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wndaswife · 2 years ago

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i'll be your mirror

「 elizabeth olsen & gn!reader 」

tags: fluff, humour, mildly suggestive behaviour, lots of teasing (because we all know teasing is lizzie's love language), reader is a rambling fool on cloud nine

word count: 2363

summary: Though she had come home overwhelmed by the weight of her busy day, you ease your girlfriend into indulging her birthday. Fortunately for you, she is rather patient with those she loves.

a/n: my love letter to lizzie <33 happiest of birthdays to the most darling angel !!

Candlelight illuminated the house save a single lamp turned on in the dining room where a plate of chocolate-covered fruit was set on a plate at the centre of the table.

Despite the minimalistic display of confections, the actual process of making them had been a mess. By the end of it, you were wiping hardened chocolate from the walls and cabinets.

Your girlfriend was always the better cook.

But today, on her birthday, you vowed to surprise her.

You wore the cashmere sweater she bought you on Christmas and a black maxi skirt that flowed down to the floor.

For the last few months, Lizzie had been working on Sorry For Your Loss, a series that was demanding in needing the full dedication of both her talents as an actress and as an executive producer. When she wasn’t being filmed, she was filming, and when she wasn’t doing either of that, she was working with the sound crew and discussing lighting and shots and funding and countless other things you didn’t understand.

The series was an important project for her as draining as it often was. She didn’t spend a single moment not putting her best efforts towards it, even as she came home completely exhausted from the responsibilities she carried on set atop of being occasionally emotionally drained from the role she had to take on.

Today felt something similar.

The sound of the front door unlocking carried towards the kitchen and you walked over to the front door, welcoming your girlfriend.

You watched as her gaze raised from the floor to the inside of the house, her eyes running over the dimly-lit hallways illuminated with gentle flickers of warm candlelight. Her expression, though initially weighed down by the earlier stressors of the day, softened at the sight of your efforts.

Green eyes filled with mirth and an appreciative smile tugged at her lips.

“Surprise,” you said, outstretching your arms and flourishing into an awkward pair of jazz hands.

Lizzie’s smile grew into a wide grin and she set her bag and keys down to hug you. She exhaled satisfiedly when you hugged her back, releasing the day’s pent-up tension. “You’re so sweet,” she muttered. “Thank you.”

“How was your day?” you asked her quietly, rubbing your palm against her lower back.

She groaned in response then said, “I need wine before I talk about anything even remotely related to my day.”

Kissing your neck and breathing in the scent of your hair, Lizzie complimented, “This sweater looks amazing on you.” She pulled away and kissed the bridge of your nose.

“You give really great gifts,” you said, beaming at her. “And… speaking of gifts…”

You took Lizzie’s hand with both of yours and led her towards the living room excitedly. She chuckled adoringly as she followed behind you, watching you walk forward into the mellow lighting of the living room.

The both of you rounded the couch where a bottle of chardonnay and two wine glasses sat on the coffee table along with a half-decent-looking charcuterie board.

“Looks nice, right?” you asked, putting both hands on your hips as you looked down at your creation proudly. “Almost looks professional, like you set it up.”

Lizzie wrapped an arm around your shoulders and placed her hand against the side of your head, pulling you against her. “Oh, baby,” she cooed and kissed your temple. “You’re cute when you think you could compare to my dinner spreads.”

Looking back over to the wine and its glasses, she eyed each carefully-placed cold cut and biscuit and slice of cheese on the wooden board. “But I gotta say,” she added, “this does cut it close.”

You giggled when she kissed the top of your head before you took her hand again and led her down to the couch. She settled down beside you, your knees brushing against each other.

With undivided attention, Lizzie watched your face as you opened the bottle, admiring your beauty.

When you looked back at her, she was already looking at you, a dimpled smile on her soft lips. She took the bottle from you and you lifted both of the glasses up for her to fill.

Your girlfriend leaned back into the arm of the couch, taking a sip of her glass of chardonnay. “Fuck, this is good,” she sighed and grinned at you. She reached forward and ran her hand up your thigh. “I missed you. Tell me how your day was.”

“Well, I bought a bunch of candles in the morning after you left,” you said.

Lizzie laughed and squeezed your knee. “Yeah?”

“And then I set them around the house, made dessert, this…” You gestured to the charcuterie board. “Then lit the candles and got ready.”

“That’s it?” she inquired with a tip of her head.

You recalled, “And I watched, like, three episodes of Fleabag.”

“Did you like it?” Lizzie asked, looking at you over the rim of her glass as she took another sip.

“Made me think of you.”

She grinned. “God, I really have you wrapped around my finger, huh?”

Teasing you was to Lizzie as the sun was to a flower. There was not very much that put her off from teasing you whenever she could, poking fun at her partner who she believed had the sweetest little blush.

“Oh, you have no idea,” you answered, feigning a contrite expression and shaking your head disappointedly. “One day I’ll break free.”

Lizzie giggled loudly and slapped your arm. “You’re an asshole sometimes,” she said, narrowing her eyes with a teasing grin on her face. “You know that, right?”

“Your asshole, though.”

“Don’t ever say that again.”

It took a moment for you to reflect on your previous words before finally understanding her joke, and when you did, you let out a loud laugh that was painfully late.

She watched you, her smile growing. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” you answered and laid your head on her shoulder where you buried your face into her neck. Your breathy laughs tickled her and she lifted both your glasses onto the coffee table. She pushed you off of her so your back met the cushions of the couch. She swung her leg over your hips and mounted you, lowering herself so your faces were mere inches away from each other.

You broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Something funny?” she asked, grinning down at you.

“Very funny,” you laughed.

She looked down at you, incredibly entertained and rather smitten with the way you giggled underneath her. “Tell me, then.”

“You’re funny.”

“I’m very funny,” Lizzie conceded and nodded. “I’m known for being quite funny.”

You nodded in sarcastic agreement. “Fame has gotten to your head, Elizabeth Chase.”

“Oh, don’t,” she groaned and hid her face against your cheek, making you chuckle so hard she could feel your laugh make your chest and shoulders flutter gently.

Eventually when your laughing ceased she sat up, pulling you up with her. She fit you between her thighs and you rested against her stomach. She looked down at you, playing with your hair.

“How did work go?” you uttered softly, wanting to be delicate about the topic. You crossed your arms against her stomach and rested your chin atop of your forearm, looking up at her.

She sighed, pushing her hair out of her face and looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know,” she said. “Tiring.”

“Did you film today? Or was it mostly just editing?”

“No, we did both,” she answered. “Shot, reshot, edited the scenes we shot and reshot, talked about funding, talked about sound, went from department to department.” The fatigued expression you’d seen when Lizzie first stepped through the front door came over her in a slightly sombre overcast as she recalled her day.

You tucked your hand under the hem of her shirt, running your palm up the smooth plain of her stomach soothingly. You kissed her through her shirt. “I’m sorry,” you sympathised. “Don’t you ever feel like they’re overworking you or something? Do all executive producers do the same thing?”

“The other execs do the same, but they don’t have to work both in front of the camera and behind it,” she said. She played with your hair, the pads of her fingers rubbing against your scalp. “So naturally I have more on my plate.”

“Do they ever offer to take on more responsibilities to ease your load?”

Lizzie shook her head. “I wouldn’t let them do my work.”

“Why? It’s a team effort, anyways. It’s not like you’re doing any more or any less.”

“That’s not really true,” she disagreed. “Work is work. I either do it or I don’t, and it’s the load I have to carry.”

“But you’re a person too, Liz, not just someone who works.”

She smiled down at you and caressed your cheek with her hand. “I’m both.”

“You’re a person first,” you insisted.

Her smile widened and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Is that so?” she asked.

“It feels like you’re always pushing yourself for more work to the point where you sometimes get caught up in it,” you elaborated. “Like you forget you don’t have to pay for what you’ve earned.”

She suppressed a small dimpled grin at your words. “Tell me how I’ve earned what I have,” she urged, subtly imploring you for more compliments and taking pleasure in the way you gushed over her.

“I don’t know, I mean…” you trailed off, slightly embarrassed as you caught yourself rambling on about how you adored her. “You’re such a hard worker and… smart.”

“Really?” Elizabeth asked, smiling sweetly at you. She tucked your hair behind your ear. “How?”

“You went to NYU, worked hard for your enrollment there, essentially got a certification in real estate for a fun summer job, then worked on several amazing movies all while studying,” you firstly mentioned. “You’re the most confidently opinionated person I know while also being so educated and open-minded, which is a rather rare combination, and I could talk to you for hours about anything. Like, anything, seriously. And I’d enjoy it. No matter what, I walk away feeling like a cooler, smarter person after being with you.”

Lizzie laughed, sitting up and wrapping her arms around your shoulders. “You’re such a fucking dork,” she giggled. “So cute.” She kissed your cheek, lingering for a few moments before pulling away to look at you, her eyes soft with her admiration for you.

“You would’ve bullied me in high school.”

“You would’ve liked it,” she quipped, scrunching her nose up at you.

You kissed her and she cupped your cheek with her warm hand, stroking your cheekbone with her thumb.

“Thank you,” she uttered against your lips, her gaze darting up from them to meet your eyes. “You know how overwhelmed I can get. It gets hard to see things as they are. I’m lucky to have you, Y/N.”

“And I most definitely would’ve bullied you in high school,” she jested with a grin.

You kissed her cheek and wrapped your arms around her, burying your face between your arms and her neck. “No, you would’ve been nice. Like you are now.”

She laughed softly through her nose before kissing the top of your head. "I love you so, so much," she uttered against your hair.

"I love you too," you answered, hugging yourself close to her.

Then you exclaimed suddenly, making Lizzie jump, "Oh!" You darted out of her hold. “I almost forgot. Wait.”

You stood from the couch and your girlfriend watched as you walked back into the foyer. You returned with your hands behind your back and approached her in the most casual way possible.

She narrowed her eyes and turned in her spot to look at you.

Then you brought forward a birthday cone hat from behind your back, a pink pompom on top and rimmed with sparkly gold streamers wrapped around it with a large, ‘It’s my birthday!’ written around it in large text.

Lizzie turned it around and revealed more text on the other side that read, ‘I’m five!’

She looked up at you with raised eyebrows.

“I… I didn’t see that,” you said awkwardly. “Well, who cares?”

You stretched the hat’s elastic under Lizzie’s chin then secured the hat on top of her head. She stood up and walked towards the mirror beside the front door.

She tried to straighten it, a perfectionistic tendency, but you kept it slightly tipped to the side.

“You look cute.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled and averted her smile formed from the silly compliment.

She turned to you and wrapped her arms around your hips. “So, what’d you make for us?”

You walked backwards with her arms still wrapped around your body until you stepped into the dining room. You pointed at the plate of chocolate-covered fruit.

Green eyes flickered between the dessert plate to you. “That’s… That? That’s what you made?”

You looked over at the plate again, reevaluating it. It looked fine considering you made it. You nodded.

“Baby, we need to eat more than that. I’ll make you something.”

“No-o,” you whined. “It’s your birthday, you shouldn’t be doing anything.”

“Then how about I teach you how to make a frittata?”

You protested, “But that’s still work.”

“You know how much I like to boss you around.”

You bunched your lips to the side, contemplating.

Her hands travelled downwards and took two handfuls of your ass, pulling you against her. She grinned when you gasped. “You’re gonna deny me on my birthday?”

“I hardly deny you, like, ever.”

“My point exactly.”

She nuzzled her nose against your cheek. “Come on. Let me let you make us a frittata,” she giggled.

“Can we eat the fruit first?” you asked.

“For dessert, baby. And we can have your charcuterie board too,” she told you, keeping a hand on the curve of your ass as the two of you walked to the kitchen. “We don’t want to ruin your dinner, do we?”

“I’m not the five-year-old here.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes lightheartedly. “Don’t push it. I can still take this hat off.”

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#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen x gender neutral reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #marvel fanfiction

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alotofpockets · 2 years ago

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I love you always forever | Elizabeth Olsen

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Prompt: “You wrote me a song?”

A/N: the actual song credits go to Donna Lewis.

masterlist | marvel masterlist | Words: 560

Over the past couple of days you had seen Lizzie writing in a journal you hadn’t seen before. Usually when she’d get new stuff she was excited about she’d show it to you immediately. However, the first time you saw her with the journal she was very adamant on not showing you the inside of it, you were only allowed to have a quick peak at the cover of the journal. Despite being even more curious of the contents of the journal now than before, you respected Elizabeth’s boundaries and let the curiosity rest.

Some days she would grab it and scribble something down really quick, before closing it and putting it down again. On other days, she would be writing in it for hours on end. You were very intrigued as to what had caught your girlfriends interest, nonetheless you kept your distance from the contents of the journal. The contents remained a mystery to you.

Until one day when you got home from work. Lizzie was sitting on the couch with her guitar in hand. It had been a long time since you had seen her play it, she must have gotten back into playing it recently. “Welcome home, darling.” She says greeting you. “Come sit down, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Hi baby.” You say as you sit down on the opposite side of the couch, “I love your surprises. Does it involve the guitar?” You ask jokingly, because of course it did. “Yes, I wrote you something.” Your mind falls on the journal that is laying on the coffee table and the puzzle piece start falling into place. “You wrote me a song?” You question. “I did.” She says with the most adorable smile. “It’s not done yet, but I didn’t want to keep it a secret from you anymore.”

You move towards her to kiss her lips softly. As you move back you tell her, “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been working on.” And with that she starts strumming the guitar.

I love you always forever Near or far, closer together Everywhere I will be with you Everything I will do for you I love you always forever Near or far, closer together Everywhere I will be with you Everything I will do for you You loved the way her voice melted together with the cords that she played. Looking at her with your eyes full of love, like she was your whole world. Because she was, she was perfect. Say you'll love and love me forever Never stop, never whatever Near and far and always Everywhere and every(thing) She continues strumming a little before fading it out. “What did you think?” She asks, looking at you expectantly as she puts down the guitar. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I love it so incredibly much. You are so talented, my love, and I am the luckiest person in the world with you by my side. Thank you so much.”

You see a slight relieve falling off her shoulders, making you realize she had been nervous about sharing this with you. You move closer to her again and wrap your arms around her. “I love you. Always. Forever.” You speak the words she sang. The words you had told each other so many times over the last couple years.

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#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen x gender neutral reader #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen fluff #lizzie olsen #lizzie olsen imagine #lizzie olsen x reader #lizzie olsen x you

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ginnsbaker · 3 months ago

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My Sundown

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Agent.”

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

But you know he means you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, Wanda complies without a word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Wanda Maximoff isn't most people.

“Why do you do this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanda couldn't possibly know. Unless—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long until Hydra enhances my powers?”

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

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

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

Use me.

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

“We’re moving as fast as we can—”

“Move faster.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to fuck me?”

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

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

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

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

Wait—love?

This is, at best, lust—nothing more.

“No,” you repeat with more conviction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve got nothing.

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

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

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

“Supplements.”

Wanda raises a skeptical brow.

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

“May I?” you gesture toward her arm.

Wanda eyes you warily, then gives a quick nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No promises,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs in relief. “Be careful…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Done.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanda, wait—”

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you here?”

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

“I'm fine,” she answers flatly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, Wanda. I'll do just that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you're faster.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everyday,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The quiet doesn’t last long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A loss of purpose.

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

But they don’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well?” she asks impatiently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wish—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You love it.”

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

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

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

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natromi · 3 months ago

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Insomniac Nights

Prompt: “I can't sleep, do you mind a cuddle?“

Wanda Maximoff being unable to sleep because of her nightmares, decides to choose you out of everyone for a cuddle. You think she's joking, why would she choose you? She thinks you're cute for being so naive on her growing feelings for you.

Warnings: None because this is pure fluff! Maybe like a little bit of a possessive mindset at the end but it's vague methinks.

Word Count: 390, short one to start with.

Wanda let out a sigh as she rolled from one side of her bed to the other, her head on her hands as she contemplated fighting a god for her lack of sleep. She could very well fight a god or two if she wished, maybe she would choose to fight Morpheus if he so much as appeared on her line of sight. Alas, she didn't have the energy or the mental capacity to handle a fight, let alone with the dream man.

And so she sat down, eyes on the colourless wall as she got lost in her mind for a while. She thought about how unlucky she was to get nightmares, while you were sleeping quite peacefully next door. Maybe she envied your ability to sleep so much and so well, maybe she envied that you cuddled your pillow, and not her.

As thoughts swirled around her mind, she thought of what she wanted to do. Either she could suffer by herself and try to go back to sleep, or she could ask you, her best friend, and most oblivious person in the multiverse, to cuddle her. Because obviously friends cuddled all the time!

She made up her mind after a couple minutes (which felt like hours), standing up and walking quietly to your room. Choosing to open the door quietly, as to not wake you up, she found you reading a book. A surprised look on her face as she expected you to have been sleeping by now.

Too surprised to notice your stare on hers, she broke into a soft, shy smile. The darkness hiding her flushed cheeks, your silent motion for her to walk in allowed her to close the door slowly, walking over to you. There was a silent understanding of what she wanted, and you were perfectly okay in this thought to be platonic move.

You enveloped her in your arms, a soft sigh leaving Wanda's lips as she found comfort in your body heat, the way you smelled, and your tight hold as you went back to reading. She found these moments incredibly peaceful, that she often thought about how she could ever deserve you, her most prized possession.

But you didn't know that yet, you didn't need to. You would understand soon enough that she was the only one for you.

This is my first oneshot that I publish!! I hope you guys enjoy it. Feel free to repost, send a comment or just like this. It'll mean so much to me to know that it's being liked. (:

#wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #fluff #oneshot #x reader #reader insert #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x gn reader #wanda x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff x gn reader #preferably read as wlw but I'm not stopping you #marvel fanfiction

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aggieslittlebunny · 1 month ago

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history professor!wanda x university student!reader moodboard

tags: @wandasdove @softlymaximoff @chiar4anna @themilfsland

#bunnymoodboards.ᐟ #i swear being a history student isnt this aesthetic #i desperately want her to be my professor #maybe then ill be motivated enough to finish my research quickly #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff moodboard #wanda moodboard #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x gn reader #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen moodboard #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #lizzie olsen moodboard

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noonecares915 · 1 year ago

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This is the image that made me fall in love with Wanda. The rocks look like angel winds, making her even more angelic.

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juiles · 1 year ago

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Why me?

Summary: y/n is Wanda and Natasha’s partner. After a misunderstanding and 3 months of pain, they finally break through.

Tags: angst and then fluff

Warnings: self harm, pain, fighting, kinda angsty Nat, insecure reader, intrusive thoughts, yelling.

A/N: here’s an angsty wandanat x reader fic that i’ve wanted to read for a while but can’t seem to find any with this plot so if you know of one let me know.

Masterlist here!

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Y/N pov

When i walked into the kitchen, I wasn’t expecting to see Natasha and Wanda wrapped up in each others arms, even though i should have, but i definitely was not expecting to hear Wanda utter the words that shattered my heart.

“You, and you alone, are my entire world and I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend…” She had muttered into Natasha’s neck, neither of them noticing me in the room giving me the chance to walk out in silence.

I should have expected that, the last few months they have slowly started separating themselves from me. Busying themselves in their work so much I never saw them anymore, anytime they weren’t busy, they seemed to find a way to ignore me and when they were around me they weren’t necessarily nice.

This interaction had given me that last needed push to finally give up. I pulled all my clothes into a bag and went back into my old room down the hall, haphazardly throwing the bag in the corner of my room. I felt a sob build up in my throat and with a quick lock of my door and telling Friday to sound proof my room and not let anyone in, i collapsed into a ball in my room and allowed myself to sob for 30 minutes before picking myself up and dusting myself off.

I decided then and there that I would push myself into my work. I wouldn’t let them ruin my life, at least not my life with the avengers.

It had been 3 months since that day, of course Natasha and Wanda hadn’t even noticed i had left or started avoiding them. None of the teams seemed to have noticed anything different about me which just pulled me further into my shell. I had a very simple routine, wake up at 4, train for 2 hours making sure to be in a private room. Grab something for breakfast if i was feeling it, which lately I hadn’t been. Be in the labs by 6:30 to start work. Skip lunch, working the whole day with my headphones on. I managed to avoid ground dinners a lot but sometimes i got sucked in, not like anyone even noticed if I was there or not.

Wanda’s POV

I guess Natasha and I hadn’t noticed how we had been distancing ourselves from y/n but in the last month or so I noticed how different things had been. Maybe we had been too caught up in our work or our lives but somehow y/n had managed to distance themselves from us even more. They had moved out from our shared room and we almost never saw them during the day.

“She’s probably just being petty that we have lives other than her.” Natasha said as we discussed what was going on. “They’re not being adult about this. They should have spoken to us rather than just leave.”

“I don’t think we ever gave them the chance Nat… we’ve been really distant… the day we we’re practicing what to say to them when we proposed… i think they heard us… i don’t think they realized it was about them… and up until then we had been finding ways to avoid them to not make the engagement noticeable.” I said, tears threatening to fall from my eyes. “We really messed up…”

We both looked up when we heard the kitchen door open and to both our surprise we saw y/n standing in the doorway. They had an unreadable look on their face before they quickly turned on their heel and stormed out of the room, towards their own room. My eyes widened and very quickly my body was racing after their own without a thought in my head.

Before I even got the door, it slammed in my face making me screech to a stop staring at the dark brown wood in front of me, tears now falling from my eyes. “Y/n… please open the door.” I all but whimpered before leaning back into Natasha’s arms who had followed behind me. “Please… we just want to talk…”

I heard a smash and a scream so loud it almost hurt my ears more than my heart. Another smash happened before Natasha made the decision to kick the door down revealing y/n in a very panicked state throwing items around their room. Glass and paper already scattered around the floor.

“FUCK OFF.” They screamed throwing a vase at my head, i barely dodged it, a small piece that shattered on the wall behind me, lodged into my arm making me gasp in pain. The gasp must have shaken them out of their frenzy as they stopped and slowly turned to face me, eyes drawn to the small amount of blood trickling down my arm. “Wanda… oh god… oh my god i am so sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Their head snapped up to look at me before they backed away, arms being held up defensively. “I’m sorry… please don’t hate me… please…” They pleaded staring at my eyes, a look of pure fear in their eyes.

“Detka… I would never-“

“DON’T. DON’T SAY THAT. ITS A LIE! YOU DID!” They screamed at me before going back to the fear and they cowered again when Natasha took a slow step forward, tears falling down her face.

“We never meant to hurt you… we swear… we love you more than anything… please… let us help you…” She finally made it to y/n’s trembling body and managed to pull them into her arms. “We want to help you…”

I kneeled in front of y/n’s sobbing form and held their hands as they sobbed and screamed into Natasha’s chest.

After what felt like hours, their sobs and screams disappeared into soft sniffles, their face still buried deep into her neck. That’s when I finally took a good look at them. They were shaking, their body looking very frail and skinny, as they pulled their face out of Nats neck, and I noticed the dark circles under the eyes, how pale they were, how lost their eyes are. “Oh detka…” I murmured cupping their face. All they did was stare at me. “I am SO sorry that we ever made you feel like we don’t love you… we love you so much it hurts. It hurts to know that we hurt you. It breaks our hearts because not once did we even step back to notice we were hurting you, that we were so engrossed in our plans that we failed to notice what we were doing to you.”

Their face contorted u to pain when i softly grabbed their wrist making me pull back their sleeve before they got the chance, my heart falling even further into my stomach. There on their wrist were bloody cuts scattered around. “Please let me clean these… baby they look infected. Even if you don’t want us around, i want to make sure you stay safe.” They glanced down at their own wrist before looking at Natasha before looking back at me and they nodded. I shot up and ran into the bathroom before coming back with the first aid kit.

“It will sting but you grip my arm as tightly as humanly possible, it will help.” Natasha murmured into their ear, they nodded staring down at their arm, their good hand gripping onto Nats. I started cleaning the wounds, y/n barely made a sound but I could see the pain in their eyes so i did it as fast as possible, wrapping them up before showering the bandages with kisses. “All better…”

“You… my… I’m sorry…” They muttered squeezing their eyes shut.

“No. No you don’t need to apologize. We do. For the rest of our lives we will be apologizing for ever causing you pain. You are our world y/n. The three of us against the world.” Natasha stopped them quickly holding them tighter. “Detka… you’re too skinny… have… have you not been eating?”

They tended up before I stroked their cheeks gently. “We’re not mad baby… but we need to know… we need to make sure your taken care of so let’s get some food in you baby…” They bit their lip and started shaking their head before Nat cleared her throat and they took a deep sigh before nodding gently.

Nat scooped them up into her arms bridal style and carried them down to the kitchen before placing them on her lap as she sat on a stool. “What do you want to eat detka…?”

It was silent for a moment before a small whisper was heard. “Wanda’s alfredo…?” Was hushed but my I couldn’t fight the smile growing in my face. “Of course baby.”

I instantly started flitting around the kitchen doing what was needed. It was silent for at least 10 minutes before they spoke again.

“I never wanted to upset you guys… before you stop me let me speak. I’m just so used to being used, hurt then dropped as if I’m garbage…” They’re eyes welled up slowly. “I just… i just needed to pull myself away before you could hurt me and I ended up hurting all of us… I’m sorry i didn’t talk to you guys before and assumed the worst…” My heart shattered even more. “I love you guys so much it made me want to go numb so I couldn’t get hurt again…”

“We love you baby… we love you so much and these last 3 months have been torture but it was our own fault.” Natasha said running her calloused hands through y/n’s hair. “We will spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. Now eat so we can go snuggle in bed to sleep my love.”

Y/n stared at the bowl, their bottom lip wobbling. “I’m scared…” They whispered.

“Baby… me and you and Wanda are going to do this together. Understand?” They nodded with a small sniffle. “Now open up so you can eat.” They opened their mouth and slowly we made our way through the bowl.

After they ate, we made our way back upstairs to our bedroom and settled them in between us, pulling their bony body into ours. “Why me?”

“Because you are our world detka and no matter what we say or do nothing will ever be able to make up for what we did to you.”

Y/n sniffled before snuggling back down into us with a small content smile on their faces they fell asleep.

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romanoffshouse · 1 year ago

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Ice skating with Wanda Maximoff

Wanda Maximoff Moodboards Moodboard Masterlist

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lives-in-midgard · 10 months ago

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Valentine's Day With Wanda

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

A/N: Hey everyone! This is a headcanon of how I imagine a Valentine's day with Wanda could be like. I hope you enjoy! 💗

Masterlist

You woke up cuddling with Wanda.

You kissed her cheek and started to play with her hair.

After a few minutes Wanda woke up as well and you stayed in bed for a while.

Then you had pancakes for breakfast and Wanda told you that she has a little surprise planned for today.

She told you to wait in the living room while she got everything she needed.

She came back with a blanket, a picknick basket and the most beautiful smile.

While listening to your and Wanda’s favorite playlist, she drove to the direction of the beach.

You walked down the street while holding hands.

After a while you found a place that sold flower bouquets.

Wanda walked closer and bought one for you and you bought one for her.

Then you walked down to the beach, sat down on the blanket, and enjoyed the view with each other by your side.

After a while Wanda opened the basket and showed you everything, she gave into it.

There were cupcakes that looked like hearts, drinks and everything you liked.

You also had a little surprise for her.

It were two-piece heart necklaces. One necklace is for Wanda and the other one for you, so that when you put it together it is a heart.

Wanda loved your surprise, and you enjoyed the sunset at the beach.

You and Wanda kissed and you told her how much you love her.

When you came home you cuddled, watched a movie and were really happy because you had such a wonderful day together.

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @eviebuggg | @yelenasdiary | @youralphawolf72

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abbyromanoff · 9 months ago

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hellooo, i wanna request some story, this is kinda angst of something so basically, yn and lizzie have a date plan or dinner plan or something and yn like spent 2 days just fixing everything to be perfect for the plan but yn spent hours too just to wait for lizzie and unfortunately yn get the voicemail that lizzie cant catch up anymore because she has to do something else... so that's it... joint it with the conclusion if you want !!

PICK AND CHOOSE

PAIRINGS: Elizabeth Olsen x reader

WORD COUNT: 1863

WARNINGS: angst, guilt, arguing, kinda mean!Lizzie, jealousy, fluff, think that’s it :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. The candles were the only light illuminating the room, the dinner you had prepared sat patiently on the table, and you wore her favorite dress.

She was meant to be home early tonight seeing as the two of you had been planning this for a few weeks. But as the clock continued to tick, your hopes slowly lessened. You had tried calling her eight times already, and six messages were left in her inbox now.

You sat with a frown, sighing with sadness lurking in your body. You rubbed your tired eyes that had tears prepped and gathered the food into a container, placing a sticky note on the top and writing ‘you missed date night again, here’s leftovers.’ It took up until an hour later when she finally answered your call.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“‘What’s up?’ Really? You’re asking me what’s up?” Her brows tightened, her confusion growing.

“Uhm, yes? What did I do? I’m confused.” You were growing angrier as she continued to speak, and you felt your hands clenching until they were reddened.

“Hm, I don’t know, Elizabeth, what did you do? Oh, that’s right! Our fucking date night is missed once again, what a surprise!” You heard a deep breath coming from the other side before a mumbled curse shot from her lips.

“Look, baby, I’m really sorry-“

“I don’t feel like hearing it right now, this is the third fucking time in the past two months alone that you’ve stood me up! Do you know how embarrassing it is to dress up all nice, make dinner, prepare candles and a bath, and clean every inch of the house to the brim just so we could have one nice night that you promised you’d finally make it to?”

“I know, I know, okay? I’m really, really fucking sorry, baby. I promise to make it up to you, I do.” You shook your head in disbelief with a chuckle.

“No, don’t promise me shit anymore. I can’t trust a word you tell me.” The both of you were suddenly interrupted, her by the director asking for her presence, and you by a call by your friend.

“Go ahead and leave, I’m getting a call anyways.”

“Wait- look, can we talk about this later?”

“Yes, bye.” You nearly pressed the button before her voice quickly entered once again.

“That’s it? No ‘love you?’”

“I have to answer Scarlett, Lizzie. Love you bye.” You cut off her last few words that came in revult and answered the call quickly, apologizing for taking so long the moment her voice met the sound waves.

“Don’t worry about it, I was just seeing if you were doing anything. I’m all alone and usually I would love that but I need some company.” You chuckled, leaning against the counter once you grabbed the glass of wine you earlier poured for yourself.

“Yeah, I’m all alone too. Me and Liz were meant to have a date tonight but she missed it again, so I’m all yours.” You could hear whatever actions the woman was doing come to a halt quickly.

“Are you serious? Again, Y/N? Why are you still letting her treat you like this?” You looked down to your glass, the reflection from the red drink making you realize how crappy your life was slowly becoming. If it wasn’t for Scarlett, you’d be all alone.

“I don’t mean to. Can you just come over maybe? I made dinner for us and, well, she didn’t touch it so it’s all yours.” Twenty minutes later a knock was placed on your door before she walked in. She didn’t need to knock, she only insisted on doing so to alert you of her arrival.

“Hello, darlin’, where’s my food?” You handed her a plate that you heated up, as you had taken the foot out of Lizzie’s container and redid your little table design. She oohed at the candles and pulled out your chair for you before heading to her own.

“Mm, this is delicious, sweetheart; you always know how to feed me right.” You chuckled softly, picking at your own.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t let that bitch get you down.”

“She’s my fiancé, not a bitch.” You didn’t sound entirely sure or convincing on your answer, and she rolled her eyes jokingly.

“You know I don’t like her.”

“You used to. You know, before me and her got together, you guys were friends.” You felt as though you ruined the small bond the two had, and you didn’t want to be the fault. While you found it hysterical whenever your best friend would make fun of your lover, you still didn’t want to be the cause of their damage.

“Yeah because you two together opened my eyes on how aggravating she is.” You hummed and twirled the engagement ring on your finger, your eyes seemingly getting lost in the pearls that adorned it.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. Look, I’m sorry but if she can’t even show up to a few dates how is she going to show up to other important stuff? Like, I don’t know, birthdays, or something.”

“It was just a few dates though, it’s not like she missed our wedding.”

“It’s not just a date, it was something that was clearly important to you that you worked so hard on. She couldn’t even care enough about your date to remember it, what makes you think she’ll care about anything else?” You felt all your witty comebacks falling short as you had no response. She was right, Lizzie obviously didn’t care enough to show up now, who’s to say she ever will?

“Someone would have to be a complete idiot to stand up a pretty girl like you, and I don’t think those five years at college have been doing her any good apparently.” You grinned as she shrugged her shoulders, knowing herself that she was right.

“Well, now that the better person is here, why don’t we have some fun?” You failed to notice the dinging texts from your phone, and you failed to care. You fully engrossed your mind in the moment with Scarlett, because nothing brought you more joy than doing so.

‘youre hanging out with scarlett? wtf it was a date that’s it’

‘you know i dont like her Y/N’

‘fucking answer me already’

‘im on my way home, you better be there when i arrive’

‘why cant you just take sorry? i told you i was sorry is that not enough’

‘im nearby’

‘stop fucking ignoring me Y/N’

‘baby im sorry imma make it up to you just answer me please’

‘this shit is seriously starting to piss me off’

To anyone else, she would’ve seemed incredibly overbearing and possessive, but you never once saw her that way. She was anxious and worried to lose you, was all.

“You don’t use your phone anymore? If I’m the one paying for that shit then you can fucking answer my texts, Y/N.” Your eyes met hers as you placed your card down for the game the two of you had engaged in. It didn’t help you case how close you two looked as you sat opposite to hide your deck, your legs entangled and your bodies close enough to cause suspicion. You didn’t see it this way, and you assumed Scarlett hadn’t either, so you didn’t understand why Lizzie was so mad.

“Shit, I didn’t know you texted me, I’m sorry.” You quickly responded, but Scarlett was hot on your tails.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that?” Lizzie clenched her jaw tightly as she removed her jacket in a quick manner, throwing it on the couch as she spoke.

“I’m talking to my fiancé, Scarlett, and I don’t think you have any place in this. So I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” But she didn’t budge, only crossing her arms over her chest as you watched a small dispute form between the two. It felt like your world was slowly caving in even deeper, and every piece of it was caused by Elizabeth. Scarlett was the one helping you repair her damage, but it didn’t help when you continued on with your relationship still.

“Please stop arguing. I’m sorry, okay? I tried making this house perfect for you and I prepared a nice dinner and a bath, I even wore my nicest dress for you when knowing the pieces cut into my shoulder blade. You didn’t show up and that’s not my fault, and I’m tired of waiting on you for everything. So can I please just have one night where I get to be with my friend and actually laugh and smile before I have to deal with this again? I’m tired of it, Lizzie, it’s so tiring going back and forth with you constantly and I need some time away from you right now.” Their words came to a halt, and they both turned to face you. Your fiancé stared at you with a hint of sadness covered by disbelief, while Scarlett gave you a sorrowful look.

“Seriously? You’re this pissed over one date? We can reschedule or something, I was busy at work because some of us actually have jobs and have to make their own money for a living.”

“It’s not just a date, Liz. You put work before me now and everything has changed. Just because I’m not the one paying for it doesn’t mean I’m not the one putting food on the table, I do just as much as you by taking care of this place.” Your best friend stood closer to you now, rubbing your shoulders soothingly as she took your hand and walked you away. Lizzie followed after you two with complaints, but Scarlett closed the door to your bedroom before she could enter. The lock was turned, and while you felt horrible for not letting your partner into her own room, you knew you didn’t want to see her right now.

“Alright, beautiful, I’ll deal with her and you stay here and try and get some rest for me, yeah?” You nodded and stared at your fingers that tapped against your leg nervously.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make this a big deal.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, the woman outside that door is the one who did. This will never be your fault, and if she tries to make that seem true you let me know right away.” You were lucky to have the blonde help you so much, and you just wished Liz was able to do the same as her. But they could never compete, Scarlett would always win the way to your heart in the end and deep down your lover knew that, which is why she was so mad you chose her instead of waiting. But she also knew you deserved better than her, and she knew she couldn’t give you the same love you deserved. But she would never be willing to let you go, whether she knew it was wrong or not, you would always be her girl.

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wandanatsbaby · 1 year ago

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Fainting and Marriage

Pairing: Elizabeth olsen x Reader (no pronouns are used)

Warnings: fainting, stress

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You waited nervously as the phone rang. As it went to voicemail you let out a sigh.

“Hey Liz.. I was just calling to ask where you are. Um I love you bye.” Hanging up you placed your phone back in your purse before looking around sadly. The Wedding prep was almost done. Flowers had been chosen, colors, bridesmaid dresses, and cake had just been decided. You did all this alone as Lizzie had been busy with work and not shown up to any of it.

You shivered a little as the wind blew. Walking towards the car you frowned as your vision started to turn black. All you remember is Scarlett calling out for you before you hit the grass.

“Iare they going to be okay? What Happened!” You heard your fiance's voice as you slowly started to wake.

“Miss Olsen It seems your fiance passed out due to stress and an elevated heart race. they should be okay but we’d like to keep an eye on her for the night.”

You quickly close your eyes again once they are met with the bright light of the hospital.

“Oh Baby!” Lizzie said, relieved as she walked over to you quickly and held your hand. “Are you alright? Are you feeling okay? I'm so sorry I should have been there.” She kept rambling nervously as her hands shook.

“I'm okay. It's alright you had work I understand.” She frowned hearing your words. She hated that she didn’t make time to help you plan for the wedding. It had been her Idea to get married in the first place and she couldn’t even help with preparations.

“I'm sorry I’ve taken work off to help with everything!” You gave her a frown as she said this.

“Liz, all of it is done.” You watched as her eyes saddened and her shoulders slumped.

“Oh…” She looked down as she said this before an idea came to her head and she smiled. “I’d love to see all of it! And ill still stay home to take care of you. I should have never left all of this on you. I should have helped. I'm sorry my love.” Leaning down, she placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“It's okay. I would do it all again if it meant getting to marry you.” You answered her softly. You knew she was truly sorry for not helping. You could tell by the look in her eyes and the way her hands softly shook showing her anxiety of the situation.

About 2 weeks later you stood in front of the love of your life. The Pastor stood behind you both speaking as all your friends and family sat in the audience.

“Do you Elizabeth Olsen, take this person to be your lawfully wedded partner, to live together in matrimony, to love them, comfort them, honor and keep them, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?” She looked into your eyes and with a smile answered.

“I do.”

“ And do you Y/N Y/L/N, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?” Looking at Lizzie I took a deep breath.

“I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me I pronounce you newly weds. You may now kiss.” You both leaned and as her lips met yours your eyes closed. This is what you had always dreamed of.

#elizabeth olsen x y/n #elizabeth olsen angst #elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen x fem reader #elizabeth olsen x you #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff mcu

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swaqcenix · 2 years ago

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༻My Musical Muse | Wanda. Maximoff༺

Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader

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Warnings: Literally none, just tooth rotting fluff!

Summary: You'd moved to Paris for a mere few weeks to focus on some studies. Every night you heard the soft play of the guitar. It was when you joined in with the piano, you and Wanda connected eyes. Perhaps a break from the Avengers was what bought her to you, perhaps it was the instruments.. or maybe it was just all at once.

Pairings: Wanda maximoff x gn!reader

Word count: 2.9K

AN: This was actually inspired by watching the TV show 'Only murders in the building,' so I'd check out that series. Although NOT the couple in it. Anyway, just me writing fluff rare occasion for real! <3

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Your hand moved gracefully across the pages of work you had now got splayed out across your desk. You weren't sure whether moving to Paris was one of the most easiest things to do, but it was only for a few weeks.

You'd spent 3 years studying this course, although that being said it was a rocky 3 years. The Avengers with that Loki guy making your country spiral into hell and don't get you started on the metal guy in Sokovia. There always appeared to be some chaos spiralling around on earth.

The wind blew through the open windows, drifting slowly over to you and bringing you out of your thoughts. You shivered slightly, the air in Paris despite the time of year being seemingly colder than expected. It wasn't like you were in the Bahamas though, and the apartment itself was beautiful and peaceful for your studies.

You glanced at the clock that read 6:05pm, realising it was almost time. You grabbed your yogurt bowl, shuffling towards the window and sitting upon the ledge. Every time at 6:10pm the woman who you knew not a face only her instrument played.

You knew it was a woman from the glimpse of the fingernails you saw on the guitar. She played so beautifully, apart of you thrived on the mystery of your neighbour of the apartment opposite you. Sometimes you'd get a glimpse of her hair, the brown locks splaying down over the guitar.

That's all you knew of her though. Same time every evening, she strummed away at her guitar with such ease and precision it felt like it was calling you. Your favourite piece she'd played was Yellow. It was so beautiful on the guitar and it felt like it was calling to you.

Your mind was brought away from your thoughts when the all too familiar sound of a guitar drifted through the air. It plucked at your own strings, your heartstrings yearned for the music that had become apart of your life.

The consist longing of wanting to know who the person was behind it, yet deep down it felt like you knew them. As though every note, every strum of the guitar elicited you to know everything of the mysterious player.

You stood moving close towards the window cill of your apartment, wanting to get a better look at the anonymous woman strumming like the world wasn't ending. The wind drifted into your room and it sent a chill up your spine, running through your body. It wasn't due to the cold but simply the contrast of how it matched perfectly with the scenario you were encountering.

Upon further enduring the sound that drifted from her own apartment you recognised it's music. She was strumming along to the song, Until I found You, and it was utterly captivating.

All you heard was the tune, drifting around the streets of Paris around your own comforting apartment blocks. Those who dared to listen would listen to a blessing of a woman who sang through her instrument, telling the world of her story.

'Oh, let me hold you

I'll never let you go again like I did

Oh, I used to say'

The sound of the music drifting through to your own apartment, through your own window caused something in your to snap and break. An idea arose in your head, one of which you were surprised you'd yet to think of before.

Without warning, without question nor any thoughts your body unconsciously found itself levitating towards your piano. It remained untouched, calling out for the delicate hands of your own to place them upon it. Craving the sweet sound that left it, wanting to be heard once more.

You scarcely had time to think before your mind had settled on the matter and you were seated at your piano once more. You sucked in a heavy and deep breathe, before sighing out preparing yourself for the inevitable and closed your eyes, before joining in with the mysterious woman.

'I would never fall in love again until I found her

I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into"

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

I found you'

Your hands went away with the keyboard, carrying your mind and your soul with the music. Every note every sound every pressing time of the key, you became infatuated.

Turning your head towards the window once more, you trusted your fingers to play the keyboard without needing to look. Your hands would instinctively know which note was following suit, even with leaving an instrument for so long just bitterly untouched.

You almost let out a soft gasp as you saw the woman almost come entirely to the light, hiding only but her face. The way her brunette hair cascaded down, moulding all of her, her face cast in the shadows away from view of sight.

The cream coloured shirt ironically with spots of daisy's to complete it that entirely matched her guitar. The outfit matched with a light brown cardigan that carried her figure completely as your eyes drifted down to the deep blue jeans she wore well on her legs.

It was the way you had no explicit way of explaining it but the the way she dressed, her clothing the way her skin looked soft, was exactly how you'd envisioned it. As though she herself was in many ways like her guitar, spoke with a melody not with words.

She almost hesitantly stepped forward, almost allowing the light to illuminate her face. Instead she stopped, including halting her own strumming to the melody and you couldn't help the sinking feeling in your chest.

However, at closer inspection she was alluding toward you, directing the guitar towards you indicating she wished for you to carry on. Your head felt light, like you'd shot up to cloud 9 and that sinking feeling danced away instantly.

Your hands once more found the keyboard, playing by memory or thoughts you did not know. All you were familiar with was this mysterious woman, your own musical muse glancing from afar at your playing.

The way the lyrics spoke to you even with no one singing it. It felt like your own personal song with no explanation no illusion to why, just simply playing. You spoke not in poetry, not in singing or talking, but with a melody. Her posture seemed softer as you continued to lull with the rhythm of the keyboard.

'Georgia pulled me in, I asked to

Love her once again

You fell, I caught you

I'll never let you go again like I did

Oh, I used to say'

Although you couldn't see it, you felt it. Her smile could light up embers and a light of golden joy that you had no idea was missing. How could someone do that without even showing you it? You weren't sure but the mysterious musical muse woman had.

Your hands stopped dancing on the keyboard as you let out a heavy sigh, until you took a sharp intake of breath. Your breath got caught within your throat at the distant yet close sound of a guitar.

Turning your head to the side, you watched the woman once more strum away as though nothing and nobody could hear. Nothing and nobody except you. Your heart jumped at the final lyrics, being played towards you so softly.

'I would never fall in love again until I found her

I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into"

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

I found you'

You felt your heart jump in time with the strumming of the guitar almost as though it was your own heart she was playing. Not in a negative aspect but simply trying to worm her way into your own heart, making her own mark.

As the playing game to a sad end, you felt your eyes water and why? You weren't sure, you'd never been overly emotional yet for some reason right now you felt a wave of emotion hit you with such force.

Your hands clasped back into your lap, your nails digging into your skin to keep your heightened feelings in check as you watched the mysterious woman place the guitar down. Ever so observant, you noticed how her hands seemed soft and her nails looked after you felt the longing urge to reach out and touch them.

It was rare and odd to feel such away to someone you'd never seen let alone spoken to. Yet you had seen her just not her face. She shown her soul to you in another way, in the rarest and touching of ways a human could do.

Her body moved back into the light, swaying with a delicacy you didn't see possible until now. She moved with such grace her body carrying herself from one place to the next like music from an instrument. It was this moment your breath hitched and your world froze entirely in it's track's.

Her face touched the sunlight, the light cascading down as it kissed her skin and illuminated her identity finally to the light. You couldn't let out another noise nor move an inch. You recognised those features, those eyes and that facial structure anywhere. It was her. Wanda Maximoff.

The news spoke of her with a hatred, the public believing this woman to be reincarnated as though she came from the devil himself. You'd payed no mind to anyone, you saw her as a person all the same.

Yet you never saw her this gentle, this alluding to such kindness and a soul so bright. Her soul carried music and songs with laughter, while her outside world carried such a hatred.

Your eyes connected with her own as you gazed into the familiar, yet now not so familiar green orbs. They carried so much emotion and so much pain along with what you discover to be fear. She was afraid. Afraid of what you might think now you knew the face, the true face behind the mysterious music that carried such a weight.

As you fixed the pieces of the puzzle together everything made sense all at once. The hiding behind the sunlight not wanting to be seen, afraid of her own soul. The public had made her into someone so cruel she was afraid of herself. You recognised how they feared her hands alluding to her to fear her own.

You watched in silence on how her hands came back to tuck under her sleeves. She still feared them. Yet the music she allowed you to hear, her hands seemed warm and soft. They seemed like apart of her was made from a melody a song waiting to be heard.

You stood up with determination and found your body reacting as though it was no longer you in charge. Your feet spun on the spot, turning towards the door mind moving without thought. You caught a glimpse of how her face dropped and her head turned down, towards the ground.

You gathered she assumed you were like the rest, but you we're not. She sat at the window allowing the world to hear her song but you heard more than most. You heard her.

Feet padding along the floor, your door flung open and your mind raced as fast as your body was. The way everything fell into place as the realisation set in. Wanda Maximoff was no monster, she was anything but. She was simply human who had been taught to fear herself.

Her escape through music, allowed her eyes to close and her face to be hidden but her hands to be seen. That her hands weren't to be feared and for just one singular moment. She didn't have to fear them ether.

God only knows how you knew what her apartment number was, well frankly you didn't. Your mind was racing on instinct and adrenaline. Sure you knew what floor it was judging by the layout and the view from your own window, but the number would have to be a guess.

As you approached the floor with a ferocious speed, you allowed your gut instinct to take over your mind. Eyes glazing and dancing over each of the doors, one settled in your mind and you started out towards it.

Yet your fears caught up to you and your mind and body froze in front of the door. You felt your hands become clammy and shaking none stop as bile rose slowly up your throat. Your fear was settling in and overtaking your body.

Yet as that thought started to succumb through your mind and body, you reminded her own fear. How the public had embedded her own mind and soul into thinking she was a monster, into fearing herself. You had to show her you weren't apart of that public, allow her to see you and know you as she'd done for you.

With your mind racing with adrenaline and anxiety, you pushed away the thoughts and allowed your hand to reach up. 3 steady knocks echoed through the complex hallway and your heart hammered heavily in your chest.

The sound of shuffling came from the other-side and before you could back out you were greeted with a sight. You let out a heavy sigh of relief when you saw none other than the same woman, Wanda Maximoff stood on the other side of the door.

However, her posture seemed more on edge, fearing you in a way. Your heart shattered when you really took her in and noticed the red rim around her eyes as she'd softly cried at the thought of a stranger, yet one she'd showed herself to fearing her. The public moulded her into something she wasn't and anger shook within you at that.

"Hi," you whispered your mind too fearful to speak louder.

You didn't want to startle her or think you were here to cause trouble. You wanted to thank her, for all those moments she'd shared with a stranger across an apartment complex. A musical muse she'd shared toward you.

"Well hello," her voice was raspy and her Sokovian accent laced within it.

Her voice sounded so sweet in person, sweet like honey like a melody of a song you never wanted to end. She was everything you expected the mysterious muse to be and so much more.

"Listen I," you began but the Sokovian cut you off.

"I'm sorry for the fear I've caused. I know what people see when they look at me. I played the music to be heard, seen in another light. I'm sorry for frightening you, I know th-" her voice was cut off by your lips.

You didn't know what overcame you to surge forward and clasp your lips over her own, but the last bit of instinct took over you. You felt her body go rigid and you readied yourself to pull back but you felt her arms wrap around your neck, pulling you in closer.

Your lips danced together as one, the silent music didn't need lyrics, it didn't even need to be truly heard. You felt it and had no doubt in your mind that Wanda did too.

Pulling yourself back, the need of air became too strong and your foreheads rested together. Your breathes mingled together and you looked into the emerald green eyes of the Sokovian smiling softly.

"I'm Y/N, you can call me Y/N/N," you whispered earning a small giggle from the Sokovian allowing your heart to melt at the sound.

"Y/N," she stated testing your name on her tongue and it sounded delightful.

"Y/N/N," she repeated your nickname this time and your heart jumped.

This was a woman to be loved, to be heard her song sung loudly. Not to be feared.

"Wanda," you began but she placed a finger over your lips.

"It's Wands to you," she said her hands leaving your neck and your clasped them tightly in your own.

"I know you fear yourself and the public fear you. But you need to know, they're wrong about you. You are wrong too. I don't fear you and you shouldn't ether. Your songs you strummed and played with these hands. They're apart of you. All of this is in your soul and your soul is beautiful, as are you. Your soul is kind Wands. Don't see a monster. See a musical muse that showed me the truth," you whispered to her pulling back so she could see you.

Following your actions you kissed both her hands clasped tightly within your own before looking back at the Sokovian. Her eyes filled with tears as she surged forward, kissing you once more. Your tongues danced to a melody that you once again felt pull at the strings of your heart. You saw her and heard her, your muse.

As she pulled back once more, she tilted her head backwards so you could connect your eyes with your own. While she was a simple stranger to most, even to yourself there was much more to discover. She'd shown you herself the true her with songs and with a melody. She'd taught you her own song.

"Thank you for allowing me to see you," you whispered watching Wanda give you a watery smile in return.

Resting her forehead against your own she whispered back.

"Thank you for allowing me to be seen," she responded back.

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #marvel fic #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader

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