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spaghettiposts · 9 months ago

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5 times you slept in places you shouldn’t have + the 1 time Wanda dragged you with her

Wanda Maximoff x Spider!reader

Summary: You’ve always had trouble sleeping, and Wanda’s always been there to see it.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, poor readers not doing so well in the sleep department.

Word count: 10.7k (I am so sorry)

A/n: I’ve always wanted to try this troupe I’m very excited with how this turned out. Took me literal months (started in march) anyways!! Reblogs or no more Wanda 🫵 /j happy reading!!

The couch

Sleeping had never been your thing, but you could sleep through it all when it was. You were never a heavy sleeper, in fact, a light sleeper. Just the slightest of noises were enough to have your body ringing and if you refused to comply your very friendly spider-sense would have no problem in senselessly jolting you awake till you’d arrive half stumbling into a nearby crime scene.

Your spider senses only worsened to the point where sleeping was becoming harder to do and at some point you stopped trying altogether. Night after night you’d stare aimlessly at the ceiling above you, just, waiting for the prickling sensation to eat at your flesh until you couldn’t handle the needles seeping through your skin. The lack of sleep and the cruel anticipation were eating at you, and you were starting to grow desperate.

Over dinner you complained about it to Steve one Friday night when all the Avengers took time off for some one-on-one time (despite not being an official member you graciously accepted the invitation), he noticed your sluggish behavior and recommended you avoid living near the danger until you could learn to control your powers better. His reasoning being; “If you’re not near a crime scene, your senses won’t have anything to wake you for, that way you’ll receive the proper rest you require”.

The strangest part out of all of it was; his advice worked. At the compound, you slept like a baby, in your apartment in New York? Not so much. You were very appreciative of the man, and he was even kind enough to offer you a room which you accepted immediately.

One person who had been initially excited about your move-in was Wanda. You were lucky enough to consider Wanda one of your closest friends aside from Peter. She was absolutely brilliant and you both got along well. Similar to an unfinished puzzle piece she was the last puzzle you didn’t even know you were missing. She needed company, and you were glad to provide it.

You didn’t visit often, but with this newfound arrangement, you would be. Wanda didn’t know if the idea of spending more time with you or potentially sleeping one room away from you excited her more. Either way, the thought of you being a door down had her cheeks flushing and Natasha’s lips curling into a knowing smirk.

So yes, Wanda was excited about your temporary stay.

That was until she realized how annoying of a sleeper you could be. No, you didn’t snore, nor drool in your sleep.

Your problem wasn’t any of those. And honestly, Wanda wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for a late-night last-minute grocery run. Earlier that morning she had promised the team she’d cook her famous paprikash for tomorrow and had miscalculated exactly how many ingredients were in stock.

As Wanda stepped out of the elevator, she shifted her weight to better handle the bags, struggling only slightly before releasing them onto the counter with a sigh of relief. With a flick of her wrist, the lights turned on, and to her surprise; you were there too. Not in the kitchen but sprawled out on the couch where soft snores were leaving your lips.

‘Huh’

Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, chuckling to herself. You looked like a starfish and your attire was… well, certainly something. You were completely knocked out beneath your Spider-Man suit and–– were those sweatpants? She guessed you must have been swinging through the city on patrol again. As for how sweatpants ended up on you, a mystery.

You still had your mask on, and before Wanda could give it much thought she was already walking in your direction, step by step, until she was kneeling beside the couch. Carefully, her fingers reached out, slowly lifting the edges of your mask. Just as she was about to peel it out, you stirred beneath her touch, causing her to still.

“Wanda?” You whispered hoarsely, elbows lifting to get a better look at your surroundings but Wanda was quick to push you back down.

“Relax, you fell asleep in your suit again.” Wanda shushed you, and you hummed, not really fighting it, settling back into the couch to give her more control. She gently pried off the rest of the mask before placing it on the coffee table.

Leaning down she ran her hand towards your hair, pushing away strands from your eye and you grumbled sleepily.

The witch chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before straightening herself up again. “There, you can sleep now.”

“You’re the best.” You mumbled as she walked away, taking a deep breath, and burying your face back into the cushions.

From the kitchen Wanda smiled fondly, a blush tinting her cheeks as she unpacked the groceries; moving quietly to not wake you. You’re all she thinks about as she organizes things, glancing in your direction every so often.

And you find yourself doing the same, seeing her in your dreams, and sleeping with an even bigger smile than before.

—

2. Tony’s desk

The compound is surprisingly quiet the next day, considering Tony was paying a visit Wanda would’ve assumed exactly the opposite in his company. But there were no out-of-the-ordinary noises, just the occasional banging of his hammer and welding machine.

Overall it was pretty peaceful and the weather was just beautiful, a perfect blend of sunny but not insufferably so, a sight that would go well with some lunch. Naturally, you’re the first person that comes to mind that Wanda thinks to ask.

Yet, a problem arises when Wanda can’t seem to find you anywhere. You’re not in your usual spots, including the bean bag chair in the movie room, or the outside bench next to the pond.

Noticing Wanda’s dejected demeanor, Natasha has enough of it after all the aimless pacing. The assassin suggests that you might be downstairs in Tony’s lab, and Wanda’s eyes light up the next second. A brilliant suggestion indeed, after all, he was your mentor.

Unsurprisingly, Wanda finds you exactly where Nat said you’d be. Hunched over, asleep on one of Tony’s desks, snoring ever so softly. Next to you were your web shooters—or pieces of them.

The sight would’ve normally made Wanda smile if it weren’t for your uncomfortable position. Any more time spent like that and you’d surely be retired before 40 with chronic back pain. Previously, you had told Wanda not to worry about it, mumbling on about how you spiders could sleep anywhere.

Wanda didn’t believe it for one second, knowing you immediately had to pop a few pills to relieve the pain in your spine. As much as you were a superhero, you weren’t immortal, humanity never left you—something Wanda had to remind you of whenever you pushed yourself to a certain extent.

Feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, Wanda removed the gears from underneath your arms, carefully placing them aside, mindful not to ruin the process you had sorted out.

Placing the items aside, you sigh on the table, stirring softly, but you remain blissfully unaware. A gentle smile curls on Wanda’s lips as she watches you, her soft palm coming to stroke your back.

That was enough to jolt you awake, snapping up with wide eyes, and grabbing the nearest screwdriver to threaten whoever was there. Your posture was contrary to intimidating, and Wanda couldn’t help but laugh, lifting her hands in mock surrender.

“Please have mercy.” She teased with a playful grin, using her finger to push back the ‘weapon’.

You blinked confusingly, glancing down at the item in your hand before chuckling. “Consider yourself lucky it wasn’t Thor’s hammer I picked up.” You quipped, placing the tool down and stretching your arms above your head.

And Wanda sighed, watching you struggle to get that knot out. Standing up from her chair she came to your aid, massaging at your shoulders and back. You sighed in relief, leaning back into her touch as she worked her magic.

She really did have magical fingers.

“You really have to stop resting in places that’ll give you backaches.” Wanda chides, hands sliding underneath your shirt for better access, sending a shiver down both of you.

“If I stop then how will I get more of those delightful massages from you?” You murmured with closed eyes, completely drunk off the feeling of Wanda’s warm hands on you. “It’s what I love most about you.”

Wanda tensed, flattening her palms on your back, before continuing with trembling fingers to not raise suspicion. “Is that all?” She retorted, voice low.

You posed a thoughtful expression, letting out a hum as you leaned back. “Also for the delectable cooking, so, two reasons.” You teased, holding up two fingers. Wanda scoffed, slapping the back of your head and removing herself the same second. You giggled mischievously, trying to get her to come back.

Swiveling your chair around, you reached out for her and effectively trapped her between your legs, and Wanda rolled her eyes, ignoring how the position made her feel things.

“So I’m just a housewife to you then?” She prodded, tilting her head in a way she knew would have you stumbling.

You shook your head, gently uncrossing her arms and taking her hands between yours.

“You’re more than that to me Wanda…” Standing up you brushed the strands of hair away from her eyes, leaning in close enough to feel Wanda’s breath hitch and you smirked; whispering.

“You're my housekeeper.”

Approximately 0.5 seconds was what it took for Wanda to gasp and shove you back towards your desk, and you let out a hearty laugh.

“See if I ever cook for you again.”

Her voice means to come out stern but you completely ignore it, thinking how adorable she looks with arms crossed and an almost annoyed pout on her face. It’s your arms that wrap around her that make her break, bringing her into a hug and making her cheeks flush again.

“I’m simply teasing witchy, you know I love you, all of you.” The words slide out easily from your lips as you lean down to press a tender kiss to her head and Wanda looks surprised, but then you quickly redirect your attention to the basket with a cheesy grin and Wanda stumbled. “Now how about we go enjoy that picnic then?”

Your steps are quick as you grab the basket, ignoring her piercing gaze.

And with how unaffectedly you move, Wanda wonders if you could possibly love her differently in the first place.

—

3. In a tangle of webs + Peter

Some nights were harder than others for a mind reader. It wasn’t an uncommon fate for any Avenger either, everyone had their own issues and Wanda had just been so lucky to view all of them. If she had the choice she’d never choose to see them but if Wanda had learned something from all her years; nightmares were loud.

Loud enough to startle people from their subconscious, and loud enough to provoke detailed images of their clouded lives into replaying scenes in her mind. A horror Wanda didn’t yet have the strength to ignore.

It didn’t help that most nights, they had them.

Empty walls stared back at Wanda’s dimmed green eyes. Her hands firmly wrapped around her head—in a fashion of both comfort and control, trying to ease the pulsing, luring her into a state of ease just to slip into someone’s mind again. She wanted to stop the feeling and visions but couldn’t.

After twenty more minutes of hopeless starring, the memories grew weaker.

Still, her mind remained trapped in what she had managed to see. Deciding that sleep wasn’t going to help Wanda groggily stood forward, trudging down the stairs to grab a glass of water in the common room, maybe some chamomile tea.

Part of her heart sought company, and if given the courage she’d knock on your door and ask for it. But this time, for once the universe seemed to be on her side when her eyes landed on you.

—with Peter. Laying in a tangle of limbs, and webs. Not exactly the conscious company she was hoping for…

Despite your clustered position on the floor you both seemed at peace. You were both fast asleep and for just a second her heart clenched with envy before simmering into a soft sense of affection. How was it that you could be so cute without even trying?

Slow droplets poured from the facet and into her cup as she took in the sight, forgetting why she was even there in the first place. But then her eyes wandered over to the calendar, right, Friday.

She felt silly not noticing sooner. Had she really been so caught up in her head that she didn’t notice what day it was?

The unfinished Lego Razor Crest propped on the table should have given it away.

Fridays were ‘Fundays’.

Wanda thought it was stupid, which was probably why she wasn’t invited to the events. Not that she minded, considering all you ever did was build legos with Peter and occasionally talk about girls—and why would Wanda want to hear that purposely?

She knew she had no right to feel jealous, it wasn’t wrong for you to think about other girls. But did you have to be so damn obvious about it? Your mind was a fortress when it came to penetrating your thoughts, it so rarely happened, but when it did she caught glimpses of the girl who was (annoyingly) always on your mind.

The girl with green eyes.

Too focused on figuring out who that girl was again, Wanda lost track of how much water she really needed when the cup began to overfill.

“Shit.” Wanda hissed, turning off the tap before the water could spill further. “Gross…” she grumbled, scrunching her nose as she dabbled at the wet spot on her sweater.

That was enough water for the night.

Briefly, before she leaves, Wanda considers waking you up again. Maybe coax you into a proper bed this time around, but before she can make up her mind Peter’s bursting awake, looking panicked. His widened eyes meet Wanda’s equally alarmed ones and he sucks in a breath.

“Oh, sorry… I thought…burglar.” He stammers, scratching the back of his head, albeit confused. “What time is it?”

Glancing towards the oven, Wanda squints. “Late, it’s 3 AM.” She replies and Peter grunts, mumbling about how it’s way past his bedtime.

Amid his movements to stand up, your head slips from his grasp, colliding with the foot of the table with a heavy thud and he stumbles back. Wanda gasps, shooting Peter a glare, (who doesn’t really register it in his state of distortion) before she rushes to aid you.

“What the fuck…” You mumble groggily, hissing at the stinging coming from the back of your head, slowly lifting yourself up to find a concerned Wanda helping you sit. “Wanda?” Now you were really confused but nevertheless allowed her to move you.

The room was cold, chills rushing through your body in the absence of warmth, but the soft touch of warm hands felt incredible against your skin. Not being able to help yourself you leaned into her touch, noticing the way Wanda’s breath hitched.

God, she was so cute.

Wanda swallows dryly and you think you might’ve said that out loud, judging by the way her fingers tremble and she’s turning away a blushing mess. But you don’t dwell on it as she continues to rub the back of your head to ease the pain.

“Are you okay dorogoy?” She coos and you nod wryly, her face contorting into one of mellows but neither of you says anything. Instead, you will your eyes to focus on her own, gazing into the depths of the forests that haunt your heart, and you have no clue why.

Sighing, she redirects her attention, eyes flickering between the both of you who are lost in thought. Part of her feels it’s from exhaustion but there’s something else written on your face that has her curiosity peaking.

“Why aren’t you in bed? Both of you, it’s late.” She chides gently, and you flinch.

“We got caught up with…” Peter starts to explain, motioning towards the Lego set and his demeanor avoidant. “that.”

Wanda notices his shaken tone and frowns. It’s clear she doesn’t fully believe him and she opens her mouth to indulge him further but you squeeze her hand, pursing your lips to ask her to drop it. Her brows furrow in silent question, eyes glinting with whirlwinds of misunderstanding and hurt, but you’re too tired to answer any.

Instead, you give her a reassuring smile.

Peter had a rough time yesterday, that’s all, little witch, You whisper into her mind, seeing Wanda’s eyes turn a shade of red before returning back to you, accepting the response with a hesitant nod.

“You really should get to bed Y/n…” Wanda tells you, rising to her feet and offering you her hand in the process. “You too Peter.”

Peter nodded in agreement almost instantly, not wanting to stay any longer in his state of lethargy. Wanda makes a mental note to speak to Tony about decreasing his work hours.

However, in contrast to Peter’s compliance, you deny her suggestion with a shake of your head.

“S’too far.” You mutter under your breath, tugging webs to the corners of each room to create a hammock so naturally as if you had done it a thousand times. Which you probably have.

For a moment Wanda looked amazed, marveling at your abilities to manipulate and create whatever you needed with just webbed fluids. But then you were snoring soundly on the makeshift bed—hammock—oblivious to the concerns you had stirred up and Wanda realized that wasn’t the point.

When she turned to Peter for help, the younger boy scratched the back of his head nervously, shrugging his shoulders and giving an apologetic look.

Seeing as there was nothing else she could do, nor did she wish to wake you again for the second time tonight, a sigh escaped Wanda’s lips. Red tendrils wrapped around a blanket, pulling it closer until it encompassed your body completely. She felt the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, but with Peter in the room, she held back to avoid any awkwardness

Your lips curled into a soft smile, and Wanda returned it before turning on her heels to guide the other spider into bed.

At least this one listens. The thought came bitterly, causing Wanda to grimace.

“I honestly don’t understand why she keeps doing this when she has a perfectly good mattress.” Wanda sighs deeply, her voice laced with exhaustion as she walks up the steps.

Peter blinks, giving another helpless shrug, gripping onto the rail for dear life. “I think it’s just a spider thing, sleep is anywhere you make it.”

“But you sleep in your bed every night.” She points out, shivering at the sudden temperature.

The air is turning colder and Wanda wonders if the singular blanket she gave you would be enough. She’s tugging at her sleeves when Peter interrupts her thoughts.

“That is true…” A yawn cut through the younger boy's speech as he approached his door, looking dangerously close to passing out. “But I don't have problems with sleeping alone.”

Wanda furrows her brows as the words register. Alone? You can’t sleep because you feel alone? But before she could pry further Peter was leaning against the wooden frame, fast asleep. And Wanda didn’t have it in her to ask anymore.

Once she had successfully tucked in Peter, she closed the door gently, never once did you leave her mind. Leaning against the door, Wanda tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, her mind caught in thought but one remained a constant.

Spiders really can sleep anywhere.

—

4. Staircases

Tired was an understatement, Wanda was spent. Completely and utterly exasperated by your behavior. There was an outstanding record for the amounts of migraines you’ve given her this month, knocking Pietro off the scoreboard by two.

She was starting to feel annoyed and rightfully so as she stared at the crowd with a sour expression on her face. For the fourth time in a month, you were nowhere to be found and it was your party.

Before Christmas, it was a tradition in the compound to throw a Gala in honor of the friendly neighborhood spiders who had worked overtime to keep New Yorkers safe for the holidays and throughout the year.

More so an excuse for Tony to itch that insatiable party nerve of his before the big Christmas one.

Of course, this gala was no exception to a roaring crowd. The dance floor was packed with sweaty people grinding on one another and Wanda swears she could see even Bruce getting into the groove of it. At the bar, only Natasha remained with a couple of straying men. So where were you?

A completely plastered Tony walked past the witch, stumbling as he did so and fiddling with his pants. Immediately Wanda grasped on his suit before he could get too far, enticing a yelp when she tugged the man to a secluded corner.

“Tony, where's Y/n?” Wanda asked through gritted teeth. She didn’t know why—call it intuition—but for some reason, she felt your disappearance had something to do with him.

Tony scrunched his face, glancing over her shoulder with urgency and shouting back louder. “Where’s the restroom? That’s what I’m trying to figure out Maximoff, I’m pissing myself here!”

“Y/n, Tony, Y/n.” Wanda says exasperatedly.

Tony's mouth forms an ‘oh’ as the realization dawns on him before he’s giggling like a schoolgirl which only heightens Wanda’s worries.

“Ah, Y/n, funny story actually—”

It was not a funny story, and hearing the end of it had Wanda feeling even more upset and aggravated at the man.

She didn’t know whether to be more angry at the fact you “consented” to that stupid dare in the first place or Tony coming up with the bright idea to launch you midair while intoxicated in his death trap tin suit.

Which is how Wanda found you, through Tony’s utter stupidity and your sleepiness. Much to her relief, you weren’t dangling from a ledge or on top of the Empire State Building; instead, cozied up on the staircase with a beer bottle in hand threatening to fall off at any given moment. Tony’s red helmet sat snuggly on your head, leaning against the wall.

Wanda huffed in annoyance, rolling her eyes and approaching swiftly to wake you. Her hand collided with the back of your neck, sparing you absolutely no mercy as you sputtered awake.

“Ouch,” You groaned, blinking dazedly beneath the helmet as all your senses came back to you, along with a searing headache.

You grimaced at the sight of the bottle in your hand, setting it aside as if it could burn you with one single touch.

That explains the headache.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.” Came that voice you knew all too well. You swore you could feel the hairs on your body standing as you slowly turned to see, shivering at the goosebumps, and being met with the sight of a very displeased Wanda.

Her arms folded against her chest, head tilted at just the right angle to make you scared shitless. Still, the slight furrow to her brows and teary glimmer in her eyes had you thinking she wasn’t entirely angry, just, upset—sad.

And maybe if your mind wasn’t so foggy, you would’ve taken it into account, and taken her into your arms.

“Wanda…?” You murmured, attempting to feign innocence as if she wasn’t glaring daggers into your skull. “Oh! Wanda!” You exclaimed, mustering a very nervous chuckle.

As if the helmet could sense your distress it decided that opening would be the best option and smiled sheepishly. Wanda raised an unimpressed brow, green darkened eyes digging into your soul and you sighed in defeat. Not exactly the happy welcome you expected.

Worth a shot.

“Don’t ‘Oh Wanda’ me! Seriously? Sleeping at a Gala!?” She hissed, and you stiffened, feeling the need to back up. “And on the stairs of all places, do you know how much of a hazard that is?”

You scoffed disbelievingly, feeling the need to defend yourself. “Come on Wanda, we both know Tony’s parties—“ You cut off your speech, putting your fingers up in quotation marks to quote her. “Sorry, ‘Galas’ are anything but formal.”

Then you’re pointing at the rousing crowd above you who you can hear yelling through muffled walls ‘Chug! Chug! Chug!’ and give Wanda a pointed look, who then rolls her eyes again.

“That’s not the point Y/n. It’s your party.”

It’s Wanda’s diminished expression that has you sobering up instantly. Her tightened eyes stared back at your own, and you hated the guilt tugging at your chest. In the worst of states, you wouldn’t want her looking at you like that, not when you’ve seen her look at you better. It was selfish, but was it? To wish to see her smile again? You didn’t know, but it was worth more than whatever goddamn party—gala they threw at you.

With a new mindset in mind, believing you’d have more fun with Wanda than without, you dusted yourself off, properly taking the helmet off this time. You carried it under one arm and offered the other. Wanda looked at you quizzically at the sudden change but you didn’t let that faze you, taking the initiative to wrap your arm around her own.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you just wanted to, so you did, leaning over to plant a short kiss on her cheek and Wanda lost all train of thought then and there.

“You’re right, I’m sorry–I don’t know what’s the matter with me lately.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair and Wanda gives you a look of sympathy.

She squeezes your arm with her other hand, shaking her head. Her tone is soft as she rubs a comforting hand. “There’s nothing wrong with you Y/n…we all have our rough patches. Just, let me be there for you. You don’t have to hide away.”

You suck your teeth, the urge to disagree coming in strongly but you resign, feeling embarrassed under her gaze and your confidence ends short-lived.

Pursing your lips, your eyes drift downwards to your arms, not really sure what to do next. Noticing your struggle, Wanda takes pity on you and decides to drop the subject for another day, softly tugging on your forearm as she speaks.

“Let’s dance?”

“Yes please.” You groan, barely finishing your sentence before Wanda leads you up the stairs and you almost stumble. Grumbling to yourself as you straighten up, you level Wanda a look in caution. “Just be warned, I can’t really tell the difference between my left and right foot right now.”

“It’s okay, you were never much of a good dancer anyway.” She hums teasingly, failing miserably at hiding her smirk.

You let out a gasp, feigning mock offense as you raise a hand to your heart, wounded. “Geez Maximoff, you know, typically you’re supposed to woo your dancing partner, not crush their hopes and spirits.”

The witch scoffs, rolling her eyes. Once you’re off the stairs and stable enough, she makes no point in waiting for you or giving you any answer as she walks through the bustling crowd and you quickly rush to catch up with her.

“Wow! And now you’re ignoring me!” You yell over the noise, a pout adorned on your lips. “And leaving me?! Wanda I must say, I’m not quite enjoying these new colors on you. What happened to manners–?”

You’re cut off abruptly by a sudden tug to your arm by Wanda, who’s pulling you to the side and you grin. She has two cups of what you assume is tropical punch in her hand and hands one to you. Lowering your nose, you smell the drink to check if it’s spiked. Wanda gives you an unimpressed look, and you think she looks hot when she’s annoyed with you.

Suddenly she’s slapping your shoulder with a burning pink tint on her cheeks, completely exasperated as she replies “My god, do you have an off switch?”

You shine a toothy smile, leaning against the wall for support as you bring the cup to your lips, a familiar mischievous glint in your eyes that has Wanda regretting saying anything.

You cautiously lean into the space, whispering for only her to hear, “No, but I do have a couple of ideas on how to keep me quiet.”

To say it comes out more suggestive than you intended was an understatement. But Wanda doesn’t let that deter her, doubling down.

“Oh really?” Her head tilts, quirking an amused brow and you clear your throat to regain yourself.

The air becomes a little thicker than before and no amount of alcohol can save you from the blood pounding in your ears. The space between you has become thinner to the point where you can feel her breath on your lips and you pretend the close proximity holds no effect on you but your trembling fingers say otherwise.

“Mhm, two words,” You murmur affectedly, and Wanda swallows. Your mind is clouded by all that is her so you speak slowly, feeling your throat dry. “Duck Tape.”

“One of these days, I’m gonna throw you out of the building.” Wanda huffs as you snicker, crossing her arms as she tries to fix her hair.

Unable to help it, you tentatively reach your hand out, waiting for Wanda to pull away. When she makes no move, you carefully brush the strands away from her face, the warmth of your touch sending a shiver down her spine.

Pulling away, you meet her hazy gaze and you swallow wryly, trembling. Giving her a lopsided grin as you stumble back, equally as affected. You really have to stop doing that.

“Jokes on you, I’ve already done that tonight.” Comes your attempt to clear the air, resulting in another cross expression from the witch and you smile sheepishly.

“Y/n.”

Sucking your lips into your mouth, you nod. You raise a finger as you take one last sip from your cup, placing it on the table as you grab her hand again. “Right, sorry, dancing.”

Dragging her towards the dance floor, you spared one last look. This time finding pure adoration shining through her features as she stared at you almost…lovingly before she rolled her eyes. A look you preferred to see instead. Even if it had your brain short-circuiting.

A look that thankfully carried on when she found you half crashed into the Christmas tree after Tony had asked you to put up decorations, almost fast asleep.

“You’re an idiot.” Wanda sighed with a slight curl to her lips and you took that as a silent victory. She shook her head as she carried you down the hallway with her magic.

“Yeah, I know…” You mumbled, still grinning which was quickly wiped as she let go of the magic carrying you. “Hey!”

Wanda squeaks as you reach out to grab her, running away the next second and you quickly follow with the promise that you’ll catch her, laughter echoing through the corridors as you chase each other.

—

5. Pillow Forts

Construction wasn’t exactly your forte unless it involved miniature bricks with instruction manuals. Aside from that, it was very obvious that Peter was the more resourceful spider as Steve liked to put it. You knew the man meant well when he said it and your ego completely shattered but despite the mental bruise, you never made a move to practice.

It wasn’t like stopping trains or stringing a boat back together required much engineering when you had webs stickier than epoxy.

And now, veins popping, sunk to your knees, you deeply regretted that decision. You wanted to strangle Peter, you envied his master builder abilities. The jumble of pillows on the floor mocking you with a stare that you could only describe as insulting if pillows could…stare.

It was pathetic really, no, extremely pathetic and sad. Who has trouble building a pillow fort?! What was supposed to be a simple project, was the newfound bane of your existence. No matter how you positioned them, they tumbled. Limiting yourself to building by web fluid was becoming a choice to regret too. It made sense, every superhero grows dependent on their powers, it’s only natural, but this time you were determined to build something without your abilities.

Glancing over at the clock, it read a little past nine—bordering on lines of ten- you bit the inside of your cheek, figuring you probably had a couple of minutes before Wanda’s arrival.

Huffing, you returned your attention to the pillows and took them in your arms once more. This time with determination in your eyes and the thought of who you were building this for, remnant in your head and heart.

As you stood back to admire your finished work, you surprised yourself. It wasn’t perfect and some pillows were more crooked than others but it was comfortable. Just as you had envisioned—from Pinterest boards.

It almost looked just as good as the ones Wanda had built for you after long missions and you wished you had spent less time staring at her and more time focusing on how she was arranging the blankets.

But the fortress only became better when you clicked on the tiny remote, turning on the fairy lights that hugged the curves of the pillows, bringing it all together in a bright vibrant glow and you smiled to yourself as the lights glimmered, imagining how happy Wanda would be.

Your eyes returned to the clock and immediately widened next. “Shit!” You gasped, rushing upstairs to pick out the main attraction, silently scolding yourself for forgetting in the first place; Sitcoms.

You grumbled to yourself as you dug through the drawer at the multitudes of never-ending options. Wanda had always preferred to watch sitcoms on a VHS tape, although the compound had access to all streaming services she claimed it didn’t feel the same. Truth be told, you didn’t understand why they were in your room in the first place but you assumed it had to do with the fact that Wanda always left them, tucked neatly in her nightstand before she curled underneath the covers with you.

You paused.

Her nightstand?

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked across the room, realizing that there were a lot of things she left behind. Ranging from articles of clothing to a spare toothbrush in your bedroom and since when did you get decorative pillows? And why were there so many?

You shrugged the thought off, assuming she was just really forgetful, besides it wasn’t like you were usually sleeping here anyway. You continued to dig through the classics until your eyes landed on the familiar I Love Lucy cover.

Bingo

Smiling to yourself, you walked downstairs with the tape pocketed. Now you just had to be patient and wait a few until Wanda arrived from the hanger—

“Y/n?” Your heart startles and you're clutching your chest, turning to scold whoever scared you before the words die in your throat as you take in her appearance.

You suck in a deep breath because you feel as if all the air in your lungs has been taken.

She was breathtaking without even trying. Wet strands of hair clung to her face as she stared at you incredulously, eyes flickering between you and the fortress. Clad in nothing but a loose graphic t-shirt (that you briefly recognized as your own), and shorts that were making you dizzy.

You cursed yourself mentally, shaking yourself out of any inappropriate thoughts. She’s your best friend for God's sake!

“Surprise?” That is what you say with a weak smile and a much higher pitch than intended. Keep it subtle. Things weren’t going entirely as planned, however, you could improvise.

Wanda stares back amused, an unfamiliar glint in her eyes pooling, taking a step closer until her hand is dragging against your forearm. “Dorogoy, what’s all this?”

“I built it for us, I figured maybe you’d like to unwind…I know you had it pretty hard today and you’ve looked stressed all week.” You mumbled meekly, shifting against her touch. Pull it together man.

“Really?” She picked up her head, looking at you adoringly–that you missed from the bundle of nerves wracking at your mind, mistaking the look for one of contempt.

But you pushed forward, believing it was a nice gesture. And even though all the logical parts of your brain tell you not to, you slowly untangle yourself from the witch anyway, missing the hurt that crosses her expression.

You didn’t know why you were so nervous today.

“Yeah, I picked out your favorite too.” You say half breathlessly, reaching for the tape in your pocket to show her. “Snacks and sitcoms, and more if you need anything. I’ve just gotta set up the TV before this and all since you came back a little earlier than I expected.”

During your rant, you walked towards the television to find the player. Fiddling with it to distract yourself from the rising goosebumps picking at your body, but Wanda didn’t need to know that. With your back turned you failed to notice the scene unfolding behind you. Her eyes were slightly watered and she lingered by your side. Part of her, hesitant to reach out so instead she let them fall to her side, fiddling with her sleeves in a manner of comfort.

Rummaging through the cabinets you exclaimed as you found it, turning forward with the device held to your chest, completely oblivious of the inner turmoil you’ve caused inside the other girl.

“Maybe even grab some popcorn unless you’d prefer chips? Seriously Wanda, whatever you want, I just want you to feel better—”

“Y/n?” She cuts in.

“Yeah?”

“Hug me, please?” She whispers, her voice cracking with desperation, her eyes unable to meet yours, ashamed of the vulnerability, and waves of regret crawl over you for letting go of her in the first place. “I’m sorry, I just really missed you and things went pretty badly- I just–”

It’s you who cuts her off next, pulling her into your embrace, feeling her tremble against you. Wanda chokes back a sob, and tears blur your vision as you hold her tightly.

You whisper words of comfort, murmuring, ‘I know, it’s okay, I know.’, while cradling her head against your chest. Despite being only slightly taller than her, you fit together perfectly, and you rest your head atop her chin. She exhales softly, her breath hitching with each shudder as she inhales your scent. Her arms move from your chest to return the embrace, burrowing herself into your chest and clinging to you as if you’d vanish again.

After a few moments, Wanda’s breathing begins to even, but she shows no signs of releasing you anytime soon. You gently squeeze her waist, hoping to draw her attention. Pressing a kiss to her hair, murmuring softly as you ask:

“Is…Is there anything else you need?”

Sighing, Wanda shakes her head, nuzzling further into you. “Just you, I don’t need anything else.”

“Okay.” You mumble into her hair, your fingers tracing gentle patterns across her back. For a moment, you stand there, bodies swaying softly as you hold each other. Selfishly allowing yourself to soak in the feeling of having her so close to you. “But if you even dare to grab my Cool Ranch Doritos just know I told you—”

Wanda groans, and you stifle your laughter when her hand playfully smacks your shoulder. You can almost feel her eyes rolling.

“Shut up, I don’t even like those.”

“Yeah right! I can still see the crumbs on your chin from last time!” You laugh in disbelief and Wanda pulls back gaping, completely affronted.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many! It was a party-sized bag—that I was planning on saving by the way, and you finished it!”

“Oh my god, just get in the fort before I change my mind and leave.”

It doesn’t take a lot of convincing to get you in the fort when soft hands lace into your own, dragging you inside. You’re more than willing to follow her anywhere.

She’s quick to push you into the pile of pillows, laughing when you squeal from the sudden impact. Shuffling underneath your arm and making herself comfortable against you, she turns to look up at you with a smile and you quickly turn into a flustered mess. With how she’s looking at you, you can’t help but feel that she’s doing it on purpose.

Using her magic Wanda’s able to connect the TV from your position, not once disconnecting your bodies. She smiles in success when it works, sinking further into the comforting atmosphere as the show plays softly in the background.

As the lights glimmer between your bodies, Wanda finds herself more captivated by you than the show itself. How could she not? After you’ve devoted so much of your time just to make her smile. A pang of gratitude hits Wanda’s heart, mingling with a feeling she knows all too well—a feeling she had tried to pass off as something smaller than love. But the more she spent with you, the more she realized it was pointless to deny.

Part of her hoped you’d choose to stay, to stay with her, because she isn’t sure how she’d be without you.

Wanda knew she was letting it get into her head—but then you look at her, tenderly, as if she was the only girl in the world and fantasies resurfaced along with uncontrollable feelings that felt stronger than herself. Fantasies of one day being together, like this forever. Not just one singular moment but for the rest of your lives.

The feeling of your body vibrating with laughter quickly snaps her out of her senses and she turns to look at the screen where a joke plays out. And god is that feeling one of her favorites. What drives her crazy is how you don’t seem to even notice how affected you make her. The way your hands would gradually grow bolder, slowly slipping past the hem of her shirt and grazing the skin underneath, leaving a trail of goosebumps in your wake. And how, whether consciously or not, you’d tighten your grip around her, pulling her in closer in a possessively deliberate way that had her biting her lip.

Was it really selfish to want more?

The thought swirled in Wanda’s mind heavily, but unbeknownst to her, it was in yours too.

Wanda yearned for more than fleeting touches that led to nowhere. She craved more than unspoken vows you carried in silence, being too afraid to say anything, mortified by the thought of ruining what you had—unknowingly missing how you could have better.

Wanda Maximoff wanted to be yours.

The thought awoke her with a slight jolt and it had taken her a second to comprehend that she was asleep, the TV long since turned off then. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she recalled her vivid imaginations, realizing what had been originally just a second of resting her eyes had resulted in a 3-hour nap.

But with the thoughts still fresh in her mind, Wanda couldn’t bring herself to care. She was on a mission.

“Y/n?” Her voice calls out slightly hoarse, breaking the silence. But the silence remains unbroken and Wanda frowns, removing her head from your shoulder to look at you.

You’re sound asleep next to her, a faint trail of drool lining your lips. Bags are evident below your eyelids, and Wanda lets out a small ‘oh’. You had fallen asleep too.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Wanda shook her head softly, an amused smile playing on her lips as she admired you. Deciding that confessions could wait for another time, she leaned back and tugged a blanket forward, encasing you both again into that warm atmosphere.

Recalling words you had said before: “A little back pain is worth the sleep”. She couldn’t help but agree more when it was next to you.

—

Together

There were two things you loved more than being Spider-Man in the world.

Lightsabers, and maybe potentially Wanda.

The latter being much more intimate than the first but you get the jist. The point was, that you liked Wanda. You were sure of it, with everything in your mind, body, and soul.

So, why were you avoiding her?

Cowardice.

Weeks had passed since that night. You still vividly remember the feeling of waking up to Wanda’s sleeping form, resting comfortably on top of you. After all, it was the best sleep you’ve had in a while.

The sight had initially startled you, but what scared you most was the normalcy of it all. The domesticity, how bright Wanda’s eyes shone in the daylight, looking at you as if you were a treasure from the depths of Atlantis. How eager she was to make you breakfast and how her touch never left yours throughout the process.

Miles away in New York, you could still feel her.

“Chocolate or blueberry?” Wanda asked, tilting her head to the side to look at you.

The familiar scent of pancakes wafted through the air and you knew it was only a matter of seconds before the team came to steal them all.

Your hold remained firm on her waist as you hugged her from behind, swaying softly to the tunes of nothing. Not wanting the moment to end just yet, you remained silent, allowing yourself to bask in the peace. But Wanda had other plans, quickly squeezing at your arm to grab your attention and you rolled your eyes, amused by her impatience.

Posing a thoughtful expression, you eyed the batter before turning to the basket of blueberries. They looked fresh, not too ripe to be sour, and not too soft to be soggy.

“Hmmm, how good are the blueberries?”

Wanda shrugged absentmindedly, whisking at the batter as she leaned back into you, stealing whatever warmth she could. “Pretty good, I grew them myself.”

The mental image of Wanda in her gardening gear made you smile a little more than expected, and you hid into her shoulder, inhaling her scent. Absolutely hooked.

“Did you?” You reply, watching as Wanda nods her head shyly and you chuckle. Unintentionally dragging your lips across her cheek as you press delicate kisses to her skin, murmuring softly in her ear, “What a talented little witch.”

Wanda laughs, blushing as she attempts to shrug you away, not really understanding why you’re being so touchy but not opposed to it either. “Stop it.”

Your lips tug into a lazy grin as you laugh with her, avoiding her attacks and keeping your grip firm. “It’s true Wands…you’re great at everything really. Never once have you failed to amaze me—“

“Here, try this.” That is all she says before shoving multiple berries into your mouth, distracting you before you can pay too much attention to her flustered state.

You gasp at the sudden impact but graciously accept the blueberries into your mouth, playfully glaring at her as you chew. Her nose scrunches adorably, turning in your arms to watch you eat them, her face lighting up and offering you some more.

Though, when you lift your hand to take them, she swats it away. Cupping your cheeks in her hands, softly stroking at your face with her thumbs, you rolled your eyes. Complying with rosy cheeks as she fed them to you.

As you held her, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, wrapped in a safe haven you’ve created. This moment was everything—a fragile glimpse into a future you desperately wanted but were too afraid to reach for.

Although neither of you seemed too keen on parting, Wanda’s hands were preoccupied with the feel of your skin underneath her own, repeating senseless patterns. That is until the oven goes off with a loud bang and you both break away bashfully.

Before you can make a move, Wanda lets out a deep breath. Hands gently smoothing over your shirt, her touch lingering with tender care. She pats your chest softly, her eyes sparkling with warmth and affection.

“Blueberries it is.”

You run a hand over your face as the memory washes over you, letting out a shaky breath. It shouldn’t affect you this much, and you didn’t want to read into it because that would require acceptance.

The risk of ruining something you held so dearly hurts you more than the silence you keep. Heroes aren’t supposed to be afraid, and yet it’s all you felt in your heart at the thought of losing her. But your heart ached for more, just even the slightest glimpse into what could be. And when you closed your eyes, you could almost see it. An alluring figure stringing you along, captivating you with their lush green eyes, promising you that they’d be yours forever.

But those were dreams, not real life.

A real-life you wanted with Wanda.

You slowly sink into your thoughts, your mind both your stronghold and a labyrinth of sorrow. As you wipe the tears that blur your vision, you gaze down at the streets of New York. Despite the hour, the city remained wide awake. Citizens walked with pure radiance of confidence, towering buildings seeming so distant and away from where you sat. Did they know? Did anyone know that one of their beloved Spider-mans was capable of turning a mess so easily?

The weight of it all feels suffocating and no amount of air can prevent the tightness that clogs at your throat, heavy breaths leaving your body as you recount your errors. You were raised to believe that love was this grand, amazing thing. But now you want to scoff at everyone who fed into your hopelessness, fed into those lies. If love was so wonderful, then how come it hurt so much?

But then, without warning your senses are ringing, and your eyes widen as a figure lands in your space with a slight stumble. The clouds of smoke that surround them make it hard for you to tell who it is and you raise your hand, ready to attack.

And then, recognition dawns on you as the smoke settles. Your body easily relaxes and loosens the grip on your strayed mask next to you. With a trembling exhale, you lower your hand to take a moment to breathe, drawing in a deep calming breath and your lungs silently thank you.

“Hey, kid.” Tony greets, exiting his suit with a lopsided smile. One that doesn’t quite meet his eyes but you know better than to pry.

“Tony?” You furrow your brows, wanting to ask why he’s here but the bag in his hands tells you all you need to know. “Another late-night donut run?”

“Pepper thinks I should lay off the suits for a while.” He explains with a sigh, grunting as he sits down next to you, rattling the bag in his hands for emphasis. “And donuts are the only thing that both keep me busy and fulfilled. Win-win don’t you think?”

“Depends on what type of donuts you picked.” You mused with a hum.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Long John.” He retorts with a smirk, reaching into his bag to place a donut in your hands. Patting your shoulder as he did so. “Here, for your troubles.”

You cocked your head curiously, examining the sweet with a soft smile. “A maple bar, sweet.”

Thanking him, you took slow soft bites, savoring the sweet taste in your mouth as you looked towards the city in thought. You felt Tony’s stare and tried your best to ignore it, not wanting pity.

“In my entire years of living, not once have I ever seen someone looking so sad while holding a donut.” He commented, taking a bite of his own donut and you release a sigh. “It’s really depressing to look at.”

He spoke between bites, causing you to grimace. Backing away, you studied your mentor incredulously, analyzing his facial features in the hope it’d give you a clue as to why exactly he was here. Finding nothing, but an unusual softness to his features, you raised a wary brow.

“Did you come all this way just to patronize me, Stark?” You sneered with a glare. Feeling like the donut was really just bait to lure you into a conversation.

Which you had admittedly been postponing from both Steve and him, using the city as an excuse to step away from your problems. It was only a matter of time before they caught up with you again.

And here he was, the tightness behind his eyes diminishing as he stared at you, carefully, with laces of soft affection instead. You weren’t sure if you liked this look.

“A little birdie—or should I say spider, told me about your troubles with our resident Maximoff and I figured it’s time you got advice from the love doctor.” His hand came to his chest, motioning to himself and you scoffed in disbelief before turning into one of disgust. “And listen, I love Pietro, but I really don’t think—“

“Pietro?! Ew, god, no.” You say hurriedly, eager to dispel those rumors. Your distaste quickly turns into irritation as you realize with an offended gasp. “Is Peter seriously going around and spreading this?! Tony what the fuck.”

“Right, witchy then.” He sucks his teeth, waving a finger your way and you shove at his shoulders with embarrassment. Not letting that deter him, he scratches his chin, posing a thoughtful expression as he begins, “Love is scary, isn’t it? You’re scared. Scared of messing things up, scared of hurting her, losing her—“

“This is really inspiring Tony.”

“Pipe down Pipsqueak I’m not finished,” He huffed, clearing his throat before returning to his speech. “The point in all this is that you’re afraid. And that’s okay, so long as you don’t let those fears hold you back. Hell I’m still scared Pepper will leave me for someone more sensible, someone who won’t constantly be putting her in danger.”

His admission doesn’t come easy, and you notice the frown and crease in his eyebrows as he says so. Releasing another breath, you think about his words, and how fear could hold someone back. Reflecting on the past days, all you notice is clear examples of how it’s done this, stopping you from chasing what you really want. Still, you shake your head, voice cracking as you admit:

“I just don't want her to get hurt, or get hurt.“

Tony blinks, looking at you with an emotion you don’t know. But in his eyes, he sees himself, speaking gently, “You’ll never know if you don’t try, Y/n.”

“Think about it.” Comes the last thing he’s to say as he stands up with a grunt. Hands dusting himself off and bending over to grab his bag, pointing to you with a reassuring grin.

The words swirl around your head like a roundabout, leading to only one conclusion and you know what you have to do. Face those fears, even if the words get stuck in your throat. Before Tony can get too far, you stand up, stammering on your words as you thank him.

Tony nods inside his suit, propelling himself as he speaks. “Anytime, stay in school, and help Peter with his history homework will you?”

You shake your head, chuckling softly and Tony ruffles your hair, flying off with a booming “Ciao!” Leaving you alone to collect yourself, bidding him goodbye.

Placing the last bit of the donut in your mouth, you slip on your mask. Launching yourself through the city to reach your destination, flying past buildings and deep into the wooded suburbs where you’d find the compound.

There wasn’t a world in which you could successfully avoid Wanda, not forever at least. It was torture for yourself too these past few days, and you’d be dammed if you did it again.

As you reached the vicinity, fear washed over you again, your heart beating rapidly the closer you approached. Tony’s words rang in your mind and you huffed, ignoring whatever your senses were telling you and letting your emotions speak louder.

Rest could wait until later, for now, you had a witch to confront—confess to.

You decided to take the easier route, being her window as you had down many nights prior. As you swung towards the wall, you found yourself stuck. Hanging from the rooftop, hand frozen midair as you stared at your reflection, was this really a good idea? In the middle of the night?

It was a tranquil, beautiful night, with fresh air flowing through the trees, and the only source of light being the soft glow of the moon. Your eyes softly traced through the beauty of nature, losing yourself in the picturesque landscape. Perfect conditions for an Avenger to catch some sleep in and you quickly found yourself double thinking by her window. Anxiety crawls through you—what if she was asleep already and didn’t wanna see you? Surely you shouldn’t interfere with Wanda’s beauty sleep. Or should you—?

“Did you really come all this way to see me just to hang outside of my window like a creep?” Your heart startled at the sudden voice and you didn’t even notice when Wanda had opened the window but there she was, a crooked smile on her lips with a curious tilt to her head.

The moonlight only enhanced Wanda's beauty further, and you knew you were staring. But you couldn’t tear your gaze away, mesmerized, counting every freckle you could spot; dreaming of one day kissing each speck you could find.

You wondered if women like Wanda inspired philosophers to write the most beautiful sayings because you’re certain if you had the intelligence you’d do the same. It’s only when Wanda cleared her throat, a small blush tinting her cheeks, that you turned away.

You sighed to try and collect yourself, letting your previous anxieties disappear. “Well, you know how much I love hanging out with you.” You joked, grinning at the groan Wanda let out as she shook her head disapprovingly.

“Dork.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged.

“Most definitely.” She says before moving closer, touching the ridges of your mask, and your heart races when she pulls it down just the slightest. You lean eagerly against her palm without a second thought, savoring her touch. It feels as if time freezes, and you realize how intensely you’ve missed Wanda these past days.

You think Wanda feels the same with how she looks at you, hand tracing the small scar etched into your chin with a frown. Her hand shutters a bright red and you lean into it like second nature, knowing what she seeks; to feel you. Something that came often after missions back home, a reminder that you were still here, but as you opened your eyes to stare back into her own, it felt different. Dangerously close to intimate and emotions build against your throat, constricting you because you can’t handle how close you are. How close you could be to changing things. Your defenses fly up again and you’re inching away despite not being able to get far with Wanda keeping you still–so you rack your brain, trying to find something to say to ease the tension—deflect, maybe a joke?

But any witty retort you had is quickly forgotten as Wanda hesitantly leans closer, testing the waters, and freezing you on the spot. You’re sure Wanda can hear your heart racing, but she doesn’t seem to care. It’s only when you make no motion of moving that she brings your mouths together. And you think you’ve just taken a glimpse into heaven.

It's just as sweet as you imagined and more. Her lips are soft and sweet and welcoming, easily enveloping you in all that is her, something you fall into hopelessly yet again. You want to ask why she chose now to do this, but you don’t want to part. The position is less than ideal, and sure your neck is straining but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Wanda’s the first to pull away, equally taken by surprise by her actions, a deep flush taking her the next second with a small shy smile and you feel yourself swoon.

You hesitate as you try to speak again, find the proper words to say but Wanda stops you, taking off your mask properly and lifting herself off the frame, walking back into her room. She throws your mask aimlessly away behind her desk but you’re not paying too much attention to it.

“Why don’t you come inside for once? Catch some real sleep, on a real bed.” She suggests invitingly, throwing you a playful look over her shoulder. You let out a breathless chuckle, flipping yourself over to enter her window, and closing it behind you in one smooth motion.

Wanda doesn’t say much else as you help her un-tuck the sheets, shooting you an appreciative glance and you pause, realizing it is her from your dreams. She’s the girl. The girl you can’t escape at night. It baffles you how you didn’t see her sooner. And suddenly you understand.

You understand why you’re always thinking of her, why even in your sleep you don’t wish to leave. It’s not just some crush you’ve been harboring, no, it’s something more intimate. And you want to say it’s love, but you want to say it better. Not when you’re both so absorbed in the moment, so you wait, because for Wanda Maximoff you’d wait for any length.

“I do sleep.” You spoke softly, ignoring how nervous her stare was making you and the stare made you believe that she already knew. You sucked in a breath, knowing if you didn’t say it now you wouldn’t say it ever, “I’d just sleep better with you.”

Wanda’s eyes widened in surprise before softening in a way that made your resolve crumble and you looked away with a clumsy smile. It feels like a silly confession to make, but unbeknownst to you, it’s enough confirmation for Wanda.

Shuffling into the sheets, you turn to meet Wanda only for her to advance on you the next second into a much more tender kiss than before. It’s soft and a reassurance that she feels the same way, her lips tasting of strawberries and love. You melt into the kiss once again, placing your hand on her wrist that holds your face in place, deepening it to convey.

“I’ll keep you to that,” Wanda murmurs between kisses, placing one last peck on your lips before curling in closer to your body, hiding in the crook of your neck. You chuckle and wrap your arms around her.

Her presence enveloped you instantaneously, reducing every muscle in your body into mush; a wave of relief washed over you, almost in disbelief that this was real. It was almost overwhelming, how easily you found peace in her arms. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill as you realized that this simple moment was all you had ever wanted–a night of rest with the girl you cared for most, free from all the world's problems and whatever else dared to ruin you.

As if she could sense something was wrong, the witch shuffled closer, her lips tenderly grazing against the skin of your neck and you tensed as she pressed. Her lips lingered against your skin, repeating the process over and over until you relaxed as if to say I know, it’s okay. When her legs intertwined with yours, you didn’t resist, understanding that she needed you just as much as you needed her. Instead, you held her tighter as if she could slip away if you didn’t.

Truly believing that this was where you were supposed to be.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x y/n #wanda my beloved #5 + 1 things #marvel #wlw post #spider!reader #spaghetti cooks

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queen-of-the-avengers · 4 days ago

Text

An Enigma

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: angst, blood, threat of violence, unwanted touching, harassment

Summary: You and Bucky are in an arranged marriage set up by both your parents. It’s a way to keep the peace between your two families. You thought Bucky didn’t care for you, but when someone from your past comes back into your life, Bucky makes it known that all he ever thinks about is you.

Square Filled: au: no powers (2024) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

You step into the kitchen but keep to the wall in intimidation. Your husband is standing there with his back to you. He’s shirtless with only a pair of slacks on. You’re not sure what is more hot. Him being shirtless or dressed in a three-piece suit. He has his phone to his ear so you don’t dare interrupt him, scared of what he might do or say to you. It’s not that you’re scared he’ll beat you, it’s just that he’s always so stoic and rarely shows his emotions.

There’s something you want to ask him but you’re scared of what he’ll do when you ask it. He’s your husband for god sake. Just go up to him and ask him! Your inner personality isn’t as scared of him as you are. You wouldn’t be this way if you had married him out of love. No, this marriage was arranged by yours and his parents. You were forced to be his wife, so you’re not even sure he loves you much less likes you.

Still, your marriage meant a truce between your family and his, but that doesn’t mean he stopped hating your family.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in and say something?”

You snap out of your own thoughts and look at Bucky who is now facing you. His shirtless back is almost as delicious as his shirtless front, but you’re too nervous to appreciate the sight in front of you.

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

Bucky looks you up and down, studying your behavior and body language. You’re jumpy, your hands are sweaty and shaky, and you can barely meet his eyes for more than five seconds.

“Why do you look so scared?” He smirks. “I won’t bite.”

“My dad called.” His smirk is lost. “He’s having a family dinner next week. He wants both of us there.”

“I see.”

“I’d be really happy if you came. He won’t try anything, I promise. They’ll be on their best behavior.”

“Okay,” Bucky says after a moment.

“Wait, really?”

“You’re my wife. If my father-in-law is asking for dinner, then so be it.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you. It’s next Friday.” You take out your phone. “I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

You turn to leave but Bucky’s voice stops you. “One move.”

“What?”

“If he tries one move, my knife will be lodged in his throat.”

Your eyes widen but you hear the threat loud and clear. You nod and scurry off before he can make any more conditions. Your father is part of one of the biggest crime families New York has ever seen. He has power in every single corner of his jurisdiction. No one can do anything without him knowing about it. Bucky’s family is the other family that has ties to mafia dealings, making them just as powerful as your family.

Both families split New York in half, but they’re constantly fighting over drugs, property, clubs, money, etc. If it can be used to manipulate and exert power over people, both your families are greedy for the taking, especially if those businesses live on the border of both jurisdictions.

One day, your father met with Bucky’s father about a truce, something they both will want to agree to. This was when your mother was pregnant with you, but he loves to tell the story so you feel like you were practically there. If you were to marry Bucky, then both families would be able to come to agreement on those petty fights.

A truce would be made. The cost? Your freedom. Any children that you may will bear will be part of the biggest crime family this country has ever seen.

When you were old enough, you met Bucky through a family dinner. He came off as stoic, cold, and calculating. He didn’t let anything get under his skin. Then, his nieces and nephews joined the party and he became a different person. His hard resolve started melting, giving you a show of who the real Bucky was. It’s different when he’s in front of business partners and your family, but you have a good idea of who the real Bucky is.

He’s a mystery, something you’re desperate to solve.

To prepare for the dinner, you decide to go to the gym and hopefully shed a few pounds. You’ve always loved doing cardio, so the treadmill became your best friend. You go so often that the front desk lady knows you by name.

“Welcome, Y/N. Have a good workout.”

“Thank you, Betty. I will.”

You walk over to the treadmill and start with a walk to get your blood pumping. You put your headphones in and listen to your favorite podcast. You listen to all sorts of things when you work out but lately, it’s been about the podcasts. You’re an hour into your workout when someone touches your shoulder. You take out your headphones and look back to see someone you never thought you’d see again.

“Vince. What are you doing here?”

“It’s a gym. I’m working out.”

You look him over and notice he’s not sweaty or red. If he’s been here as long as you have, he hasn’t been working out.

“Right. I’ll let you get back to it.”

You’re about to put your headphones back in when he steps onto the treadmill next to yours. He leans over and rests his elbows on your handlebars, and you immediately stop your machine. It’s a good time to call it a day.

“I came over here to say hi.”

“I should get going.”

You step off the treadmill and walk over to the cleaning station to grab some paper towels when you feel him standing behind you. You used to feel so safe with him but that all changed when your father discovered a hole in your wall that came from his room which was right next door. He was your bodyguard, supposed to protect you from creeps, and ended up being one. He was truly a pervert.

The only reason why your father didn’t kill him was because you didn’t want to deal with it. You convinced him to just fire him, so he did. Now he’s back but you’re not sure why. Your father made it very clear that if he tried to come near you again, he would do more than fire him. You turn and find him standing closer than he should be.

“What do you want, Vince?”

“Just to talk. I’ve become better. I’ve worked on myself. I’m ready to go back to work.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want to be your bodyguard again.”

“Like hell, that’s going to happen. You shouldn’t even be here. This isn’t even your gym. Just go home.” You step around him to clean your machine but he grabs your upper hard harder than normal. “Ow, you’re hurting me.”

“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea what pain is. I’ll do more than hurt you if you don’t give me my job back. I’m a good bodyguard. I kept all the creeps away from you.”

“Yeah, except for you. Let me go.”

He does but he doesn’t move away from you. You have sensitive skin so you know you’ll have bruises on your arm from his grip.

“Don’t be so shocked if one day you find me inside your house. I know you don’t have a bodyguard now.”

You don’t need one. You have Bucky. He’s very possessive and protective over you. You’re not sure what he’s going to do when he finds out about this, but you can imagine it’s not going to be kind. Crew cleaning your machine. You drop your supplies and rush out of the gym in a panic. During the ride home, you think of ways to lie to Bucky. He’s going to take one look at your face and know something is wrong.

You’re a terrible liar, but you can’t think of anything because you’re too scared. Scared to the point of tears. Maybe if you sneak inside and run to your room, you’ll be able to calm yourself down enough to come up with a convincing lie.

You park in the garage and rush inside knowing Bucky has cameras and sensors for when someone enters the garage. You’re about to book it up the stairs when you run smack into Bucky’s chest.

“Where’s the fire?” He sees the panicked look in your eyes and immediately becomes on alert. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Just an intense workout. I’m going to take a shower.”

You go to leave but Bucky grabs your arm in the same place as Vince did. You wince and he lets you go immediately thinking he hurt you. His eyes narrow on the bruises Vince let, and the fire in his eyes tells you he’s not going to believe anything but the truth.

“What. Happened.”

You have no choice but to tell him the truth before you get in trouble for lying.

“Before you, I had a bodyguard. He was caught spying on me through a hole he created in my bedroom. He was fired and my father made it clear never to bother me again. Well, he was at the gym. He… threatened me… saying I shouldn’t be surprised if I find him in this house because I don’t have a bodyguard now. He… wants his job back.”

“Okay.”

Bucky moves around you to go to the garage but you jump in front of him and put your hands on his chest. He looks calm but you know he is fucking pissed. It’s taking all of your strength to keep him from entering the garage.

“Bucky, stop.”

“If you think I won’t pick you up and move you out of the way, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Bucky, please. I will bring this up to my father tomorrow at dinner. Please let my family handle this. He worked for my dad. He should deal with it.”

Bucky looks down and he sees the desperation in your eyes. It doesn't do shit to calm him down but he backs away knowing this is what you want.

“Fine.”

Bucky retreats to his office for the rest of the day. Before you know it, Friday has come and you’re walking up the steps to your father’s mansion. You’ve been dreading this moment since the gym but you know you have to tell your father about this. Bucky was supposed to ride with you but you hadn’t seen him all day.

“Oh, sweetheart! I’m glad you’re here!” your mother says when you walk into the house.

“Hi, mom.” She pulls you in for a crushing hug. “You just saw me last week.”

“I know, but it feels like a lifetime. Where is Bucky?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure he’ll be here. He said he would.” Your father walks in and you smile when you see him. “Daddy!”

“Princess,” he smiles.

You bounce over to him and hug him tightly. He’s a very tall and muscular man but he has always been gentle with you. You’re his princess. You’re his only daughter, so he takes your health and well-being very seriously. You have six brothers but he’s not the same with them as he’s with you. They’re just as scary as your father. You’re not sure why you ever needed a bodyguard when you had six living at home with you.

You join your family in the dining room and greet your brothers. The family butler brings out the food until there is a plate in front of everyone. You look beside you at the empty chair and wonder where Bucky is. He’s supposed to be here. He said he would. If he had to work, he would have told you.

“So, Y/N, when am I getting grandbabies?”

“Mom!”

“I’m not getting any younger over here.”

“You have grandbabies. Tony and Luke both have children. Gio has one on the way.”

“None from you, though.”

“Okay, well, when I get pregnant, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Where is Bucky?” Stefan asks, shoveling food into his mouth as he speaks.

“Stefan!” your mother scolds. “Don’t eat like an animal.”

“Sorry, mom,” he says with his mouth full.

“I don’t know. He said he’d be here. He’s probably caught up with work.”

Once your brothers are finished with their meals, they eagerly go for seconds. The dining room is filled with chatter about people’s plans, kids, and trips they have coming up. You never talk about work while you’re eating. That’s reserved for after dinner and always over a glass of top-shelf whiskey.

Suddenly, all chatter ceases when someone walks into the dining room. Bucky. Only he’s covered in blood. Blood stains his nice suit and spatters his smooth skin, but he acts as if he has nothing on him. His hands are clean though. He sits next to you and accepts the food the butler brings. He takes a bite of the meat and moans at how good it is.

“Is it taken care of?” your father asks.

“Yes, sir.”

Chatter returns as normal as if Bucky isn’t covered in fucking blood. Even your brothers don’t seem to care that blood is now on the table. Your mother doesn’t care that blood is getting on her nice white dining chair. You lean closer to him and grab your napkin. You grab his chin and start wiping the blood from his cheek.

“What the hell is the matter with you? Where were you? Why are you covered in blood? Whose is it?”

“Vince.”

Now everything makes sense. He must have called your father to tell him what you told him who then told your mother who then told your brothers.

“I told you I’d handle it.”

“He touched what’s mine.”

“Excuse me?”

“He touched my wife.”

You throw the napkin down knowing it’s useless. “Last I checked, Bucky, you don’t own me.”

“No, you but own me.” Your eyes widen in surprise. “I’d do it again and again to protect you.” He grabs your chin with his clean hand and kisses you. He pulls away from you and wipes away the drop of blood he got on your skin. “Eat.”

It takes you several seconds to wrap your brain around what just fucking happened. You grab your fork and take a bite slowly. Maybe there is some warmth to that cold heart.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel fluff #marvel angst #mcu #mcu fluff #mcu fanfiction #mcu angst #mcu fanfic #mcu fic

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spectral-phases · 2 months ago

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I need people to stop getting so precious about Clark "not letting" Bruce kill the Joker after Jason’s death post-Crisis. Everyone acts like it was like this:

But it was more:

So, we all know the story. Actually. Wait. Maybe we don't. So. The story beneath the cut.

Jason got benched as being Robin because he was not dealing well with his parents' deaths, felt like he was no longer wanted because he was adopted specifically to be Robin (and Bruce is shit at making his kids feel loved a lot of times). Jason discovered the woman who raised him was his step mother, not his bio mother. He goes looking for bio mom. Finds bio mom, she hugs him and tells him she's missed him so much, Bruce contemplates letting Jason live with his family if that would make him happier despite being obviously cut up about the idea of losing Jason. Bio mom is being extorted by the Joker to let him ship out Joker Venom disguised as medical supplies because he can't just steal the supplies and sell them. Bruce has to go stop the shipment of Joker Venom, his portable chopper is too small for two, so Jason is left behind. Jason is told to wait, but The Killing Joke just happened and his bio mom is alone with the Joker (who is insane, capricious and evil), so, obviously he has to save his mother and could not wait. Bio Mom is outside, no guards, Jason says, "Hey, I'm actually Robin, I'm here to save you from the Joker" and she says "Nah, he's actually gone, so I'm fine. But let's go inside so I can grab my things and we can leave." Her things turn out to be a gun to point at Jason after leading him to the Joker. Jason is too stunned to move. The Joker and his goons beat Jason up and then the Joker uses the crowbar to finish beating him to a presumed death. His bio mom at some point couldn't bear to watch it anymore and turns around to smoke a cigarette. Once Joker’s done, bio mom asks what they're going to do about Batman, and the Joker is all "oh. Yeah, lol. Probably was a bad idea to kill his kid. Whoops. My bad." And then ties up the bio mom to kill her and erase any evidence he brutally attacked/killed Jason. The Joker sets a bomb on a timer and leaves. Jason uses the last of his strength to untie his bio mom so she can escape. He can't see well enough to try and disarm the bomb. She tries to get them both out. The door is locked. Jason shields her as the bomb goes off, but she dies just as Batman comes up and tells him the Joker did it, calls Jason a hero, says he deserved a better mother (he did) but does not/is unable to own up to her part in Jason’s death before dying herself. Bruce finds Jason’s body and is fucking devastated.

So after that, Bruce chases the Joker down to the UN because the Joker lucked into being a diplomat for Iran and is now meeting at the UN assembly in New York. Bruce is 100% set on doing a premeditated murder of the Joker for Jason. The US government is aware of this. They hire Superman to grab Batman to try and talk him down because the Joker has diplomatic immunity for past crimes. It does not go well.

"That’s the law, not Justice." Batman is 100% still going to kill the Joker. Everyone knows. Superman knows. Superman says the stupid thing is putting vengeance above the interests of the country, not killing Joker.

Batman sneaks into the Joker’s room, and the Joker (forgetting his earlier desire to not get fucking killed by Batman) is like "oh man, I wish I could have seen your face when you found his body" and further needles Bruce with a "Or are you here to thank me for getting rid of him for you?" Making Bruce triple down on killing the Joker.

"Your confirming it makes what I have to do a lot easier."

Bruce manages to get in to observe the UN meeting as Bruce Wayne. Superman is disguised as a guard. Bruce is seething, watching the Joker, knowing that is the guy who killed Jason.

"I should have terminated his vile existence years ago. But I didn't. I couldn't. His insanity gained him a stay of execution. But no longer. ... Jason’s dead."

They both know the Joker is too stupid and lacks the impulse control needed to not attack the UN and immediately lose his immunity, which is the only thing keeping him alive. Joker releases Joker Venom to kill the delegates. Superman super breathes to inhale all the gas, which he's immune to because he's Superman and then says this as he leaves to go find a place to release the poison gas safely.

"Batman, he's all yours."

Superman basically says "You can kill him now" because he knows Batman’s mind has not changed, and Superman had not once tried to say "killing Joker would be wrong" just that it couldn't happen before the Joker acted in a way that lost him his immunity.

And Bruce does go to do just that. He chases the Joker down, intent to kill, and jumps onto the helicopter the Joker is using to escape. One of the guys fires at Batman. It shoots the pilot, hits the Joker in damn near his heart, if not his heart, and Batman realizes the helicopter is going down and decides to jump and leave the Joker behind. He intends for the Joker to die in the crash.

Okay? Bruce was 100% going to kill the Joker for killing Jason. Superman said "hang on. Let him get enough rope to hang himself first and then you can do it." And then Joker only survived because comic books. And Bruce is unhappy about having to wait. Superman did not try to talk Bruce out of killing the Joker at all ever, or scold him for wanting to kill the Joker. (Don't say he was rescuing the Joker in that last panel. The next panel is Superman fishing Batman, who is shot in the arm, from the harbor, and Batman telling Superman to go find the body. Find the body! And Superman does go to do just that, but is unable to).

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#batman #superman #the Joker #Jason Todd #dc #bruce wayne #clark kent #I cast “read the comics”#spes talks #Jason shouldn't be told Superman stopped Batman from killing the Joker #The Joker only isn’t dead because plot armor #Batman was 100% willing and able to kill the Joker #and no force in heaven or earth was going to stop him #not even Superman #Not that Superman really tried to stop Batman to start with #this has been sitting in my drafts for a bit #but I have now seen this superman stopped batman from killing Joker #argument too many times to not post it

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trollprincess · 4 months ago

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So I have a friend from high school who is a cop. (Yes, I KNOW.) I shared a photo on Facebook of a packed highway of people attempting to evacuate from Hurricane Milton, all while the lanes going in the opposite direction were open and empty. And my Facebook post was basically me screaming, “Open the other side of the highway and reverse it so that people can GET OUT.”

His response was essentially, “Yeah, that is *really* difficult for us to do.” Not in a condescending way, because he genuinely isn’t a huge asshole. (Yes, I KNOW.)

And then I may have vented in my response, in which I tried not to imply that the police were a problem. Because to be honest, I don’t see this as a police problem. I see this as how we have fucked ourselves as a nation by making ourselves so dependent on cars.

There is that poll on this site – or multiple polls, at this point – asking how long people can tolerate being in their cars. And the thing is, Americans (and Canadians as well, I am imagining) have almost no other options. We have to be used to spending a good 12 hours in a car without breaking a sweat. Everything in this country is built around being in a car. There’s a reason when you ask us how far away a place is from somewhere else, we normally give that distance in hours and not miles.

Air travel sucks. It sucks for a multitude of reasons – cost, the hassle of dealing with security, the time suck, etc. – and in an emergency, only a select few are going to be able to use it to get away from a hurricane. And that’s one of the few disasters where air travel is an optional escape.

Train travel sucks. Amtrak is not something you’re gonna be complaining about if you’re trying to get away from whatever disaster you need to evacuate from. But next to so many other countries, Amtrak looks like we’ve been receiving other countries’s leftover railway systems from the 70s. It also doesn’t go everywhere. I live in northeastern Pennsylvania near Scranton, which prides itself on its history in the train industry. We have a museum and everything. We have multiple things named after that museum, including the Steamtown marathon which is happening tomorrow.

Can you get on a passenger train in Scranton? Nope.

(The main argument against this always seems to be that people will come here from New York City and commit crimes, which is hilarious considering if somebody wanted to come here from New York City and commit crimes it’s only a 2.5-hour drive.)

Anyway, disasters.

If the only option you’re gonna give most people to get out of areas of Florida that are being targeted by hurricanes or areas of California that suffer from wildfires or places in the Midwest that face flooding are cars, then we need a better fucking emergency management system regarding transportation in this country. You can’t just sit there and mock people for not evacuating because they can’t or won’t when getting away from Milton meant sitting on highway for hours with absolutely no gas stations whatsoever nearby having any gas at all. (It just makes me think of those photos of people stranded on the highway in their cars in blizzards where people are like, “Now imagine imagine how bad it would be if all of those cars were electric!“ Well, all of those cars in that photo in that blizzard run on gas and they’re fucking stranded, sooooooo.)

Look, we can change the transportation system in this country. we did it before and we can do it again. We used to have more train options, fewer highways. My small hometown had a fucking trolley in the 40s. Now, if you don’t have a car here, you’re stuck. You can’t even get Uber here. if a wildfire started here and surrounded the town, it would be a clusterfuck.

Regardless of how you feel about the police, if police and fire departments in this country cannot organize an evacuation on a highway in a way that will reduce the backup so that tens of thousands of people aren’t sitting in their cars when a hurricane hits, that’s a problem – not just for those people, but for the police, and the fire department, and emergency management in general.

The people in charge of emergency management are just people, just human. I’m researching the Camp Fire in 2018 right now, and you had a bunch of people calling 911 saying, “I can see a huge fire off to the east. Are we safe? Should we evacuate?” The 911 operators could only work off the information they had. They could have told people to evacuate earlier, but Cal Fire didn’t anticipate the strength of the fire. Which is understandable. Nobody could anticipate the strength of that fire. But the 911 operators were sitting in an office with no windows, and they had no idea what was going on the east. They couldn’t look out and see exactly what was happening. If they could have, they probably would have told people to leave as soon as possible much sooner than they were told to. Instead, they waited for official confirmation, and when they did start telling people to evacuate, traffic managed to back up in a small town of 25,000 people until many of them were trapped in an unimaginable hellscape.

When people need to evacuate from a disaster, and they stay instead, far too many people - including those in positions of power – just kind of wave their hands and say, “Well, we tried.” No, we didn’t. This country made not trying its watchword, and now we’re at a point where unless you own a car, which is a luxury a lot of people cannot afford in this economy, escaping from disaster is impossible. So you can get in your car or somebody else’s car and go sit on a highway and hope your gas doesn’t run out, since none of the gas stations for 100 miles have any gas to give you, or you can stay in your house and hope you don’t die.

Sometimes, I really wish somebody would make me the head of the department of transportation. I would demand an absurd amount of money to build a better train system, to provide better transportation options for smaller towns, to provide extensive training for rescue personnel in managing evacuations like the clusterfuck in Florida this week. I would become an absolute fucking nuisance to Congress. I would be asking for money left and right to make it so that our only options as Americans weren’t to get into cars we can barely afford these days and attempt to organize our own evacuations from the growing number of natural disasters in this country.

Y’all keep posting these polls about how long you can tolerate being in a car at the same time that tens of thousands of Floridians were sitting on highways trying to get away from Tampa so they wouldn’t die in a hurricane.

We can tolerate being in a car all goddamn day. It’s because we don’t have a fucking choice, even when it’s life or death.

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illnessfaker · 1 year ago

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tw: murder, transmisogynoir

( article published feb. 24th, 2024 )

COLUMBIA, S.C. — A South Carolina man was found guilty Friday of killing a Black transgender woman in the nation’s first federal trial over a hate crime based on gender identity.

After deliberating for roughly four hours, jurors convicted Daqua Lameek Ritter of a hate crime for the murder of Dime Doe in 2019. Ritter was also found guilty of using a firearm in connection with the fatal shooting and obstructing justice.

A sentencing date has not yet been scheduled. Ritter faces a maximum of life imprisonment without parole.

[...]

The four-day trial over Doe’s killing centered on the secret sexual relationship between her and Ritter, the latter of whom had grown agitated by the exposure of their affair in the small town of Allendale, according to witness testimony and text messages obtained by the FBI. Prosecutors accused Ritter of shooting Doe three times with a .22 caliber handgun to prevent further revelation of their romance.

[...]

Doe’s close friends testified that it was no secret in Allendale that she had begun her social transition as a woman shortly after graduating high school. She started dressing in skirts, getting her nails done and wearing extensions. She and her friends discussed boys they were seeing — including Ritter, whom she met during one of his many summertime visits from New York to stay with family.

But text messages obtained by the FBI suggested that Ritter sought to keep their relationship under wraps as much as possible, prosecutors said. He reminded her to delete their communications from her phone, and hundreds of texts sent in the month before her death were removed.

Shortly before Doe’s death, their exchanges grew tense. In one message from July 29, 2019, she complained that Ritter did not reciprocate her generosity. He replied that he thought they had an understanding that she didn’t need the “extra stuff.”

He also told her that Delasia Green, his main girlfriend at the time, had insulted him with a homophobic slur after learning of the affair. In a July 31 text, Doe said she felt used and Ritter should never have let Green find out about them.

[...]

Green said that when he showed up days later at her cousin’s house in Columbia, he was dirty, smelly and couldn’t stop pacing. Her cousin’s boyfriend gave Ritter a ride to the bus stop. Before he left, Green asked him if he had killed Doe.

“He dropped his head and gave me a little smirk,” Green said.

from the HRC:

Doe’s friends and family remembered her on social media as having a “bright personality” and being someone who “showed love” and who was “the best to be around.” Another friend wrote, “If I knew Friday was my last time seeing you, I would have hugged you even tighter.”

according to NYT's article, she also worked as a hairdresser. she was only 24.

#transmisogynoir #transmisogyny #misogynoir #say her name #rest in power #op #hate crime -

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p1astr81 · 1 month ago

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Spidey-Osc! -op81

in which: Oscar Piastri takes on the double life of being a high school student and also the hero of New York. While playing the part of spider-man, Oscar starts to get closer to his classmate, a girl he otherwise wouldn’t have dared to even look at. (au)

(based on Tom Holland’s spiderman, with the webbing mechanism of Toby’s)

pairing: spiderman!oscar piastri x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n, lots of exposition, not proof read… (lmk if there’s anything else!)

an: isn’t my editing fabulous guys?? for the purpose of this, everyone is 18. This will also be multiple parts, this being part 1.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

‧‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Oscar swung between the towering buildings of New York, his eyes hyper focused on the scum who just stole the donations from Santa’s Salvation Army bucket. The guy clearly wasn’t too smart, as he was dressed in a bright red coat. That only made it easier for Oscar to track him from the high altitude.

The perpetrator ducked into an alleyway, which Oscar took as his cue to begin chasing him on foot. Webbing between tight alleyways was a recipe for disaster. Or disastri, as his two friends loved to joke.

As he dropped onto the sidewalks, he slipped on a patch of ice and ended up bumping shoulders roughly with a girl. In a rush, he threw a quick sorry! In her direction. But he took note of her clothing. White coat, pale pink gloves, the color of her hair. It would be difficult, but he would find her later and apologize properly.

For now, he had a thief to chase. “Hey!” He called after the guy as he began to climb a fire escape. Really? Oscar thought to himself. Trying to get away by climbing? While I can scale the Empire State Building in seconds? Evidently, the guy wasn’t very smart.

As the red coat guy reached for another rung of the ladder, Oscar shot a web from his wrist, sticking his hand to the rung. The guy let out a sound of frustration as Oscar webbed his feet in place, too.

Oscar pulled his phone out, and called the local police. An easy task for him, as he had their number saved.

Once he’d called in the crime, he began to heckle the red coat guy. “Stealing from charity? That should be a federal offense.” He tsk’ed under his mask.

“Don’t you have something better to be doing?” The criminal insulted. “Don’t you?” Oscar fired back quickly, his hands perched on his hips. The guy responded with a grunt as he tried to yank his hands and feet free. It was no use.

The pair of them heard the police siren looming closer, and red coat guy was frantically trying to free himself. Oscar chuckled.

A singular cop car stopped outside the alleyway, and a single cop stepped out of the vehicle. Could Oscar really have asked for much more from the NYPD? Definitely not.

“I’ll let you take it from here,” Oscar told the cop before quickly scaling the side of the building. He got a running headstart, and jumped from the side, slinging a web out to the nearest building. Oscar lifted his feet as to not scrape them along the pavement. He continued down the streets of New York, his eyes on the lookout for the white coat girl. Unfortunately, Oscar never found her.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Oscar grabbed his anatomy book from his locker and as soon as his hand was withdrawn, his locker was shut by another force.

Logan.

“Mate, I get you’re spiderman and all,” he lowered his voice, not wanting to expose Oscar’s secret identity. “But you were supposed to come over and play video games with me and Fred.”

Oscar sighed. “I forgot.” He ran a hand over his face. “Dude. This is the third time.” Logan pointed out, highly annoyed.

“I know.”

Oscar opened his locker once again to retrieve his anatomy notebook and binder.

“Excuse me.” He heard from beside him. He looked up, his eyes quickly finding you as you waited for Logan to move away from your locker that he was currently leaning on.

It was luck of the draw when it came to Oscar getting a locker next to the most popular, prettiest, and smartest girl in his year. Every guy would kill to have his locker. In fact, a lot of them tried to pay him to switch. He didn’t, of course.

He thought the proximity of your lockers would help him make a move. But Oscar was awkward, and there was this nagging voice in the back of his head that told him you were way out of his league.

So to spare his dignity, everyday he would keep his head down and wouldn’t even dare to look in your direction.

Today, he did. And he quickly took note of the white puffer jacket you wore. And the corner of his eye caught sight of pale pink gloves sticking out of your pocket. And your hair color, well, it was the exact same as the girl he bumped into on the street yesterday. He bumped into you yesterday.

Logan apologized, stepping to the side so you could grab your supplies for your anatomy class next period.

When you walked away, Logan lowered his voice and gushed, “did you see that? She talked to me!” It snapped Oscar out of his trance. He laughed and shook his head. “Because you were in her way.”

Logan shrugged. “A win is a win.” He replied.

Oscar chuckled. “I’ll see you at lunch.” He parted ways with Logan, walking the short distance to his anatomy class.

Halfway through anatomy, Oscar’s desk mate, Lando, leaned over into his space. “What’re the odds you think I can get her to tutor me?” He whispered. Oscar knew who he was talking about. You. You sat at the table in front of the pair with one of your good friends, Alexandra.

Now, Oscar and Lando weren’t friends per say. They didn’t hang out outside of school, but they were friendly.

“I’d say if your intentions aren’t to get with her, then decently high.”

“Well, obviously my intentions are to get with her, but she doesn’t need to know that.” Lando sassed.

“Yeah well you don’t think-“

“Piastri,” Mrs. Coulson called.

“Yes?”

“Which valve is this?” Her ruler pointed to the valve between the right atrium and right ventricle.

“Uh,” He thought quickly. “AV bicuspid.” He answered, and noticed that you had turned around enough in your chair to lock eyes with him.

Mrs Coulson hummed, clearly unsatisfied that he actually got the answer. “Pay attention.”

He watched as you tried to hold back a laugh. Whether it was at him for being caught out and not paying attention, or at the teacher for failing to embarrass him, he didn’t know.

You turned back around in your chair, and leaned over to Alex. “I’ve never got a good look at him, but he’s actually kinda cute.” You whispered, chuckling with Alex.

And because of Oscar’s enhanced hearing, he heard it. He felt his face immediately heat up.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

As was routine, Oscar found himself swinging from building to building. It was a rather slow day. Anything that caught his attention either turned out to be nothing, or the cops where already on it.

That was until he heard a shout. A quick “hey!” Nearly muffled in it’s entirety by the heavy blankets of snow.

But Oscar heard it, and quickly scanned the area to identify the problem. He nearly groaned when he realized it was another robbery. Safe to say, he was bored of taking care of thieves.

Nonetheless, he swooped down, webbing the small pink bag from the perpetrators hands and yanking it from their hold.

He stood on top of a lap post. “Who does this belong to?” He called, but almost everyone on the sidewalk below ignored him. Well, all but one.

You stood at the bottom of the street lamp. “It’s mine!” You called up. Oscar froze momentarily when he locked eyes with you. Quickly, he snapped himself out of it, dropping down smoothly in front of you.

“Here you go, uhm, ma’am.”

Accepting her handbag, she raised a brow. “Ma’am? Wow that makes me feel old.” She chuckled.

Oscar started to panic. “I just meant… well you don’t look old. You look amazing actually—er, uhm—young, I meant.” He was making a total fool of himself. Thank god for the mask, he thought.

You laughed. It was a sound that tickled something inside Oscar’s brain and made him feel warm inside, despite the freezing cold air that threatened his body with hypothermia.

“Well, thank you.” You smiled, and the warmth inside Oscar’s body intensified.

My god he was down bad.

“Oh! Also, I bumped into you yesterday. Never got to properly apologize for that. So, I’m very sorry about that.”

You laughed again. “Did I hear that right? Spider-man remembered my face? I’m truly honored.”

Oscar did not miss the way your eyes slowly raked over his body, shamelessly checking him out. His face was on fire. Just wait ‘til Logan hears about this.

He tried to play it smooth, but his laugh came out awkward. “I should probably get back to protecting the city.” He cringed as the words came out of his mouth. “Yeah probably,” you nodded, ginning at him. “See ya, Spiderman.”

“See ya, (y/n)!”

He left you with that, throwing a web at the building across the street and leveraging himself 15 stories into the air.

He didn’t even realize he’d called you by your name.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

He arrived at Logan’s soon after, still in his suit. He hoped no one was watching as spiderman sneaking through the window of a random house would surely stir up some stories.

Logan and Fred paused their game when they say the human spider crawling through the window. “I see you didn’t forget today.” Logan jabbed.

Oscar waved his hand through the air, ripping off his mask and moving to sit between them. “You guys aren’t going to believe who I just talked to.”

They both stared at him, unmoving, waiting for him to tell them. “Y/n. Y/l/n.” Logan tilted his head the slightest degree, his eyes narrowing. Fred just stared blankly. “And I think she was flirting with me.”

Logan bursted out laughing. “She wasn’t flirting with you. She was flirting with spider-man.”

“Yeah but who wears the suit? Me.” Oscar pointed out.

“But every girl would flirt with spider-man. I think Megan Fox would flirt with Spider-Man.”

Oscar shoved him roughly. “Shut up, man. You’re just mad she didn’t flirt with you.” And then Oscar remembered the conversation he overheard during anatomy earlier that day. “And! She was talking to Alex during anatomy and I heard her call me cute.”

Logan bit back a laugh. “Cute? Like how you would describe a bunny?”

Oscar rolled his eyes.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

“Alex, you’re never going to believe what happened to me yesterday.” You walked into anatomy gushing.

Oscar straightened up a little, prepared to shamelessly eavesdrop.

“Ugh, did you finally get that hot guys number who dresses up as hawkeye?” You smiled, shaking your head. “I told you, if you want his number you’re going to have to get it yourself. I’m not helping you with that.” You laughed.

“But no, yesterday, on my way to work, my bag was stolen and guess who got it back for me?” You gushed. Alex raised her brows and motioned for you to continue. “Spider-man. And then when he gave it back, he started flirting with me!”

From beside you, Lando scoffed. The girls turned around in their seats, looking at him with questioning glances. “He’s not even all that. He’s a guy swinging about in his pajamas. He’s no Captain America.” Ouch.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just saying that cause he’s built better than you.” Your gaze shifted to meet Oscar’s

“What do you think about him, Piastri?”

“Uhm,” he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I think he’s… chill.”

Your grin did it’s best to hold back your laugh, but it ultimately came out anyway. A light chuckle. Unknowingly, your gaze drifted to his biceps, which were hardly contained by his shirt. The cuffs of the short-sleeve where borderline strangling his arms. You raised your brows, looking to Lando. “I think you should ask your friend for some gym advice.”

Oscar felt his face heat up. Was she… flirting with me? Not as Spider-Man… but as just me? Oscar questioned to himself. Surely not. Surely she was just trying to get under Lando’s skin.

I’m out of her league, he reminded himself

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Oscar worked on autopilot. Web, swing, scout. Web, swing, scout. The cycle came naturally to him. He hardly even thought about where he was shooting his webs.

As much as Oscar wanted the city to be safe, it was getting quite boring nowadays. Most days, he would end up on a rooftop somewhere, sitting on the ledge and she paid half attention to the streets below. Most of his attention would be directed to his phone where he scrolled through socials.

A scene caught Oscar’s attention, and he realized his boring night might not be so boring after all.

A girl, sat on the edge of a cafe rooftop, adorned in a white coat and pink gloves. Oscar dropped down softly behind you.

“You shouldn’t be so close it the edge. It’s dangerous.” He called. You smiled brightly, twisting your head to see him. “It got your attention, didn’t it?”

Oscar bowed his head and joined her on the ledge. “I suppose it did, yes.”

It began to snow lightly, flakes falling on your eyelashes as you looked out over the city.

“So, what are you up here for anyway?”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “I’m on break. I work in the cafe.” You explained while gesturing down to the building you were both sitting on top of. Oscar leaned over the ledge to peek at the side of the building. Indeed, it was a cafe. “And…” you started, facing him. “Like I said, to get your attention.”

Under the mask, he lifted his brows. “Really? Is there something you need?” He asked, wondering if something was wrong.

You laughed, your head bowing as you did so. “No.” You shook your head, smiling at him. “You’re just…” you shrugged. “Nice to talk to.”

Oscar felt his face heat up as he started to fiddle around with his fingers. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t Oscar you were saying this to. It was spider-man.

You tried not to laugh at how obviously flustered he was. But it was quite the ego boost, knowing she made a superhero nervous.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that one before. Definitely been told the opposite though.” He joked and you laughed. That felt like a huge accomplishment to Oscar.

“But I was wondering,” you started, staring out at the city once again. You swung your legs through the air. “how did you know my name yesterday? I know I never told you it.” Your narrowed eyes interrogated him. Your expression daring and intimidating.

He quickly scanned his brain for an excuse. “Maybe I said something that sounded like your name?” He offered. You didn’t buy it and shook your head pointedly. “No. I know I heard you right.” You were sure.

Oscar sighed. “It’s on the inside of your bag.” He gestured to the same one lying next to you. You checked it and saw he was right. “I didn’t want you to think I was creepy.” He sighed.

“Oh, well-“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, as the watch on his wrist began to incessantly beep. “Sorry, I’ve gotta take this.” He excused himself, jumping to a nearby rooftop.

Once he was sure he was no longer within earshot, he answered Tony’s call.

“Kid, I need you at the compound.” Tony sighed through the speakers.

“Why? Did something happen?”

“No. I need you to help me wrap Morgan’s presents. I bought way too many.”

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri au #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #op81 #spiderman!oscar piastri

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ofbatsandballads · 3 months ago

Text

kindness you can’t afford

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: injured character, multiple descriptions of blood + wounds

a/n: so this is the very first jason fic I’ve written since I was twelve, so forgive me while I find my jay’s voice now that I’m not a preteen. anyways I humbly offer thee my wares.

divider credit: cafekitsune

Gotham’s a shithole. You hadn’t known that when you first moved here. To be honest, you’d kind of thrown a dart at a map and gone where it landed. Alright, maybe it wasn’t literally a dart throw, more so finding the cheapest metropolitan city because New York was tempting but it would bankrupt you. Mostly you just wanted a place to not exist. And so Gotham’s relatively low rent rates and towering skylines were the pick with little to no research.

Gotham’s a shithole. You know that beyond a shadow of a doubt now. It’s surprising, honestly, how little of Gotham’s chaos makes it outside the city limits. One would think a psychotic killer clown that’s prone to gassing a whole city district or a half-plant poison lady or a guy going around dressed like a bat would make national news. And yet, no. You’d known superheroes existed, of course. Superman was the shining jewel in the crown of the country that is Metropolis. Everyone knows about the extraordinary Wonder Woman. It’s not like hyper skilled people working for the greater good aren’t a thing. But Gotham plays her cards close to her chest.

You've lived here almost two years now and you’ve managed to make it through relatively unscathed. An impressive feat especially since you live in the Bowery. The Bowery itself isn’t so bad, but its neighboring district Park Row, more often known as Crime Alley, is about the worst Gotham has to offer. You’ve heard your fair share of gunshots and sirens, and you’ll never forget the time that Scarecrow released fear toxin in the district and you had to shove every towel and blanket you owned against the cracks by the doors and windows to keep it out. However, you’ve avoided being mugged or assaulted or anything like that so far. And you’ve never encountered the vigilantes that run the night here.

But there’s always time for new and exciting experiences.

The loud thunk that sounds outside your living room window makes you jump and starts your heart pounding. You know you should just ignore it. Crawl off the couch and to the bedroom, lock the door. The lights in the apartment are already off, only the television light illuminating the room, so it would be easy to creep unseen. But you can’t. Something pulls you to the window. Maybe it’s the cat killing curiosity, or maybe it’s your own little voice of self destruction, or maybe it’s something else entirely. All you know is that you have to go look.

So you do. And there, out cold on the fire escape, is a man. A very large man. A very large man in a red helmet. A very large man in a red helmet with dual pistols holstered to his thighs. Red Hood. Red Hood is passed out face up on your fire escape. Huh.

You’d heard of him. It was hard not to. The Bat had the most notoriety by far, but it was Red Hood that truly scared the criminals of Gotham. Batman might break your bones, cripple you even, but you’d leave with your life. No such guarantee existed if you crossed Red Hood. Hurt a few innocent people and you might end up with a bullet or three in your skull. Then there was that thing about heads in a duffel bag and Red Hood running crime for a solid year in Gotham, but he’s better now, apparently. None of this is deterring you from unlocking the window, pushing it up, and stepping out into the cold winter air. Not when you see the blood seeping through his body armor start to drip off the fire escape grate.

He needs help and he can’t stay unconscious in the middle of the city. If whoever injured him didn’t find him, the cops would. He’s just as wanted as the actual rogues of Gotham. You think it’s bullshit, which is why you’re trying to find a way to get him inside the safety of your apartment. He’s huge up close. This is going to be very, very difficult. Your mind flashes suddenly to one of your favorite childhood movies and how the princess pulled the dashing rogue around with her hair. You glance down at the street before heading to your bedroom.

You come back out with sheets bundled up in your arms. You’re not even sure if this harebrained idea will work, but you weave the sheets through the gaps in the grates and around Red Hood’s waist nonetheless. You secure a knot and go back into your apartment with the length of the sheets. Your legs are stronger than your arms, so you brace them against the wall and pull. You can feel his body slowly dragging towards you and you pause to check your progress. He’s slumped against the window now. Good. You loop your arms under his, place your feet back against the wall, and pull hard. Your hard work is rewarded with his body breaching the threshold of your window and landing directly on top of you. The air is knocked clean out of your lungs. He is heavy.

It’s a struggle but you manage to roll out from under him and immediately see the massive red stain contrasting against the white of your fluffy pajama pants. A small puddle of blood is emerging on your floor under his left thigh, and droplets of blood have splattered next to his torso. He’s not in great shape. It suddenly hits you what you’ve done. You dragged an injured vigilante, known for shooting first and asking questions later, into your apartment with no plan on what to do after the fact.

What the fuck did I do?

That’s all you can think as you look down at him. Then something snaps into place inside your rattled mind and you run to your bathroom to grab your first aid kit. You’d bought it and learned the basics after Wayne Enterprises ran televised infomercials about the importance of first aid a couple months back. You’re carefully balancing all the supplies in your arms as you head back out to the living room.

The empty living room. No vigilante in sight. Then your world spins. Everything clatters to the floor as you’re yanked backwards by your waist, pinned to something solid and unable to move.

“Who are you?” A growl sounds behind you, modulated to sound semi-mechanical.

Ah. There he is. You think you should be panicking, absolutely losing your shit even. But your brain is moving in slow motion.

“Someone trying to help you,” you breathe out.

“Doesn’t answer the question.”

The grip around your waist tightens. You want to laugh. As if you could’ve made a run for it in the first place. You tell him your name, and explain that you live alone. There’s no one else here but the two of you and you really do want to help.

“You were passed out on my fire escape. I couldn’t just leave you out there,” you explain cautiously.

The two of you stay like that for a minute longer. Then, a mechanical sigh sounds from behind you and the vice grip on your waist goes slack. You turn to him and see that he’s already halfway to your window.

“Hey! Wait! I can help!” you shout, scrambling after him.

“Don’t need it,” he snaps.

“You were bleeding out on my floor!” you exclaim.

You don’t know why you feel so strongly about this. Maybe because he seemed so…mortal. It’s easy to forget that these guys running around at night are people. They’re strong, tough, and capable, but they’re still human. The fact that he stumbles and has to catch himself on the window frame proves your point.

“Please. I promise I won’t take long. Please just let me help,” you beg.

He turns around and even through that unreadable helmet you can tell he’s sizing you up. You’re sure you must be a sight in your fuzzy white cat pajama pants, old Snoopy t-shirt, and fluffy white socks. Honestly, it’s a bit of a ridiculous tableau. Massive armed man in tactical gear opposite a woman in fluffy pajamas, both bloodstained. But either you seem harmless enough or he’s in exceptionally bad shape, because he just slumps against your wall and gives a barely noticeable nod of his head.

You go into autopilot the second you get his consent. A dining room chair is dragged to the center of your living room and Red Hood drops himself into it, the old wood creaking under the force. You go to assess the damage on his torso first. Light slashes litter his waist, none of them are deep enough for stitches. You grab the rubbing alcohol and cotton balls from the floor where you kneel before warning him that it might sting.

“I got slashed. Think that might’ve hurt a bit more,” he deadpans.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

The torso slashes are light work. It takes all of five minutes to disinfect them and seal them shut with bandages. It’s his thigh that you’re a little more concerned about. There’s enough blood that it’s soaked his tactical pants around where you’re guessing the wound is. You can vaguely make out what appears to be cut fabric, so you’re assuming he was stabbed.

“How deep did the knife go?” you ask.

“Hm. ‘Bout two inches?” he offers.

“Why’d you take it out?” you ask incredulously. Anyone with half a brain knew not to take a knife out of a stab wound.

“No idea. Should’ve just gone runnin’ around the city with a knife wedged in my leg.”

The mask’s modulator does nothing to hide the teasing edge to his voice. Of everything you’d heard about Red Hood, you’d never heard he was such a smartass.

“You know how to do stitches?” he asks.

Great. So he saw the deer-in-headlights look you had while thinking about how to fix his stab wound.

“If you count mending clothing then, uh, sure,” you reply.

The white slits of the helmet stare hard at you before a warped chuckle comes from under it.

“Well, close enough.”

Oh, so he liked to gamble with his health then. Okay. Sure. Great. You could totally do this. Untrained, unlicensed, unsupervised you. You have to stop your hands from shaking as you thread the curved needle. You have to stop yourself from vomiting with anxiety as you push the needle through his skin. He hisses and you immediately feel bad. He’d handled the alcohol without flinching, but the stitches were a different story. You whisper sorry’s with every puncture of his skin you make. Soon enough, his leg is closed up and the whole thing is said and done.

“Okay, should be good to go,” you start, “Well, not good per se, but functional to go.”

A hum and a quick nod of his head are the only response you get before he’s back on his feet. He’s about to climb out your window for the second time tonight when you call out to him again. He turns around and you’d swear he almost seems exasperated.

“Take these with you. You’ll probably need them,” you say as you toss him a water bottle and a small carton of orange juice.

He snatches them easily from the air. But then he just stands there and stares at the drinks in his hands. You think you may have somehow offended him and go to apologize when he speaks.

“Thanks,” he says, mechanical voice catching on the word.

And then he’s gone. Out your window and off into the night. Once you shut and lock the window you feel exhaustion hit you like a freight train. All the adrenaline drains from you and it takes whatever energy you have left to collapse on to your bed and drift off to sleep.

You’ll never know it, but the Red Hood spends the last fifteen minutes of his patrol sipping his orange juice and dutifully watching your apartment window.

You’ll never know it, but Jason Todd lingers across the street to make sure you get home from the grocery store safely, and he scoffs as he sees you feed and pet a stray dog. It’s silly, he thinks.

Don’t you know that now you’ve shown it some kindness, it’ll just keep coming back?

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #remy writes 🖋️

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