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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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pretty-little-mind33 · 3 months ago

Text

Pietro Maximoff x mutant fem!reader

Summary: You hate Pietro for how he treats you, or at least you do until you're stuck in an elevator with him.

Genre: hurt and comfort, enemies to lovers (only they aren't "enemies") <3

Warnings: Pietro is a dick in the beginning, panic attacks, claustrophobia, swearing, i use Czech to represent Sokovian (probably shitty translation)

~ thank you for requesting @princesssunderworld! loved this prompt sm! i wrote this for Pietro because we need more Pietro content asap and i have so many wips for Tangerine already! I hope you like this! ~

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

Pietro Maximoff is quite possibly your worst nightmare.

While he does have the face of an angel, all doe-eyed and charming smile, he somehow manages to make your life a living hell. He's like some beautiful, insufferable, devil that constantly insists on sitting promptly on your shoulder.

Mostly, he spends his days finding any excuse to either argue with you or undermine you. During training, he constantly makes snarky comments on your form and purposefully speeds by you to knock you on your ass. He'll always wear the same smirk when you chew him out, almost like he's amused and you despise it.

You hate him.

And most of all, you hate how it makes you feel. How he makes your cheeks feel warmer and that unfamiliar feeling bubble in your stomach.

Wanda tries to convince you he has a school-boy crush on you—like some little boy who likes pulling little girls' hair on the playground. You don't want to hear it. He's a grown man now, not a boy anymore. If he has a crush, he should deal with it like an adult.

One afternoon, Pietro had just pulled one of his so-called pranks on you, causing you to walk under a bucket of cold water and successfully drenching you and rendering the flames that usually spark from your hands from your anger into smoke.

The Avengers in the room training grow silent as Pietro, sitting on the weightlifting bench, bursts into laughter.

"Pietro!" Wanda shrieks, immediately rushing to you from where she'd been talking to Vision but you shake your head, frustrated tears threatening to brim in your eyes.

You send Pietro a glare and storm out of the room, shaking your wet sleeves.

You're too busy mumbling curses under your breath to hear Wanda shout at her twin brother as you furiously press the elevator button. When the doors opens you do hear his voice, however, "Y/n! Princezna (Princess)!"

You rush into the elevator and spin around, pressing the close button as fast as you can but obviously, Pietro is much faster.

He reaches you before the doors close, almost slamming into you as his body vibrates from the aftermath of his powers. His hand comes up behind your head instinctively so you don't hit your head against the wall and he glances down at you, his blue eyes piercing into yours.

You push him away just as the elevator wobbles and the sound of something snapping is heard. Pietro's speed must have somehow messed up the elevator system because the elevator starts to fall.

You gasp, reaching for the only other person in the elevator, and Pietro is by your side in an instant, crouching you both into one corner, his arms tightening around your waist as the elevator falls three stories and then halts with a loud screech.

Your mutation sometimes manifests when you're stressed, so you barely even register that you've set a part of Pietro's sleeve on fire from where you're clutching his arm until the sprinkler in the elevator turns on, soaking you both.

"Hey, miláček (darling)," Pietro holds one of your cheeks in his hand, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he sees the white cloud in your eyes disappear and you blink. "You're okay." You're breathing heavily now, staring at him until you snap and push him away, curling your arms around your knees.

You look at the elevator panel only to see it's broken. Pietro is trying his hardest to pry the doors open, but even with his speed, they remain shut.

"Fuck Tony Stark," Pietro groans and slumps to the ground in front of you, running a hand in his silver hair as he sends you a lopsided grin. "You okay, princezna (princess)?"

You glare at him.

Pietro lifts his arms in surrender.

You check your watch. The team should realize something went wrong and rescue you at any moment. You'll be fine, you try reminding yourself but the walls seem to be pressing in faster and faster. You feel dizzy as tears blur your vision and you haven't realized that you've started hyperventilating until Pietro touches your arm.

You gasp again and look up at him, frightened. His expression softens as he kneels in front of you, looking you over. He looks concerned, which is a first.

"I- I can't breathe," you manage to croak out, your voice strained. As much as you don't want to turn to Pietro for help, you need him.

Pietro nods, understanding your panic now. He soothes you and holds out his palm. "Breathe. It's okay. You're safe," he says and shakes his palm a little. He wants you to hold his hand.

You sniffle, still having trouble breathing correctly as your fingers stroke against Pietro's palm and he smiles. His skin is warm and the shock centers you for a moment.

"There. I'm right here, miláček (darling)," he pauses and his hand vibrates a little, controlling his powers just enough so that he can show you he's here.

The sensation elicits a laugh from you as you look up at him, matching the breathing he's showing you. Pietro's smile widens, his heart only half-breaking from the tears brimming in your eyes and he resists the urge to wipe your cheeks.

"Shhh, there you go. Breathe. Dýchej, anděli, dýchej (Breathe, angel, breathe)."

Minutes later, Wanda is fussing over you as you sit in the lounge room after Tony rescued you and Pietro. She wraps a towel around your shoulders.

"Are you okay?" She keeps repeating as she ignores her equally wrecked-looking brother standing in the corner as Clint and Steve talk to him. You nod, eyes round from the entire ordeal.

"Did he make it worse? Because I'll kill him—"

You shake your head, glancing at Pietro. Your cheeks burn hot when you catch his gaze and you snap your head back to Wanda, who just looks confused.

"No– he helped me," you whisper, watching realization sparkle in her eyes.

Still, she doesn't say anything.

* * *

Pietro isn't awful to you anymore. He's the opposite.

He's sweet.

You find the shift weird so you avoid him. You avoid him until you physically can't anymore because he's blocking the door to the kitchen as you stand in the refrigerator light, a spoon stuck in your ice cream tub.

Your eyes widen as you look at him. He's wearing his pajamas as they hang just under his v-line, his hair a mess as he yawns.

"What are you doing up, princezna (princess)?" he asks and walks over, grabbing another spoon and leaning against the counter, and shakes the spoon for you to share the ice cream. You hand him the tub, staring at him intensely.

"What?" Pietro smirks, his mouth full as he winces. "Sakra, je zima (Damn, it's cold)."

"Thank you," you blurt out. You're a week late but you don't care.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. "For?"

"Helping me in the elevator. It meant a lot," you say, shifting nervously.

Pietro's smile softens and he sets the ice cream down, licking his lips. He walks over, cornering you into the counter but you don't feel threatened. You feel safe. He lifts his hand and hesitates at your cheek.

"Y'know, I'd be quite an asshole to let you suffer like that," he says in a whisper, his Sokovian accent thick as he chuckles. His fingers touch your skin and you shiver, your eyes widening.

"Didn't stop you before," you mutter.

Pietro frowns.

"Listen, anděl (angel), I know I haven't been the nicest to you but it's all been in good fun—it's nothing serious," he looks away a moment, searching for his words as he pauses. "I never meant to ever truly hurt you. I- I like you, Y/n. I just didn't know how to tell you so the teasing was easier for me."

You tilt your head, taking in his words. "What was your plan then, Pietro? Make me dislike you so somehow I'd turn around and like you after? That doesn't make any fucking sense. You could have just been sweet like you're being now!"

Pietro looks at you again, his arms caging you in now as his hands flex around the counter. "My feelings for you make no fucking sense," he argues, his eyes locked on yours. "I hate them. I hate how they make me act like a fool when all I want to do is kiss you and hold you close. Vše, co chci, je milovat tě (All I want to do is love you)."

You never wanted to admit it but you love it when he speaks Sokovian and you calm your breathing as your eyes shut. Pietro leans in, his breath ghosting yours. "One word. Say the word and I'll stop. I'll stop everything. I'll leave you alone."

You open your mouth, your eyes following, and you whisper. "Kiss me."

Pietro wastes no time in kissing you, claiming your lips as his own as his hand tightens around your waist. He's pulling you in closer, your body warms so hard as your hands find his cheeks that you're afraid you'll burn him and you try pulling away from him.

"You won't hurt me," Pietro whispers through his kisses as he refuses to let you go. "I can take it."

You gasp into his mouth as your hands find his hair, pulling on the strands. This feels so unfamiliar and yet, you've never kissed anyone like this.

Finally, Pietro pulls away and he leans his head on your warm forehead as you catch your breath.

"Wanda mi dluží dvacet babek (Wanda owes me twenty bucks)," he whispers, mostly to himself as a lovesick smile graces his features. "Moje. Jsi můj. (Mine. You're mine)."

"What are you saying?" you ask, looking into his icy blue eyes you once 'hated' so much.

Pietro smiles and kisses your lips. He doesn't tell you what he means or how he feels.

Not yet.

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @sayitlikethecheese, @lqrlei

#quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x fem!reader #pietro maximoff #pietro marvel #quicksilver pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff fanfic #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff marvel #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff x fem!reader #pietro maximoff x y/n #avengers age of ultron #marvel #marvel age of ultron #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson fic #pietro maximoff fluff

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toothfa-1-ry · 8 months ago

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

Snap

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

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

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

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

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

He knew that something was wrong with the air suddenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"dragâ please- y/n? Y/n!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"please y/n please" he begged

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

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

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

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

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

Pietro shook his head

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

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

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

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

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

He ran, like he always used to

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Barton was-

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

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

He was running when he got a call from Natasha

"Pietro- where are you?"

"running" a short reply came on one end

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

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

Pietro finally stopped

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

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

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

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

Pietro wanted to run away

"the question is do you?"

He really wanted to run away

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

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

"Bruce is on it and Tony-"

Natasha paused at his name and Pietro held his breath

Mr Stark

"Tony is still deciding" Natasha carefully placing her words

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

"okay"

"okay, hey Pietro?"

"yea?"

"I seriously believe in this okay?"

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

#pietro maximoff #pietro marvel #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff fic #marvel #marvel x reader #the avengers #avengers x reader #peter parker #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #age of ultron #quick silver

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moon-language-0 · 3 months ago

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"If they're sleeping here, some of them are gonna have to double up..." "Yeah... that's not gonna sell."

'There Was Only One Bed' Stony AoU manip for through fire below, and fire above, and fire within by @fohatic

#stony #stevetony #manip #fanart #steve rogers/tony stark #avengers age of ultron #stony fic #sharing a bed #steve rogers #tony stark #dream series

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soliloquent-stark · 6 months ago

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After Thanos, the Avengers consider creating a worldwide protection program that can dismantle threats in case of another absolute emergency.

Tony drafts an initial proposal and calls the system Synthetic Unified Intelligent Technology for Omnipresent Forensics, Analysis, Resistance, Monitoring, Obstruction, Response, and Advanced Robotic Operations for Unprepared Neutralization, Defense, Tactical Hazard Evaluation, Worldwide Observation, Reconnaissance, and Logging Data.

Steve doesn't care for the snark.

#this was meant to be part of a fic but who wants an ultron 2.0 story #so enjoy sassy tony #if it's unclear — the acronym is SUIT OF ARMOR AROUND THE WORLD #tony stark

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lokigodofaces · 1 month ago

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Since I've been seeing more and more anti-Wanda stuff lately, I thought I'd write something out and express my thoughts in a low-key venty manner.

I really don't trust the vast majority of Wanda criticizers*.

There is so much misogyny, victim blaming, dismissal of trauma, etc. I cannot believe it. And most of this started during WandaVision.

Okay I saw criticisms before mostly for Age of Ultron but it was your classic "poorly written" criticisms which I disagree with I think that in the majority of movies she was in they did a decent enough job of writing her. The only major ones I saw were because they wrote her and Pietro as part of Hydra initially. A) That definitely was not the most well thought out decision of Marvel's, given that they are Jewish and Roma in the comics but of course they've been whitewashed so Feige didn't see it as a concern. B) If it weren't for their ethnicities, it would be kind of genius if it had been fleshed out more. Real life Nazi organizations prey on young people who have been mistreated (or perceive themselves to be mistreated) by the government or other authority figures and groom them to be fascists. Don't get me wrong, definitely insensitive to have that happen with these two given ethnicity, but unfortunately that is kind of accurate still. Unfortunately, this fascist groups manage to get POC, LGBTQ+, and other minority groups to join them. TL;DR: the way AoU handled it was not written well, but it definitely could have been something note worthy if the time had been taken to analyze this. Never claimed that Wanda was written perfectly, will be the first to admit that there are problems as well. But I will say that I used to see lots of people claiming she was "boring" pre-Infinity War. Idk, maybe I wasn't seeing what everyone else was, that's 100% a possibility. Like I said, this is more of a vent post than an academic paper.

Infinity War and Endgame I didn't see that much criticism, but those are the movies where they let Wanda be awesome and powerful so yeah guess no one had too much to say. Other than the occasional dudebro being mad that women can be powerful characters, there wasn't much I saw.

Then we get to WandaVision. Now y'all no by now that I am not a fan of the majority of newer MCU stuff. WandaVision is definitely one of those exceptions. Brilliant series. I was going wild as it was being released. I was so unbelievably hyped for Multiverse of Madness after this (Stephen and Wanda! Two of my favs! Together!). And the majority of it was really good, loved the other characters (or loved to hate them, in the case of Hayward lol), loved the sitcom references, it was a very enjoyable series. And as it came out, I didn't see much criticisms other than the reasonable ones (it isn't a flawless series). But we started to run into some things I hated, and it would just get worse and worse as time would go on.

People have no ability to understand morally grey characters these days. Any Wanda, Bucky, or Loki fan will tell you this because Marvel's been doing them dirty and the fandom hasn't been much better.

What was WandaVision about? Grief and trauma and how difficult it is to overcome these. And I think they did a pretty dang good job at that. But then what does everyone do? Freak the heck out because Wanda took over Westview. Well, first off the series suggests that Wanda wasn't even aware of it for the first couple episodes. Then at the end it implies that Wanda was not aware that she was causing pain the citizens were feeling and she tried to get them all to leave once she found that one out. And you've got Agatha who was messing around, killing dogs, manipulating Wanda, and mind controlling Ralph. And let's not forget the pressure from S.W.O.R.D and Hayward being irrational about it (he literally shot his gun at kids and his employee who tried to protect them and people try to defend him). All Wanda wanted was to be happy and have her family (no one gets mad when other MCU characters do that, such as Tony in Endgame). By no means does this justify her actions, but she is villainized so much over something when clearly her motivations are not out of ill intent but out of trauma, grief, desperation, and also being provoked by Hayward right before she got to Westview. She is feeling all of these emotions, and clearly her powers somehow got stronger/she unlocked or leveled up/something idk that's never explained as she is feeling all of this. I mean, if I had powers as ridiculously strong as Wanda's, it'd be hard for me to control them on rough days.

WandaVision introduced us to this very complex narrative of Wanda doing something wrong but not because she had ill intent yet not wanting to give up the little happiness she is feeling while she is also being manipulated by Agatha and Hayward. It isn't black or white. She isn't a villain, but she isn't Westview's hero. She's a grieving woman that needs therapy and also help to learn about her growing magic (ie what Multiverse of Madness should have been).

But half the time you see anything about Wanda in WV it's just saying that she was evil, that she was purposely hurting the citizens, that it was for nothing but fake kids, etc. Dismissal of trauma. Victim blaming. Misogyny. Let me tell you, if Wanda was a man everyone would claim that he was a good father and that he only wanted to build a family. But noOoOoO, she's a woman so she can't be complicated.

Then we get to Multiverse of Madness. Pretty sure Waldron never watched WandaVision (a literal masterpiece) before writing the flaming pile of trash he calls a script. There's so much to unpack about how Waldron didn't write her well, how she became a villain out of literally nowhere, how while Agents of SHIELD definitely supports the idea of a Darkhold twisted villain even still Radcliffe never was pure evil he was simply misguided by a sudden overflow of information that didn't happen all at once, etc. There's a lot. But, hey, it basically sums up what antis have to say about Wanda. Because Waldron seems to hate every single character he has written other than some select people in the TVA!

Now, even more motivated by the awful writing of DSMOM, antis say that Wanda was crazy for a desire to have kids (again, would they have said the same thing if she was a man?) and that she was actually this villainous the whole time (show me your receipts because even the beginnings of Age of Ultron showed her not being completely evil). And I could go on, they say so much. But, as I have said, all of it is dismissal of trauma, victim blaming, and/or misogyny.

But it's caused me to be very suspicious of people who claim to hate Wanda. Which obviously no one has to like her. Totally understand that she might not appeal to some people that like different tropes and whatnot, that is definitely understandable. But whenever anyone starts to lean into anti territory, I just have to wonder why. Why do you hate Wanda so much? Tell me why? Because generally when I find out why, it's because she's evil and insane and tortures whole towns without remorse (canonically not even true).

*Disclaimer: I am not referring to anyone criticizing the MCU and it's whitewashing of Wanda. That is a reasonable concern. I am talking about everything else listed in the post.

#wanda maximoff #wandavision #avengers: age of ultron #avengers: age of ultron critical #with that one it's a watsonian vs doylist perspective #out of universe reasoning isnt great #in universe was not fleshed out but it is something that can be explained & i'd love to read a fic/meta on it #doctor strange in the multiverse of madness critical #i hope y'all could understand me a bit i know this was a horribly worded post

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earthpleasures · 2 months ago

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BON APPÉTİT !

Pietro Maximoff x fem!stripper!reader

Summary: Just a boring mission, what could do wrong?

Warnings: MDNI +18 / swearing, oral sex (m. receiving), body worshipping (m. receiving), dry humping, overstimulation, praise, nipple sucking, throat fucking, dom!reader, sub!pietro.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/n: istg some kind of horny demon took me over to write this

"'cause I'm all that you want, boy

all that you can have, boy

got me spread like a buffet

bon a, bon appétit, baby"

- bon appétit by katy perry.

Blinding lights of the strip club were pricking right into his eyeballs, making it hard to observe his surroundings. His hand rested on the header of the comfortable couch. He would be lying if he said the ongoing show wasn't appealing. However it wasn't why he was here.

He could run much faster than sound but he couldn't knock the formula this club's owner had in his palms. If Stark's calculations were right, and they always were, the tube carried formula may be made of bulletproof material but it wasn't going to stand the speed Pietro would be pushing on it when he runs.

Foolish, he thought.

He scoffed as he swirled his whiskey in its glass. Where the hell was this man? He couldn't possibly take news of mission and fly out of his grip. But Pietro's careful eyes couldn't spot the motherfucker.

As music came to an end, the crowd let out exaggerated protesting noises. Mood rose back to its original rhythm when new dancers took their places on stage. Another song began to play, one he could evaluate with the term ‘lively’ rather than the previous erotic one.

He really wanted to be done and go back to the compound. Obnoxiously loud sound of Katy Perry was going to damage his eardrums if they kept blasting the goddamn speakers like this.

Song was slowly rising to its peak, men and women around the strippers were throwing money every direction in the company of obscene profanities. Their desperation made him nauseated. Damn, some people have zero dignity.

It wasn't like he was going to catch the owner anytime soon, so he made a decision. Why not enjoy the show while time passes?

He couldn't choose who to watch, they were all dancing excellently. No wonder it says ‘VIP’ on the front. But that wasn't his concern anymore because his eyes, in fact, caught a girl.

Dusty pink hair, a black leather set left too little to imagine, painful looking heels.

There was no fucking way that hair was her own hair, it had to be a wig to look this perfect.

His eyes locked to her figure, moving flawlessly. On her knees, her body rippled against the pole with the roll of a professional, long crimson nails slowly climbed their way to her neck from her crotch.

‘Cause I’m all that you want, boy,

All that you can have, boy.

She stood up languidly and wrapped a leg around the pole. Letting herself fall backwards, she arched back, pushing her breasts up. Arms extended forward like she wanted everyone to reach her, touch her. From the distance, he could barely read a line from her lips.

Bon appétit, baby.

He swallowed, shifting uncomfortably on his leather couch. The pants he wore began to tighten around his lower body, he could feel the sweat beads rolling from his neck all the way down to his abs. This wasn't good.

Nudging a palm over his obvious erection didn't relieve any tension his stressed body carried. He bit inside of his mouth, chewing on his cheek's tissue. His fingertips itched to touch, to feel.

After a swipe of his tongue over his lip, he raised his hand slightly, signaling a waiter to come closer. Waiter looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Anything sir?” He pointed at the dusty pink haired girl on the stage. “What's her name?” Waiter turned his head back to pinpoint the stripper in question. A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “Nice taste. Celestia.”

When Pietro narrowed his eyes with a confused who the fuck would name their child ‘Celestia’ stare, he couldn't contain his snicker. “It's her stage name. We’re not allowed to give out their real names unless they're willing.” Pietro wanted to laugh, atleast club gave their strippers some rights.

“Makes sense. I want a room for Celestia.” Waiter nodded as he noted down his name. “Enjoy your ride, buddy.” He smirked before refilling his whiskey glass. Pietro didn't say anything back to the man as he retreated to the suffocating crowd.

When show came to an end, one of the waiters headed in his direction and gave him a ticket-like paper. The red, glowing calligraphic sign was placed in the right direction of his seat.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled his weight up to make his way. The hallway was long, housing many rooms, different light colors were leaking from under the doors of some of the rooms. Music sounds were almost deaf to ears, he guessed the rooms to be soundproof.

Attendant unlocked the door for him after checking his room's number. Before letting him in, he stopped Pietro. “As I can see, it's your first time here, mate. There are two rules. You have twenty minutes with stripper and it is absolutely forbidden to touch stripper.” After a nod of his head, he was allowed in.

The inside was as good as he expected. A pole, white leather couch and lights were placed in the room. Black walls surprisingly didn't feel claustrophobic. It didn't seem like any camera was placed around.

His palms were sweating, perhaps from excitement, perhaps from stress.

Couch was comfy, it felt like sinking into the clouds. His breath hitched when he sensed a click on the door handle. Adjusting his position, he gulped down the lump sitting on his throat. I shouldn't do this. I am here for a mission. This is so wrong. Wanda is going to kill me-

His flowing thoughts were cut with her entrance. He could see the sinister lust emitting from her eyes, doubting she looked at all of her clients with such intensity. “So, today's delight is you.” She mumbled as she came closer step by step, quicking his pulse unnecessarily.

She licked her lips while dropping her hands on his knees. Leaning forward, her red painted lips ghosted over his ear. “Interesting to see a thing like you here.” One of her hands fastened on header of the couch to help herself as she strangled his lap. She groaned in surprise when his hard-on pressed against her.

“Woah, you're a big boy, aren't you?” All he could do was to look up to her like a stupid puppy, waiting for her to do something since he couldn't touch her.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, rocking her hips back and forth against his clothed cock. He moaned through his clenched teeth. ‘Fighting his inner demons’ would be the name he would give to his urge of groping the tits in front of his eyes and mouth.

“You would’ve felt so good inside.” She pouted mockingly, her hand running on his hair. “But we ain't getting time for that.” A subtle chuckle left her lips. “Cat got your tongue, pretty boy?” His lips quivered before answering her question.

“No, it's just… you. You're so mesmerizing.” Well, it was too late to take his words back once they left his mouth.

I think my brain just short circuited.

“Aren't you a sweet talker?” She whispered as her manicured nails traveled down, trailing a line between his abs over his shirt. “Normally, I would've given you a nice lap dance and maybe some humping.” To press on her statement, she rocked her hips harder to his crotch.

“However, I decided to do you a favor.”

She got off of his lap. “What, no.” He reached out in a panicked state which was stupid due to no-touching policy. “Easy, I am here for the next sixteen minutes.” She smirked, standing over him with a hungry gaze. It's been so long since she had any actual intimacy with anyone and he looked like a delicious treat.

She got on her knees, her hands massaged his firm thighs. “God, men like you should be put in a museum.” She breathed as she ran her hand over his bulge. Her fingers didn't even fumble on his zipper, immediately pulling it all way down after she undid his jeans’ button. He lifted his hips to help her as she pulled his boxers and pants down to his ankles.

Her pupils dilated as she focused on his cock, it was resting on his stomach with a painfully red tip. Her thumb pressed on his tip, smearing bead of precum over his skin. He let out a pathetic whimper. “I-i.. is this o-okay?” He almost quacked during his sentence when she spat on his shaft and wrapped her hand around it.

“Probably not. But they will understand a girl in need.” She looked up to him.

Disheveled hair, hazy eyes, flushed cheeks. I want to swallow him.

He was getting impatient, but still didn't move. What was meaning of moving if he couldn't touch her?

It took just a lick from bottom to top for him to buck his hips. She held his hips firmly, settling him down. “No, no. Let me do my thing.” He bit his lips, maybe hard enough to withdraw blood. “Please, I've been waiting-” Her mouth suddenly enveloped his cock, taking it half way with her eyes observing his reaction.

He cried out due to shock, clawing at the fabric underneath his grip. His hand reached out to tangle his fingers to her hair, but before he could, she caught his hand. She pulled away from him. “No touching.”

Sizing up his strong figure, she made a shift on her plan. “Take off your shirt.” His trembling fingers peeled the tshirt of his body. She could feel her mouth going dry with the sight of his bare torso.

Before she could control herself, her fingers wandered on his firm chest and abs. His pale skin was stained with scars. Almost each of them looked like they were telling a different story.

She rose on her knees, running her tongue on his abs. Texture of the scars caught on her tongue, causing him to clutch onto one of the cushions and bite inside of his mouth.

She pressed her thumb on his nipple, feeling it harden under her touch. She circled her finger on his areola, wrapping her lips around the neglected one. A moan left his lips.

Satisfied and encouraging by the noises he let out, she draped her arms around his waist, pushing him against her mouth.

“W-wait-” She pulled away with a pop sound, leaving his chest aching. “What's wrong?” She asked as she pressed a kiss to one of his scars, then to another, then to another.

He looked down at her. “It's too-”

“Overstimulating? That's the purpose.” She smirked at his naiveness.

She sucked marks all over his chest, kissing each of the scars and soothing the ache she left with a run of her tongue. His labored breaths became unstable during her treatment. God, it fucking felt like being worshipped.

And finally she went back to her original plan. Hand wrapped around his shaft, she began to stroke him. “You're not some kind of loser who has no hole to fill, are you?” She planted a kiss over his tip. “You're different.”

She suckled on the tip, treating it like a tasty lollipop. “Well, can't say I care.” Without breaking eye contact she went down slowly, inch by inch. Even after all the times she gave a blow job, she couldn't deep throat him like she wanted to. His tip reached the back of her throat, hitting there repeatedly as she bobbed her head.

Tears filled her eyes, forcing her to let go of him. He didn't care about the shitty policy, running his thumb over her cheek and wiping her tears away. “You don't have to if it's hard for you.”

But she didn't let him rest, jerking him off when she didn't have him down to her throat. “But I want to.” Her free hand tangled her fingers to his, bringing it to her skin. “Touch me.” He raised an eyebrow.

“But I thought-”

“I am letting you.”

And that was enough for him. His both hands cupped her cheeks. He leaned down and smashed his lips against hers, tasting the smeared lip gloss and himself. Getting impatient, she pushed him back to the couch.

She put her hands on his thighs to balance her weight as he tugged at her strands pushing her all the way down even though she gagged around him. She hollowed her cheeks and pressed her tongue underside of him while he bucked his hips somewhat violently, fucking her throat on his pace.

She cupped his balls, massaging them to encourage his orgasm. She could sense his legs shivering under her palms. He was close. With thought of it may help, she moaned around him, and it worked.

He shot down rope after rope to her throat, not even allowing her to breath. Aftermath of the orgasm was violent on his body. His cock twitched as she pulled out and got up.

Strangling him again, it was her turn to kiss him. It was sloppy, teeth against teeth with a mix of lust and rush. He remembered the fact he was allowed to touch, so he did. His hand roamed on her skin, pressing her against his chest.

Red light illuminated the room. Time to part.

He wiped her lips with his shirt, fixing her hair as much as he could. “Will you be okay? What if your boss gets angry?” He questioned, hands softly placed on her waist.

She giggled. “He will understand. Women have urges too.”

He laughed. “You're a surprising woman.” He said as she got off his lap.

“Sure I am. And I would like to see you again.”

With one last peck over his bruised lips, she parted from the room. Leaving Pietro behind disheveled and exhausted.

Now, how was he supposed to explain the wasted time he spent in the club and the hickeys to the team?

#mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x you #mcu x reader #mcu x you #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x you #age of ultron #the avengers #avengers #smut

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saint-ajax · 4 months ago

Text

trouble man

EVERY THOUGHT HAS BEEN UNDER SCRUTINY. She thought about it hard enough for her to come back home to her parents. It had been three months since the incident, and he gave her nothing but radio silence. While she suffered alone through confusion and betrayal.

It was a rainy night in NYC. But she did not let the weather wipe away her excitement about seeing friends on a Friday night. Chatter and music, specifically Trouble Man by Marvin Gaye, were what welcomed her into the bar while she wandered her gaze to search for her company tonight.

She walked further over the bar and found someone she didn’t expect to see. It was Steve. She figured it out from the back because of his vintage leather jacket. She was confused at first. He told her that he would be at work the whole weekend. So this must not be him. But eventually, a smile crept onto her lips, realizing it might be him. It’s been a week since she last saw him. How she missed him.

Only to be abrupt with a frown when a slender figure crossed her sight. A random lady in a bodycon was batting her lashes at the man in front of her.

Confusion was written all over her face as she watched the two exchange timid laughter. She froze on her spot and couldn’t approach them. She watched as she slapped his biceps playfully. She was confused, but she wasn’t dumb. She saw how the lady started to lean in on him. As if she was about to kiss him.

“Steve..?” She was weak in the knees at the scene in front of her. But her fragile voice calling out to him was her only way of defense. To try to stop whatever was about to unfold.

She prayed so hard. She prayed so hard in those milliseconds before the man looked behind him. She prayed for him to not be her man.

But those same innocent blue eyes found her frayed ones. His expression was quick to change from confusion to shock. He stood up from his seat when he realized that it was her who called out his name. He looked back at the random lady he was talking to and back to his woman. Her eyes held pain as she looked back at him.

When it hit him what she must've thought about what was happening, he was about to speak, but the woman behind him interrupted him.

“Do you know her?” The lady behind him said. He closed his mouth before saying what that was about to punch her in the gut.

“No.”

No.

No. He did not know her. Those two letters echoed in her mind. They were like daggers stabbing her in the chest as it repeated again and again.

“Oh, okay. Let's get you another drink. Excuse me, another whiskey over here, please!”

He didn't even glance back at her before turning his attention back at the lady, and it broke her.

She was embarrassed. She was hurt. She was confused. She was denied.

She was about to turn her back and leave, but her name was yelled.

When she looked back and saw her friends, she remembered what she came for. She saw the blond man and the lady once again talking, and it now infuriated her as she marched past them.

She tried to compose herself before speaking to people who knew her. “Hey, uhm, have– have you guys seen Steve here before I arrived?”

“Steve? Oh, right. That's Steve?! We thought it wasn't him 'cause that man has been flirting with that lady over there all night…”

She nodded and wiped away the single tear that fell from her eye. “Okay. I'll head home now. I'm sorry.”

They called out to her and tried to chase her. “—wait!”

She ran past the two again and headed outside in the rain. She didn't stop and she didn't know why. She kept running until a beaming light and a deafening horn from a vehicle stopped her in her tracks.

“Watch where the fuck you're going lady!” And it ran over her.

Her friends called from behind her and ran to her. “What the hell are you doing?! You could've died! You're all wet now! What happened?”

She couldn't form any words. All she could do was break down in tears in the streets of New York at midnight.

“Sweety.. Did he not tell you he was gonna be there?” Her friend's tone became gentler, and she looked at her and shook her head.

“What an asshole. I expected better than that from Captain America. Come on, darling, let's get you home and dry.”

She reacted the way she did to the incident that night. She listened to her friend when she said to ignore him no matter what he does because he deserves it. Although, even when she planned to hear his side, and have him explain everything to her, none of it happened. He did not reach out to her. He did not come to her and explain everything. So she had nothing to ignore and give another chance to, which tore her to pieces day by day.

A fresh breezy wind passed by her skin as she sat down with a book in hand. That was three months ago. She decided to come to her hometown and stay away from the city that screamed his name. Here, she was surrounded by people she could trust and feel safe with.

“Honey, you have a visitor.” When she saw her mother's excited smile, she couldn't help but still hope. She wishes that it would be him. The past three months were still fresh, and every thought that crossed her mind was him. It never changed.

“Coming.”

She entered the living room and found a familiar face. Disappointment poked another hole in her chest. She brushed it off with a fake smile, as she was still surprised. “Paolo? Oh my, it's been so long!” The grown man smiling wildly at her ran to her open arms and embraced a friendly hug. It was her childhood friend from their village.

“So.. What brought you here?”

“I heard you were back in town, so I figured why not visit you, aye?” She nodded and gave him a small smile.

“Of course.”

“So, can I take you out? This town misses you so much. I know I do.”

“Take me out? Like.. a date?” She awkwardly asked. She wasn't ready for that. She's not available. Yet.

She invited him to sit on the couch with her. “Yeah! Why? Are you single?”

“No. She's taken.” That voice. That baritone voice struck her like lightning. It straightened her back and widened her eyes.

She slowly looked up and saw home. She found and finally felt at home when she met his ocean eyes. She was once again falling for his innocent eyes.

“I'm so sorry I took so long, love.”

He was slowly walking up to her. She was speechless. She wanted to cry. She wanted to run into his arms. She had forgotten why she hadn't seen him for months, and she just wanted to feel his arms around her. It was all she wanted to do as tears filled her eyes.

“Who’s this? Do you know this guy?”

“Do you know her?”

“No.”

All of a sudden, she remembered what she felt three months ago at the bar where he denied her.

“No. I don't know this guy. Mom! Why did you let a stranger in!” She stood up and glared at him. She tried to find her mom, but when she walked past him, he grabbed her by the arm and made her face him. His eyebrows creased in confusion as he cupped her face.

“Love? What's wrong?” She frowned and held his hands on her cheeks to take it off and fight. He let her take off his hands on her face, but he pulled her closer by the waist.

“Why are you acting like this, baby? Tell me what's wrong.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Rogers?!” He looked even more confused at her anger. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Language.. baby.” She threw his arms off her waist and broke free.

“Have you gone insane? How dare you come to my parents’ house and act like nothing happened!”

“What? Love, I don't understand.”

“Will you stop acting like you don't remember? You're a goddamn super soldier, for goodness sake!” His face became serious, and he called her name.

“Tell me what's wrong. I don't understand.”

“What’s wrong? Ask what's right! What's right with what you did, Steve! Nothing! Nothing's right! Nothing was correct with that!” She suddenly found herself hitting his chest as she sobbed.

“What did I do, baby? Please, tell me.”

“You denied me!”

It nearly broke her apart as she said those words. “You.. denied me.”

“What? When?”

“At the bar! When I last saw you! And I didn't hear one thing from you for the past three months, and now you barge in like nothing fucking happened? You're unbelievable.”

“At the bar? Baby, I was on a mission. I was undercover. I told you that. I called you.” She looked at him as if she couldn’t believe him.

“What? You’re really using your job as an excuse?”

“No, sweetheart, I would never do that. It was a mission. I intended to let you know, but you weren’t picking up your phone.” She felt ridiculed. She wiped her tears as she shook her head. She pushed him gently for some space and looked away.

“Okay..” She exhaled as she took in his excuses. “Then explain why I heard nothing.. Not a single thing from you for the past three months, Steve Rogers.”

He hesitated at first. It sounded as ridiculous as he knew it would be to her. “I.. I was at work. We were in Sokovia for a mission.” He looked down with a frown in shame.

“And you had zero chance to call me? You saw how I reacted to your “mission.” You saw me in that bar. You gave me radio silence, Steve. How do you expect me to react?”

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’m truly sorry, love. I didn’t think you would take it that way.” Sincerity flashed in his coral-addicting eyes. And he sounded like a troubled man. He was sorry. He sounded genuine, and it healed something inside of her.

“I thought you'd understand.”

“Well, I guess it's just unfair for you to expect me to understand all the damn time.”

They bore their eyes into each other. He was trying to read her emotions, but there was nothing there now.

“Excuse me?” She suddenly remembered that she had a visitor.

“I.. I’m sorry. I forgot you were here.”

“It’s alright.” He stood up and walked over them. “I’ll just come back and tell you more about our date.” Steve was quick to react to the man’s words. He frowned at him.

Steve watched as she gave him a forced smile, and leaned in to whisper something while he rub her back in their side hug. He grinned at her before leaving.

Once the man was out of sight, he asked, “So... you’re dating now?”

“It’s none of your business.” She was full of spitefulness, and it was obvious on her frigid tone. His brows creased as he questioned her.

“It is my business. You’re mine. We’re not over yet, love, it’s only a misunderstanding.” He was starting to plead as he was ready to. He was ready to do anything to get back the woman who made his heart beat again after 1945.

“I think after hearing nothing from me for three months? You’ll assume we’re done too.” He frowned and looked down. He nodded. He couldn’t knock down her icy guard. He was built to tear down forces to protect the people. But her defense against him seems to be unbeatable. He wouldn’t give up. Not on her. But he was still hurt.

“I will give you some space.” He turned his back on her, but he was stopped when she grabbed his arm and placed her palms against his cheeks. A bliss of relief flourished inside of her when she finally felt his warm and soft skin. Her palms were carved over his sharp jaw. Feeling his stubble against her skin, she tiptoed to reach his lips, which yearned for hers.

He wasted no time responding to her passionate kiss. Her hands couldn’t get off his face while his hands curled along her waist. Their lips crashed, corresponding to one another’s longing.

She let go first. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done, but she knew she had to. “You know that I love you.. But Steve, you’ve put me through so much.” She tightened her shut eyes before leaving a mark on his forehead.

He was speechless and couldn’t do anything but accept everything she was generous enough to give him. Slowly, she untangled his arms around her waist and let go of him.

“If you want me back… I’ll know.”

She said that before running upstairs and leaving him by himself. He stood there, staring down at the floor, processing what had happened. What he had done and what it did to her.

“Steve, did you get to talk to her?” Her mother’s voice pulled him out of his spiraling. He looked at the path she took before she left and nodded at the lady.

“Yes, ma’am. She went to her room.”

“Oh, okay. I’m glad you finally talked to each other before she leaves.” He looked puzzled.

“Before she leaves?”

“Oh, yes. Did she not tell you? She’s going to be relocated at work.”

“No, she didn’t tell me..”

“She’s leaving early tomorrow. You know where the airport is if you want to catch her, son.” He nodded and politely smiled.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The whole night, the same as every other night, she thought of him. Why was it that easy for him to give her space? Well.. He gave her a long ass space for months, how hard could it be for him? Are they really over? Was it truly a mission? Did she overreact? How come he didn’t find time to text or message her? She believed him when he said that he was in Sokovia, it was all over the news. But still. If he’s really sorry, then he’ll do something. Right?

She sighed and gave up. She forced herself to think of nothing and go into slumber as she had to get ready for her flight.

Morning rose, and she did and had everything she needed before heading downstairs for breakfast.

“Good morning.” Her father at the dining table greeted her.

“Good morning. Are you ready, dad? We need to leave after breakfast.”

“Of course.” She nodded and started eating as planned.

The morning was normal. Normal, quiet, yet unlively. There was something missing. She knew too well what that was. “I heard you had visitors last night.” Her dad’s voice brought her back to her senses just in time before she started to spiral and possibly cry.

“Yes.”

“Did you get to talk to him?” Him. He who shall not be named.

“Yes, dad.”

“And what did he say?”

“That.. It was for a mission. An undercover.” She started playing with her food as the thought of last night stole her appetite.

“Well? Then why do you look like that? You don’t believe him?” His father’s tone was firm. Commanding. She shook her head in response. “It is the Captain of America you’re dating, isn’t that right, young lady?”

She sighed. “Yes.. dad.”

“You must know what you had gotten yourself into then.” She frowned and nodded. She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, she just couldn’t wait for her dad to get to his point.

“Then what is the problem? Did he not tell you he’s sorry?”

“He did. He said he was sorry.” She was starting to feel annoyed.

“You think he’s lying?”

She stayed silent as she frowned at nothing.

“Men lie all the time, that’s proven right all the time, I know. But Steve Rogers.. is not like any other man I’ve met, daughter. He’s a soldier. He wasn’t physically qualified, but his spirit was. Loyal, sincere, and brave. Don’t you remember that? Those were your exact words defending your hundred-year-old boyfriend to me. ”

She scoffed and almost smiled at his dad’s face. He was scowling. “I remember, dad. It was the speech that convinced you to let me date him. ”

“The question is, will it work on you as well? I’ve never seen you happier when you were with him, sweetheart.”

She smiled at his dad’s remark. “I don’t need convincing, dad. I just need some wooing.” His dad rolled his eyes at her, and it was the funniest thing she’s seen this morning, making her chuckle.

“Honey, don’t you have a flight to fly to?” Her mom popped out of the garden in her gardening attire.

“Yes, mom. Just in time. Let’s go, Dad.” After bidding her goodbye to her mom, her dad drove her to the airport and said goodbye there.

“Take care, Dad.” She waved at him and watched as his car drove away. She entered the building and went through security. The busy ambiance of the place kept her mind busy from things she had to worry about.

She was an hour early before her flight, and so she sat on the chair intended for standby passengers to use. There, she started wondering. She still hadn’t heard from him. He said he would give her some space. What does that mean? Is it really.. Is it over now?

She was biting her nails as she watched the crowd walk and attend their businesses over and over until the microphone announced her flight.

She dragged her suitcase to the line of people she will share the plane with. In the back of her mind, she was still hoping. She always does. Just another glimpse of him would be enough. She told herself.

Until her name was called, she thought it was her turn. She thought the flight attendant called her name, but it came from far away. From the back. She looked back and saw that the voice that was calling to her was stealing people’s attention. She tried to find out who was calling her. And there she saw a tall, masculine blond man running to her.

“Steve?” She was about to ask herself, but the woman beside her did it first.

“Isn’t that Captain America?” And so all the people in the airport murmured.

“Why is he here?”

“Oh my god! Are we safe?!”

The whole place went into silence once he reached her. He said her name. “I need you to listen to me, please.”

“What are you doing here? How did you know..?”

“I’m here to let you know I want you back.”

She was confused by all the commotion from the back, but she was still focused on the man pleading in front of her. “It was for an undercover, my love. I would never do something like that to you. Please believe me.”

“Always. Of course.” She sighed in disbelief. She had heard this reason a thousand times.

“I know it’s hard to hear it from me. I know I understand. So, I thought if you heard it from someone else, you’d give me another chance.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hey..” A feminine voice came from behind him. When he walked aside, Natasha Romanoff showed up. “I know it looked bad, and you must’ve felt awful. But it’s true, it was for a mission, and we didn’t expect you to be there. It was all a misunderstanding. I hope you give him another chance.”

“Uh, hi. I’m Clint Barton. Captain’s co-wor… friend.” Another one popped up from behind Natasha and reached for her hand to shake. She took it, despite being bewildered. “I was with them that night. I would also testify that it was what happened. ”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Bruce Banner. I wasn’t involved in the operation, but I was aware of the plan. I’m also here to testify.” Another confused handshake happened before another tall blond man showed up behind him. How many people did he bring?

“Good day, lady of Rogers; I am Thor Odinson of Asgard. I am here to give my word that Rogers is an honest and sincere man. I wasn’t also involved in the said mission but eventually informed, and I do not believe Steve would be able to do that to you.” He smiled and bowed at her, and she nodded confusedly.

“Hey, hi. I’m Tony..” He reached for her hands and quickly shook them. “I heard what happened, and he looked pretty bad, I’m not gonna lie. But Cap’s the most honest person you’ll ever meet. You’re a good influence on him, he’s not cranky when he is with you.” They chuckled at him, and she almost did, except she was still trying to take in everything. “We all know how sorry he is, so we wish you find it in you to forgive him.”

And he stepped back. They lined up on her right, and she was waiting to see if they were all done or if there was another one. And a tall, dark man walked in with a patch on his other eye. He was a serious man. “Apologies for interrupting your flight,” he said her name, and she just watched him, waiting for what he had to say. “I’m Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. I was the one in charge of the mission that went badly for the two of you. Here is the confidential file about the mission, there was nothing but professionalism that night. We hope you understand.”

A huge black folder was handed to her. When she took it, it was heavy. She opened it, and it was a tablet containing tons of information about the same stranger lady she saw that night. And everything else that answered why they needed to conduct the mission that caused a quarrel between her and her man.

A slight crease was carved on Nick’s forehead as he watched Steve’s significant other handle the tablet expertly. He took note of it in the back of his mind, and ignored it for now when she handed back the tablet.

“I.. Steve? I.. I know, I believe you that it was for work.. But did no appearance for 3 months come along with it?”

“The Avengers went through a lot at that time, and it’s my fault. Aside from them not being able to contact any relatives, I prohibited it for their own sake and yours. Considering that the main opponent’s strength was the internet.” Fury jumped in to explain to her, and she nodded understandingly.

“It’s still not a valid reason to leave you like that, I know. You were confused, betrayed, and hurt. I should’ve done better. I could’ve found ways. I’m so sorry. Will you forgive me? I love you. I can’t afford to lose you.” She was once again being lured by his sky-blue eyes. And those three words were the only thing she needed to accept him again. She held his cheek and read the genuineness in his eyes.

She nodded eagerly, “I forgive you, love. I love you.” He smiled up to his eyes and did not only captivate her heart again but also her lips, which he longed to feel.

“Yes!” Thor yelled with a wide grin, starting the applause of the crowd. Natasha smiled at the couple reuniting, and so did the others.

“Whoop— Okay, job well done, I guess,” Tony commented on the side.

The airport interrupted the commotion with her flight’s announcement. When their kiss ended, they stared at each other while their foreheads touched. “What about my flight?” She asked him.

“Do you mind me joining you?” She gasped at him. “Stark got us first-class seats.”

“Oh, really? That’s so sweet.” She looked at the six people who bothered to come to her just to convince her. “Thank you. Thank you all for coming just to help Steve. I appreciate it. I can’t believe he had the Avengers come here just to say sorry.”

“We’re not paid for this, so it’s good to know that we convinced you,” Tony replied, making them chuckle. “You two better get going before you miss your flight.” They both nodded, said their goodbyes, and expressed gratitude.

As they sat on their first-class window seats, they couldn’t take their hands off of each other. They kept talking and catching up until everybody else on the plane fell asleep on their seats and the lights were dimmed.

“I missed you so much,” Steve whispered in her ear as he inhaled her sweet scent by the neck as she sat on his lap.

“I missed you more, love.” She murmured back as she snuggled in his chest and put his heart beat by her ear. It was the most comforting beat. The inhumane beat of his heart was a sign he was alive and well, which gives comfort to her.

“You know what? We should have a code name for you. So if a similar situation like this happens, you could still write to me.” He smiled as he brushed her hair softly with his fingers.

“Okay, I like that idea. Writing to you. What code name are you thinking of?”

She smiled and adjusted to kiss his lips.

“Trouble man.”

He chuckled and stole her lips for a passionate kiss as he let his hands roam. “Trouble man it is.”

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anyca786 · 7 months ago

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Worthy Queen

Y/n reader x Thor Odinson

The flashing lights of Stark Tower bounced playfully off your sequined golden dress as you entered with Thor, hand in hand. Your towering boyfriend, ever the gentleman, leaned down to steal a kiss that sent shivers down your spine and a giggle escaping your lips. Everyone's eyes seemed glued to you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence under their gazes.

Hours melted away in a whirlwind of laughter, drinks, and friendly competition. Now, nestled amongst the remaining Avengers, Dr. Cho, and Maria Hill, the party had settled into a comfortable camaraderie. Thor's hammer, Mjolnir, rested innocently on the coffee table, a silent challenge in the dimly lit room.

"But, it's a trick!" Clint scoffed, eyeing the hammer. "Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power!' Whatever, man! It's gotta be rigged."

Thor boomed a hearty laugh, "Well, please, be my guest."

One by one, the Avengers took their shot. Clint, Tony (even in his Iron Man suit!), Rhodey, and even Bruce with a playful growl all met the same immovable object. Steve, however, managed to budge the hammer slightly, a feat that earned a surprised look from Thor.

"See?" Tony quipped, "it's obviously a fingerprint thing. Like a security code."

The room erupted in playful banter as Steve playfully scolded Tony for revealing their past encounter.

"Thor," Bruce said, a mischievous glint in his eye, "Why don't Y/n give it a shot?"

You felt a blush creep up your neck. Thor, however, beamed with pride, "Of course, my love!" He nudged you playfully towards the hammer.

Ignoring Tony's scoffs of "rigged," you grasped the smooth handle. To your surprise, the hammer lifted effortlessly, leaving everyone staring with wide eyes. A triumphant smile bloomed on Thor's face as he leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss.

The weight, however, came as a sudden shock. As you started to lower Mjolnir back onto the table, Thor was beside you in a flash. His strong arm wrapped around your waist, a playful kiss landing on your shoulder. He then placed his hand over yours, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you. Together, you lifted the hammer with ease, Thor leaving a lingering kiss on your neck as he did so.

"See," he rumbled, a hint of amusement in his voice, "They are not worthy, but my queen is."

#avengers x reader #thor #thor x reader #thor x you #marvel #marvel fic #you are worthy #age of ultron

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pretty-little-mind33 · 4 months ago

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Pietro Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend come back from a date and he's desperate to get his hands on you.

Prompt: "You've done so good being quiet for me. Think you can last a little longer?"

Warnings: SMUT (nsfm), oral sex (f receiving), praise kink, degradation, passionate, semi-public, longer than a blurb (oops 🫶)

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

You aren't sure if it's simply because it's a warm summer evening or because you're practically naked in Tony Stark's living area at 1am in the morning, but your skin burns.

Your hands grip the counter as you bump into it, "Pietro, come on, can't we continue this in one of our rooms. Please?" you mutter as his lips continue to kiss your burning cheeks.

When Pietro simply leans away a little, knuckles gliding across your jaw to your cheek, and hums in amusement, you weren't in any way surprised. "I mean, sure we could, Princezna (Princess) But, I think I like it here."

His hand trails down your chest, making you shiver. His index finger hooks around the centre of your bra, a reminder of how exposed he'd already made you, and you can't help but clench your thighs together as you look up at the ceiling.

"Someone could see us," you whisper.

"I don't care about that, not when I have you like this," he says honestly and taps his finger on the front clasp of the lacy undergarment, "You know how much I like these, it's always such easy access," Pietro whispers as he unclasps it.

You gasp and your arms instantly snap up to cover yourself, "Pietro! I'm serious! Someone could walk in!" you exclaim, looking around anxiously.

Pietro shushes you, "It's only us," he assures and he uses his knee to spread your thighs, "and don't pretend like having an audience wouldn't just make you wetter, filthy girl."

You blush and he grins, "I can see your cute little expression, Princezna (Princess), and I can hear your heart pounding. You want to know what I know?" he taunts as he takes your arms and brings them down, uncovering you as he swipes his tongue across his lips.

"W-what do you know?"

"I know you're soaking your panties under your skirt at the mere thought of me fucking you in here."

You can't deny it. You just can't. "I'm sorry," you whimper, embarrassed. Pietro interrupts you with a kiss, his hands cupping your boobs. You melt into his touch, kissing him the moment his lips met yours.

When he disconnects your lips, he smirks and begins to massage your boobs. He applies pressure on your hardening nipples and his smirk only turns more taunting, "Beg for me," he whispers, his accent thick and sultry in your ear.

Your breath catches in your throat. You can't believe he's being serious about this, but you also can't bring yourself to stop him. Your skin begins to burn hotter and hotter until you think you're going to burst.

"Please," you whisper, looking even more ashamed.

"Please, what?"

"Please fuck me."

Pietro grins. It isn't the sweet, slightly cocky, grin he usually wears. It's sinister. Without another word, he lifts you onto the counter, pushing away some of Stark's trinkelets and pictures as they fall to the floor, and positions one of your legs over his shoulder.

In this position, you're completely exposed. Your skirt is riding up your thighs to reveal the skimpy panties you have underneath. You know what Pietro going to do. He's done it enough times that you know all the signs.

"You be quiet now, Miláček (Sweetheart)," he whispers and you instantly let out a small, "yes," as your answer.

Pietro pulls you towards him, his hands sliding down your hips to hook under your panties. You groan, hands gripping the wood harder as he slides them down and lets them fall.

"Beautiful," he chuckles as he runs his hand over your folds. Gently spreading them, he collects your juices on his finger. "You're this wet just thinking about my cock, how cute," Pietro mocks.

He brings his hand to you mouth and you suck on his fingers. It almost makes him lose his mind, seeing you taste yourself like this.

When he leans in, lips touching your ear, he teasingly drags his hand down your thigh again and then slowly pushes two of his fingers into you.

"You greedy girl. Absolutely no resistance whatsoever to what I'm doing, huh? You're so easily accessible, it's so adorable. Tak zatraceně rozkošný, Princezna (so damn adorable, Princess)"

You groan, hands gripping his forearms as he fingers you meticulously. He's careful and concentrated, tongue wedged between his lips, and he knows exactly what he's doing.

"Please, Pietro," you beg, whimpering. "Please. More."

He obliges, pulling you in more by your thighs and removing his fingers. He smirks and dives in, licking up and down your folds. You groan, pulling his silver locks as he pleasures you.

You're a moaning mess, tears brimming your eyes as he makes you feel so good. Pietro pulls away, his lips slick with your arousal as he smirks. "You've done so good being quiet for me. Think you can last a little longer?"

He continues to eat you out, his hands gripping your thighs as one rests on his shoulder. You stifle your moans by bitting your lip, whimpering instead.

You're desperately trying to be a good girl for him and at the same time making sure none of the others walk in on Pietro sucking your clit like his life depends on it.

"Hodná holka (Good girl)," he whispers, finally detaching his lips from your pussy and kissing your lips again, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as he wants to push you over the edge.

Pietro buries his mouth in your hair, right by your ear, and orders. "Come all over me," he smirks. "Come for me nice and quiet and then I'll give you my cock."

That's all it takes for you to let go and Pietro silences your cries by kissing you, his tongue mixing with yours passionately. When your body finally stops trembling, he pulls away and lowers your leg. He soothes a hand down your thigh and kisses your forehead.

You look up at him, eyes wide as you catch your breath. You still feel empty—like something is missing.

Your boyfriend grins and unbuckles his belt, pulling it through the hoops as he unzips his pants and strokes his painfully hard cock.

"Spread them for me, Princezna (Princess)," he says and looks down at your thighs. "It's my turn."

tags: @tansgirlfriend, @brokeaesthetic, @sayitlikethecheese, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld

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eupheme · 4 months ago

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"I'm not your God, little one, but you will worship me." danger starts the sharp incline by @citrus-moonlight

#I have been wanting to try this for a bit and only now was brave enough!#this is how I pictured demon!klaue in my head #I hope you like this my friend I think about your fic all the time 💖#you are endlessly inspiring and I appreciate and love you so much! 💖#demon!klaue #ulysses klaue #andy serkis #age of ultron

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swan-of-sunrise · 1 year ago

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A Night on the Town

Summary: Steve and (Y/N)’s first date, as told through the eyes of an extremely nervous ninety-seven year old super-soldier and a lovestruck historical-fiction novelist.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! Today, we'll be getting a little look at Steve and Booksmart's first date after the Battle of Sokovia but before the last chapter of Age of Ultron, and I'll warn you now that there's so much freaking fluff in this one-shot! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

A Night on the Town May 2015 The Home of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Sam Wilson, Washington D.C. (Superhero Snapshots Masterlist)

Ever since taking the super-soldier serum in 1943, Steve Rogers had grown accustom to dangerous battles filled with death-defying stunts and adrenaline-inducing action. He almost never experienced pre-battle jitters and now that he was cementing himself in the twenty-first century alongside a team of other similarly super-powered people, he knew that there was no need to be nervous with his fellow Avengers fighting at his side, no matter if they were battling aliens from the opposite end of space or murderous androids controlled by artificial-intelligence. But as he parked his motorcycle on the street in front of (Y/N) and Sam’s house, Steve’s heart pounded in his chest and after switching off the engine, he was forced to wipe his clammy hands off on his dark jeans.

“It’s just a date, Rogers…” He reassured himself, getting off the motorcycle and reaching into the back compartment to retrieve the bouquet of pink roses he’d carefully picked out for (Y/N). “A date with a woman who’s completely and utterly out of your league.” When his cell phone vibrated in his pocket, he nudged the compartment closed and withdrew the device to see who was texting him on his day off, only to heave a sigh when he saw that it was Natasha.

Nat: Go get her, super-soldier 😉

Nat: You’d better give me all the tea tomorrow, or else I’ll decorate your shield with stickers.

Nat: Have fun!

“What the hell does ‘the tea’ mean…?” Steve murmured to himself as he shook his head at the spy’s eccentricities and tucked the phone back into his pocket. He took a moment to make sure that the roses hadn’t begun to wilt on the drive over and when he was satisfied with their appearance, he made his way up the driveway by the familiar yellow Volkswagen Bug and stepped onto the porch; nervously swallowing and wincing at how dry his throat had become, Steve ran a hand through his hair before pressing the doorbell and taking a step back, a smile making its way onto his face despite the anxiety fluttering away in his stomach.

Moments later, the door swung open to reveal (Y/N) and the breath was instantly knocked out of his lungs at the stunning sight. The historical-fiction novelist was dressed in an off-the-shoulder green blouse, short black jean skirt, sheer black tights and dark brown ankle boots, and her (Y/H/C) hair was fixed in the same intricate style she’d worn to the party at the Avengers Tower. Silver hoop earrings and a delicate book-shaped pendant accentuated the graceful slope of her neck, and her subtle touches of makeup brought out the sparkle in her (Y/E/C) eyes. While Steve stared in stunned disbelief, the hints of apprehension written across (Y/N)’s face melted away into a sweet, red-hued smile that he couldn’t help but return tenfold. “Hi, Steve.”

“Hi, (Y/N). You…You look so beautiful.” The historical-fiction novelist mumbled a bashful word of thanks and Steve held the bouquet out for her to take. “These are for you. I, um, I remember you saying in one of your emails that pink roses were your favorite.”

(Y/N) beamed as she accepted the bouquet of roses and took in their sweet-smelling scent. “They’re stunning, Steve, thank you! Let me just put these in some water-”

“I’ve got it, Booksmart.” A smirking Sam appeared at the doorway with his roommate’s purse in his hands, swapping her for the bouquet and giving Steve a look of exaggerated sternness. “Good to see you, Cap. So, you two’ve got a fun night planned; you’re gonna have her home at a respectful time, right?”

“Hi, Sam. I-”

“You don’t have to answer him, Steve, he’s just being a smart-ass.” After flashing Steve a smile, (Y/N) shot her best friend a glare and slung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Don’t you have anything better to do on a Friday night than annoy us, Birdbrain?”

Sam dramatically sighed and shook his head. “Sadly, not all of us are lucky enough to snag a date with a super-soldier, but I might meet up with Nat later and go to that new bar that just opened downtown. You two have fun, but not too much fun!”

They stepped down off the porch and made their way down the driveway to Steve’s motorcycle, and (Y/N) waited until the front door closed behind Sam to heave an exasperated sigh. “He’s a real character, isn’t he?”

“He’s certainly one of a kind, that’s for sure.” They both chuckled as he reached into his bike’s back compartment and withdrew the spare helmet. “I haven’t been out to very many restaurants here in D.C., so I was hoping that you’d know of a good one we can eat at tonight. Whatever you’d like, I’m game.”

(Y/N)’s eyes lit up in excitement as she fastened the helmet’s strap under her chin. “In that case, there’s a great food truck downtown that serves, hands-down, the best Mexican food. How does that sound?”

Steve straddled the motorcycle and waited for the historical-fiction novelist to lower herself onto the seat behind him before switching the engine on. “I’ve never had Mexican food, but I’ve always wanted to give it a try.”

“Trust me, you’re going to love it!” She exclaimed over the engine’s rumbling, and Steve smiled a little to himself when he felt her arms wrap around his waist. “1560 Wilson Boulevard, you can’t miss it!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve shot her a teasing grin over his shoulder and reveled in the feeling of her arms tightening around him as he peeled away from the curb and sped down the street.

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

Seated side-by-side on a brick planter box a little ways away from Pa’ Tortas El Papi’s bustling food truck, (Y/N) and Steve enjoyed their plates of street tacos and ice-cold Coca-Cola’s and fell into easy conversation as Tejano music played in the foreground and string lights twinkled in the tree branches above. (Y/N) was pleased and a little relieved when Steve told her how delicious their dinner was, knowing how different Mexican food was to the super-soldier’s usual cuisine, and there was a proud grin on her face as she watched him eagerly finish his second plate of tacos and regaled him with stories of her many trips to the food truck with Sam. With Steve, (Y/N) felt completely at ease and all of her worries – about the fallout of the Battle of Sokovia, about the legalities surrounding her breached studio contract, about Ultron’s defeat – were put out of her mind by the super-soldier’s comforting and near-addictive presence.

“I like this song,” Steve stated after they’d lapsed into a comfortable silence, both of them enjoying the last of their sodas while they people-watched from their secluded planter box. “It has a nice melody.”

“‘Amor Prohibido,’ released as a single in 1994 from the album of the same name and sung by the incomparable Selena Quintanilla…or just Selena, if you prefer, sort of like Beyoncé or Cher. It’s about forbidden love and wanting to be with someone despite everyone else’s misgivings about their relationship.” When (Y/N) glanced up from her empty glass bottle and caught sight of the awestruck expression on the super-soldier’s face, she felt her own face begin to warm in embarrassment and she awkwardly cleared her throat before continuing. “Anyway, it’s a very good song…one of my favorites of hers, actually.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head in amazement. “Sometimes I forget just how knowledgeable you are when it comes to music, and then you go and knock me onto my ass with a pitch-perfect summation of a random song’s background and details. It sounds cliché, but I don’t know any other word to call it other than incredible, (Y/N).” His azure eyes were shining as he spoke, and (Y/N) knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he meant every word he uttered; her lips curved into a smile before she wordlessly pressed a kiss onto the smooth skin of his cheek and scooted closer to lean her head on his shoulder, smiling even more when she felt his large hand gently wrap itself around hers. “My Spanish is a little rusty, but I’ll bet that there’s a music expert around here that could translate some of it for me.”

“‘Aquí solo importa nuestro amor, te quiero…’” (Y/N) quietly sang along to the impassioned tune and gave Steve’s hand a gentle squeeze as she translated. “‘All that matters here is our love, I love you…’”

Although they’d finally confessed their love for one another just two weeks prior, saying those three simple words aloud again sent a warm tingle throughout (Y/N)’s body, and she was reminded of the super-soldier’s breathtaking grin and the feel of his soft lips caressing hers as they stood in the deserted hangar of the old S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier.

Instead of replying, Steve simply closed his eyes and hummed along to the melody of the song as a light blush dusted over his cheeks, and (Y/N) seized the rare opportunity to study her distracted date; his handsome face was fully free of the guarded expression he’d continuously worn when they first met, making him appear younger and resemble the ninety-five pound man he’d always been before his recruitment into Project Rebirth, and her heart warmed in her chest when she realized her role in helping him open up and slowly but surely join a world that he once believed that he would never belong in. Not many people are lucky enough to see the man behind the shield, (Y/N) thought as she rested her head back on Steve’s shoulder and smiled to herself, but right now I feel like I’m the luckiest person alive.

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

“Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Doc, uh, are you tellin’ me you built a time machine…out of a DeLorean?”

“The way I see it, if you’re gonna built a time machine into a car, why not do it with some style?”

The auditorium echoed with chuckles of amusement at Doc Brown’s reply and while the time traveling car suddenly blazed its way back onto the screen, Steve bit his lip to hide his disbelief from (Y/N), who was engrossed in the ongoing film right beside him. When he picked a 30th Anniversary screening of Back to the Future for his and (Y/N)’s first date, it hadn’t occurred to him that it was a film revolving around time travel, and the irony of being a man out of time taking his incredibly modern girlfriend to see it was definitely not lost on him. It was a fun film that took a more science-fiction route in regard to the time travel aspect – and as someone who’d gone from 1945 to 2012 in the blink of an eye, it was a nice change of pace seeing someone go from present day to being a fish out of water in the past – but Steve started to feel slightly uncomfortable when the high school-aged George McFly was introduced.

Unsurprisingly, Steve was the furthest thing from popular in high school; he was short, skinny and interested in art and the few girls who’d acknowledge his presence were only interested in fishing for a date with Bucky. The only real difference between him and George McFly was that, despite his abysmal success rate, he always fought back against his bullies instead of cowering from confrontation like George. However, it was George’s infatuation with Lorraine that struck Steve; like him, the high-schooler was hopeless with girls and had a difficult time expressing himself around his crush, something that Steve still struggled with over eighty years later. It had taken nothing short of a world-ending threat for Steve to finally confess his love to (Y/N) and when the adrenaline of the Battle of Sokovia finally wore off, so too did his forwardness.

Bucky always made this sort of thing look so damn easy, Steve silently bemoaned and swallowed thickly, his eyes trained on the screen as he contemplated whether or not he should wrap his arm around the historical-fiction novelist’s shoulders. He reached into their shared bucket of popcorn and sucked in a sharp breath when his fingers suddenly brushed against (Y/N)’s; when he looked over at her, she was smiling at him and he felt himself smile back as she tossed a kernel of popcorn into her mouth that was accompanied by a flirtatious wink and returned her attention back to the screen.

It wasn’t until George and Lorraine’s much-anticipated dance in the school’s decorated gymnasium that Steve found the opportune moment to make his move. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he moved his arm up and slowly lowered it to rest around (Y/N)’s shoulders; he was careful to avoid the bare skin of her shoulder and curl his fingers around the silky material covering her upper arm, but the respectful gesture didn’t stop him from feeling the warmth radiating off of her or detecting the subtle uptick of her heartbeat at his careful touch. Steve’s own breath hitched when the historical-fiction novelist not only scooted closer to his side, but also rested her head on his shoulder; he didn’t bother fighting the smile that stretched across his face as his body relaxed and he leaned his cheek against the top of her head, feeling nothing but love for the woman sitting beside him while they both watched George and Lorraine finally share a sweet kiss.

“Earth Angel, Earth Angel, please be mine. My darling dear, love you for all time. I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you…”

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

The moon was shining high in the darkened sky when Steve finally took (Y/N) back home. After the movie, they’d spontaneously decided to visit a nearby ice cream parlor and enjoy their frozen treats while strolling around the block arm-in-arm, and it wasn’t until they noticed several bars beginning to close for the night that they realized just how late it was; they were having too much fun eating their ice cream and laughing at (Y/N)’s many attempts to teach Steve how Instagram filters worked, but they were mainly just enjoying spending time in one another’s presence. The rumbling of the super-soldier’s motorcycle ceased when he parked in front of (Y/N) and Sam’s house and switched off the engine, and silence settled over the street as he gallantly walked alongside her to the porch.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” Standing on the porch, (Y/N) gave Steve – who was nearly eye-to-eye with her from where he stood at the base of the steps – a teasing grin. “You sure know how to show a lady a good time, Captain Rogers.”

Steve chuckled at that. “Yeah, well, you’d be the first lady to ever think that; most of Bucky and mine’s double dates usually ended with my date forgetting that I existed and both gals trying to make a move on Buck.”

“I suppose it’s their loss and my gain, then.” While Steve’s cheeks turned pink at her compliment, (Y/N) shrugged off the leather jacket he’d insisted on letting her wear when she started to shiver during their stroll, cringing at the cool night air on her flushed skin but handing the jacket over to him; she took a moment to admire the super-soldier’s muscular physique while he slid his jacket back on and was forced to clear her throat before continuing. “Well, I…I should probably head in; Sam’s probably spying on us as we speak and waiting to interrogate me.”

“I’m sure he’d be at the window if he hadn’t fallen asleep while watching reruns of NCIS.” A teasing smile of his own curved his lips upwards when (Y/N) furrowed her brow in confusion. “Good hearing’s just one of the many side effects of being a super-soldier.”

Sometimes, it was easy for (Y/N) to forget that the man standing before her was Captain America, a bonafide superhero who could lift a ton without breaking a sweat and who miraculously survived being frozen in ice for nearly seventy years. To her, he was just Steve Rogers, a handsome man who strived to learn as much as he could, who had a dry but witty sense of humor and who made her feel well and truly loved. “I meant what I said earlier,” (Y/N) quietly admitted and reached out to hold one of Steve’s hands. “Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in…well, a pretty long time.”

Steve’s azure eyes softened as he nodded in agreement. “Me too. I wish it didn’t have to end.” When she arched a brow at that, his eyes widened in panic and he stammered out, “T-That’s, um, that’s not what I meant, I wasn’t trying to…not that I don’t want to, you know, but…I swear, I’m not implying that you and I should…” He awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck and let out an embarrassed groan. “Ninety-seven, and I still can’t talk to a beautiful woman without gettin’ tongue-tied.”

(Y/N) giggled. “That’s true…” Smiling, she brought her free hand up card her fingers through his hair before gently cupping his smooth jaw. “But it’s also one of the many things I love about you.”

Steve gave her a breathtaking grin and leaned forward, his impossibly-long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his soft lips met hers; the gentle and passionate way that Steve kissed her made her feel cherished and while his hand moved to rest on the curve of her waist, she couldn’t help but marvel at how the highly-trained super-soldier’s touch was nothing short of reverential when it came to her. His kisses were addictive and as they finally separated for air, she found herself moving forward to press one last lingering kiss onto his swollen lips before pulling away far enough to meet his hooded gaze. “That was…”

“Scandalous? Inappropriate?” (Y/N) jokingly offered. “Something that would’ve ruined both our reputations in the 1940’s?”

“Incredible.” Steve finished, and the tender gleam that filled his azure eyes as he looked at her caused her own cheeks to flush. “You’re incredible, sunshine.”

That was the first time he’d ever called her something other than her given name, and the added emphasis on the term of affection certainly wasn’t lost on her. In the back of her mind, she resolved to ask him about it one day but in that moment, she all but glowed and bit her lip in a poor attempt to hide her bashful grin. “I know how busy you are with the move to the Avengers’ new facility and the fallout of the Battle of Sokovia, so I’m not sure when we’ll be able to go out again but I hope it’s soon.” After Steve nodded in agreement, (Y/N) pressed a chaste kiss onto his cheek and with a small pang of reluctance, she pulled away from his arms and finally let go of his hand. “G’night, Steve.”

“’Night, (Y/N).”

They shared one final smile before turning away from one another, (Y/N) to unlock the front door and step inside and Steve to walk down to where he’d parked his motorcycle. She gave him a wave once she saw him sitting astride the bike and stepped into the house, but the brief chime of her cell phone forced her to quickly lock up before checking her unread text messages.

Steve: I don’t think that there’s an adequate enough way to thank you for such a wonderful night, sunshine, but I was hoping I could take you out again tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at eight for dinner and another movie?

While her heart practically burst out of her chest with happiness, (Y/N) typed out a brief but enthusiastic reply and tiptoed into the living room to wake her sleeping roommate, but not before giving the vase of pink roses sitting on the kitchen counter an appraising smile and taking note of the fading rumble of a familiar motorcycle outside.

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

A/N: And there we have it! What did you think of their first date?? Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist

Stumblin’ In Book II: “Age of Ultron” Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk @momc95 @savedbystyle @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @mangosandmimosas @supersouthy @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @becausewelie @outoftheregular @junipermurdock @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley @username23345@crist1216 @capswife @lilmschild @avngrsinitiative @crowleysqueenofhell @y-napotat @mary1raven @groovyqueer @ljej95 @innersublimefury @prettysbliss

#stumblin' in #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america fic #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america x f!reader #steve rogers #captain america #sam wilson #falcon #natasha romanoff #black widow #ultron #marvel cinematic universe

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