#ultron is their child

[pandagirl45]

Ultron: dad, why do you call pop lupu?

Tony: wolf

Ultron: why does he call you kitten?

Tony: *flushes red* because i... um... uh... don't worry about it

Ultron:

Tony: •_•

[pandagirl45drawing]

Last batch :D of the StarkBucks family from the holidays

[galaxygurlll]

Avengers Age of Ultron x Reader - Part 1

You were taken at the age of 2 to a HYDRA base. You get the powers of air, water, fire, nature, metal manipulation and teleportation.

When twins, Pietro and Wanda show up, you form a brother-sister-sister-like connection with them. They are also protective of you.

Once the Avengers show up, things start to change...

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-3rd person perspective- 

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“Report to your stations immediately. This is not a drill. We are under attack. We are under attack,” The announcer calls out as all soldiers rush around, getting to their stations as three mysterious figures stand in the doorway, two tall and one smaller. A white-blonde-haired and brown-eyed male in the middle, Pietro Maxamoff and on either side, two women. One, with long brown hair and matching brown eyes on his left, his twin sister, Wanda Maxamoff. But, on Pietro’s right, another girl, but, a young girl. The girl is only 13. She has y/h/l y/h/c with y/e/c that have bags under them. Her name, is y/n. Doesn’t know or even remember her last name as she was taken at the age of two. 

She’s the longest survivor here at this Hydra base. She gained the power of air, water, fire, nature, metal manipulation and teleportation. Strange, right? Well, Pietro, her honorary older brother, has super speed whilst Wanda, her honorary older sister, has telekinesis, energy manipulation, and some form of neuroelectric interfacing that allows her to both read thoughts and also give her targets waking nightmares. They’re like three strange related and non-related siblings. Anywho, back to the story. 

Pietro takes both girls' hands in his fingerless gloved ones and reassuringly squeezes them as panic erupts around them. 

We go back over to the leader, Strucker, who is talking with a Fortress Soldier. “Who gave the order to attack?” He asks, “Herr Strucker, it’s the Avengers. They landed in the far woods, the perimeter guard panicked,” The Soldier informs the leader. Strucker turns to Dr. List, “They have to be after the sceptre,” He says then turns back to the Soldier, “Can we hold them?” Strucker asks impatiently, “They’re the Avengers…” The Soldier answers with concern and worry, “Deploy the rest of the tanks,” Strucker tells him, “Yes, sir,” he replies. 

Back to the twins, we see y/n looking around the room with blank glances as she scratches around the metal bracelet on her wrist which holds her powers still, but Pietro grabs her hand again, forcefully, yet gently and when the girl looks up to him, he looks at her with a worried glance, but sees in her eyes that she’s sorry and they both look forward again as Wanda worries more for the girl of 13. You see, y/n has lost her capability of forming true human emotions over the years. She’s basically emotionless, well, she is. She’s also gone mute over the years as she never had someone to properly teach her how to speak though the twins have tried and failed.. Her eyes, as Pietro and Wanda say, tell them everything they need to know. 

The three spot Strucker and the the doctor, Dr. List, look their way for a brief moment, then they go back to their conversation. 

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-Slight time skip, 3rd person still- 

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“We will not yield! The Americans sent their circus freaks to test us. We will send them back, in bags. No surrender,” Strucker announces to the soldiers in the room who reply back with, “No surrender!” Then get back to work. Strucker turns to Dr. List and whispers, “I’m going to surrender. You will delete everything. If we give the Avengers the weapons, they may not look too far into what we’ve been…-” Dr. List cuts him off, “The twins and the girl,” He says whilst looking to the doorway, “They’re not ready to take on-“ Strucker begins to say but is then cut off again, “No, no. I mean…” Dr. List trails off as he points to the doorway and says, “The twins and the girl.” 

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-Pietro pov- 

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I didn’t want to leave the girls. But they convinced me. 

As I’m spreading through the forest, I spot a guy with a bow and arrow and, casually, I speed up to him and knock a bullet into him. Slowing down, I look down to the guy in pain and say, “You didn’t see that coming?” Then I speed off again and, once again, spot another dude who I knock off a bike causing me to chuckle as I continue running. 

I reach back to where I was before, and see only y/n there. I walk over to her and ask, “Where’s Wanda?” I wrap an arm around her shoulders as she shrugs them and I sigh. Wanda doesn’t like to listen much. 

Y/n suddenly pushes my arm off her shoulders and heads off somewhere. “Do you feel her?” I call out and she nods whilst starting to jog. I just stand where I am, staying hidden as well. 

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-Y/n pov- 

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I jog to where I now hide behind a corner. Why? Well because there is a man with a big shield around the corner. Whilst hiding, I hear him talk, “Baron Strucker. Hydra’s number one thing,” Big shield man says, “Technically, I’m a thug for SHIELD,” Strucker tells big shield man, “Well then technically you’re unemployed. Where’s Loki’s sceptre?” Big shield man asks and I start start to wonder who this Loki guy is. 

Though, my thoughts are cut off, “Don’t worry, I know when I’m beat. You’ll mention how I cooperated, I hope,” Strucker says as I roll my eyes at this, “I’ll put it right under illegal human experimentation,” I look to the ground at what big shield man said, but I sense Wanda more and emerge around the corner slightly. 

“How many are there?” Big shield man asks and I see Wanda knock him down the stairs with he telekinetic power, then quickly leaves. Luckily for me; sense the sarcasm? He lands right in front of me. He looks up at me and I look down at him and we both stay still for around three seconds, then, without thinking, I speak and say, though my voice is cold, rough and static-like because I don’t speak, I get something out, “Help.” 

That’s all I can produce and he quickly stands up and continues to look at me, “I have two more enhanced. Both female. One very young. Do not engage,” Big shield man says, “Stay here,” He tells me in a soft tone and I nod my head slightly as he turns his attention back to Strucker as he speaks, “You’ll have to be faster than…-“ But Strucker is cut off by the big shield guy throwing his shield at him, and, which I see, knocks him out. 

“Y/n, come on,” I hear Wanda say in my mind, “We can get out, come on,” She says but I stay put, I don’t want this guy to get mad at me. I must have been staring off into space because the next thing I hear is, “Kid, you alright?” I blink and I see big shield guy kneeling at my height in front of me. As we look into each other’s eyes, I shake my head slightly as big shield man sighs and shakes his head lightly, “What have they done to you?” He mutters as he puts a hand on my cheek, making me flinch back slightly. 

“I’m not going to hurt you kid, I just want to help you,” He tells me softly and I stare at him, “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers,” He tells me, still in a soft tone, “And you are?” He asks, “Y-Y-Y/n,” I tell him with the same tone of voice as before and he nods, “Last name?” He asks kindly and I shake my head and, though painful to speak, I do speak, “C-can’t r-rem-em-ber,” I stutter and see his face fall, “You poor thing…” He says as he stands up to his full height now and looks down at me and holds out his hand, “Come with me. The others and I can help you. I promise,” Steve tells me in a reassuring tone and I look at him with no emotion. 

His eyes show many emotions. Sadness, hope, anger and more. I look to his hand, then back to his eyes and see him nod so, I take a deep breath, then take his hand. He gives it a reassuring squeeze as he picks up Strucker with one arm and over one shoulder as he leads me out, the silence being comfortable.

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Next chapter

Part 2: Will write for soon!

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A/n: Only part to bring over for this one

[harleyquinnselectraheart]

No one wants to talk about how horrendously the MCU has been treating and characterizing Wanda Maximoff since Civil War. And that is largely because the majority of MCU fans are Tony stans and/or have never even read a Wiki page for the 616 or 1610, let alone a comic book.

[witchofthesouls]

Archivist Ultron love it. Help him his metal ass is tormented by the horrors

Vision: How you doing?

Ultron: *knees deep in dirt observing insects and archiving* T̶͚͙̂̈h̵̯̚ẻ̴͖ ̶͇͔́̾h̸̨͒͛ͅo̷̥̒r̵̢̬͗r̶̯͝ö̵̹́ŕ̸̯̚͜s̷̨̤̾̃ ̷̲̑ṕ̵̜̊e̵̲̔̍r̵̼͗̊s̵̫͘i̸͈͛̈́s̷̠͎̾ṱ̴̪͌͘ ̵̤͝b̸͙̾͐u̶̬͂͠t̴͍̀ ̴͓̬̿͝s̶͕̪̈́o̸̟̞͊ ̶͔̤̽d̷̹̄ọ̷͕̍͠ ̷̥̐͜i̸̥̝̓͌

Vision: Kay great

Also

Ultron: Did you know a god of destruction is our planet core

Avengers: No??

Thor: I did

Stark: You're not human you don't count

Ahhh, Thor wouldn't know. He's not very deep into history besides the successful military campaigns. Loki could probably feel something in the roots as he travels through pockets.

Tony Stark wouldn't know what to do with Ultron's weird interests but to throw more into it. He's the kind of parent that may not like nor understand their child's interests, but he's throwing his spirit into it.

Vision would be fascinating to Gaea because <mine. Mine. MINE. You are me. I am you. Echo of myself/progenitor/brothers. We are bound for Eternity. >

She would probably put Vision near the other Infinity Stone because she likes the resonance they emit.

Stark is in the background with confused emotions because Ultron is becoming more and more like a hoarder of knowledge, like the owl spirit in Avatar the Last Airbender. He actually wants a movie marathon, but he has no idea if Ultron will take ideas from said cartoon owl spirit and do a kidnapping spree to collect indigenous oral traditions and language preservation.

[ryrybread]

im not quite there yet in my hank pym reading, but *looks at my current astro boy/pluto hyperfixation* *looks at my current hank pym hyperfixation* im going to be deeply unwell about ultron, huh....

[hellothererandompeeps]

all you people being like “My first MCU movie was …..” now it’s my turn. Mine was right at the end of Age Of Ultron. I walked in right as Wanda was do the scream (Yk what I’m talking bout) and I looked at my dad, I was a little kid at the time, and ask “Daddy, why she crying 🥺” Apparently, I was like really upset at the part, this is the only part that I have seen, it was so well played out the I started crying for her! I did not even know what happened for her to be crying!

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BRUCE BANNER & THE HULK (mcu)

—

How Bruce / Hulk reacts to being given a Hulk plush (Bruce Banner x Fem!Reader) and (Hulk & Fem!Reader)

Headcanons

SFW, established relationship, fluff, crack treated seriously, hints at canon divergence

Picture source: Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015)

2k+ words (some of which are from one Spurt - or mini fic - w/ Bruce and another w/ Hulk)

BRUCE BANNER

Bruce stares at you like you’re insane when you come up to him brandishing the plushie Hulk like a trophy.

Of course a second later he fixes his face to smile at you in greeting, even with his hair fluffier than usual from him having been running his hands through it so much and his smile tinged with fatigue, but his initial opinion of the plush itself still doesn’t actually improve.

For your part you remain unphased, making sure he’s not handling anything sensitive as you study the little Hulk in your hands some more before slipping behind his desk and shaking it at Bruce with a proclamation of: “It’s you!”

Bruce laughs at your antics despite the way both his brows have started furrowing, and finally reaches out for the plush.

❤︎

“And people, what? They buy these?”

“They did,” you shrug, you’re not going to sugarcoat it for Bruce. He’s likely to go looking for the distributor on his own time anyway.

Bruce goes quiet then, but it’s the type of silence from him that only half worries you. He was thinking, certainly, but not in a way that would make him spiral. At least not immediately.

“Right,” Bruce hums. He turns the little green plush over in his hands — both having come off his keyboard where he was inputting notes into his computer the moment you walked into his office. “No parent wants their child playing with a toy modeled after a proverbial natural disaster on legs, huh?”

He cracks a small lopsided grin at that, scoffing to himself. You give him a long look in response and Bruce only offers a shrug, ducking his head and reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck for a moment.

Your lips purse.

“I didn’t say that, B.”

He nods, “It’s the truth though, Y/n, I’m well aware of that.” The scientist stands from his stool, leaving the plush beside his keyboard, moving closer to you and wrapping you up in his arms. Softly, he nudges his nose with your broader one and you smile. “Plus, you’re far nicer than me. Of course you wouldn’t have said that.”

The soft, pale inside of his palm presses to your darker skin as he brings up his hand to cup over your cheek. Before you let yourself lean into his touch you give him a measured look, eyes narrowed, but Bruce doesn’t budge despite the apologetic look he’s giving you.

“Goddamnit, Bruce,” you grumble, giving into his touch after pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

The corners of Bruce’s eyes crinkle. He snorts.

“For what it’s worth it’s actually pretty cute,” he looks over the Hulk plushie with a more critical eye before shrugging, “even if it’s likeness is off.”

You heave a sigh.

“It’s too cute,” you guess.

Bruce nods.

“It’s way too cute,” he confirms, the arm he still has around your waist squeezing playfully at you.

Laughing, you shake your head at him, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pressing a quick peck of a kiss to his lips.

The hand he had on your face drops from your dewy skin to join the other around your waist like a moth drawn to flame, and you grin as he shifts fast to kiss you back, his grip on you tightening.

You put a finger over his lips to keep him from chasing your mouth for more, staring at him with lidded eyes and a sly curve to your lips.

“I feel it pertinent to remind you that Hulk and you share a face, Honey.” Bruce’s eyes widen and he looks about two seconds away from pressing a hand to his chest and acting wounded. “And,” you say before he can take his hands off you, “that I happen to think you’re both plenty cute. In my humble opinion that is.”

“Oh in your ‘humble’ opinion? Is that what we’re calling it?” Bruce snorts again, but when he kisses you next it’s sweeter than it needs to be.

❤︎

Overall, Bruce doesn’t hate the plush toy, which is nice, he just doesn’t particularly care for it. Though he does raise an amused brow once he tracks down the small Brazilian factory that used to make the plushies, a small fond smile curling his lips.

In general his relationship with Hulk is a lot better than it’s been even before everything with Wanda, but post The Avengers forming (hell, after having helped create Ultron with Tony his relationship with himself is the best it’s been since), so he isn’t disgusted like he once would’ve been by the prospect of a company making Hulk plushies.

The Hulk protected him on Sakaar (even if he did a lot of other things Bruce likes less too), and saved his life during The Battle of Wakanda. Bruce could give the Big Guy his props now. Especially after he himself got to kick ass in the HulkBuster, but could still admit to himself that fighting droves of bad guys wasn’t the type of challenge he particularly enjoyed.

Bruce largely disregards the plush after your initial conversation about it. Forgets about the thing, really. When he finds you one night — after he’s been away with the team for a few days on a particularly grueling mission — curled up on the couch with the plush against your chest and your arms wrapped tight around it he finds a kind of fondness for the little Hulk, though.

Cuddling with the plush like that you cut both the most adorable and the most heartbreakingly sweet figure he’s ever seen.

When Bruce scoops you up to carry you off to y’all’s shared bedroom it’s with a small groan (Hulk’s been in charge for the better part of 72 hours, his body was all bruise and still in the process of completely healing from the prolonged transformation, his ass is exhausted), but it’s completely worth it to feel the brush of your soft kinky hair over his cheek and to have you subconsciously curl into him — Hulk plush still held tightly and smushed between both of your bodies — in your sleep.

By the time you’re both in bed you’ve started to stir awake and give him the ‘welcome home’ he always looks forward to, insistent arms locked tight around his shoulders in a hug as he squeezes you flush to him from around your waist. He still makes sure the Hulk plush doesn’t tumble to the floor in your excitement though, handing it back to you and watching with fond russet eyes as you curl up with it again while he spoons you from behind and presses sweet, longing kisses into the brown expanse of your skin.

THE HULK

Hulk is borderline insulted at first until you explain what it is.

When you first come up to him brandishing his plush lookalike you’re not expecting him to both simultaneously respond like you’re about to burn him in effigy and as if you’re betraying him by trying to replace his big green ass with a plushie, of all things, but you suppose that with his reputation and general possessiveness towards you that you should’ve expected his reaction on both accounts.

After a quick explanation, and a pat of your tiny hand over his giant one in reassurance, you’re good to go though.

Once Hulk’s certain you're not trying to replace him or hurt and piss him off, though….

…Hulk immediately hits you with a “But…people hate Hulk,” and you're so caught off guard that you just blink up at him for a few silent moments.

Hulk has your mind going haywire as you think of an answer for him — vetoing “not everyone,” as an acceptable response almost immediately at the impatient grumble he lets out at you taking so long to answer.

Hulk hears your eventual answer of: “Some people still do, yeah, but a few people definitely don’t. I don’t,” and deflates.

The Big Guy slumps forward, resting his elbow onto his thigh where he’s sitting criss-cross in front of you, so he can prop his head up with his fist as he effectively pouts. You feel horrible that you can’t give him any other answer, but that was the truth and you wouldn’t lie to him; especially when you’d be so easily disproved if the Big Guy actually showed his face anywhere.

Hulk’s public perception wasn’t completely in the gutter, with a ton of work and a good deal of care it could be salvaged some, but he definitely wasn’t trusted by the majority of the public anymore (and the trust he and Bruce did have before the incident in South Africa had been faint at best even back in the day).

❤︎

“Fine.” Hulk gives a great big huff that makes your lips quirk. “Hulk look.” He holds out his hand, and you promptly rise on the tips of your toes to place the Hulk plushie delicately in his palm.

Plush now in his free hand; he doesn’t actually move it from where you placed it, just moves his hand this way and that and gives the toy a grave amount of inspection.

“Hulk never wore purple,” he grunts after a few moments, and you laugh.

Hulk wasn’t exactly wrong though. Bruce certainly wore a lot of purple, it was his favorite color after all, but Hulk didn’t touch the color if he could help it outside of the short block of purple that lined the top sides of his uniform pants.

Hulk’s completely unphased when you lean over his thigh opposite from where he’s propping his head up so you can inspect the plush with him. Even drops his hand enough for you to be able to see it at eye level.

After a few of your own silent seconds you nod and solemnly agree that you’ve never actually seen him wear full-on purple, yes, but guess that the color is for color theory purposes as the plush was made for children and would need appealing color coding to match.

“That’s dumb,” Hulk grunts, but he leaves it at that.

He goes right back to staring at the thing in silence again and you’re perfectly content to let him, humming softly and letting yourself rest your upper body over his muscled thigh.

Hulk runs hot so you won’t stay pressed to him for too long (unless it’s cold, then you’re stuck to him like glue) but his jade skin is surprisingly soft for such a force of nature and he’s never once objected to you climbing all over him.

❤︎

Eventually you reach up to take the plush back (mostly bcs Hulk’s had enough of it and is twisting his hand sideways, so if you don’t take it, it’ll fall) and keep talking lightly with Hulk about Avengers shit and whatnot. Absentmindedly, though, you take to running your thumbs softly over the plush’s head area or through its short tufts of fake black “hair”, self soothing with the feel of the plush.

Hulk notices. Hell, Hulk points it out to you.

❤︎

“Y/n not touch Hulk like that.”

A blink.

Freezing, you pause to look down at your fidgeting hands and the soft colorful fabric beneath the pads of your fingers. Your brows furrow.

Another blink— still from you.

Only after a few more beats of silence — only broken by a grumble from the Big Guy as he shifts restlessly — do you look up and turn your blank stare onto Hulk.

Hulk, whose lips are downturned into a frown and who's also watching you like he’s half expecting you to catch a whole conniption over his words.

What you finally, eloquently, settle on saying is: “What?”

❤︎

And that’s how you end up finding out Hulk likes when you run your nails along his scalp as hard as you can (he’s got some tough ass skin, there’s no other way; and if you wear acrylics or gels they’re gonna need to be strong) and when you run gentle hands over his face. Likes it so much he falls asleep, in fact.

It’s also how you end up with literal tons worth of jade green giant lying flat on his back with his head inches away from your lap while you sit criss-cross on the plush carpet behind him with your back leant against his shoulder and hands working overtime as you essentially pet him.

Call him “handsome” while you brush his hair behind his ears and he’ll crack an eye open to drop large eyes down to look at you then grin hard enough to have you cracking up. Press kisses all over his giant cheeks and forehead and over his closed eyelids and he’ll be eating out of your palm for a week— this shit is dangerous.

Overall, after any misunderstandings have been corrected, he’s more readily forgiving of the plush than Bruce, but that’s mostly because he has the benefit of feeling flattered that you’re so eagerly snuggling with a green plushie made in his likeness even as you’re curled up by his side.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!!

Bonus scrapped scene: “Hulk not grey either” “I know, Big Guy, but copyright. The distributors probably didn’t want to get sued for using your likeness.” “Still not grey,” he grumbles, expression turning mulish and petulant. You pat him on the arm in solidarity.

I am in a fucking mood I can’t help myself, the Bruce/Hulk stuff just keeps coming.

So, yeah, I went for the alternate version of Endgame (ie: one of the deleted Hulk/Bruce scenes) and changed the story a bit so that I don’t have to deal with MCU “Smart Hulk” and so that I could have Hulk smash from the HulkBuster armor after Bruce and his back and forth where they come to an understanding (also a deleted scene), but instead of kind of erasing Hulk I’m just making it so now he and Bruce have come to an equilibrium together. I’ve also technically retconned the fuck out of Ragnarok, but I don’t go into that here.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Bonus(+)Banner —

—

Also, honestly, it bothers me (to a fictional extent) that Wanda never had to own up to or make up for what she did to Bruce and her making the conscious decision to set the Hulk off in that area of South Africa bcs she was irritated and as a distraction. We know that once Bruce came back to earth and did that ridiculous “Smart Hulk” thing that he had to rebuild his image and public perception of him and that even by She-Hulk: Attorney at Law it’s not stable enough for him to just be around the regular public as a Hulk. Even when in Endgame we see that he’s regained trust and has some amount of celebrity, his position on earth is still clearly tentative. And that’s despite being a big factor in helping save the world.

Bruce had to build himself out of that hole that Wanda dug for him and whatever legal mess and guilt that would’ve naturally followed, Hulk had to sit with that guilt and that confusion (you can see the emotions on his face right before Tony — using Veronica — knocks him out and he’s the one who leaves on the quinjet) then was subsequently erased by the narrative because the writers didn’t want to actually write a Hulk redemption arc, and Wanda got off completely scot free without having to make up for or let herself be rightfully prosecuted for destroying those South Africans’ lives, because the Hulk might not have murdered anyone but Hulk’s rampage (by its very nature) is tantamount to an impromptu natural disaster having torn through that city. A city that Wanda purposely targeted because she was mad at one man, and an infraction that she never made up for or is even seriously mentioned after AOU.

—

Bonus(+)Pic —

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (11 - Nightmares)

Chapter Summary: “Trust me, I didn’t go easy on her,” Clint replied gruffly. “Her brother came to her rescue. I blinked, and they were both gone.” You frowned, not entirely sure if you could take Clint's word for it. You chastised yourself for not being more vigilant during the encounter. Next time you faced off against Wanda Maximoff, you promised yourself, it would end differently—she would be subdued at the very least. Her powers were admittedly terrifying, and you couldn't help but wonder how your seniors intended to handle her capture. 

Or if perhaps she posed such a threat that she would be better off dead.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.4k | Chapter Tags: None

A/N: Welcome to Part 2, To Build A Home, or basically the history of Y/N and Wanda before Westview, starting at the end of Ultron. Most of Part 2 will be told from Y/N's perspective. Part 3 will be Wanda's. Without further ado... // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The place smelled like rust and copper—of blood. The warehouse was enormous and maze-like in its structure, and somewhere in the distance, metal groaned like a wounded animal. You had just put two of Ulysses Klaue's men down—clean shots and no hesitation. Their bodies lay cooling on the concrete as you readied yourself to confront anyone else who stood in your way.

You tapped your earpiece. “Nat, Clint, what's your position?”

Static replied, a white noise that filled your head like ocean waves crashing inside a seashell. 

You tapped the communicator, harder this time. 

“Do you copy?” More static.

And, weirdly enough, more silence. Just a minute ago, the area was crawling with hostiles. Now, you could hear your own muted steps. You were always light on your feet, just as you were trained to be.

You glanced over your shoulder. The two men you took out were gone. The floor where they fell was clean, no blood, no bodies. You blinked hard, but the scene didn't change.

“What the—” you muttered to yourself before you took a step and the ground beneath you suddenly felt like it was made of quicksand.

Before you could react, the floor gave way entirely. You plunged downward, swallowed by the very ground you stood on. The sensation was disorienting—a free fall through darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. Your stomach lurched as you tried to grasp at anything, but your fingers closed around empty air.

Then, as suddenly as the fall began, it ended. You landed softly, as if the air itself cushioned your descent. You found yourself standing in a bright corridor with white walls and sterile white lights—nothing that indicated a warehouse. The air smelled of antiseptic and faintly of lavender.

A distant cry erupted down the haul—a child's wail. The sound of it dug into your bones and you followed its source because you had to, because it was pulling you like a magnet draws steel.

You walked down the corridor, vaguely unaware that you had none of your weapons with you, the armor you donned replaced by a white hospital gown. Doors lined the walls, each identical, each a possible gateway to something you weren't sure you wanted to face. The cry came again, more urgent this time. It was coming from the last door on the left. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned the cold knob and pushed the door open.

Inside was a small hospital room bathed in harsh fluorescent light. On the bed lay a woman and  recognized her immediately. Your mother, but younger, frail and exhausted. Her eyes were closed, and her hands rested gently on her swollen belly.

A nurse glided quietly around, checking the beeping instruments, scribbling on a clipboard. She glanced up and looked directly at you, but it was as if she didn't see you at all.

Your mother stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Is he okay?” she asked weakly.

The nurse smiled reassuringly. “You're doing fine. Just rest.”

Your heart thudded, the hairs on your arms rising without your consent. This was the day—you realized—the day everything changed. The day you were born, and your twin brother wasn’t.

A doctor entered the room, his expression serious. He whispered something to the nurse, and they both looked solemn. Your mother noticed. “What's wrong?” she demanded.

The doctor sighed. “I'm sorry, but one of them didn’t make it.”

Your mother’s face twisted in anguish. “No... no, that can't be.”

She looked down at her belly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Which one?”

“The boy,” the doctor replied softly.

A raw, wrenching sob broke from her. “It should have been her,” she cried bitterly. “I wanted a son. Not... this.”

Something inside you shattered into a million pieces. You wanted to reach out to her, to tell her you were sorry, to convince her it wasn’t your fault. But you couldn't move, rooted to the spot by an invisible force.

The room started to blur, its edges bleeding out like ink on damp paper. You blinked, and suddenly you found yourself in a darker corridor, its walls creeping closer with each heavy step you took. 

You heard footsteps behind you—a slow, deliberate pace that sent a chill down your spine. You quickened your stride, but the footsteps matched your speed. You broke into a run, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Rounding a corner, you slammed into a figure. Stumbling backward, you looked up to see your twin—the shadowy figure that resembled you but wasn't you. Its eyes were hollow as if they had never fully formed.

“Why did you take everything?” It spoke.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you whispered.

It leaned closer to you.

“Yes, you did.”

Voices overlapped, a cacophony of accusations and doubts and things you believed in and kept running away from.

“You're just a thief.”

“A murderer before you were even born.”

“Who's the real villain here?”

You clapped your hands over your ears and screamed at the top of your lungs but no sound came out.

The ground shook, cracks racing across the floor, chunks tumbling into the dark below. You struggled to stay upright.

“It should’ve been her.”

“Sickly girl.”

“What a waste.”

“Y/N!”

A jolt ran through you as someone shook your shoulder. Instinct took over. Your hand flew to your sidearm, drawing it in one fluid motion as you spun around.

The shot rang out. 

“Whoa! It’s me!” Clint exclaimed, ducking just in time as your pistol aimed where his head had been a split second before, the bullet embedding itself in a stack of crates behind him.

Horror washed over you as you realized what you’d almost done. “Clint... I...”

He retrieved your pistol from the floor, hesitated, then handed it back to you butt-first. “It’s okay, kid. You weren’t the only one.”

—

“You didn’t even read the briefing, did you?” Clint smirked, handing you a bottle of water. You took a long gulp, wiping your lips with your thumb when you were done. No matter how much you drank, you still felt parched. Glancing around, you spotted Steve and Tony whispering. Judging from the look on their faces, you could tell that what happened to you also happened to them.

“What is she? Some kind of witch or something?” you groaned, massaging your temple. 

“Steve sent us the profiles on the Maximoff twins well before we boarded the Quinjet. It was all in there,” Clint added, sitting down beside you.

You kept quiet, avoiding his eyes. You rarely did your homework before a mission—why would this time be any different?

“That’s exactly why you walked into her trap,” he snapped, taking your silence as an answer. “Knowing your enemy is basic, whether you’ve got a god on your side or not.”

You nodded, taking the ribbing with good grace. 

“Maybe if you hadn't gone so easy on her,” you retorted, leaning back against the curved bulkhead of the jet. You briefly closed your eyes, only to snap them open immediately, not wanting to be haunted by the persistent vision. You wondered how long the after effects of the Maximoff witch would last.

Clint chuckled, shaking his head in a way that was unmistakably patronizing. You hated when he got like this. Hated how your random outbursts never affected him.

“Trust me, I didn’t go easy on her,” Clint replied gruffly. “Her brother came to her rescue. I blinked, and they were both gone.”

You frowned, not entirely sure if you could take Clint's word for it. You chastised yourself for not being more vigilant during the encounter. Next time you faced off against Wanda Maximoff, you promised yourself, it would end differently—she would be subdued at the very least. Her powers were admittedly terrifying, and you couldn't help but wonder how your seniors intended to handle her capture. 

Or if perhaps she posed such a threat that she would be better off dead.

“What did you see in there?” Clint suddenly asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You shrugged, not wanting to revisit that experience even in your mind. The mere thought of it sickened you. Only someone truly evil would subject another to such a nightmare for tactical advantage. Physical violation was one thing, but to invade the mind? That was a trick only a truly depraved person would consider. 

“Nothing,” you replied curtly.

“Talking can help, you know?” he offered gently, but he was already rising from his seat, giving you the room you seemed to need.

“Maybe that works for old-timers,” you tossed back. “Never worked for me.”

—

When Ultron ultimately went down, it felt far from victory. Survivors moved like ghosts, blank-faced and aimless in their direction, clutching what’s left of their former lives. You stood there, surrounded by twisted metal and smoldering ruins—another battle won, another piece of yourself lost. 

Your eyes landed on Wanda. She perched on a heap of debris, crimson energy fading from her fingertips like the last wisps of smoke. She stared into nothingness, eyes as clear as shore but with nothing there to find.

You knew that look. The emptiness when half of you is gone. Both of you were twins once. Now, both alone. You never got to know the boy you lived with for nine months because he never made it outside your mother’s womb. But just knowing he was there, that he existed, left a void that would never be suffused. You’d always feel incomplete, forever wondering if you truly deserved to be the one who lived.

You understood her pain, at least in an abstract, cataloged kind of way. But empathy was a luxury you couldn't afford, not with the bitterness festering inside you. Ever since she got into your head and forced your past to rear its ugly head, you haven’t been able to properly sleep for days on end. You fundamentally opposed Steve's choice to collaborate with the Maximoffs, believing they belonged in a containment cell, not on the field. You saw how Wanda fought off Ultron’s droids. She was extremely dangerous—maybe even more so when she felt so strongly.

The quinjet touched down at the Avengers facility, its engines winding down with a low whine. You disembarked with the other quietly, dirt and grime clinging to your skin and suits like mold. 

Steve called everyone to the landing pad. He looked over the team—bruised and battered, yet standing. Morale was low, but Steve saw this as an opportunity for growth. You preferred Tony's approach. When things went sideways, he'd hit the bottles and maybe blow off steam by blowing up a few empty depots. His way of coping suited you better than Captain America's endless supply of pep talks.

“Good work out there,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. “Get some rest. We'll debrief in the morning.”

He turned to you as the group began to disperse. “Could you show Wanda to her quarters? They're next to yours.”

You met his eyes and scowled. The nerve of him to ask that. Without a word, you turned on your heel and headed down the corridor toward your room.

“Hey!” Steve's voice followed you. “I'm talking to you!”

“Let it go,” Natasha murmured to him. You caught it, just barely, over the pounding in your ears.

“That's not acceptable,” Steve argued.

“She's been through hell,” Natasha interrupted. “We all have. Give her some space.”

Wanda stood where you'd left her, eyes fixed on the floor, as if she wished it would swallow her whole. She hadn't reacted to the exchange, lost in her own head.

Steve ran a hand over his face, the first signs of weariness lining his forehead. “Fine. Can you take Wanda to her room, then?”

Natasha nodded. “Come on, Wanda,” she said, tilting her head toward the direction they needed to go, the same one you disappeared into a moment ago. “Let's get you settled.”

Wanda allowed herself to be led away. Steve watched them go before his thoughts returned to you and he shook his head; there were battles worth fighting, and this wasn't one of them.

In your room, you slammed the door shut, making a sharp sound that hurt your own ears. It’s exactly as you left it—sterile, impersonal, a place where nothing bad had ever happened because nothing had ever happened at all. 

You paced the length of the room, muscles coiled tight, every nerve ending tingling with restless energy even though you were sure earlier that you had given it your all on the battlefield. Steve has sided with a known terrorist, and now he's brought her to the doorstep. This compound might never have felt like home, but still, it was your sanctuary—a place to let your guard down once in a while.

A few minutes later, after you had been sitting on your bed, staring at the blank wall, there was a soft knock at your door.

“Go away,” you muttered.

The door swung open abruptly, and you let yourself collapse onto your back near the foot of the bed with a sigh.

“Steve's worried about you,” Natasha stated, peering down at you as you gazed up at her upturned figure.

“Steve worries about everything.”

“He asked me to check in.”

“Consider me checked.”

She studied you for a moment. “She's not your enemy anymore, you know?”

“Tell that to Banner.”

“People change.”

You shrugged. “Not that much.”

Natasha crossed her arms and then sat beside you. There were a few beats of silence, a moment for both of you to gauge each other before you sat up and looked over at her.

“She gave you nightmares, too, right? Even if you never told me what they were, I doubt they were pretty.”

Natasha's face remained docile, not betraying any sign that she was merely keeping up appearances or that she secretly despised Wanda too. You envied her control over her emotions, how she concealed herself from the world while still managing to be a good friend without restraint.

“Worst I've had in years,” she admitted. “But she was on the other side then. Doing what she thought was right. Fighting for what she believed in.”

You scoffed. “That's supposed to make it okay?”

“No,” she said softly. “But maybe understandable.”

You didn’t have a comeback for that. You knew Natasha had a point. You’d do everything you could to neutralize an opponent, and the twins simply did the same thing.

“We can't fault her forever for surviving,” she continued. “For doing what she had to do.”

You didn't say anything. Admitting she was right—like she always seemed to be—felt too much like giving in. You've never won an argument with Natasha, and it was both infuriating and impressive. Each time you tried to best her, it ended the same way: with you respecting her even more for her relentless logic.

She glanced at you. “You don't have to forgive her. No one's asking you to. But dwelling on things that are over? That's a prison of your own making.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snapped. You knew you sounded juvenile, but you couldn't hold back. "Not all of us can just flip a switch and turn it off.”

She gave a small, mirthless laugh. “There's no switch. Just choices. Every damn day.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you can distract yourself if you have to. Find something else to focus on. Just so you don't have to think about it all the time.”

“And if I don't want to forget?”

“Then don't,” she said softly. “But don't let it consume you either.”

She stood up, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her suit. “Get some rest.”

As she made for the door, you couldn’t help but fire off one last parting shot. “You can bet I won’t forgive her. Not anytime soon, anyway.”

Natasha paused but didn't turn around.

“Thanks for the therapy session,” you said, laying down again and rolling onto your side with your back to her.

You expected her to leave after that, but instead, she lingered, sharing an unwarranted piece of information.

“Wanda's in the room next to yours.”

“I know,” you said, getting up to close the door after her.

—

The walls of the quarters were supposed to be fortress thick, but when you dragged yourself out of bed for a midnight raid on the fridge, the sliver of light bleeding from under Wanda's door was impossible to ignore. So, she was awake. You paused, your gaze fixed on the thin glow, suspicion worming its way through your thoughts. Was she plotting something in there, alone with her powers at this ungodly hour? You shook your head slightly, dismissing the creeping paranoia. If Wanda decided to turn on them, well, that was Steve's headache to deal with. With a shrug, you turned away, your mind settling back on the rumble in your stomach as you headed towards the kitchen.

You assembled the basics: bread, peanut butter, jelly. The ritual to your favorite snack was almost therapeutic—the smooth glide of the knife spreading peanut butter thick, jelly thin, just the way you liked it. You grabbed another knife to cut off the crusts, a habit you never quite outgrew.

As you began slicing the edges, a figure materialized through the wall beside you.

“Jesus!” you yelped, the knife slipping and nearly nicking your finger. Your heart leapt into your throat as you stumbled back.

“My apologies,” Vision said.

You took a deep breath, clutching your chest. “Could you not do that? Ever heard of using a door like a normal person?”

He tilted his head, considering your words. “You are correct. I should adhere to conventional modes of entry. I will take note of that next time.”

“Great,” you mumbled, turning back to your sandwich with a huff. Your hands trembled slightly as you resumed cutting. It was still strange to hear J.A.R.V.I.S’ voice coming out of this being’s mouth.

Vision stepped fully into the kitchen. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Vision.”

You eyed him warily. “I know who you are.”

“May I inquire about your culinary creation?” Vision asked.

“It's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

He stepped closer, examining it with keen interest. “The coloration is intriguing. I haven't encountered many purple foods in my lifetime.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You've been alive for, what, three days? Not exactly a lifetime.”

A subtle smile crossed his face. “An accurate assessment.”

You chuckled softly. “Grape jelly. A classic. You should try it sometime.”

“Not sure if I could,” he replied. “But perhaps I will.”

Vision hovered. The silence stretched just long enough to become awkward. You were too spaced out to bother breaking it. 

“Speaking of food,” he began, “Miss Maximoff hasn’t eaten. Nothing in over twelve hours.”

You were about to take your first bite, but the mention of Wanda left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

“And why is that my problem?”

“Given that her quarters are adjacent to yours, I thought you might be concerned,” Vision said.

“Concerned? About the person who messed with my head? Hard pass.”

Vision regarded you with those unblinking eyes. “Holding onto resentment can be detrimental to one's well-being.”

“Did you read that in a fortune cookie?”

He seemed unfazed. “I simply thought informing you would be appropriate. Miss Maximoff appears... isolated.”

“Not my issue,” you grumbled, but the image of Wanda alone flashed through your mind. Despite yourself, you felt a pang of sympathy.

Vision nodded slowly. “Very well. If you'll excuse me.” 

He turned to leave, this time opting for the doorway instead of phasing through the wall. You watched him go, a sour twist in your gut.

“Wait,” you called out before you could stop yourself.

He did, looking back at you expectantly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Look, just... take her something to eat. Here.” You shoved the sandwich plate toward him.

He glanced down at the offering. “It might be more meaningful if you delivered it yourself.”

“Yeah, that's not happening.”

He accepted the plate. “I will relay the gesture.”

“Don’t,” you rushed out. “I mean, don’t tell her it’s from me.”

Vision appeared to hesitate, but acquiesced with a nod. 

“Great,” you said, already regretting the impulse. “Gotta run.” You grabbed your jacket from the back of the chair. 

“Are you going out at this hour?” Vision asked.

You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Might as well own the night.”

“Do be careful,” he advised. “The city can be unpredictable after dark.”

You managed a faint smirk. “Unpredictable is where I thrive.”

You were due for a night out anyway.

[opalblade]

03 NOVEMBER 24.

𓂀 THE SHADOW OF ANURADHA & THE BLACK WIDOW .

⋆ AN. this post is inspired by astrotalaya's post on anuradha natives. reading her thread will help you understand this post.

natasha romanoff played by anuradha sun and possible anuradha asc native, scarlett johansson

talia says anuradha natives are seen as perfect and this causes them to seek perfection through working on themselves and putting their egos down to overcome internal weaknesses.

she also mentions that the scorpio rashi deals with envy, jealousy and resentment (we see this in jyeshta), and that anuradha natives can be the perfect one that's resented or the resentful one.

anuradha is also related to spiders and we see this with the amount of anuradha natives that have played spiderman/spiderwoman.

the way this all links to natasha is that she was kidnapped and trafficked as a child to become a secret agent in the black widow program.

she had to put down her ego (essentially forgetting herself) to become the perfect vessel to kill and spy.

she was the perfect one and the perfect candidate - the only black widow in her cohort to survive and become an actual black widow.

the envy and resentment is shown best in the comics but essentially yelena belova did not like her and resented her for being the perfect black widow. she resented her even more for betraying the program and joining shield / the usa over russia.

this leads to yelena belova constantly competing with natasha and even wanting to kill her. (in the comics)

in the mcu, we see their rivalry played out in a fight scene between them. they even try to kill each other and yelena is shown to hold some resentment towards natasha for "betraying" her, and is even jealous that natasha was able to escape the red room.

and building off what talia said:

"Anuradha can do honorable things that supports its ascension to then become the honored one."

in the mcu, natasha saved the world by sacrifing herself and this led to her finally being respected, especially after she was revealed to be a spy in the winter soldier and was forced to go on the run.

she had always wanted to get the "red out of her ledger" and make up for all the murder, assassinations and lives she had ruined, which she finally did by getting the soul stone in endgame and taking down the red room in her solo movie.

"On the other hand, the drive for honor and abundance can make motivate a more selfishly ambitious Anuradha to do some questionable things to get it."

obviously when she was a true black widow, she had to betray everyone else in the program and do terrible things to stay alive and be the perfect one. the black widows are also forced to kill each other in training.

she had to put her ego down to do these things as i previously mentioned. claire nakti said in her uttara bhadrapada (a saturn nakshatra) video that uttara bhadrapada natives are commonly forced to submit their egos and even forget their names. we can see below in a comic panel that natasha romanoff has been indoctrinated into believing she has "no place in the world"

this is all in the pursuit of perfection, as saturn promises (this is a saturn nakshatra after all). but seeing as it's a mars rashi (scorpio), she had to do destructive things to get there.

the refinement of saturn and brutality of mars is shown beautifully in age of ultron, where we're shown the red room in natasha's nightmares/flashback.

the juxtaposition of ballet, a highly difficult style of dance where precision and perfection are necessary (saturn)

VERSUS.

natasha training to become the perfect assassin, even being forced to execute a man (not shown here, but it's right after this gif).

she eventually rises from this though - the brainwashing and all the trauma and indoctrination - to saving the world multiple times and then the universe in endgame. like a lotus! (an anuradha symbol)

anuradha's basis above is ascension and anuradha's basis below is descension, and as talia herself says:

"it ascends by descending, obtaining grace for its efforts"

uttara bhadrapada and anuradha both gain rewards for their efforts and we see this in claire nakti's video and also in natasha romanoff's character and story.

. *     .     　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　    ˚ . *     .     　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　

© 2024 opalblade. do not copy, repost, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[pandagirl45]

Ultron: *sees the Easter bunny mascot*

Tony: *holds ultron running out quickly*

Bucky: *following them out*

[Ultron cried for at least 2 hours when they got home. They had nuggets for dinner.]

(Ultron has a fear of the Easter bunny outfits)

[pandagirl45drawing]

Christmas with the StarkBucks family

:D More to it. 15 here and 16 in the next patch, this was an easier upload

[painted-flag]

RASPBERRY TARTS - p.m.

☾⋆⁺₊✧ part of my Marvel soulmate series, found here. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ pietro maximoff x fem!reader .𖥔 ݁ ˖ warnings: action sequence, mention of parental death, and small depictions of violence. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 5.1k words. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ all you wanted was to run your shop, never did you expect to have your soulmate sprint into your life so chaotically.

The earliest memories you had were of your grandparents explaining soulmates. The exact cause was entirely unknown, but when a person was born they had the name of the person who shared their soul printed somewhere on their body. However, there seemed to be a split in the population; some people had the marks and others did not. 

You happened to fall into the percentage of people who possessed a soulmark. 

As a child, unable to understand much, you were excited at the prospect. However, as you grew and your grandparents revealed the truth of what happened to your parents, the idea of possessing a soulmate became bitter. 

Soulmates were not guaranteed love, or even friendship with their partners. Sometimes it ended in a happy ending, other times it did not. Your parents had been the latter. Soulmates, yes, but it did not work out in the end. It was hard coming to terms with their ugly divorce, even more so the plane accident that left you an orphan and under the care of your grandparents. 

Since then, the small words on your forearm seemed to glare at you. It was written in what you later learned was Sokovian. 

Pietro Maximoff. 

The name echoed in your head daily. 

It all came crashing down shortly after the Ultron incident in Sokovia. You had been in a cafe in New York, scouting out places with your friend to start a cafe, when the news was captivated by the rising city. Then, months later, the Avengers revealed two new members that were caught on camera saving the citizens with them. Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. 

You nearly had a heart attack that day and your friend, Evette, spent the rest of the day consoling you. She knew the name of your soulmate and had understood your rocky history with the concept. 

Now, four years later, you and Evette had established a cafe in Brooklyn and have since moved on. Every day, you could absorb yourself into freshly made bread and other goodies and not have to worry about the very real fact that your soulmate was a superhero and living in the city. Under no circumstances did you want to meet him. If it ended so horribly for your parents, surely the same fate would befall you? 

Especially if your soulmate was a high-profile person and the Avengers were not short on enemies. 

You were in the front of the bakery during a lull in customers while Evette was in the back prepping some ingredients. Things were calm for once, which made you relieved to get past the morning buzz of customers. Your hand held a cloth as you wiped down one of the counters. The bell of the door rang out as a new customer came in. 

You looked up to see a man who looked to be somewhere in his 40s. He had short, spiked dark hair and wore sunglasses. He was decently tall, fit as well, and walked with confidence. There was something there that was familiar, but you could not entirely pin it. He gave you a small smile as he came up to the counter. 

“Welcome, how may I help you today?” You put the cloth down and wiped your hands on your apron nervously. 

“I’ll have a medium black coffee with an apple fritter, please.” The man replied. You nodded while ringing his order up. While you were busy, he leaned against the counter. 

“I’ve heard good things about this place, but never had the time to come by.” He spoke. 

“Work keeps you busy?” You asked as you grabbed a to-go cup.

“You could say that,” He answered before taking note of your name on your name tag, “Don’t really come across that name often.” 

You shrug at his words, “I always thought it was common.” You poured the hot coffee into his cup and put the lid on before grabbing a small paper bag and tongs to grab a fresh apple fritter from the display case. You packed it up and placed it next to the coffee on the counter. 

“Well, it's nice regardless. I’m Clint. Good to meet you.” Clint gave you a friendly nod before turning to walk out of the door. 

“You too.” You responded. Just as he was going to leave, the TV broadcasted a recent bank heist that was thwarted by some Avengers. Video playback showed a quick ray of silver shooting back and forth before it stopped, revealing Pietro, while the reporter spoke over the footage and recapped the events from just a few minutes ago. 

You sucked in a breath. Pietro was undeniably an attractive man, which only made the situation worse. A superhero and hot? There was no way you could match that. Insecurity clawed at your heart for a moment. 

“Pretty incredible guy, right?” Clint casually asked. You turned to him, only to see him already facing you with a look of curiosity on his face. There was something in his look, patience, waiting for which you did not understand. 

Immediately you looked down at the counter, fiddling with a cloth while red coats your face, “I guess. I don’t really pay attention to that stuff.” 

You cringed afterwards. Don’t pay attention to ‘that stuff?’ How ridiculous could you sound? 

It was mainly the truth. You did not know the Avengers that well. It was never a priority for you. When the news of Pietro and his sister joining the team hit the media, you made sure to distance yourself as much as possible. 

“Don’t blame you. That stuff is dangerous. Have a good day.”

The man left quickly, leaving you alone in the bakery. Again, that feeling of familiarity crept over you as you watched him through the front glass. You almost thought long on it, but a bell at the door and a new customer coming in caught your attention. A smile made its way on your face as you prepared to continue your day.

The ache in your feet was already prominent and it was not even midday yet. The morning rush had been especially chaotic with some convention being hosted down the street. Evette was working overtime in the kitchen and you had zipped back and forth behind the counter filling orders and trying to keep a smile. 

When the crowd had dissipated, you slouched against the counter and stared at the floor with your eyes closed. It was a last-ditch effort to summon up some kind of will to continue working. A ding indicated a new customer. You immediately shot up and alert to greet them, only to relax and smile gently at who walked in. 

Clint had become a regular, coming in every day for the last two weeks. He was always calm and good at conversation while being incredibly witty. There was something fatherly about the way he interacted with people. It was something you sorely missed and lacked in your life. 

“You look dead.” Clint joked. 

Your hand rubbed one of your shoulders to try and relieve the tension, “I feel dead.” 

“Bad morning?” He asked while he looked at the pastries. One thing you knew about him was his insatiable attraction to baked goods. You were sure if the world came to an end, he would still run to the nearest bakery for a sweet treat. 

“Busy. That convention down the street has a lot of hungry people.” You sighed as you adjusted some of the coffee brewing items behind the counter. 

“You know, for someone who interacts with people as part of their job, you don’t seem to like them very much,” Clint spoke. 

“Trust me,” Evette spoke as she exited the back with a tray full of fresh pastries to load the display case, “I’ve told her how ridiculous it is.” 

You shrugged, “Big crowds aren’t my thing.” You were never a fan of crowded spaces; people shoulder to shoulder and speaking in shouts to one another. It was uncomfortable and only made you feel drained. 

“Well, what about galas?” Clint slyly asked. Evette stopped loading the pastries into the glass and looked at him. 

“What do you mean?” Evette asked. 

“There’s this gala tonight and I got the room on my invite for two more. Does that sound good?” Clint asked as he eyed the raspberry tarts. 

“Oh, uh-” You exchanged a look with Evette, prepared to turn him down before your friend interrupted. 

“We’re both in.” Evette smiled at you. You gave her an intense look of disapproval. She had been trying to make you get out there and meet more people lately, but you had put up a good fight so far. Clearly, you were outmatched. 

“Awesome. Here’s my number,” Clint slid a piece of paper across the counter, “Also, just my regular order, but I’ll take two of those raspberry tarts.”

Clint sighed with frustration as he sat on a high chair in the Avenger’s tower. His cup of black coffee, which was almost completely drunk, had gone cold. He had arrived to utter chaos in the living quarters. Pietro was running around, making markings on the ground as he jittered from place to place. Wanda sat next to Clint, happily eating one of the raspberry tarts as she watched her brother freak out. 

“I do not see what all the fuss is about,” Wanda spoke as she took a sip from a glass of water. Despite it being four years since they joined the Avengers, their Sokovian accents were still as thick as the day they met the dysfunctional – but somehow semi-functioning – family of superheroes. Pietro stopped zooming around and took the second tart. He bit down, humming at the nice taste, before opening his mouth. 

“This is going too fast. He was supposed to ease her into it.” Pietro rocked on the balls of his feet. For the first time in his life, he was nervous. A feeling he was not familiar with, nor ever wanted to feel again. 

“Too fast for you, speedy?” Clint exclaimed with disbelief, “Days ago you were whining that I was not making any tangible progress and now, when I finally manage to make it, I am suddenly in the wrong?” 

“Not like this. The gala is in eight hours!” Pietro started pacing. There was so much he had to do. He planned on having a grand entrance; a classic sweep-one-off-their-feet moment. He dreamed of it since he was a kid, even when he was unable to read the name of his soulmate as he had yet to learn English. It felt like he was staring down the barrel of a gun with limited time to move. 

“It was almost as if this was a horrible plan in the first place,” Wanda spoke. Clint nodded her way in agreeance with her words. 

“Look, you had Tony track her down and then sent me to scout the place. Remind me again why you think this is necessary?” Clint took a sip of his coffee, grimacing slightly at the cool temperature but still liking the flavour. Pietro’s soulmate makes a damn good cup, he thought to himself. 

“I can’t even leave the tower without being swamped by people because your stupid American media does not stop chasing me. I don’t want her to be overwhelmed or put in danger.” Pietro reasoned. For some reason, the American media has chosen Pietro to be a darling representative of the Avengers. Sure, he was a flirt, but it had been taken too far and became nauseating to go out. 

Clint hummed, “Fair point, but did you ever think that having me essentially lie to her these last two weeks was a good way to start this whole thing off?”

“Exactly what I said,” Wanda muttered before taking a final swig of her water. 

Pietro paused for a moment, raising his hands to his face and digging the heels of his palms into his shut eyes, “I did not think that part through.” 

“Do you ever?” Wanda teased. He looked towards his sister in challenge, but she only responded with a sly grin. His stress was getting to him and he took another bite from the raspberry tart. 

“Look, we have until tonight to plan it.” Clint got up from his chair and stretched his legs a bit, “Now, what did you originally have in mind?”

This was absolutely ridiculous. Evette insisted that the cafe be closed early to prepare for the gala. For hours, the two of you got ready. Thankfully, you had an appropriate dress in your closet left over from a wedding you went to a year ago. It was good enough for the gala, but not anything entirely special. Evette spent hours on your hair and makeup, as that was something she was particularly gifted in. 

It was odd to feel as pretty as you did, but the moment you showed up at the gala over an hour ago, it fled quickly. All the people here were stunning. The reporters, politicians, workers, and everyone in between. It was a charity event and the grandeur of the building shocked you. It was modern, elegant, and easily a damn expensive event. 

You and Evette had been on the guest list, welcomed in, handed champagne, and walked into the area. So far, the two of you have not found Clint. Admittedly, you were having a good time despite being slightly uncomfortable with the amount of people that were there. For the most part, you and Evette stuck to one another and only engaged in a few conversations with people. 

The two of you stood off to the side, engaged in a small conversation and sipping on champagne; both of you had lost track of the amount of glasses that had been consumed thus far. Both of you were looking out these large floor-to-ceiling glass windows that spanned the height of two storeys. The bright sparkling windows from the skyscrapers appeared to light up the dark sky. 

“Having a good time?” The familiar voice of Clint came from behind you two. You turned to see him walking up. This area was more secluded, away from the dazzling crowd. He wore a crisp suit with no tie and the first button undone. Casual, but still fancy. 

“It’s been alright.”

“This place is amazing.” Both of your voices chimed off at the same time. Clint laughed gently and stood up by you two. You felt an odd tingling feeling on your wrist where your soulmark was. It was covered by a thick bracelet and your fingers were unable to dig under and calm the itch. 

“There is uh, actually a reason why you’re here,” Clint began. You turned to find him already looking at you. An unsettling feeling crept up your spine. 

“Uh, guys?” Evette spoke, but it was whispered and unintelligible. She was looking out the window with an uncertain look painted across her face. 

“What is it?” You questioned Clint. His hands folded in his pockets and he looked around the room as if searching for something. 

“Well-” 

“Guys!” Evette caught your attention and pointed down to the street to a pack of suspicious vehicles, “What’s that?” 

You looked down the street to find vehicles moving at top speed, hurdling across the cement roadway. The two cars were large, armoured, and not stopping. For a moment, you froze while the worst thoughts flooded your mind. They wouldn’t, would they? 

“Shit,” Clint said before grabbing you and Evette’s forearms and dragging you out of the way. In a clash of loud noise and shattering glass, the two vehicles rammed into the windows and pushed into the building. The shards dispersed all over the place, hitting your bare forearms and causing a bunch of cuts to open up. You gritted your teeth at the stinging sensation. 

Everything was chaos. From your position on the floor, you could see people running all over the place while men in black clothes and balaclavas exited the cars with heavy weaponry. One of the men ran in your direction but stopped and fell to the ground instantly. You gaped in wonder when you noticed an arrow sticking out of his chest. 

Evette’s familiar grip on your arms brought you out of your daze. Your head had taken a harder hit than hers and a pounding behind your eyes started to appear. Beside Evette, standing tall, was Clint with a bow. 

Where the fuck did he get a bow from?

You watched as he shot another one of the invading men. It was then that you looked at him, really looked at him. Despite the chaos around you, your brain was finally thinking clearly. 

Had you really been this stupid? For someone who wanted to avoid the Avengers, you were damn talented at letting one become a regular at your shop and friend. Shame and guilt filled you. You were not dumb, he knew who you were, he must have. Coincidences like this were unlikely. 

Was this whole thing a setup of sorts? Did he actually stumble across your shop or was this planned? Before you could question anything further, you were brought back into the moment. 

“Down that hall!” Clint pointed to a door off to the side, “Go to the end and take a right, get out of here!” He pulled an arrow out of a quiver on his back, nocked it, and fired with speed and efficiency that would have amazed you if it were not for how dangerous the situation was. 

You and Evette wasted no time in heading towards the door with Clint following. He backed up with you two, focusing on shooting the men who scrambled across the floor of the grand hall. Evette opened the door to expose a long hallway, only to see that there were similarly dressed men there too. 

One of the men lifted his hand that held a glock. Clint, being closer to Evette, had a faster reaction time and managed to pull her out of the way. However, it left you vulnerable to the men in front of you. Before you could even think, a flash of colour blurred in front of you. Within a second of time, the two men lay on the ground incapacitated. 

Standing before you, was the person you did not ever plan on meeting. 

He was slightly taller than you expected, but just as rugged as the videos he appeared in. Pietro wore a white button-up with a loose tie around his neck. His clothing was dishevelled, indicating he had been fighting the invading men well before showing up to play rescue. Your heart felt like it lodged up into your throat. 

Pietro was better looking in person – if that was even possible. His silver locks with dark roots suited him, coupled with a strong nose and sharp jaw that was covered in stubble. He was obviously fit by the state of his muscles, especially the strain of his biceps against the white fabric of his shirt which had the sleeves rolled up just below his elbows. 

His eyes were the most striking part of his appearance. Vibrant and alert given the situation, but still somehow soft. There was a reflection of familiarity in his pupils, and you immediately understood that he may already know about you. It only added to the evidence you had that Clint’s appearance in your shop may not have been a coincidence. 

Pietro opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, his gaze never wavering from you, but the sound of a high-pitched scream back in the main room had his eyes snap to behind you. 

It was interesting to watch the silent conversation he had with Clint in those few seconds. Clint gave him a curt nod, almost as if giving reassurance, before you blinked and Pietro was gone; likely off to continue fighting. This dull ache settled in your chest at his disappearance and the itching feeling on your soulmark faded the further he left. 

Clint wasted no time in grabbing you and Evette and marching down the hall towards the exit door. He moved with speed, mainly so he could return to the fight. When he opened the door, a sleek back car was waiting in the alleyway. You had no idea how it got there or what it was originally for, but you did not have time to question it. Clint opened the back door and gestured for you and Evette to go in. 

“The car will take you home. It will drive to shake off any potential followers. Once home, lock your windows and doors and cover them if you must.” Clint spoke. 

Evette looked like she wanted to speak, but was stunned into silence and gratefully nodded before getting in. As you moved to follow her, Clint grabbed your wrist gently. You looked back at him with confusion. 

“It was not supposed to happen like this. I hope you know that.” With those words, you finally understood that this was, in fact, planned. The break-in by those guys was not, but your invitation from him was very much intended. Pietro’s attendance at this event was intentional. 

It almost hurt to think that Clint’s intentions were not casual. He had walked into your store, knowing damn well who you were – or at least who you were to Pietro – and acted accordingly. 

All you could do was nod before joining Evette in the car. Clint closed the door and it automatically locked. He quickly went back inside and the car took off down the alleyway and to the street. You looked forward and saw that there was no driver present. 

It was only until you had reached down the block that the adrenaline wore off and you could feel the pain of the cuts on your arm. Even worse, the dull ache in your heart.

The rattling buzz of your phone broke you out of your monotonous clean of one of the tables. You stopped your clean-up work and pulled it from the back pocket of your jeans. Clint’s name flashed across the screen and, like the many other times he has tried to call, you denied it. 

It had been almost a week since the incident at the gala. According to the news, the infiltrators were there because the organizer owed the mob. They were stopped, of course, mainly by Clint and Pietro – which the news kept playing footage that bystanders caught during the altercation. Thankfully, you had not been in any of them and you took that as a positive sign. 

Since then, Clint has tried to contact you. Truthfully, you were reluctant. The incident only proved one of your underlying fears; how unsafe you would be as a soulmate to an Avenger. The answer was lacklustre, though Evette had been trying to convince you otherwise. She wanted you to reach out and talk to Pietro at the very least. What bothered you the most was that she was right. 

Over these few days, you had thought about it. It was not fair for you to isolate yourself from your soulmate. He did not deserve that. This was not a one-way bond, but a shared commonality. A shared soul. You did not want to be cruel to the person that was fated to you. 

Admittedly, you were also scared. A soul bond did not necessarily mean a perfect connection. Would you even be good enough for a literal hero? You co-owned a cafe with your friend and played video games with her on the weekends. It was not exactly an exhilarating life. Would he even want an exhilarating life? Would you be boring?

You shoved your phone back into your pocket and took a centrepiece from the table to move behind the counter. As you were crouched down and organizing, the ring of the bell caught your attention. 

“Oh, sorry but we are clo-” Your words faded away as you stood up to see Clint there. He was standing casually by the door. You soulmark began to itch you you clocked the situation immediately. 

“He’s outside, isn’t he?” You asked. Your hands tapped the counter awkwardly as you tried not to sway on your feet. 

“Yes,” Clint nodded, “He’ll come in if you want him to.” 

“So, you’re still working as his little spy?” The comment felt harsh as it fell from your lips and you cringed slightly. 

Clint sighed, “Look, if you could let him explain.”

You almost wanted to laugh, “How he sent someone to essentially spy on me? Tell me, what did you learn in your reconnaissance?” It felt odd, having been treated like a mission. You were made a target of which they needed to gather intel on. Not a person, not even his soulmate; a mission. Would that be your life with Pietro?

Clint only leaned against a table, “You know he almost died in Sokovia.” It was not a question, but a bold statement that almost knocked you from your feet. That you did not know and the thought of it… 

“There was this kid I was trying to get out of there and, uh,” For the first time since meeting him, Clint got visibly uncomfortable and one of his hands lifted up to scratch the back of his head, “Pietro ran and took the bullets for us. By all accounts, he should have died but… he wished for us to find you if he didn’t. To take care of you.” 

His words felt like a direct punch to your face. You had been so selfish, so terribly selfish because of your fear that you never thought about him. His life of danger, of possibly never meeting you. 

“That kid is alive because of him. My kids still have their father because of him. All I’m asking is to give him a chance.” Clint finished his speech and waited for a response. You could not look at him, unable to reckon with it all. 

As if on instinct, you quickly went to brewing coffee as you silently contemplated his words. While it brewed – and you were sure to regret it later as it had already been cleaned for the day – you grabbed tongs and picked out and bagged the last apple fritter; Clint’s favourite. 

You placed it on the counter, along with the coffee you poured, and pushed it towards him. Clint made a move to reach into his pocket for his wallet, but you held out your hand. 

“Dont. Just take it and,” You paused to breathe out, “You can send him in.” 

Clint grabbed the items with a small smile on his face and gave you a nod. He made his way outside your shop and turned down the street and out of sight. You looked down at your hands as they shook with nerves. One of your hands fiddled with a ring on your other, turning it around and around as you waited with bated breath. 

The familiar ding of the bell above the door caught your attention. Looking up, you spotted Pietro standing in your shop. He wore casual clothing this time, dark blue jeans with a gray hoodie. His hands were in his pockets and you could tell he was nervous too. Again, you found yourself paralyzed by his eyes.

“I feel I have to explain myself,” Pietro spoke. You crossed your arms and nodded, unable to speak. 

“Clint was only doing me a favour. I was worried how you would feel about, well, me and my life, the Avengers…” He trailed off for a moment and took a few steps closer, “It can be overwhelming and dangerous at times, as I am now sure you know. Are you okay?” 

“Only a few cuts. Nothing horrible. You?” You had managed to walk out from behind the counter, but for some reason found yourself unable to get closer. 

“I’m fine. It was not supposed to be this way, I had planned on having some grand entrance. Sweep you off your feet. Not see you get hurt.” Pietro closed the distance. You noticed immediately how much taller he was. By now, the itch in your wrist has become intense. 

Pietro slowly reached out and used his hands to grab your wrist. He carefully pulled up your sleeve and exposed the soulmark on your wrist. His name, in bold black elegant letters, was sprawled on your skin. 

The moment his calloused fingers touched your skin, the itching ceased. Warmth pooled from the area and moved throughout our body. With your one free arm, you pulled up the sleeve of the hand that brushed over your mark and saw undeniable proof of your connection. Your name, sprawled in the same writing, was printed on his wrist. You touched it and you could feel him shudder under the sensation. 

“I, uh, still can be. Be swept off my feet, I mean. If you want.” You could not help but stutter. His close proximity, the smell of fresh mint and lavender, overwhelmed you. It did not help that the two of you seemed unable to let one another go. 

“That I can do.” Pietro smiled and turned over your hand, lifted it up, and brushed his lips across your knuckles without ever breaking eye contact. You could feel heat sweep across your face, which was no doubt red. 

“Smooth. Should that make me worried?” You asked. 

“Did you not say you wished to be swept off your feet?” Pietro answered. “Though I hate to ruin the immersion, I can’t help but ask, even if you are closed, if you happen to have any more of those raspberry tarts. Clint brought some this morning and, I have to say, you are good.” 

You could not help but be reminded of words your grandmother always repeated; the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. If it were not for such a tender situation, you would have laughed. 

You smiled at him, watching as he grinned back, “Well most of the food is made by my friend, but the tart is one of my recipes. We’re out but uh, we can make more right now if you want.” You were surprised by your own boldness. The experience you had with men was lacking, so your nerves on navigating uncharted waters ran high. 

“That sounds good,” Pietro answered. He gently pulled on your arm, bringing you somehow closer. His hand left yours to tuck some hair behind your ear, “Would it be alright to kiss you?” 

“Normally, yes, but I can let it slide.” You answered. 

Pietro took your invitation as a go and leaned in. You closed your eyes and lost yourself in the feeling of his lips brushing against yours. His stubble ticked just lightly, but it felt comforting. The warmth from his body ran higher than normal and you suspected it was due to his abilities. Your hands moved to his chest as you gripped the fabric there. 

Your heart was alight, buzzing with excitement as his lips moved against against yours. For the first time in your life, a thought burrowed itself into your mind. 

Maybe soulmates aren’t so bad.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ It was so hard not to turn this into a 15-20k word long fic. istg it’s like fighting demons. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Click here to be added to the taglist or comment below.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Taglist:

@kitwithnokat @theamazingtrinitysky @kay18115 @raikan624 @pigeonmama

[winterzxsoldierz]

Well You Know Me...

Avenger!Bucky Barnes X Goofy!Villain!Reader

Warnings: Reader being an idiot and a flirt, no mentions of Y/N, Reader is a Female and a demigoddess who loves to cause chaos.

Bucky's feet echo along the darkened hall, it's quiet, too quiet for his liking but he keeps moving, he doesn't know why he agreed to come here, to find you, you weren't really a problem per say but you are still on SHIELDS watch list as a threat and after that Loki issue Bucky wasn't taking no chances with you. Bucky gets to a door, it's large and steel, it's nothing out of the ordinary but he's still not lowering his guard knowing you're around, who knows what you'll do. He pushes open the steel double doors and walks in, it's dark, the only light is coming from a purple light in the desk on the corner, he's tense and looking around, he walks in further and feels around for a switch and turns on the lights when he finds it. He has to give it to you, you really have this little evil lair of yours going, with the purple and black furniture, the over dramatic gargoyle statue over the fireplace. He only stares at it blankly.

"Oh what's this? New meat for me to play with?" Bucky jumps out of his skin and turns around quickly, his gun trained on you, he didn't hear you, at all, you just appeared behind him. You smirk and tilt your head, while nothing but mischief gleams in your eyes. "You must be James?" You step closer. "I would give you my name...but that takes the fun out of my game." Bucky just stares not saying a word, his gun still pointed at you and his guard is still up, he was expecting a fight but you just stared at him like a child with a new toy to torment, you had a plate of pizza in your hand and a soda pop in the other.

"What are you doing?" Bucky asks, his eyes narrowed and weary. You laugh and shake your head "I'm on break duh, Evil people need food to." You bite a slice of pizza and grin at him. "Want some?" You say, outstretching your arm to hand him the plate with a raised brow. "No. i don't want your pizza." He scoffs, a grumpy frown forming on his face. "Okay first off rude, i'm not black death, secondly can you please put your gun away, i'm not gonna bite you....Yet."

Bucky's eyes roll, this was gonna be a long night, a very long night....

Two weeks later... "Hey James!" Again you catch Bucky off guard when he walks into your lair, this time though he has you in a headlock and of course you're grinning like an idiot, "Save these tricks for the bedroom James, you haven't even bought me flowers yet." he scowls and let's go of you "Shut up brat, the only flowers you'll get from me is at your funeral is when i kill you." your jaw goes slack and for a minute it's quiet, before a large grin appears on your lips, "Holy shit, that was hot, i knew you could flirt." Bucky blinks, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, he's only known you for a week and you're already driving him up a wall. "Shut up." Bucky grumbles and pushes past you into your lair. "Where is it?" Bucky asks. "Where's what?" You ask innocently. "The gun, with the green squiggly things, that shoots fire, that gun?"

Bucky demands, and stares at you. "Ohhh...that gun, his name is Blaze, and i don't have it."

You lie, Bucky is unamused, and waits for you to tell him. "You won't intimidate me." Your arms cross over your chest and you smirk, i can't give you Blaze, he's the best thing ever created since ultron" You smirk mischievously and chuckle at the look on Bucky's face, until you cave. "Fine, if i give it, will you protect him? it took me forever to birth him." "I'm not promising anything" Bucky grumbles and holds out his hand as you place the gun in his hand. "I'm going now." Bucky turns on his heels and begins to leave but you call out to him. "You know, you could at least leave your phone number since you're taking my son."

you knew he heard as he left and you can't help but laugh. you knew these encounters wouldn't end anytime soon.

i will post part two soon. let me know if this is good🖤

Part two here<-

[local-crying-boy]

could you do a wanda maximoff/gn or f reader where she's just joined the avengers (possibly after switching sides from team ultron) fluff?

🅆🄰🄽🄳🄰 🄼🄰🅇🄸🄼🄾🄵🄵

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𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕟𝕠𝕨

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝙼𝚊𝚡𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚇 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 (𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏, 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚙𝚛𝚎-𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚊𝚠𝚔𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊, 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝙼𝚊𝚡𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚏𝚏, 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝙰𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎 - 𝙰𝙺𝙰 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 -, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚢. 𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜, 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚜

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.2k

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The whole team were only wanting to relax for the next couple of days, the battle in Sokovia took a toll on everyone, even on superheroes. However, they all still had to complete training, Rogers and Romanoff were building up the ‘New Avengers’.

It was, of course, an honour to be considered to be apart of the Avengers, and to actually be trained to be one? Well, that was a different honour. It was almost every child’s dream to become a hero, and those children usually just became a first responder or a doctor, maybe even joined the army. But, you? You were actually able to be a hero.

In all honesty, you would have been happy to just continue your work as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. However, after joining in on the fight in Sokovia, you agreed with the decision to have a different role. You couldn’t deny the pay either.

Throughout your time with training, you had become good friends with the now-new-avengers. All apart from one.

Wanda Maximoff.

Your curiosity peaked whenever you saw her, she was so secluded and introverted. You never really saw her interact with the others, she really only talked to Rogers or Natasha and you could only assume that was because Rogers was the first one to trust her and Pietro.

And you only really assumed she was that introverted and secluded because of the death of her twin. You could tell, even from small glances, that she wasn’t sleeping well, and that she’d been crying a lot.

You couldn’t blame her of course.

She was in a new country, a new language and surrounded by people she didn’t really know, all on her own. You could only imagine how much easier it would have been of her brother had survived too, how she’d probably seem a lot more as ease, maybe even looked better than she did now.

you pitied her, you wanted her to be better than she was now, you wanted her to try and find a home in this new place.

You only had to find some way to help.

You originally attempted to go up to her when the team were training, though, at that point, she was mostly sticking with Rogers or Romanoff. Both of the Avengers were taking turns into teaching her the basics of hand-to-hand combat. Which, in result, meant that you didn't exactly get a chance to speak to her all that much.

So, your next thought was to try and caught her when she was wondering around the Compound. You tried to wonder around the Compound much more than you would usually, attempting to find Wanda around the base or catching her doing more mundane things that weren't just training.

Though, yet again, it was a failed attempted. After not running into her at all for a while, you asked Natasha where Wanda usually was, it turned out that she spent most of her time in her room.

The information only made you pity Wanda that much more. Even with everyone in the Compound, she still confined herself into her plain room, wallowing all alone. And you, the entire time, hadn't even thought about checking in on her while she was in her room!

And you call yourself an Avenger. You couldn't even think about a solution so simple.

Thus, you found yourself outside of her bedroom door one early evening. You lifted your hand and did three quick knocks on her door, you weren't entirely sure if she was going to let you in or not because the two of you had never really talked all that much.

You heard a faint 'come in' from inside of Wanda's room amongst the quiet TV noise as well, prompting you two open the creaking door, poking your head through for a moment before entering fully.

"Hello." You greeted with a small smile.

Wanda was sitting crossed legged at the end of her double bed, a pillow resting on her lap. She turned her head over her shoulder and looked over at you, there was a hint of shock in her eyes, as if she hadn't expected it to be you who knocked on her door.

"Hi." She responded, her voice quiet and hard to hear. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to check up on you." You said with a small shrug. "I don't see you all that often."

“I’ve been spending most of my time in here.” Wanda said with a quiet voice and a small shrug, every aspect of her mannerisms throughout the entire time being in the compound always seemed so shy and awkward.

You laughed faintly, scratching the back of your neck. “Oh, I’m aware, I’ve been trying to catch you around the compound.”

There was a moment of silence, but… not really. That was when you noticed the faint sound of the TV in her room, just opposite her bed. It was some sitcom, you didn’t know what it was, you didn’t really watch them.

Clearly, Wanda had noticed your yes drifting to the TV, "Do you know it?"

Your eyes snapped back to hers, before you shook your head. "Oh, no, no, I don't really watch Sitcoms. Not my thing."

"What's 'your thing'?" She asked, her gaze fixated onto yours, like the two of you were just simply unable to look away.

"Uhm..." You shrugged lightly, quietly wracking your brain for anything that you could think of on the spot. "Training?"

She was silent, giving you a quizzical look, before her lips pulled into a small grin, a soft, faint laugh escaping. "Training?"

You chuckled alongside the Sokovian, shrugging lightly. Maybe it was an embarrassing thing to say, but you got her to laugh and that was something. "Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, but it got me here."

“You got bored?” Wanda asked quietly, her hands planted on her lap. “Is that why you trained in your free time?”

You shrugged lightly, there was a couple reasons, but they all seemed a little too silly to actually be a reason to spend most of time training instead of, well, figuring out what you actually wanted to do in your free time.

"Something like that." You said quietly, shrugging lightly.

Wanda was quiet, though, looking at you for a few moments that made you feel like she was trying to figure out what was going in your mind without actively using her powers, or maybe she was using her powers. You wouldn't really be able to tell.

You let out a forced laugh, shrugging it off once again. "I just... The reason I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. was because I lost... someone. Training was the main way I avoided thinking about it."

There was a silence between the two of you, she nodded slowly. She understood the pain of losing some, hell, she knew how it was to lose her entire family.

"I dunno." You cleared your throat anxiously. "There were other reasons of course, but... but that was the main reason."

You shrugged lightly, before continuing on again. “It helped the loneliness, I guess.”

Wanda stared at you for a few, short moments. She went to speak, but she thought about what she was going to say before she opened her mouth to speak again. "I don't know how to... get rid of the loneliness."

You frowned at her, but not out of disbelief or anything else, only out of pity. Though, that just made you feel a little shitty, pitying the girl with no family.

“You think talking would help?” You asked softly, you didn’t entirely known exactly how to help people, especially with grief over a lost loved one. You could barely manage your own emotions, but you knew that an offer to talk would be appreciated - most times.

She stared at you for a few moments, as if debating it.

“I might not exactly be able to help.” You explained with a small shrug. “But… talking about it might make you feel better.”

“The only thing that would make me feel better is seeing him.” Wanda quickly said, her voice already broken and quiet.

You let out a small breath, looking down for a moment. “I get that. I do. You wanna remember him, though, right?”

She didn’t speak up.

“Remembrance doesn’t always have to be… from seeing someone.” You said softly. “Talking about them, keeps the memory alive, keeps them alive.”

She still was quiet, though, this time, she didn’t meet your eyes again.

“Grief… is a funny thing.” You said with an amused breath. “Our minds grieve the absence of someone, or something, but we forget that there’s no true absence. We hold apart of that person in our hearts, our minds.”

“You think I still have Pietro here?” She asked, looking up at you with an almost look of confusion and disbelief.

“You do.” You responded with a quick nod. “You’ve spent every day with him, you grew up together. You’ll have things you’ll see in the streets that remind you of him, whether they made you laugh or pissed you off.”

A small grin pulled at her lips when you finished speaking, but she had quickly tried to hide it, as if she didn’t want to be seen smiling when she was grieving the loss of her twin.

“Grieving doesn’t have to be all sad.” You said softly. “And it’s not a set amount of time, and in that time you don’t have to be miserable all the time.”

Wanda was quiet for a couple moments, before she spoke up again. “I wake up… and I think he’s still alive, and I think I’m going to see him when I get out of bed.”

You let out a small breath, nodding slowly. “I do that too. With… my person.”

“Does it stop?” She asked slowly.

You were hesitant for a few moments. “I haven’t yet.”

She let out a small ‘oh’ sound.

“But… if it makes a difference, everyday it’s less.” You muttered faintly, looking over at her to try and see her eyes. “To a point where, you know that they’re not here.”

There was a short silence again, a running pattern with this whole interaction.

“That seems sad.” She said quietly. “To wake up and realise that they’re gone.”

“Yeah. I guess.” You replied faintly, looking down at your hands.

Your eyes focused on the show that Wanda had been watching before you came in, you didn’t know what the sitcom was, but there was a certain part that made you chuckle.

Wanda noticed your little laugh, her eyes focusing on the show as well. Her own lips pulled into a subtle smile, though, you were sure that she wasn’t going to show it yet because of the topic the two of you were just talking about.

“Are you used to living here yet?” You asked eventually, looking over at her again for a moment, be for turning your gaze to the tv again - it seemed easier to do that than to keep eye contact with her.

"It's... strange." She said, her words dragged out as if she was trying to find the correct words. Not only a way to describe how she was feeling, but also to not offend you in anyway.

You nodded slowly, letting a quiet laugh out. "I get that, it's so weird living with literal superheroes."

But Wanda shook her head, it wasn't even a hesitated shake of the head, it was quick, as if she immediately knew that she didn't agree, even in the slightest, to your statement.

"It's strange in a way that..." She paused, looking down at her hands in her lap as she searched for her words. "There's a lot of people here, and I'm not in Sokovia anymore.

You understandingly nodded, even though you couldn't fully understand how she was feeling as you had been living in America for a while now. "It's a new country, a new language, you mean? You're not used to it?"

Wanda nodded this time. "I mean, I know English, so it's not like I've been thrown into complete confusion."

You nodded, it was a non-verbal confirmation that you were listening. Understand, even if it was to a small extent.

"You're not at home anymore." You said faintly, your voice almost as a whisper for reasons unknown to you.

This time, she nodded. She looked over at you and attempted a smile, but her eyes were a dead give away at how broken she felt inside. You could, really, only give her small nod.

"I understand, kind of." You said softly, but then shrugged lightly. "Not to the same extent, but... I understand having to leave home. I think a lot of us do, y'know?"

She let out a faint hum, one you had to really near to her to be able to hear. Everyone here had a familiar story of grief, hatred and sorrow, not all the same, but the one thing you all had in common was the emotion side of it. Sometimes, it was daunting, but, other times, it was comforting.

"I already know that." She said, there was some weight to her words, but you could hear the underlying hint of amusement in her words, buried under all that sadness.

She did know, she did look through everyone minds, after all, yours included.

You didn't comment, however.

"It'll get better." You said after a few moments of awkward silence, the only sound being heard again is the sit-com Wanda was watching.

"Eventually."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Masterlist

[ivyasproperty]

You take my breath away.

wanda.m x fem!reader, wanda.m x vision, natasha.r x reader ( platonic, brief )

summary — you can't help with the way you feel, it's like you're being pulled towards her. but all you can do is watch from afar as she falls into his arms and your lungs can't help but grow with roses.

warning(s) — vision ( yes he is a warning. ), hanahaki disease, angst to fluff, i think that's it..

word count : 2.1k

A/N : this is my first fic! let me know if you have any suggestions or advice cuz i think i'd rlly need it >< enjoy!!! xoxo

men / minors dni!

You watched in silence as Wanda was once again swept away in his arms. She was once again cancelling movie night on you to go on a date with Vision. You'd expected this, her leaving you by yourself as she has the time of her life with the love of her life. As much as you wanted to hate her, you couldn't. Your heart longed for her.

As you watched Wanda get ready for her date with Vision, you couldn't help but feel breathless, but you didn't care, since you already knew the reason why. But maybe it was because of how stunning she looked tonight, her red satin dress reached her ankles, paired with black heels that elevated her look. She looked like she'd just got back from the met gala or something. You couldn't stay for long though, as your throat started to itch and you started getting the urge to cough.

You couldn't ignore it forever. The roses in your lungs were growing like vines climbing up an old tree. The petals red, just like her favorite color. It was quite ironic, you thought. The rose petals always reminded you of her whenever you coughed them up. The vibrant red of the them would always bring a smile of sadness on your face. You loved and hated it, you loved it because it reminded you of her, but hated it because you knew she didn't love you back.

You and Wanda had met before she even joined the avengers. You were a Hydra experiment, just like her. Whenever they would want to hurt her, drag her or maybe do even unspeakable things to her, you'd always be by her side to defend her, receiving the gruesome acts instead. After all the beating up, Wanda would always come out of the corner she scurried off to after yo defended her, checking up on your wounds, both physical and mental wounds. After making sure you weren't injured to the fact you'd bleed out, she'd pinky-promise you that'd she get you guys out of there. You always felt a fluttering feeling in your stomach whenever your pinky finger connected with hers, but you never thought much of it at the time since being locked in since you were a child, you never really knew what the feeling of love was.

After the Ultron incident and being accepted as avengers, Natasha Romanoff took you under her wing, training you and taking care of you whenever you felt like shit after Wanda dumped you to be with Vision. You couldn't understand why you were so upset at that, so you confided to Natasha about your feelings, she had told you with a pitying smile that you were in love, deeply in love in fact. You felt blood rush to your cheeks, you've never felt love, especially not when you were with Hydra, so this feeling was still new to you.

Back to the present, it was a few months after that conversation. You had already excused yourself to the bathroom multiple times to cough out the pedals. You bet that you would've been able to make an entire bouquet of flowers with the amount you had spit out. You felt light headed from all the blood you coughed up as well, and it showed because of your pale skin and dry lips. Wanda still hadn't realized though, too engrossed in picking out which necklace would bring out her jade-green eyes. 'The necklace on the right', you would've said, if not only for the roses climbing up your throat. You couldn't bear it anymore, running to the bathroom with teary eyes.

Wanda watched you bolt off with concern, her worried eyes watching you as you locked yourself in the bathroom once again. She sighed, not knowing what was wrong with you. She didn't want to read your mind, knowing it would be an invasion of your privacy, she'd pinky-promised you ( once again ) that she would never use her powers against you. She sighed once again, checking the time on her phone, realizing it was almost time for Vision to pick her up. She called out to you, telling you she was leaving, but received no reply. She frowned at that, no matter where you were in her apartment, be it the kitchen, the bathroom or her bedroom, you'd always reply to her. She left feeling a heaviness in her heart, not knowing why.

Once you heard the front door close, you started to cough more loudly, more violently. You held back when she was still in hearing-radius, and being the kind person you are, didn't want to worry her, so you kept your mouth shut. As you coughed up the pedals that were increasing by the day, you couldn't help but notice a new detail. Roots. Roots were starting to be coughed up. 'Not too long now', you thought. You've been preparing yourself for the worst already, knowing the end was unescapable. Hey, maybe when you do die, you could have a nice chat with your long-term friend, Lady Death. You'd had met Rio multiple times, on mission or when you were at Hydra. The near death experiences were no stranger to you.

Your coughs were loud enough to be heard from the kitchen, but you didn't care. Wanda wasn't here anyway, she was with Vision. Just thinking of him brought a different bitter taste to your mouth. You would always think to yourself, what does he have that you don't? Maybe it was that stupid stone in his head. But as long as Wanda was happy, you'd be satisfied. You continued to cough and spit out blood and roses, not knowing Wanda had come back inside the apartment after realizing she left her wallet behind.

As Wanda entered her apartment, she could hear the violent coughs you were letting out. She ran to the bathroom door, knocking violently, asking if you were okay. You wanted to reply to her, but you couldn't let out any noise besides the sounds of your coughing. You felt tears roll down your cheeks, not wanting Wanda to hear your suffering. If Wanda wasn't worried when she heard your violent coughing, she was worried now as she heard your not only coughing, but wheezing through the door now. She didn't know what happened to her but she felt a surge through her, and before you knew it, she had ripped the door down. Her gaze quickly laid on you, and the roses in the toilet bowl. She knew right away what it meant. You looked at her, bewildered at the fact she had just ripped her door down. You followed her gaze to the toilet bowl, now noticing another new detail. Or maybe details, plural tense would suit it better anyway since they were not only leaves but thorns too. It was a full and complete rose at this point.

Wanda got on her knees, not caring that her dress might've ripped from the impact. She shouted at you, telling you to tell her who did this to you. You looked at her with you tear stained cheeks and bloody lips, giving her a tight lipped smile which you'd showed her so many times. You heard another pair of footsteps not too long later, looking up just to see Vision. 'Oh, that's right, they were supposed to go on a date', you thought, you couldn't help but look at Wanda with a blank stare, the ringing in your ears too loud to hear what she was saying, or shouting, you couldn't tell. And before you knew it, all you could see was pitch black.

You woke up to the blinding lights of the medical room in the compound, you were used to it, being in here multiples times after missions has made you feel at peace in the quiet atmosphere. You could hear the faint beeping of the heart monitor, but you weren't focused on that, what you were focused on was the weight on your side.

You craned your neck down, surprised to see a sleeping Wanda by your side, you couldn't help the fluttering in your chest from coming back, but that feeling very quickly turned to confusion. Wasn't she supposed to be on a date with her dearly beloved toaster? ( i couldn't help it. ) You looked around the room, your eyes laying on the clock, ' 9.30 PM' it read. You looked back at Wanda, surprised to see her already awake and looking back at you. Her eyes quickly welled with tears, knowing she almost lost you to some disease caused by one sided love. She didn't know why but she felt like her world had almost crashed down on her when you passed out on the bathroom floor with petals and roots still in your mouth. She had never felt that upset before in her life, ever. Not even when she had to blow a whole through Visions head, which she didn't do after finding a way to stop Thanos without killing her love. But she felt on edge, she had never felt this upset before. Not with Vision, which was supposed to be her soulmate, but with you, her partner in crime, her defender, her best friend. Wanda didn't know why but she felt a sting when she said the last term. It was then that she realized, she was in love with you. Not with Vision, but with you, she always had, and always will she concluded.

"Who is it?" "What? What do you mean?", you replied. "The person you're in love with, whoever they are, they're a full for not loving you back. Because of them you have this diseas-", you tuned out her voice halfway through her sentence, sure watching her rambling on was cute as hell, but you were focused on her worried face, why was she worried? Sure you were her best friend, but there was a different look on her usual worried face, it was as if it was full of love.... 'No, it can't be', you thought. But your thoughts were cut off as yo were sent into another coughing fit. Wanda shut up immediately and assisted in your breathing with her powers, the itchiness and soreness of your throat fading away, but still lingering there.

"Why are you here?", you said. "What do you mean why am I here? You literally passed out on my bathroom floor!" "Yeah, all because of you!", you shouted. You looked at her with widen eyes after realizing what you had said, she had the exact same expression on her face. "M-me? What do you mean because of me?" You looked away, not wanting to face her. Wanda clearly didn't like that, and used her fingers to grip you chin to make you look at her. Her eyes screamed at you for an explanation. You sighed, guess it was time to finally let the cat out of the bag. "Fine, the reason I even have this godforsaken disease is because of you. Yes, you. Don't act as if you're so surprised, you should've known, but no! You were too busy spending your oh so precious time with some red fucking toaster. Do you not get it Wanda? I love yo-" You couldn't even register your surroundings as Wanda pulled you in for a kiss, the feeling of her soft pink lips colliding with yours was a feeling you never wanted to forget.

After parting lips, you looked at her in a daze. Wanda lightly giggled at that, your dazed look embedded into her mind. "W-what was that?! What about Vision!? Why are you even here anyway, you're supposed to be on a dat-" "Do you ever stop talking about him? I cancelled the date with Vision, I never loved him, I've always loved you." You looked at her, still trying to register her words, after doing so, you started to panic, just as you were about to say something, you felt your chest become lighter, the itchiness and soreness in your throat disappearing into thin air. The amount of fresh air caused you to cough again, not used to breathing in fresh air after such a long time.

The feeling of fresh air in your lungs caused to to look up after your coughing fit, looking at Wanda with shocked eyes. She looked at you with a smile that screamed just what you wanted it to scream, "I love you, I always have, I always will". You didn't hesitate to pull her in for another kiss, one that took both her and your breath away, but in a good way.

She was finally yours, your Wanda. And you were finally hers, her defender, her hero.

A/N : i had so much fun writing this!!! i hope you guys enjoyed this, but since this is my first fic there's for sure some errors, feel free to give any advice or suggestions!!!