what? Fell in love?”

“It was the first time I’d ever been with anyone. It was completely my choice,” You confirm. “I had you right where I wanted you and I took what I could. I used that information so Wanda could get into your head. Same with Thor and same with Tony, and Bruce, and Steve.”

“And you slept with them too?” Natasha’s hand twitches.

“No,” You shake your head. “Only you. It’s always been only you.”

“And after Ultron? You saw me and thought what? That it would be a happy reunion. Did you not feel anything?” Natasha doesn’t know whether she wants to puke or cry or fight. Everything she’s known has been a lie and she allowed it. She let herself slip for one night only to realize it all was a farce. She was a pawn in some game she wasn’t even playing. How could she trust you after this?

“Did you feel anything when you were a Widow?” You ask rhetorically. You already know the answer to that. Natasha’s been on missions much like the one you did plenty of times.

“Don’t spin this on me,” Natasha raises a finger, poking you in your chest, her eyes showing no sign of recognition. “I was…” She can’t find the words she wants to use. She doesn’t have any excuses for her life either. Not that she owes one to you.

“When we met for a second time, during Ultron, we almost killed each other.” You keep going. “You recognized me immediately. I didn’t want to fight but it’s what I had to do. We almost killed each other.”

“What stopped me?” Natasha questions.

“Love,” You answer quietly. “I know it sounds horrible but I couldn’t hurt you. When we realized what Ultron was doing we changed our minds and we fought with you. We lost Pietro and it all seemed like the world was ending at once. We became Avengers and moved into the compound.”

“Unbelievable,” Natasha scoffs. “So, you’ve been painting our marriage as this perfect thing this entire time when it’s been based on nothing but lies? I married a liar. How do you live with yourself? Are you lying about the girls too? Did you take them from their mother? How do I know you’re not lying to them? How can I trust you with them.”

“Natasha, that’s not fair,” You become emotional. You would never do anything to hurt any of your family. As messy as your past is you have always worked towards righting your wrongs.

“What’s not fair is I have no memories after an accident that could have been caused by my lying, manipulative wife,” Natasha snaps. “And I’m here with you. Not understanding any of this and you tell me we’re happy and I don’t know how to believe you.”

“Natasha,” You take a step towards her but she’s fast and before you even know what she’s doing she has a knife pointed towards your throat. Your shield, a light purple, is the only thing keeping it from touching you. You don’t care when she’s looking at you that way. As if you killed her puppy. Natasha backs away, not giving you another glance, as she leaves to lock herself in the guest bedroom. Truth be told, you assumed she would have left the house entirely. You think the only reason she’s staying is for the girls and even then you feel that’s a bit shaky.

You don’t give yourself room to breathe, letting your shield down, as you reach for the bed blindly. The tears in your eyes blur your vision as you plop onto the mattress.

That went well.

**********************

Inside the guest room, Natasha is going through a myriad of emotions. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of this situation. Out of the scenarios she played in her head she didn’t think this would be one of them. With the pocket knife still in her hand, she flips it over many times. Realizing the severity of what she almost did, she drops it onto the mattress beside her. How could any of this be true?

You’ve been in her life for even longer than she thought and she’s not sure she likes the idea of that. This is all too much for her to handle. She wants to run. She could do it. You probably wouldn’t stop her she thinks. Another part of her is curiosity. If the old her could get past it and forgive you what makes this different? In all of your interactions for the past few days, you’ve been nothing but genuine and gentle with her. How was she supposed to compartmentalize all of that? Your love was built on lies, pain, and everything Natasha told herself she wouldn’t do. When she was younger and allowed herself to think about having a family, which wasn’t often, she imagined healthy love. Someone who understands her and doesn’t care about her past. A person she could be completely herself with.

Was that you?

For now, she doesn’t know the answer to that question and she’s not ready to question anymore. She’s had enough of her past today. She lies on the bed, parallel to your position in the other room, as she replays what just happened in her head.

Natasha doesn’t come out of the bedroom for the rest of the night. When you find Olivia curled into her you don’t disturb them. You close the door behind them and go back down into your bedroom to make a call.

You hold the phone to your ear, breathing harshly, as you wait for an answer. Wanda picks up after the second ring. She speaks a bright Sokovian greeting but quickly changes her tune when she realizes it’s you.

“Y/n, is everything okay?” Wanda asks. She’s patient as she waits for you to gather yourself. You feel like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and haphazardly thrown back into your body.

“No,” You finally speak. “I told Natasha.”

Wanda asks knowingly. “I take it she didn’t receive things too well.”

“Not at all,” You wipe your face free of the tears running down your face. “Wanda, how am I supposed to do this? Maybe I’m way in over my head. It’s only been a few days but I’ve already managed to make her hate me.”

“I don’t think Natasha has it in her to hate you,” Wanda replies.

“This isn’t our Natasha, Wands.” You sigh. “She’s different. Combative.”

“I remember a time when you were the same way.” Wanda reminds you. “When we first joined Hydra you weren’t exactly the nicest to us.”

“I had to make sure you weren’t trying to kill me in my sleep,” You say. “You were strangers.”

“My point,” Wanda shakes her head. “I’m not saying it will be easy but stick around for her a little longer. She’s going through a rough time too. Would you take it well if everything you’ve known is different or changed?”

“No,” You grumble.

“Then have patience,” Wanda encourages. “Don’t let her walk all over you. You’re supposed to be the top.”

“Not funny,” You roll your eyes.

“I’m sorry, sestra.” Wanda giggles to herself. “I do think you should give her a chance.”

“Who made you the big sister?” You ask in annoyance.

“Sometimes it’s okay for the little sister to take over,” Wanda reminds you. “Come here tomorrow. Have lunch with us. I will make you something special. The girls can come to play and I can see you.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” You agree. “I can’t promise there won’t be tears.”

“From you or the girls?” Wanda jokes.

“Both,” You shoot back. “Do you have to hang up?” You ask as you look at the time. It’s getting pretty late.

“I can stay on the phone,” Wanda promises. “I was going to play a little guitar out on the balcony. Will that bother you?” She’s such a good sister. You don’t know what you’d do without her.

“No, go ahead.” You climb under the covers, propping the phone up next to you, as you drift off to sleep. Wanda’s soft playing and your exhaustion from the day allow you to fall asleep fairly quickly. Hopefully, tomorrow would be better.

***************************

It’s the next morning and Natasha is awakened by the sound of crying. She sits up, resting on her elbows, to see Olivia is still sound asleep beside her. There’s a sliver of light peeking from her curtains so she can deduce that it’s early morning. How long was she asleep? She pushes the covers back to go and investigate. She follows the sound of noise down to the girl’s bedroom. She finds Lily standing up in her crib, rubbing her eyes, as she calls out for both of you.

“Hi, sweet girl,” Natasha coos, signing hello, as she comes to stand closer to the crib. She looks over the bonnet on Lily’s head, finding it to be interesting before she looks down at Lily’s wide eyes.

“Up,” Lily begs and Natasha obliges. She scoops the little girl into her arms, feeling her bottom for a wet diaper before she walks over to the changing table.

“I know that was pretty uncomfortable huh,” Natasha speaks to her as she changes her diaper quickly. She has a bit of difficulty changing out of her onesie though this doesn’t deter her. She changes Lily’s diaper, deciding to dress her in a different outfit before she looks around the nursery. She hasn’t been in this room yet. It’s well done. The walls are muted pink with a rose gold decal. The dresser in the far corner of the room is white with rose-gold handles. There’s a rocking chair in another corner. Olivia’s bed, shaped like a proper princess’s bed is on the other side while Lily’s crib takes over the other side of the room. There’s a bookshelf full of children’s books. A baby monitor with a camera attached to Lily’s crib. Everything looked so well done and normal. Did you choose the decorations together?

“Ears?” Lily questions and Natasha is reminded of her cochlear implants.

“You don’t wear these at night? I guess that makes sense,” Natasha says as she attempts to put them on. It takes a few tries but eventually, she gets it right. Lily signs “on” giving Natasha a proud smile as they stand together in her bedroom. “Would you like breakfast?” Natasha asks.

“Food?” Lily tilts her head while rubbing her tummy. She sure could eat right now. “Mommy?” Lily asks. She’s looking for you.

“She’s probably still asleep. For now, you have me kid,” Natasha carries Lily down to the first floor. Despite the slight pain in her ribs, she feels a bit better. She’s not supposed to be carrying Lily but she’d be damned if she misses out on this very important thing. She would carry her baby forever if need be. She places Lily in her high chair, before walking over to the fridge to get breakfast.

“Go!Go!” Lily points excitedly. Natasha follows her line of sight to see a box of Yoplait Gogurt sitting on one of the shelves. She takes her time opening it before giving it to Lily. The toddler gulps it down as she watches Natasha. Natasha makes quick work of fixing a bowl of oatmeal. She helps to feed the toddler, finding that Lily is truly a happy baby, as she smiles through the entire meal.

Natasha is enjoying her morning breakfast when she hears footsteps coming down onto the first floor. She spots curls first before Olivia catapults herself into her lap.

“Olivia Jane, be careful,” You warn her as she jumps into Natasha’s arms.

“She’s fine,” Natasha rolls her eyes and you’re not sure exactly how to respond to that. So you ignore it. You walk over to the Keurig, finding your desired flavor, before turning the machine on. You greet Lily with a bunch of kisses to her face, almost turning to kiss Natasha too before you stop yourself. For a second you forgot.

“Mama, I slept in the bed with you,” Olivia reminds Natasha. “I didn’t kick you this time right?” Olivia questions as a bowl of warm oatmeal are placed in front of her. For her bowl, you cut up fruit to place inside.

“No you were a perfect angel,” Natasha assures her.

‘Why you didn’t sleep with Mommy again?” Olivia asks and neither of you knows how to answer that.

“Since Mama is still hurt we decided she needed a bed to herself,” You answer. Hopefully, that would make sense to a three-year-old.

“Oh,” Oliva nods in understanding.

“It’s too easy for you,” Natasha mumbles and you don’t bother to ask her what she means.

“What do you guys think about going to see Aunt Wanda today?” You ask instead.

“I go!” Lily grins. She loves Aunt Wanda and so does Olivia.

“Me too,” Olivia eats from her spoon. She manages to keep all of the oatmeal in her mouth and off the table this time around.

“Your sister?” Natasha questions. “Do you think that’s best?”

“Natasha, the girls have been around my sister from the day we brought them home,” You sigh. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, fixing it to your liking, before taking a small sip. Despite you feeling slightly threatened by her yesterday, you’re a tiny bit more optimistic today. She stepped foot outside of her room so you’re choosing to take that as a good sign. “If you don’t think it’s safe you’re more than welcome to come. Everyone lives about an hour away at the compound.”

“I think I will,” Natasha nods.

This should be fun.

----> next part

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you

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heckcareoxytwit · 1 year ago

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A preview of Uncanny Avengers #2

UNCANNY AVENGERS #2

At a time when mutant and human relations are in the toilet, the Uncanny Avengers have run smack into a new Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, and, folks, lemme tell you—they came here to beat up Avengers and X-Men and chew gum, and they’re all outta gum. Wake up, babe, a new romance hits that will make readers froth at the mouth. Plus, Ben Urich. Always the mark of a quality and important Marvel Comic. FOOM!

LEGACY #62

Written by: Gerry Duggan (Writer) Art by: Javier Garron (Artist), Morry Hollowell (Colorist) Cover Art by: Javier Garron (Cover Artist), Morry Hollowell (Cover Colorist) Page Count: 40 pages Release Date: September 20, 2023

#Captain America #Steve Rogers #Quicksilver #Pietro Maximoff #Avengers Unity Squad #XMen #Uncanny Avengers #X Men #Black Widow #Natasha Romanoff #Avengers #Captain Krakoa #Fenris #fenris twins #Andreas Von Strucker #Orchis #Fall of X #marvel preview #marvel

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missvelvetsstuff · 8 months ago

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With Friends Like You, Who Needs Enemies

Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve x Nat, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Reader is a mutant with the ability to turn sound into light who was 'adopted' aka stolen as a child by Baron Von Strucker to use for experimentation. She was given a form of the Super soldier serum so in addition to her mutant abilities she also has super strength, enhanced senses and healing. When he starts experimenting on his volunteers, the Maximoff twins, she tries to convince them to escape with her but they tell the Baron that she's planning to escape so he doubles her cell security. Steve and reader met when the team recovered Loki's scepter from Strucker.

She falls in love with Steve and becomes good friends with Nat but they aren't the friends she thinks they are.

This story is canon adjacent except that Thanos never happened.

Chapter 14

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, SMUT! SMUTTY SMUT SMUT. PIV, oral-fem receiving, dirty talk, swearing

Notes: I've been sitting on this for ages because I'm obsessed with a couple of other stories where Bucky is being a tool and had a difficult time getting in the right frame of mind to write sweet, soft Bucky.

I hope it's worth the wait.

About an hour after Bucky and Rainbow left for their date, Steve shook himself and realised he was alone in his room, Y/N nowhere in sight. He became angry as he realised what happened, Wanda got in his head and tricked him. He would deal with her later because right now he was headed towards Y/N's room to wait for her to return. He started off leaning against the wall across from her door but sank down until he was sitting as time passed, before he fell asleep there.

When the carriage arrived back at the front of the building Bucky and Rainbow hurried out and up to her room. When they made it to her door, she noticed something in the hall.....Steve slumped over asleep across from her door. She held in a giggle and showed Bucky who smirked as he closed and locked her door behind him.

Bucky grabbed Rainbows hand to pull her closer to him, putting her arms around his neck where she wound her fingers through his hair. His hands drifted down to her waist and pulled her into him as he kissed and nibbled along her throat.

Rainbow shuddered at his touch and moaned "Jamie" she sighed before pulling back "Jamie"

Bucky stopped "What's wrong doll? Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head "I just, I need to tell you something."

Bucky looked in her eyes and nodded "I'm listening."

Rainbow took a deep breath "I want this, I want you, Jamie. I just need you to understand some things. You know I'm not actually a virgin after you know, Strucker but I, I've never, I-" she sighed and leaned into Bucky's hand on her cheek, feeling her tears that she hadn't known were falling down her face, as he wiped them away.

"I've never had an orgasm or any kind of good feelings with sex. He, he wasn't concerned with my pleasure or feelings, only his." She paused "I don't think I can, I mean I I've tried b by by m myself and" she shook her head.

Bucky looked at her sadly "I am so sorry for what you've been through, you didn't deserve any of it. Strucker was a sick fuck." He kissed her softly "If you let me, I promise I will show you that you can cum and I'll make you feel so good." He mumbled into her neck as he kissed her "I wanna worship every inch of your beautiful body. I want to taste you and touch you and-" he growled "but only if you want doll and we can stop at any time. Just say the word."

She sighed as he nibbled on her ear "Please Jamie. I need you, don't stop. Please."

Bucky groaned "My sweet, beautiful Rainbow, I'm gonna make your lights so bright everyone's gonna think the northern lights are here again."

Rainbow shrugged her jacket off and kicked her shoes off, then she turned around "Can you unzip me, Jamie?"

Bucky nodded and ran his fingers down her neck and back until he reached the zipper of her dress and pulled it down so slowly that she thought she was going to lose her mind. He reached the bottom and traced his hands up her spine before sliding them under the dresses spaghetti straps, pushing them off her shoulders until the dress fell to the floor.

When he realized that she wasn't wearing a bra under the dress he growled and kissed her shoulders whispering "So beautiful, my sweet Rainbow. So perfect and all mine. Go lay down sweetheart, I'm gonna make you cum till you beg me to stop."

She hurried over to lay on the bed while Bucky ran his eyes over her, drinking in every inch of her exposed skin "Fuck you're beautiful, Rainbow."

Rainbow gasped, eyes tearing up "But, my scars."

Bucky pulled back from his daze and saw the scars he had been too enthralled to see. He ran his fingers softly over them "They are a part of you and beautiful. They prove your strength because a weak person wouldn't have survived. But now you're here, with me and no one will ever hurt you again. I won't let anyone hurt you, Rainbow, not ever." He traced down her sides and everywhere she had scars, kissing them.

When her reached her panties he looked up at her, seeing her watching curiously to figure out what he was doing. Certainly nothing Strucker had ever done to her.

He raised his brow "Can I take these off, doll?"

Rainbow nodded, tensing as her body remembered what usually came next. When Bucky removed her panties he gently spread her legs, watching her face for any sign of distress before he looked at her spread pussy and almost came right there. She was already all wet and swollen, he could barely control himself but forced his body to move slowly, deliberately so as not to scare her. He leaned and took a deep breath, her scent pushing him to lean in and-

"BUCKY! Wha what are you doing!" She squealed as he licked her from dripping hole to throbbing clit, groaning at her taste.

Bucky pulled back to see her eyes grow wide as she realised what the shine on his lips and chin was. He reached up and caressed her hand "Do you trust me, Rainbow?"

She nodded shakily "Yeah of course, but what're you-"

"Please trust me honey." He pleaded before he dove in, eating her pussy like he would die if he stopped.

Rainbow didn't know how to deal with the feelings Bucky was causing deep inside her. It didn't take long before she couldn't think about it anymore, it felt so good she couldn't think at all.

Then a spark started, deep inside her and every lick or suck on her sensitive bundle of nerves fanned it higher. She was pulling Bucky's hair, alternating between trying to pull him off and grinding her pussy into his face for more.

"Oh oh god Bucky, I'm I oh god stop I think I need to pee. Oh no, ohmygod"

Bucky mumbled with her clit in his mouth "Ya donneeta pee, trust mmmpph" then he carefully slid one of his fingers into her dripping hole and that was it.

Rainbow felt like she was exploding, like every cell burst into indescribable ecstasy before slamming back together only to burst again. Her vision went white and all she could hear was a long, low, pornographic sound that she eventually realized was coming from her.

Bucky watched her raptly, memorizing each expression, each sound, every little twitch or spasm.

It wasnt until she was slowly coming back to him that he realized he was soaked, the sheets were soaked, and he grinned like a crazy man when he put together what that meant. He gently licked at the wetness still streaming from her until she grunted and pushed his face away.

"Jamie? I I Jamie that was, ohmigohd. I never" she panted, body trembling as he moved up her body to kiss her.

As he moved she could feel the wetness on her legs, on him and the bed, making her flinch in embarrassment "Oh my God I did pee, I'm so-"

Bucky kissed her, cutting her off before she could get any further "No baby, sweet Rainbow. You squirted because you came so hard and were so wet. And it's the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

He held her gently, rubbing her back and whispering sweet nothing's in her ear until her trembling stopped. "Are you ok sweetheart?"

Rainbow pulled him to her and kissed him with everything she had "I'm ok Jamie but-" she paused, embarrassed.

"But what honey? You can tell me anything." Bucky prodded.

"Well I mean I just." She giggled and then whispered "I want more. I want you Jamie all of you." She looked at him with her beautiful eyes "Please Jamie."

Bucky kissed her again, exploring her mouth and the taste of her pussy that lingered on his tongue "All you ever have to do is ask. Whatever you want I'll do everything in my power to give it to you, my love."

He adjusted himself so he was laying on top of her, holding himself up on his vibranium arm as he ran his aching cock along her soaked slit. She squealed when his head caught on her hole and he stopped to check in with her but she wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to pull him further in, making him chuckle at her eagerness. He slid the rest of the way in slowly, watching her face for signs of discomfort in between looking down to see her pussy swallow his cock until he was flush against her.

He paused for a moment "Are you ok doll? Need me to wait?"

Rainbow shook her head "No, please, more. Move Jamie!"

Bucky smirked "As you wish" and slowly started thrusting, pulling almost all the way out before pushing in a little faster, a little harder. Her soft moans and whines encouraging him "Jesus Rainbow, you feel so fucking good. So tight and wet and perfect, made to be mine. Sweet little pussy keeps pulling me back in. I don't know how long I'm gonna last baby. Feels so damn good."

He kept going until he was practically slamming into her, grinding as deep as he could get until he felt her starting to flutter and squeeze around him "That feel good doll, you like my fat cock stretching your tight pussy out?"

He moved his flesh hand down to her belly and pushed "Can you feel that, see my cock making your belly bulge every time I fuck into you? Youre taking me so well honey, I could live here, keep you wrapped around my cock forever" she whined and clenched around him "You like that idea? Just us in bed wrapped around each other forever?"

Rainbow felt that tingle starting up again but due to her sensitivity it was moving more quickly "Ohgod, oh, ohmygod, Jamie it's it's JAMIE PLEASEYESPLEASE"

"Thats it doll, let it go I wanna feel you come all over my cock I need to feel you gushing- I'm gonna Oh God please doll I need you I can't I'm oh" he felt her squeezing him and a rush of wetness and couldn't hold back any longer before grinding and pushing as deep as he could to paint her walls with his spend.

His face snuggled into her shoulder, kissing and nibbling as it felt like he would never stop cumming, with her pussy milking him for everything he had.

Bucky rolled to his side and cuddled her against him, gently rubbing her and whispering sweet words to her.

"My beautiful, precious Rainbow. I love you so much. You make everything I've been through worth it and I'd do it all over again as long as I end up here, with you."

"Oh Jamie, I love you so much" she felt tears rolling down her face and tried to wipe them away without Bucky noticing.

Of course he did notice and gently wiped them away "What's wrong baby? Did I hurt you? Are you ok?" His voice sounded panicky and she quickly shook her head.

"Nonono, no Jamie I'm fine. It's just so perfect, I never imagined I would have any of this. I'm just so happy."

After a little bit Bucky untangled from her until she whined "Noooo, stay."

"I'll be right back sweetheart" he returned with a damp washcloth and gently wiped her clean before tossing it aside. He laid a dry towel over the wet spot, climbed back under the covers and pulled her close to him, murmuring "I love you, Rainbow. Always and forever."

Rainbow was almost asleep but hummed softly in return "my Jamie".

Bucky fell asleep with a huge smile on his face.

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

In the hallway, leaned up against the wall opposite Rainbows door, Steve Rogers had heard every single second of it, their giggles and whispers woke him as they closed the door when they returned from their date. He heard their moans and declarations of love, the slight squeak of the bed, the squelching sounds. He saw the soft purplish glow coming from under her door.

Steve sat with his face in his hands quietly sobbing as he finally realized he wasn't getting Y/N back. Ever.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #angst with a happy ending #james bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x reader #with friends like you who needs enemies

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