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sycamorelibrary754 · 7 months

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We're a Family

Summary: You and Natasha are taking your first vacation since the birth of your 5-year-old daughter. While you and Natasha are off on a romantic getaway to Paris for your anniversary, how will your Avengers family handle watching your daughter for the weekend?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Romance

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Some mentions of grief.

A/N: Thank you so much for the positive feedback on Come Home to Me! I hope to keep writing as I feel inspired and have time. This story takes place after the events of Endgame. Tony survived defeating Thanos with the Snap, and Steve brought Natasha back after returning the Soul Stone to Vormir.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Natasha questioned for the third time that Friday morning, as you gather the last of the essentials together for your 5-year-old daughter to take to the Avengers Compound. You and Nat were taking your first vacation together since the birth of your child in celebration of your wedding anniversary. Understandably, your wife was struggling with the idea of leaving your daughter. It was all you could do to convince Natasha to drop her off at preschool, let alone leave her overnight.

“Love, we’ve talked about this. It’s only for the weekend, Mila is going to have a great time. Besides, there is nowhere safer for her to be than surrounded by Avengers. You trust them with your life”, you remind her reassuringly as you rub gentle circles on her back.

“Exactly. My life, not my child,” Nat muttered.

It had been five years since you gave birth to your and Natasha’s daughter. From the moment you both laid eyes on her your whole world changed. Soon after, Nat transitioned into semi-retirement with guidance from Clint. She was still available for daily mission consultation or if the situation was dire, but you and Mila are her number one priority now.

You heard little feet padding down the hall, as your daughter runs into your bedroom. Her red curls bounced up on down on her head “I'm ready Mommy and Mama!” Mila squealed.

“Oh, Moya Lyubov, you look so pretty! Did you dress yourself this morning?” Natasha asked, getting down to her level.

“Yes! I wanted to match Auntie Yelena!” as she showed off her mini black vest that Yelena made her for her last birthday, worn expertly over her pink tutu.

“Auntie Yelena is going to love it, sweetheart. You’re going to have so much fun with your aunts and uncles this weekend,” hugging her tight.

After packing your luggage in the car, you make the short drive to the compound. FRIDAY greets you as you exit the main elevator. “Good morning Ms. Romanoff, Ms. Y/L/N.” The team is awaiting your arrival in the common room.”

“Thank you, FRIDAY,” you replied, as Mila lets go of Natasha’s hand and runs ahead of both of you, having been here several times already in her young life.

As you enter the room, you see Wanda and Vision in the kitchen as the smell of freshly baked cookies wafts through the air. Peter and Kate are playing video games, Bucky and Sam are playing cards with Clint, and Steve is quietly reading Moby Dick.

“Little spider!” Yelena called out as she entered the room and Mila runs into her arms.

“Auntie Yelena! Do you like my outfit? I got dressed all by myself!”

“I love it malyshka, so much cooler than Mama’s outfit,” Yelena says, as she side-eyes her older sister with a smile. “We are going to have so much fun this weekend.”

“Yeah, about that”, Natasha interrupted. “Mission briefing in five.”

“Mission briefing? Love, we're going on vacation, not a stakeout.”

“Yes, but they have the most important mission of all, watching our daughter.” motioning to the group in front of you.

Your heart warms at how protective your wife is being. This is the Black Widow. A woman who would run into a collapsing building or intercept an alien invasion without batting an eye, but the moment she became a mother, everything changed. She vowed to give Mila everything she never had as a child. To break the cycle of uncertainty and pain that the Red Room forced upon her. Truthfully, you were so proud of how far Natasha had come. From growing up believing love was for children, to giving nothing but love to the both of you.

Just then Tony and Bruce entered the living room arguing over their latest nanotech calculations, with Pepper following closely behind.

“Hey, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, park it,” Natasha said.

“Ah, Rushman, wonderful to see you as always,” Tony says, winking at Nat. She rolls her eyes in response, as Tony and Bruce give you a hug before sitting down and Pepper picks up your daughter.

“Come on sweetie, do you want to go play with Morgan?” Pepper asked.

“Yay!” Mila cheered as they walk down the hall to Morgan’s room.

“Okay, some quick do’s and dont’s for this weekend. No guns, no repulsor rays, no arrows, and no using our daughter as a beta test subject for any new experiments. When Thor gets here, no Asgardian beverages in front our child. Mila’s bedtime is 7 pm and she likes it if you do the characters' voices when you read her a bedtime story. Oh, and if she has trouble falling asleep, a lullaby usually does the trick. Got it?”

“Geez, this is almost as bad as Budapest,” Clint whispered to Kate.

“It’s going to be alright Natasha,” Wanda reassured. “We’re a family. You know we would do anything for that little girl. Please, go and enjoy your anniversary. No one deserves some special alone time more than you two”, Wanda says as she hands you a tin full of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies for the trip.

You put your arm around Natasha and kiss her cheek. “Wanda is right, my love. Mila will be fine.”

Just as you complete the sentence, Mila ran back into the room. “Mommy, Mama! Morgan has Puss and Boots: The Last Wish, and we’re going to watch it tonight before bedtime.”

“That sounds like so much fun, sweetheart! I know you are going to be a good girl for your aunts and uncles and Mommy and Mama will see you on Sunday night, okay? We love you so much.” you said.

“Okay, Mommy. I love you!” She said as she hugs you so tight. Natasha knelt to kiss your daughter on the cheek and squeezed her hand three times. Their special way of saying I love you. After one last hug and kiss, you walk to the Quinjet. Tony having offered one for easy and convenient travel.

*^~^*

By the time you arrived at your hotel in Paris, it’s almost dinner time. After some sightseeing, you two enjoyed a gourmet candlelit dinner under the Parisian moon and a romantic stroll under the stars. When you got back to your room, you received a text message from Clint with a photo of your daughter asleep on her bed. Lovingly cuddled up under a blanket with Yelena.

“See, she’s okay”, you said lovingly as Natasha smiles widely at the picture of her little girl and her little sister.

As you lay in bed that night, you feel more grateful than ever to be here with the love of your life. Both of you had learned firsthand to never take anything for granted.

You were one of the lost souls left behind after the Blip. Struggling with the loss of your loved ones, you began attending Steve’s Brooklyn Support Group once a week. It was after one of those meetings that you were first introduced to the Black Widow.

Natasha hesitated at first to let anyone in. She was too scared to lose anyone else and was convinced that nothing should take away from her commitment to bring everyone back. However, she still found herself finding any excuse to attend Steve’s meetings. Whether that was to bring homemade peanut butter sandwiches for the snack table or shyly offering to give you a ride home.

You weren’t a hero or a super soldier. You didn’t remind Natasha of the guilt she carried over the last five years as the fallout from the Blip continued. You were just yourself, and that was what Natasha loved the most about you. You began to visit her at the compound, and slowly but surely the walls came down for both of you.

When she told you about the Time Heist, you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t comprehend the thought of losing Natasha, but you knew that she believed in her heart that she owed it to everyone they had lost to try. When Clint returned from Vormir alone and dropped to his knees, so did you. Grief overtaking you all over again.

As the Battle for Earth became inevitable, the team hid you in a safe house off the grid. Days went by and you lost track of time, stuck in your grief and unaware of what was happening. It wasn't until a knock on your door awoke you in the middle of the night that you dropped to your knees again. This time in shock at the sight of Natasha on your doorstep. Tears streaming down her face, she told you they had won. Tony defeated Thanos with the Snap, and Steve performed a miracle by bringing her back upon returning the Soul Stone to Vormir.

So much life had happened since then. You were married in a beautiful autumnal ceremony shortly after Nat returned, bought your own house, and five years ago and twelve hours of labor later, you welcomed your daughter into the world that your wife sacrificed herself to save. You couldn’t believe how much you loved them both. Fading back into the present moment, you gently move a strand of Natasha’s unbraided red hair away from her face. Her hands move effortlessly to the nape of your neck, and you lose yourself in her touch.

*^~^*

It’s Saturday morning back at the compound, and Mila is eating blueberry pancakes when Clint strolled in from his morning workout.

“Hey, squirt! Those pancakes look amazing. Did Auntie Wanda make those?” he asked, reaching for the extra plate of pancakes on the counter.

Before Mila can even respond, the plate glides quickly away from him, enveloped in Wanda’s red magic. “Auntie Wanda did make those, but they’re only for adorable little girls named Mila. Is your name Mila?” Wanda said to Clint, with a raised eyebrow.

“No”, Clint grumbled.

“Then make your own breakfast, Hawkeye,” Wanda sighed, patting him on the back.

After breakfast, Sam and Bucky take Mila outside to play. Meanwhile, Steve is in his room working on a mission report when FRIDAY interrupts his concentration. “Mr. Rogers, I’m picking up an elevated heat signature from your shield just north of your location.” Steve looked curiously out the window to see Mila giggling as she slid across the grass. She is sitting on his overturned Captain America shield pulled by a rope tied to the back of Red Wing.

“My shield is not a toy!” Steve yelled out the window.

“Oh, hey Cap! It does make a great sled, doesn’t it?” Bucky answered, pretending not to hear what his best friend said, as Sam laughs out loud.

Steve shakes his head to hide his smile. You meant the world to him, having spent countless hours processing your grief together in that dark and dank recreation room in Brooklyn. He was honored when you and Natasha asked him to be Mila’s godfather. His shield was made from Vibranium, after all. If his goddaughter wanted to play with it, he knew no harm would be done.

That afternoon, Peter arrived at the compound to work on his newest suit upgrade with Tony. Mila is engrossed in coloring at the kitchen table with Auntie Kate when Peter walks in to get a soda.

“Hey Mila, what are you up to?”

“Coloring, do you want to help us?” Mila asked happily.

Peter nodded, and for the next twenty minutes, they got lost in her Disney Princess coloring book. After adding pretty sparkles to Elsa’s Frozen dress, Mila noticed Peter’s Spider-Man suit sticking out of his bag.

“Pretty!” Mila said with wide eyes.

“You like it?” Peter asked.

“Yes, is this how you fly? Mama says you can fly!” Mila declares.

“Something like that” Peter chuckled and tousled her hair.

Down in the lab, Tony had been waiting for Peter to arrive for a half an hour. Unusual, as his protege was normally annoyingly punctual. Running out of patience, Tony asks FRIDAY for Peter’s current location.

“Mr. Parker is in the kitchen with Ms. Bishop and the young Ms. Romanoff, sir.” Tony rolls his eyes as he trudged up the stairs.

“Hey Hawkette, have you seen Peter? He was supposed to — “

Tony stopped in his tracks as he sees Peter swinging from the ceiling with Mila on his back. Kate was too busy filming the entire spectacle on her phone to notice Tony standing there.

“Wee!! Faster, Uncle Peter!” Mila shouted as Peter’s web carries them across the room to the top of the bookcase.

Tony’s eyes follow the pair around the room. Putting on his best poker face, “Okay. I won’t tell Romanoff or her better half, but if you break it, you pay for it. That includes the kid.” Tony warned.

“Sure thing, Mr. Stark” Peter giving Tony a thumbs up.

“And for God’s sake, at least put some pillows down on the floor!” Tony hollered as he walked back to his lab.

*^~^*

In the city of love, you and Natasha took a Saturday evening cruise down the Seine River. It was magical. You had seen the Musée d’Orsay, the Notre Dame Cathedral and had just reached the top of the Eiffel Tower when your phone alerted you to an incoming FaceTime from Carol. You swiped, her face appearing on the screen.

“Hey, you two, I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be on Earth-616 tomorrow for a meeting with Fury and thought I’d drop in on my favorite couple. Wait, where are you?”

“Paris for our anniversary! Our first vacation alone in over five years. Can you believe it?” you said giddily, as Natasha puts her arms around your waist and lovingly kisses your cheek.

“Wow, that’s wonderful! Where’s your little mini-me?” Carol asked.

“With the team, actually if you’re going there anyway could you just make sure that everything is good with Mila?” Natasha inquired.

“Of course. You know you never have to ask.”

“Thank you, Carol”, you gratefully respond. We’ll be back tomorrow evening, so I’m sure we’ll see you then.” Carol gave you a mock salute, before you ended the call and put your phone back in your coat pocket.

“You look so beautiful, dorogaya. After all this time, I still can't believe you’re mine.” Nat waxed poetically, as she removed her scarf and wrapped it around your neck. Natasha could not look more beautiful in the glow of the Eiffel Tower. You decided this is the perfect moment to give her your anniversary gift. You slowly hand her the red velvet box you had snuck into your satchel. Her green eyes went wide at the sight of it.

“Detka! We said no gifts this year, this trip is gift enough.” Nat facetiously scolded.

“I know, but I still wanted to do something special for you,” you said sheepishly.

Natasha opens the box to reveal a simple and delicate gold heart locket necklace. Upon opening the pendant, she is greeted by a candid photo of all three of you. One that Clint had taken during your last visit with his family in Iowa. Nat was sitting on Clint’s front porch with a smiling Mila on her lap. You are leaning behind her with your arms wrapped lovingly around her neck. It had quickly become one of your favorite photos of your small, yet precious family.

“This is so beautiful, Moya Lyubov. Can you put it on me?”

You move Natasha’s braid away from her neck and clasped the necklace in the back. The heart locket fell directly on top of her own heart. It looked perfect on her. You're not sure who leaned in first, but your lips met in a kiss that made your stomach flutter like it was the first time. You couldn’t be happier than you were in this moment.

*^~^*

The Sunday morning sun is slowly breaking through the compound windows. Yelena was pouring your daughter a bowl of Cheerios and singing along to the sound of American Pie coming from her phone when The God of Thunder made his entrance through the Bifrost. Mila jumped and started to hide behind her Auntie Yelena, but ran toward him when she realized it’s only her Uncle Thor materializing in front of them, leaving his trademark on Pepper’s Persian rug.

“Must you do that every time? You’re becoming more of a poser than my sister.” Yelena remarked.

“Of course,” Thor said nonchalantly. “It is the only entrance fit for the God of Thunder.”

He reachesd down and lifts Mila up with one arm, “Odin’s Beard! You’ve gotten so big since the last time I saw you, Mila.” Thor declared

“I know! Did you bring me a present Uncle Thor?” Mila squealed.

“Yes! Now, let’s see here… Asgardian Ale, Mead, no… ah, here it is!” He handed the little girl a small snow globe set in gold with her name engraved elegantly on the base.

“Wow. Pretty snow globe….” Mila whispered.

“It is indeed”, Thor said, sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the little girl. “This is a special Asgardian snow globe. Look, see the rainbow bridge inside it?” He pointed. “Most importantly Lady Mila, if you shake it, I shall be there in a flash. If ever you need me, I will be there.”

“Thank you, Uncle Thor!”, Mila said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. I’m going to show it to my Teddy Bear!” Running to her bedroom.

“You spoil her, you know”, Yelena stated with a smirk, as she began to clean up the kitchen.

“I know, but she is such a grand example of goodness and joy in such a tiny human. She deserves the world.” Thor declared.

Carol arrives shortly after lunch. After a short meeting with Fury in the conference room regarding upcoming mission targets, she finds your daughter in the compound courtyard. She is wearing her vest to match her favorite auntie, as Yelena demonstrates the newest tricks Fanny has learned.

“Roll over! Good girl, Fanny!” Yelena praised the dog. Mila takes a treat out of one of her vest pockets with her tiny hand and tosses it to the Akita.

“Well done, Mila! Before you go home tonight, I will show you what else you can hide inside those pockets,” winking at her niece.

“Fruits and veggies right, Yelena?” Carol deadpanned as Mila runs over and jumps into Captain Marvel’s arms.

“Auntie Carol! When did you get here?” Your daughter giggled.

“Just a little bit ago. I talked to your Mommy and Mama last night. They miss you so much and can’t wait to see you when they get home tonight.” Carol shared before kissing your daughter on the cheek.

*^~^*

The sun was setting on your third day in Paris. You and Natasha spent the afternoon exploring the mysteries of the Louvre. You had always wanted to see the Mona Lisa in person, and Natasha was determined to make it happen. Even if it meant pushing through a crowd of tourists who got out of the way quickly when they realized the Black Widow was the one asking them to kindly move the fuck over.

You made the short walk back to your hotel and are enjoying a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries when Natasha’s phone dinged.

Carol: Hey lovebirds, all good here. Mila is doing great and is so excited to see you when you get back. However, I have a feeling you may want to check her vest pockets when you get home for some “special” presents courtesy of Auntie Yelena. 😘

Natasha giggled, showing you the text.

“The important thing is that they’re bonding,” placing a delicate kiss on her temple.

Following Wanda’s scrumptious dinner of Chicken Paprikash, your daughter was watching Frozen II. Vision attempted to explain the science behind snowflakes to her when Tony strolled into the lounge.

“Hey, kiddo do you want to come down to the lab with me and see the new Iron Man suit the Jolly Green Giant and I are working on?”

“Yay!” Mila said excitedly, jumping up and down.

“Sir, I believe Ms. Romanoff indicated there was to be no experimenting with young Ms. Mila whilst she is in our care.”

“Relax, chrome dome. We’re just looking at the new virtual mockup.” Picking up Mila and carried her to his lab.

*^~^*

A few hours later, Natasha landed the Quinjet and takes a deep breath as she reached across the console for your hand. You both stare out at the lights of the team living quarters in the distance.

“This has been a wonderful anniversary. I love you so much,” you said. “I know it was tough for you to leave Mila for three days, but not only did we have a beautiful anniversary, but our daughter got to spend meaningful time with her family that she will always remember.” You pressed a kiss to her knuckles as Natasha caresses your cheek.

“You were right, dorogaya. This was perfect. I’m sorry I was so nervous about leaving her. I just… never thought I would have my happily ever after. That little girl and you are my everything. It breaks my heart every time I leave either one of you.”

“I know, my love”, you said quietly. Now, let’s go get our daughter and go home.”

You walked into the compound to shouting and the sound of Fanny and Lucky barking. Natasha was about to reach for her spare Widow Bites when you both heard your daughter laughing.

The two of you entered the common room to the sight of your daughter running through the compound. She was dressed in her pajamas and one of Tony’s Iron Man helmets; a can of whipped cream in her little hands. Yelena and the rest of the team are hot on her heels; puffs of whipped cream flew behind her.

Kate skidded to a stop in front of both of you. “Oh, you guys are back. Awesome! Umm, we made ice cream sundaes for dessert. Mila enjoyed hers, as you can see”, Kate motioned, breathing heavily.

Mila took her last lap around the couch when she caught sight of you and Natasha.

“Mommy, Mama! You’re here!!” she squealed, running into Natasha’s arms.

“Hi, Moya Lyubov, we missed you so much!!” Natasha said as she wraps Mila in a big hug before passing her to you to do the same.

“It looks like you had fun with your aunts and uncles this weekend,” removing the helmet and brush a red curl away from her eyes.

“I had so much fun, Mommy! I got to eat yummy food, ride a sled, fly, and Auntie Yelena helped me hide special treasures in my vest pockets. Oh, and I got a magic snow globe with my name on it!” Your daughter rambled happily.

Natasha looked at you slightly skeptical, wondering if your sweet little girl was exaggerating. With your family, you were never quite sure.

“Wow, that sounds amazing, kotyonok!” Are you ready to go home now?” Nat asked as Mila gives you her best puppy dog eyes.

“It’s okay sweetheart, we’ll come back and see everyone next weekend. Why don’t you go get your Teddy bear?” you suggested.

“I’ll help her with her things,” Yelena said, scooping up your daughter and walking to her bedroom.

“We can’t thank all of you enough for taking such good care of her. I know she would stay here forever if we let her.” You said as you move through the group hugging every one.

She is always welcome here, you two know that.” Wanda said, confident she was speaking for the entire team.

A few minutes later, Mila reappeared with her unicorn backpack and Yelena in tow carrying a couple more bags than what you dropped her off with. You shake your head, knowing full well that the team spoiled her with gifts. Natasha squatted down to Mila’s level and puts her hand lovingly on her back. “Can you say goodbye and thank you to all of your aunts and uncles, dorogaya?” she asked. Mila walked around the room and hugged everyone. It warms Natasha’s heart to see her family embrace your daughter with so much love and affection.

Mila fell asleep five minutes after you put her in her car seat. When you arrived home, Natasha carried her to her bed. She carefully set Mila down and pulled up the covers. You both place a gentle kiss on her forehead and quietly tiptoe out of her room. You make your way to your bedroom, deciding to leave the unpacking for the morning, both too jet lagged. Natasha sat up in bed reading with her glasses sliding adorably down her nose when you turned off the bathroom light and crawled into bed beside her.

“I couldn’t have asked for a more romantic anniversary, my love” you admitted as you carefully removed her glasses from her face and gently kiss her lips. “But there is nowhere I would rather be than at home with you and our beautiful daughter.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Returning the kiss.

As Natasha starts to fall asleep, she can’t help but recall the journey that brought her here. She used to have nothing. Indoctrinated into Red Room with no free-will. A ledger soaked with blood that she wanted more than anything to wipe clean. Then came the shot Clint didn’t take, the chance that Fury did, the found family that ultimately led her to you, and the miracle that is your daughter. Her family would always be there for her, and you and Mila were happy, healthy, and safe. She was better because of it. At last, Natasha Romanoff was at peace.

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ramen-flavored · 25 days

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Happy 10th Anniversary To The Superior MCU Movie

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literaryavenger · 2 months

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Captain America: Civil War - 5

Summary: Team Cap gets taken to the Raft.

Pairing: Avengers x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries. Language. Mentions of Y/N. A little angst if you squint. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: Thank god it took me very little to finish this one! Hope you like it!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The Raft.

That’s where they sent you after they arrested you in Germany. The fucking Raft.

You haven’t even seen Wanda since you were handed your very unstylish new clothes and they made you change.

You got separated from her when they took you to your cell between Scott's and Sam's. You dread what they're going to do to her, but you're powerless to stop them.

You sit on the ground of your cell and don’t move from there, barely registering what happens around you until the sound of clapping snaps you out of your trance.

“The Futurist, gentlemen!” Clint shouts but you still don’t move, just listening to the scene. “The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not.”

“Give me a break, Barton.” You hear Tony say and almost show some emotion, but stop yourself. “I had no idea they'd put you here. Come on.”

You hear Clint spit and then say “Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey. You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint interrupts him. “Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for. Right? That didn't used to mean me. Or Sam, or Y/N, or Wanda. But here we are.”

“Because you broke the law.” Tony says.

“Yeah.” Clint says back and starts chanting “La la la la la” while Tony talks, making you grin slightly.

“I didn't make you. You read it, you broke it.” Tony keeps talking. “Alright, you're all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side.” he says and your face falls again immediately, knowing Tony went too far.

“You gotta watch your back with this guy.” Clint says before slamming his hands on the bars angrily. “There's a chance he's gonna break it!”

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark.” You hear Scott say from the cell on your right.

“Who are you?” Tony says, his voice closer to you than before, and you can hear Scott mumbling “Come on, man.”

Tony gets to your cell and sees you sitting on the ground, hugging your knees tight to your chest, your head resting back on the wall while you look straight ahead.

Tony is nothing short of shocked when he sees your face all beat up and bruised, your arm bandaged with blood seeping through it showing just how big and deep the cut is, all courtesy of Ayo.

“I never wanted to see you like this...” Tony says softly but you don’t even react to his words.

He’s standing in front of you but it’s like he’s not even there, like you’re looking right through him to something more interesting behind him.

Tony sighs and shakes his head before moving to Sam’s cell.

“How's Rhodes?” Sam asks right away.

“They're flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So… fingers cross.” Tony answers and you close your eyes, grateful that he’s still alive at least. “What do you need? They feed you yet?”

“You're the good cop now?” Sam asks almost in disbelief.

“I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.” Tony answers calmly.

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

“Oh, I just knocked the 'A' out of their 'AV'.” Tony says, much too playfully for your taste. “We got about 30 seconds before they realize it's not their equipment.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his next sentence. “Just look. Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

Your eyes snap open at his apology and, even though you can’t see either of them, you know Sam’s feeling the same way as you, which is confirmed by his next sentence. “That's a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he's about to need all the help he can get. We don't know each other very well. You don't have to-”

“Hey, it's alright.” Sam interrupts him, then you hear him sigh and after a little pause he says “Look, I'll tell you… but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.” Tony says and Sam proceeds to tell him all about the Hydra base in Siberia and the other supersoldiers.

When Tony leaves, Sam once again tries to make sure you’re okay even if he hasn’t had luck at getting an answer out of you since you got here.

He knocks twice on the wall between you two then pauses and then knocks three more times fast before talking, a thing you two started doing since you both moved into the Avengers Compound so you would know it was the other knocking right away. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer him and can hear him sighing before continuing talking.

“Look, I’m sorry you got caught up in this and-”

“I don’t regret the choice I made, Sam.” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence, speaking up for the first time since you got arrested at the airport. “As much as this sucks, it was the right thing to do. I know it was.”

You don’t say anything else. Sam can tell you mean it and he knows better than to push you.

“They’ll be okay.” He says after a moment of silence and then lets you be.

You know he means Steve, Bucky and Tony but you can’t help but think he’s trying to reassure you that Bucky’s gonna be fine.

And you can only hope that he’s right.

A couple of weeks after Tony’s visit there’s a commotion in the prison.

You haven’t so much as made a sound since that day, aside from your daily knock on the wall between you and Sam so he can make sure you’re okay, knowing you well enough to know you don’t want to talk but still wanting to check in.

But you can’t help but let out a loud gasp when you see Steve just standing in front of your cells.

You look around when the cell doors open and you hesitantly get up from the floor and walk towards Steve. He hugs Sam, then you, then Clint and then pats Scott on the back, but doesn’t linger long before he’s guiding you towards another level where Wanda is.

You get to her just as the door to her cell opens and you rush inside with Clint to take off her collar while he takes off her straightjacket. You hug her tightly and wrap your arm around her with Clint to help her move you since she looks a little worse for wear.

You manage to move through the prison without problems. You have to hand it to Steve, he’s a hell of a criminal.

When you get to the landing pad you see the Quinjet ready for take off and you all rush inside just to see Bucky at the commands and you smile brightly at the sight.

You have no time to comment, though, as Sam shouts “What are you waiting for?! Go!”

Bucky rolls his eyes but calmly says “We have one more coming.”

You frown. One more? You turn to Steve confusedly but before you can ask anything you can see blond hair darting into the Quinjet and then Natasha’s there.

Bucky instantly takes off and you all take seats and buckle up.

There’s a moment of silence while everyone processes what just happened, but you break it while looking at Natasha that’s sitting directly in front of you.

“Are we gonna talk about the hair?” You ask arching your eyebrow with a smirk.

She groans in annoyance and you can hear the others chuckling while she says “We are not.”

After a few hours you all get to a safehouse and Steve ushers you in before showing you around.

It’s not bad: a secluded cabin with three bedrooms, not too big but Steve assured you you wouldn’t be staying there long anyway. Which makes sense, you're on the run now so this is just temporary.

After the tour Bucky approaches you in the living room and only then you notice he’s missing his metal arm.

“You flew the jet with only one arm? That’s impressive…” You can’t help yourself as you reach to touch his left shoulder, your eyes fixated on it. But stop on your tracks when you feel his right hand carefully cupping your cheek.

Your eyes snap up to his and you can see him thoroughly inspecting the wounds in your face that are still healing a little. He grimaces when he looks down at your bandaged arm and whispers “I’m sorry…”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Sergeant.” You smile softly at him and put your hand over his still on your cheek, trying to reassure him that you’re fine.

“I bet you can, doll.” He chuckles.

You’re too busy staring at each other to notice everyone’s attention is on you until Steve clears his throat with an apologetic look on his face.

“We need to go, Buck.” He says and you look confusedly between the two men.

“I’m going back into cryo.” Bucky clarifies for you.

“Oh.” Is all you can say and your eyes widen for a second before you force yourself to put on a more neutral face.

“It’s okay.” He smiles at you, but you feel like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, doll.”

You try your best to smile and not look too bummed out. “I bet you can, Sergeant.”

You hesitate for a moment before surprising him, the others and even yourself by giving him a hug. He hesitates too before delicately hugging you back and, after a moment, you pull away.

He smiles at you with a faint blush and you smile back, watching him walk to the door.

Steve passes you on his way to the door and kisses your forehead, whispering “He’ll be okay” before saying goodbye to the rest of the team, assuring you that he’ll be back soon. Then he also goes through the door and soon both the supersoldiers are gone.

You turn around with a sigh and see Sam, Natasha and Clint standing there, grinning at you, Wanda and Scott looking more compassionate than teasing.

You narrow your eyes at the first three and say sternly “Not. A. Word.” punctuating every word by pointing threateningly at each of them.

They raise their hands in mock surrender while snickering but thankfully don’t say anything and everyone just scatters around the safehouse.

You see the Quinjet depart from the window and try your best to look at the bright side: This isn’t forever, you’ll see him again.

Right?

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham @mary-jinx @abbyyourlocalmilf @selcouthial @esposadomd @americaarse

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rogersideup · 22 days

Text

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 9

True Romantic

Series masterlist

Previous part: Twinkles Next part: Star crossed lover

Word count: 7,040

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

As soon as you left your apartment for your meeting with Fury, Steve raced to his own place. As fast as he could, he took a shower and got dressed and as presentable as he could in the short amount of time that he had before fast walking all the way to Fury's office.

In the hallway and outside of Fury's door, there was already a small group of Avengers awaiting the end of the meeting to find out what you chose to do.

Bucky leaned against the wall, tapping his fingers against it. Natasha was trying her hardest to read Fury's lips through the small window in the office door, unfortunately she couldn't see your lips or facial expressions since your back was facing the door. Tony was also there, but he was trying his hardest to pretend like he couldn't care less about any of this debacle. Sam was there too, but mostly because he just wanted to be where Steve and Bucky were. As crazy as it was, you and Sam had never met each other before regardless of how close you both were to the boys, but based off the stories that were told back and forth, the two of you might as well have been friends this whole time.

Steve let out a breath of relief as he approached, knowing for sure now that you were still on the meeting and hadn't missed the Avenger's interrogation to follow.

All of the Avengers turned their heads to investigate Steve's fast approaching steps, but he didn't hold their attention for more than a couple seconds as they all turned back to continue their investigation.

"Fury is smiling." Nat informed Steve, still on her tippy toes staring through the small window.

"Fury never smiles" Steve noted, leaning against the wall next to Sam.

"I didn't even know she was back at the compound." Bucky told Steve.

"She came home last night, I didn't know she was coming back either." Steve told him.

"Oh so 306 sneaking into your apartment was a surprise to you too?" Tony asked Steve, obviously trying to get a rise out of him.

Steve didn't miss the way Bucky's eyebrows raised, or the snickering coming from Sam and Natasha. "You make it sound so naughty"

"Just calling it how I saw it. Deflecting much?"

"So you two really made up, huh?" Bucky flung his arm around Steve's shoulder.

"Oh my go- no. I mean, yes, we did make up. But no, nothing weird happened." Steve confirmed... and denied. Either way, his cheeks felt hotter than the surface of the sun. "What? Were you spying on me?"

"No, I was just walking down the hallway and was visually assaulted by the sight of a woman way out of your league opening your door." Tony explained. "Don't really know what else that could be other than a Star Spangled booty call"

"Unlike you, I respect women too much to participate in booty calls, whatever that means." Steve huffed in disgust. "Not that it's any of your business, she was actually just being a good friend. I was having a tough night and she came to cheer me up."

"Oh, I bet she came alright" Sam joked with a wink, voice taunting Steve.

"That's my boy!" Bucky held his hand up for a high five from Steve, but he was left hanging and earned a death glare.

"You boys are all stupid, I think this is all code for Rogers had a panic attack last night." Natasha noted, eyes never leaving the window.

"Alright, Cap, what's more embarrassing for you? Admitting you were clapping cheeks or having a breakdown." Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing embarrassing about either of those things, but I prefer to keep both of them to myself. Thank you very much." Steve refused to let them get a rise out of him.

"What a noble answer" Sam noted.

"306 is signing papers, Fury is laughing." Nat updated.

"I didn't know Fury was even capable of laughing." Tony raised an eyebrow.

"She must be really charismatic if she has the big guy laughing and seems to have you boys wrapped around her finger." Sam theorized.

"Or she's demonic. Maybe she practices witch craft and puts spells on people." Tony agreed.

"If that was the case, the poor girl wouldn't be terrorized and miserable every day of her life." Natasha defended you. "Maybe she's happy she can finally get the hell out of here."

"You think she's going to leave for good, pal?" Bucky questioned looking right at Steve who was looking down at the floor.

"No." Steve lifted his eyes to look at Bucky while shaking his head. "Fury wouldn't be happy if she was leaving. She makes his life too easy. If she left he would be losing a lot."

"What ever ended up happening to that guy? The one that go her really hurt?" Tony asked.

Steve sighed. "He's on a final warning, one wrong move away from getting fired and black listed from the compound."

“Why do I feel like that's always the case, yet he keeps doing shitty things and he's still here?" Sam asked.

"It's not always him that's doing it, his punk friends aren't any better." Steve said regretfully. "Admittedly I've been trying for a while to get him out for good but he's slimy, always finds a way to slip right through."

Nat turned her head away from looking in the window for a few moments to look at the sad look evident on Steve's face. "Why didn't you tell me? Give me 10 minutes of digging and I'll find some dirt to get him out of here."

"If you can do that, I'd be the happiest man on the planet." Steve encouraged.

Natasha's eyes went back to the door. "Everyone shut up they're standing and shaking hands!"

"Act normal!" Sam announced.

Nat took a big step back and leaned against the wall with everyone else. The door swung open and Fury came out first.

He looked at everyone, but didn't even stop walking while announcing "I'm not even going to ask."

Then, out came you.

Steve couldn't even stop himself from smiling when he saw you, and he was painfully aware of it. You looked just as pretty as you did an hour and a half ago, and it still made his heart beat unfortunately fast.

You stopped in your tracks when you noticed the group that had formed in the hallway. Feeling a bit confused, you looked down the hall to the left, then the right, then you looked behind you.

"I'm confused, what's happening?" You asked. Intimidation overtook the confusion.

Your brain raced and started overthinking when you saw Natasha. Now that her and Bucky were dating, you wondered if she knew what happened and if it would make her not like you. The thought of that happening made you sad, all you wanted was to be friends with her.... And Sam. Why was Sam here?

"You're what's happening, Bug." Bucky confirmed.

"What did you choose to do?" Steve asked, Hope smeared all over his face.

With a blank face, you looked down at the signed contract in your hands before lifting it up to show them.

All four of the Avengers in front of you took a step or two forward before squinting their eyes at the paper, there was a moment of concentration as they all read the header.

Contract of employment: The Avengers Initiative.

Immediately following, there was a lot more celebration than you ever anticipated. You stood with a smile on your face as there was some gasping, shouting, jumping up and down from Sam and Bucky, you're pretty sure you caught a glimpse of Nat whacking Steve's arm, and Tony saying I knew it a few times.

That was all before Sam walked over to you to give you an unsuspecting hug that you happily granted him. But all was not as it seemed because that hug turned into you being picked up and spun around.

Your squeak of surprise didn't go unnoticed by Steve who was quick to pick you up out of Sam's arms and return your two feet back to the floor before giving you a hug of his own. But because they were Avengers, and the chaos seemed to never trail too far behind them, Bucky joined that hug too.

Being held by both of the boys was healing in a way you didn't quite know you needed. Especially when you could tell neither of them were harboring resentment or hard feelings. It felt normal, happy even.

Then Nat joined, followed by Sam, then Tony walked away because he definitely wasn't going to get in on that.

Your head was smushed into Steve's chest so you couldn't really see much, but you could hear Sam. "Nice to finally meet you, 306."

"You too, Sam." You giggled at how unable you were to move any part of your body in the big Avengers hallway cuddle. "We should grab a coffee one day."

"Not before I get to spend a day with you!" Nat spoke, fighting for your time. "Rogers says you like to eat, so we're going out to eat with no boys."

"Steve, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" You questioned jokingly, trying your hardest to lift your head to look at his face.

"That is not what I said." Steve defended himself with a shake of his head and a laugh. "I said you love food, like your eyes light up when you have food in front of you. Don't twist my words!"

"Mmmhmm" You said suspiciously.

"Are you free to get dinner tonight?" Nat asked you, releasing you from her arms.

Sam followed by letting you go, but it was clear that Bucky and Steve had no interest in dropping their arms, but at least now you could look at Nat as she spoke to you.

Your head immediately went to all of the stuff you needed to get sorted out. Bucky, Steve, telling Luca you were an Avenger, definitely calling your parents.

“Wait, not tonight." Steve reminded Nat. "We have that thing tonight, remember?"

"Oh! Right! So I'll be seeing you tonight anyways! That works for me." Nat said.

"Oh and me too. We all get her!" Sam enthused.

"What thing tonight?" You questioned.

A beeping sound came from Sam and Nat's smart watches, they both read the notification. "Well, duty calls. Congratulations, 306, so happy to have you on the team and I'll see you later!"

"Welcome to the team" Sam waved before they walked off together leaving just you, Steve, and Bucky.

"This is nice and all, but will one of you tell me what's happening tonight?" You asked the two boys who were still holding on to you.

"The team is going to a winery to celebrate the new addition!" Steve told you.

"That's suspiciously fast planning" you raised an eyebrow.

"Be ready to go by 6 o'clock, you're going with Steve." Bucky told you. "We can't get drunk, so obviously, we're going to drive."

Bucky let go of you, and only then did Steve let you go too.

"I guess that makes sense" You nodded, suddenly feeling self conscious and painfully aware that this was the first time the three of you have been together since that night before evaluation.

The boys read your body language like a hawk, especially when your big smile finally fell and your arms crossed over your chest, while your back leaned onto the wall.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asked, eyes filling with concern.

You let out a chuckle before standing up straight again, arms falling back down to your side. "Just overwhelmed. I still can't really comprehend what this means for me but I guess this is the only way to find out."

Steve could read between the lines. "You're worried about how the agents are going to react to this?"

"Yeah" You nodded. On the wall was a big Avengers A logo, and under it was an electronic screen displaying the names of the entire team. The boys eyes followed your finger as you pointed directly at it. "My name is already on it. The word is already out and admittedly, I'm a little scared to walk back to my apartment."

"I'll walk you home." Steve understood your anxiety.

Even a couple weeks ago you were getting shoved into walls and tripped by your peers when you gave them no reason to be angry. But now, they had a whole lot of grounds for jealousy. They both knew that probably wasn't the safest situation for you to be living in.

"We're always here in the compound, Bug." Bucky reminded you. "If you need us to hang out with you until the buzz dies down, we will."

"Thanks, Buck." You said genuinely, but you couldn't get rid of the uncomfortable feeling that settled deep in your stomach. You knew you just had to address what happened. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was coming back. I just decided last night and when I got back it was late and-"

"Don't sweat it" Bucky denied your apology. "Don't sweat anything. We're fine."

His words made the heaviness feel so much lighter. A sigh of relief escaped your lips "we're fine?"

"We're fine." Steve agreed.

All you did was open your arms again for another hug from them, feeling more than ready to put this all behind you. Once again they happily accepted, one arm squeezing each of them tightly.

"I really love you guys." You reminded them, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears of relief that started prickling through.

"Love you too, both of you." Steve smiled.

"You both already know how much I love you" Bucky announced. "All I ever want is for you guys to be happy, whatever that may look like."

You nodded in response to his statement. There was an understanding that he was giving the two of your his blessing to date without embarrassing Steve, especially because he's had no recent updates and you've never admitted to Bucky that you were also painfully in love with the idiot. But Bucky knew, of course he knew, he was far too smart and level headed to be fooled by either of you.

"Will you give me the updates on you and Natasha?" You asked him, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

"Oop! Gotta go!" Bucky let go of you and started booking it down the hallway. "See you later!"

You and Steve laughed at his dramatics. But now that it was just the two of you, you finally let your shoulders slump and your real emotions poke through.

"You're terrified." Steve sympathetically noted.

"Not even of the job. How sad is that?" You questioned. "I'm also just... still tired. Being back at the compound is challenging."

"I can only imagine." He understood what you were trying to tell him. Though things were getting better, healing takes time. Steve could still see that part of you that just wanted to go lay down and avoid the world trying to fight through the brightness in your eyes. "But you don't have to be alone this time, and you're a tough cookie."

"An overwhelmed cookie, but a tough overwhelmed cookie." You agreed.

"I'm really proud of you." Steve emphasized. "Your success is a hard journey under perfect circumstances, yet you've made it look easy while facing a lot of adversity. It's no wonder to me why you're always exhausted, but I'm confident that once all the tension within the agents dies down, you'll find that a spot on the team means you'll have a lot more time to relax."

You let his words sink in and validate all of the hardship you sometimes felt crazy for. "Thanks for helping me get here. I don't know if I could've done it without you."

"It was all you" Steve denied your statement. "It always has been."

"I know you think that, but I don't, so thank you anyway."

"What can I do to help you feel less overwhelmed?" Steve asked.

You shrugged your shoulders. "I think I need to call my Mom."

"You should definitely call your Mom" Steve agreed with a giggle. "I actually have a few things for you, do you want to hang out at my place for a little bit? We can just chill out for a while, you can call your parents, I'll fill you in on some things?"

"Yes please" You agreed, enthusiastically nodding your head. His apartment was down the hallway, and yours was across the building. Knowing you could just relax on his couch while he convincingly told you all the reasons why you didn't need to be so scared sounded like heaven to you.

Steve grinned at your willingness to continue spending time with him. "Come on, let's go."

You walked along side him down the hall to his apartment, then happily plopped onto his couch.

"Stay right there, I have surprises!" Steve pointed at you as you settled into the very corner, tucking your feet underneath you and pulling his blanket over your lap. It was still pretty cold despite the shining sun.

"Surprises? Why do you have surprises?" You asked loudly so he could hear you as he disappeared into his bedroom.

"Because you love surprises!" Steve called out in response.

You could hear his closet door open then shut again. "Only when I know what they are!"

"Then it's not a surprise." He challenged as he walked back into the living room, a small box and a garment bag you recognized.

All uniforms in the compound came in that same garment bag, it was made of a heavy cotton twill. Always grey, always with an Avengers 'A' embossed on the back, a sleek black zipper down the front.

"Let's start with the obvious" Steve said, handing you the garment bag by the hanger.

Thinking you knew exactly what it was, you unzipped the front expecting your old suit to be remade exactly how it was before it was destroyed. Instead, upon taking it out you noticed it had been changed.

It didn't look like all of the other agent uniforms, instead this one was all jet black like Natasha's. Black hardware, black industrial fabric, your last name stitched into a label that fit right along your collarbone. It reminded you of how Steve's suit had a small little 'Rogers' tag on it.

But unlike Natasha's suit, yours had a more pronounced chest plate that almost looked like a bodice. You could tell from the feel of the material it was made out of that it was bulletproof. The whole garment, down to all of its details had you speechless.

It was beautiful, sleek, tight, functional, and dare you say... sexy?

Then you saw it, on the shoulders where you usually dawned a shield logo, there was an Avengers logo.

The loss for words remained as you looked back up at Steve who was anticipating your reaction. "How-"

"The team has a new tradition. We all come together to design the suit of the members, and this is what we came up with for you." Steve explained. "You needed a new suit anyway, we all knew in our gut that you belonged with us, hence why it's already made and in your hands."

"Did you do this?" You questioned, still a little stunned by how much you loved it.

"All of us did." Steve told you. "Well, I got the ball rolling and Natasha called most of the big shots considering, you know, she's a woman and she'd be better at making those choices anyway... but yeah. I know how important family is to you so I made sure your family name was on there, oh, and all your pockets. I remembered that you loved the pockets on your last suit so I advocated for those to stay. But of course if you don't like it we can revise-"

"It's beautiful" You cut him off with a shake of your head, genuine smile on your face. "I love it, thank you."

"Oh and look at this!" Steve enthused, sitting next to you on the couch. He took off the front panel of your suit and showed you the inside. "Luca has been a big part of your journey and obviously a big supporter of the Avengers, so we stitched a little L right over where your heart is so he can have a small part in the team and go on missions with you."

"Stop it right now." You pouted your lip as you looked at the L embroidered into the lining. "That's so cute, it's going to make me cry. He's going to be so happy."

"I'm glad you like it" Steve grinned.

You shook your head. "I love it, it's so thoughtful."

Then Steve handed you a small box that was perfectly wrapped in brown paper with a blush pink satin ribbon tied in a bow nicely wrapped around it. "This is also for you." This time, he seemed a bit shyer.

"A present? Why a present?" You questioned sweetly, unable to understand why he got you something.

"Because you deserve your accomplishments to be celebrated!" Steve enthused.

You smiled at his statement as you untied the bow and unwrapped the paper. Underneath the wrapping was a pair of airpod max headphones, the exact color you'd been contemplating getting yourself for months but never did because you knew how expensive they were.

There was also an immediate recognition your mind was quickly drawn to about how modern these were to your timeless best friend. He's gifted you music before in the form of vinyl records, a cocktail in a live jazz bar, you two even saw a concert together once. But these? They were picked out with you and only you in mind.

They were a sign that he actually listened to your silly complaint about the headphones one time in passing, and maybe even a way of telling you he actually did care that one time he claimed he didn't out of anger.

Though you loved them, and they were the nicest most thoughtful gift you could've ever been given, you were flooded with immediate guilt.

"Steven" You shook your head.

His smiles stretched wider at your reaction because he knew this was exactly what it was going to be. Even as he pressed the checkout button on his laptop to buy them for you, he could hear every argument you would use about how you couldn't accept them, but he did it anyways.

He raised his eyebrow at you. "Aren't they so pretty?!"

"They're beautiful, the exact pair I've been wanting for a long time." You nodded before trying to shove the box right back into his hands. "They're going to look great on your hard head."

Steve laughed as he pushed it back to you. "No, they're yours. If you open the box you'll see they're engraved with a 306 which means they're non refundable and custom made for you, leaving you no choice but to accept and enjoy them."

"You bitch." You deadpanned, not completely believing him until you ripped off the plastic cover and opened the box to see for yourself. And boom, there it was, an engraving just for you. "You bitch! Why? That's too much, twinkles, you didn't have to do that."

"Of course I didn't have to, but I really wanted to." Steve explained. "You've been existing with one airpod in since you-know-who ruined your headphones and I know how important music is to you. You deserve to hear music in both of your ears while also drowning out the compound nois-."

Steve was cut off by you practically leaping over the couch cushion and falling into his arms. A little oof sound escaped his lips as he wasn't prepared even in the slightest for the amount of force your body had against his, but his arms were quick to wrap around you regardless.

"Thank you so so much." You shoved your face into his neck, and your arms squeezed him tighter than ever before. "I love them and I love you."

"You're very welcome, and I love you too" Steve was more than happy to squeeze you tightly in return. "I'm so happy you're an avenger! It'll be fun getting to go on missions with you"

"I don't know if fun is the right word" You giggled while letting him go.

"You're right, there's no such thing as a fun mission, let me rephrase that." He agreed. "Missions will be so much more bearable if we can do them together."

"It's going to be so weird." You settled back into the corner of the couch and Steve sat right next to you. Tossing half the blanket over his lap wasn't even a second thought to you. "Me? Fighting alongside Iron Man and Captain America? Black widow? I think I'm experiencing imposter syndrome"

"You are more than capable" Steve reminded you.

Under the blanket, you threw your legs over his lap, and he took that as permission to move even closer to you. You two cuddled last night, so certainly there was no harm in snuggling on the couch, right?

Steve felt like a pathetic teenager once more when he realized how desperately he craved your touch, even if it was as innocent as tangled legs and touching arms on the couch. He searched for it everywhere, and soaked up every opportunity he could to just exist alongside you, and whenever he got it he felt so warm and fuzzy inside.

"Will you tell me all about being an Avenger?" You asked sweetly.

"Anything you want." Steve happily agreed as he kicked his feet up on the coffee table and settled in.

The two of you talked for hours on end all about the complexities of your jobs, but somewhere along the way it strayed far from the original topic and morphed into trivial matters such as the differences between an iced latte and an iced coffee, even down to which bodega nearby had the best sandwiches. But you claimed neither of your opinions mattered to each other anyways because you were more of a bacon egg and cheese kind've girl while Steve would always choose something far less breakfast-y and more classic sandwich-y.

It was a great conversation nonetheless, you'd always take any opportunity you could get to pick Steve's brain apart. Eventually, maintenance came to swing by and finally fix his heater, you called your mom and dad, and it was quickly approaching the time you needed to get to the winery.

Steve got ready, dressed in perfectly fitted jeans, a nice button down, his favorite leather jacket before walking you to your apartment so you could get ready too. There was no question that walking through the hallways and main spaces of the compound felt thick with tension. Whenever you walked by, agents heads would turn and they'd watch you pass as if you had committed an unthinkable crime, or maybe like you were some sort of A-list celebrity setting out into a sea of journalists watching and noting your every move.

He was proud of how you handled it like nothing was happening, but he still couldn't help the feeling of an undeniable shiver down his spine when he thought about how different this would turn out for you had he not been walking by your side.

Steve also didn't miss your sigh of relief when your apartment door closed and locked when you guys made it inside. The silence felt domestic and comfortable as Steve plopped down on the couch while you ran off to touch up your hair and makeup from this morning and change into a more formal yet still kind've casual and warm outfit for the outdoor occasion.

He felt so happy and relaxed as he listened to your music playing from a room away, but all of his chill left his body when he heard the clicking of your heels against the hardwood flooring. Not soon enough to gain his composure, you came out of your room with a huff.

"Is this outfit appropriate for the occasion?" You asked him, feeling unhappy you didn't have more time to plan for this, and reluctant in your ability to pull something together.

Steve had to work hard to keep his mind from going blank as he looked at your outfit. A pretty black sweater dress with a turtleneck and a brown leather jacket that he swore went missing from his closet a few months ago over it, some sheer black tights, and heeled boots. You looked painfully pretty, effortlessly casual yet elegant and pulled together.

"Is this the part where I'm allowed to start telling you how beautiful I think you are?" Steve asked, unable to think of anything but that.

"Permission granted, at this point in my life I need all the confidence I can get." You nodded, feeling nervous about the upcoming event.

"You look so pretty" Steve gushed like a secret he's held in for too long. "You are so pretty."

"The outfit, Twinkles" You giggled, "what about the outfit?"

"The outfit is perfect, but are you going to be cold?" He asked.

"Of course I'm going to be cold, but that's a problem for me later." You nodded.

"And your feet are going to hurt."

"A sacrifice I'm willing to make"

"You're so brave." Steve placed a hand over his heart. "Cool jacket, where's it from?"

"It's vintage" You smiled, he squinted his eyes at you.

"I don't know if I'm more upset that you said that, or that it looks better on you. Either way, I'm wounded."

"Oh please, everything you wear looks good on you. Plus, we match!" You shook your head with a smile. "If it's not already obvious, I also think you're very handsome."

"No, you can't say that to me because my knees will go weak and I'm not going to be able to get off the couch." Steve shook his head, earning your laugh.

"For such a strong man you let me have so much power." You stuck your hands out for him to take. "Come on, I'll help you and your weak knees off the couch."

You did manage to peel him off the cushions and get him out of the door, and he almost successfully safely ushered you through the whole building and to the parking garage, but unfortunately, he couldn't control the words coming out of people's mouths.

Especially when those words came from pure jealous rage. He also couldn't help how they probably hurt more when they tore you from such a good mood.

He finally managed to pull some real laughter out of you for the first time in what felt like months. The sound of your belly laugh filled his soul with so much joy as he threatened to take his jacket back after you kept poking his shoulders and pretending like it wasn't you. He fell for it the first couple of times, but you were nonchalant... until your giggles erupted when he looked behind him.

Thats how you two ended up fighting off each others arms while walking through a corridor. You fought relentlessly to keep the jacket while Steve protected his shoulders from your passionate pokes.

Both of you were so distracted by each other you didn't even notice that you weren't the only two people in the corridor, so when Steve managed to tangle your fingers with his and hold your arm above your head to stop the vicious attack, it felt like two deers in headlights when one of Harvey's friends appeared in front of you.

Immediately Steve let go of your hand, your arm was pulled back down and crossed over your chest. Your smile fell even faster.

"Well well well, if it isn't proof that you fucked your way onto the Avengers" He barked out a condescending laugh.

Steve was taken aback. He knew they were all brave enough to do this to you, but this behavior in front of him was even more bold than he thought any of these agents were capable of.

He looked between you and the agent, fully waiting for your attack on him and fully supporting your decision to do so, but instead you had completely sunken in. You didn't have a response, no remark, no reaction. You just looked sad.

"Moved on from sucking off the brainwashed fuck-wad to Rogers real quick huh?" He questioned, taking one small step towards you.

Immediately Steve put his body between the two of you. "That's enough. Repo-"

"What did she do, Cap? Huh? Did you get the winter soldier treatment as well? Was it really that good she got to move up in ranks?" He questioned, trying to make himself bigger to see your smaller frame over Steve's broad shoulders. "If it's that good maybe I should try her out myself considering she makes it so easy."

"This is your last chance to walk away before your record is damaged." Steve warned, taking a deep breath to contain his hands instinctively balling up into a tight fist.

"Harvey told me she was nice and tight when he got her but he definitely loosened her up for you. Hope you appreciate that next time she wants a new job."

Your heart slowly cracked in your chest and a lump formed in your throat over the words being spoken about you. All you wanted was to be like your old self, so willing to take on this fight that he would've never had the chance to speak another word. But now, you couldn't even bother. It felt like you had no choice but to roll over and show your belly because you were still so beat down and tired.

But you're an avenger now, you should be able to deal with this. You should be able to do anything but this.

Suddenly the walls were spinning, and your broken heart was pounding as if it had never been more put together, the floor might as well have been made of broken glass.

Just as you were about to be swallowed whole by your racing thoughts, your attention was pulled right back.

"You can do much better than that half ass ran through nymph-"

Those were the final words that came though clearly before you watched Steve lose composure. The agent swiftly walked forward trying to get around Steve to get to you. In a moment of pure rage, and in honor of all those times you were sent to Steve's office, he provided a hard kick straight to the agents dick.

Hard enough for the agent to immediately scream in pain, fall to the floor and cry. Rolled in a pathetic ball, he clutched his precious jewels, you didn't know if his pain made you want to smile or cry.

He deserved it.

"It's funny, when we started this conversation you were a little less... swollen." Steve sassed, no ounce of remorse in his tone. "I hope you appreciate me every time the nurse has to replace your ice pack."

Steve was talking, but you doubted the agent heard a single word he said over the sound of the blood that rushed to his ears and his own whaling.

Confident that there was no chance of being able to stand back up without assistance, Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number before placing it to his hear and turning around to comfort you.

You looked to be in a state of shock as he pulled you into a one armed hug. Trying to take deep breaths became a lot easier when the air started to smell like Steve's cologne.

Someone on the other line must've picked up, Steve spoke briefly and got to the point. "I made a mess in the sector A corridor, could you clean it up for me? I'm uh, accompanying precious cargo, I'd rather you be late then leave her side. Thanks, Nat."

Just like that, the agent would be taken care of, his phone slipped back into his pocket, and his precious cargo could get the full of his attention again.

His other arm wrapped around you before you could get your arms up to gently hug him back. "Thank you" You whispered.

"I'm so sorry" Steve shook his head. "That was so awful, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, I just- need to breathe I think." You spoke, definitely having an anxiety attack.

"What can I do?" Steve asked, stepping back to look at your face.

You still looked shocked and a little dazed, but you seemed relatively okay.

"Nothing." You denied. "That was... more than anyone has ever done."

"Do you want to just take some time to let that settle or should we cancel?"

"No" You shook your head, firm on your answer. "It's okay, it's a long drive there. By the time we get there it'll all be okay. I'm okay."

Steve's face softened, his body language followed quickly after. "It's okay to not be okay. That was a lot." His hand was gently rubbing the top of your arm up and down.

"He was so mean to Bucky." You sighed, trying not to let tears pool into your waterline. "Do you think people have been treating Bucky like this too? Because of me? He doesn't deserve that"

"You don't deserve this either, Buggy." Steve reminded you, nearly falling apart over the way you always thought of everyone else's feelings before your own. "Nobody is mean to Bucky to his face, people are too scared to do that."

"What if he finds out what he said?" Your big eyes looked right into Steve's. They were soft and twinkling with empathy just for you, and that brought you more comfort then he would ever realize.

"If Bucky found out what he said, he would be in a lot worse of a state than he's in right now because he would be livid that anyone was saying that about you. I'm livid too, but you're my focus."

You nodded fully understanding Steve's words, while looking over to see the Agent laying on the floor still crying, still shouting. "I did what you would do, I think it makes a pretty bold statement that this behavior cannot be tolerated anymore. No exceptions, I have to put my foot down. You don't deserve to live like this anymore."

"Thank you, Stevie."

"Natasha is going to take care of the rest, okay? He's getting fired. He'll never come back here."

"I'll get worse now, I think more of them are going to try to get me, maybe even you now." You explained.

"Then they'll all get fired and removed from the property as well" Steve challenged. "We need agents who will make the world better, these ones are very obviously not qualified for the job. And quite frankly, I'm tired of tip toeing around the issue to make them comfortable. All of them deserve to be just as uncomfortable, if not more uncomfortable than you are. I will personally make sure none of them lay a finger on you ever again."

"That's a lot of paperwork for you."

"I'll do it all, I don't care." He reassured you. "I should've done this sooner, I regret every single time I ever let these pricks pass by without proper reprimand."

"It's okay, Steve."

"No it's not." He disagreed. "Are you positive you still want to go?"

Despite the hidden sadness behind your that came back after working so hard to get it back, Steve saw your bravery right before his very twinkly eyes. "I'm positive. I think getting away from here is the best choice I can make."

Steve sympathetically grinned. "Luckily you have a lot of people who love you and want to celebrate you tonight. Hopefully some of that love helps to cancel out what just happened."

You nodded in agreement and grinned back at him as he offered you his arm to walk you the rest of the way, hopefully being closer to him would bring you a better sense of comfort.

Instead of taking it, you hooked your arm around his like intended, but slid your hand down to hold his just like you'd still be doing had it not been ruined for you.

He looked down at your interconnected fingers with a bitter sweet pinch in his brow. "What if someone sees?"

You shrugged. "No matter what I do or say, people are going to be mad. I might as well let them be mad, and let myself be happy."

"This makes you happy?" Steve questioned genuinely, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"You've always made me happy, I've just never been brave enough to let myself enjoy it." You admitted. "But now I'm too tired to even fight with myself anymore. I have to surrender or else I'll never get to enjoy what I have while I have it."

"I'm so proud of you" Steve said sincerely. "You're a lot braver than I am because this makes me feel like I'm going to throw up."

Then, your real giggle came back and the tears that once threatened you never fell. "Are you sure you even like me? It seems like nausea is the emotion I instill in you the most these days"

Your arms swung gently between the two of you as you continued your journey to Steve's car. "The throw up is exactly how I know I like you. Nobody else makes me feel like I don't have control over the contents of my stomach whenever they look at me."

"If anybody else said that to me, I think I would be offended."

"But I said it, so you know it's a good thing."

"Has anybody ever told you that you're a true romantic?" You questioned rhetorically.

Steve giggled. "Never in my life."

"Hmm, I wonder why."

Next Part: Star crossed lover

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wmarximoff · 1 year

Text

𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 | 𝐰. 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

summary: memories take over you when you start to realize about how much you missed the family dynamics with Wanda and the twins, and how much they missed you being around too.

warnings: smut, fingering (Wanda reciving), mentions of strap-on sex, a bit of dirty talking, canon typical violence, kinda angst but not really, fluffines and cuteness in general.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 11k

main masterlist| series masterlist|

༺ᱬ༻

“Y/n!” a clenched jaw, a bitten lip, “Oh- oh God!”

You know you should have dropped the twins off at their other mother’s house and left about eight hours ago. That’s what you do when you’re a divorced parent, at least. But then Wanda so courteously invited you to stay for dinner, and you, so weak to her spell, just couldn’t deny her request, because you always fancied her food and she looked at you like she did when she was seventeen and asked you so earnestly to do something for her.

If then you were never able to deny her anything, much less now you couldn’t either. Just like you couldn’t deny her when she curled her fingers into the belt of your jeans and pulled you into an auspiciously soft kiss after you helped her wash and dry the dinner dishes.

Like when it happened also at the beginning of that same week, and at the end of the other week before that (and she was absolutely feral when you came inside her with your strap again), and on some weekend in between when you went down on her in the pantry room while the boys were enraptured by one of their electronic games in the living room.

You’re still not quite sure what a Minecraft is, but you’re kind of grateful that it exists.

Your body would never be able to deny her, your addiction trickling from the tip of your tongue, and you just know it wouldn’t be worth even trying to do otherwise. And if you weren’t going to deny her, it wouldn’t be Wanda who would deny you either.

So, in an act of pure passion (immoderate, nasty, wanton and, at first, disconcerting passion), her snowy fingers imbibed each other between the strands of hair on your head; but nevertheless, the sharpened ridges of her fingernails were stuck to the top of your scalp between her legs, crescent-shaped marks on the skin from your head, all sharpened by Wanda’s hands pressing against your hair.

Panting and lustful, she’s lying on the blandness of her bed, on the pale sheets smeared with saliva, sweat, tears (of pleasure this time), and cum. Her head bowed back and her lips half-opened, as if she were about to whisper through this crack of pleasure a lewd secret. A mutual ardor, a need for pleasure that makes you find your morning breakfast between your ex-wife’s thighs. And between her dizzying, impatient legs, then, a little below Wanda’s level, you revel in her constricted moans.

The tip of your nose touches her in the thin dark fuzz blooming beneath her mound of Venus, and Wanda spills down the length of your tongue, Wanda spreads to your teeth, and Wanda drips from between the lustrous skin of your chin glistening with her cunt’s hot fluids.

Her eyebrows are shriveled up by her flushed face, but on her features a utopian, impudent expression is born, followed by exhausted and costly movements performed with her head of brown hair. Her mouth twitches, throbbing, while you suck her savagely by her core, voracious on your lips, but just as passionate about the touches given by her body. Your flashing pair of hands grip the inner face of her pale thighs to keep them away from each other, and you, huddled there as if there you always belonged, have your eyes closed as you trace Wanda’s clit with the tip of your pearly tongue.

Your tongue that travels between her folds and then opens through her pink slit, receiving, in response, a loud growl, Wanda’s stomach muscles tightening as she does – she just feels like she’s trapped in a parallel reality with your tongue tucked inside her.

“Y/n, don’t stop-!” her bare knees squeeze your head in an adjacent grip toward her nib, demanding, clamoring for more, more of you, more of your hot tongue inside her.

She unfolds, your ex-wife, like a work of art brushed by your mouth.

“Prodolzhay, pozhaluysta, prodolzhay, moya lyubovʹ–” is her newest mantra, deferred in the Sokovian dialect that, after so long, is already kind of familiar to you.

You just know she begs you not to stop. So you don’t stop. And she moans loudly in immediate response to this choice of action. Your right fingers migrate from Wanda’s thigh to toss a handful of your hair that pierces your vision, before thus returning to the center of your beloved woman like a traveler returning home, hungry for her liquid as a life necessity – as if this essence is your vice, and no other in the world could compare.

When a pair of your fingers penetrate her wet hole, and you lick her needy cunt just to lift up and then bite a beam of sweaty skin from her collarbones, something vile writhes inside Wanda.

Pale hands, hungry for something to hold on to, run the length of your back into the band shirt you’re wearing—your right elbow working, pumping impassively toward your ex-wife’s dripping center. The moan she lets out is loud inside your eardrum.

“I know it’s hard for you,” your breath is warm against her jawbone, “To keep quiet while I fuck you with my fingers, but still, Wanda. Quiet. I bet you don’t want the boys to know that their mother has such a needy pussy.”

Your voice, your delicious, husky voice, right next to Wanda’s ear seems capable of driving her insane – of making her bewitched by her own spell and losing her sanity. Then you place a kiss under her ear. A bite. Her brows furrowed and her eyes narrowed, a sliver of vivid crimson escaping between her pressed lashes.

“Shit, you really wanna moan, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, yes! Please dorogaya—”

Your fingers curls inside her tight walls, forcing a pained response from Wanda that came into the world in the form of a needy groan. She nods fervently in consent, squeezing the muscles in your back.

“You’re close?”

Again she nods her head – the greedy gaze cast at you from behind lashes adorned in the scarlet glow of her irises is nothing more than pleading.

“Hah,” you chuckles darkly, “So come then, pretty girl. Give me a show.”

A cavernous yelp escapes Wanda’s throat as her brows twitch and her eyes compress into two lines across her panting face, a pleasant simulation of pain, a tissue ball being woven beneath her navel, beginning to press against her bladder.

You, who know her as well as she does, tries to follow the formulation of her orgasm with the movements of your nimble fingers inside her pussy; backing it up, you press your lips around her neck as you slide down its length, only to return to the tip of her sharp jaw and then intensify the avid sucking, until you take your ex-wife to the height of her own pleasure, plunged into an infamous mist of libido and red color.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit- ah! Y/n!”

Wanda leans forward, eyes narrowed and mouth tight, so that both of her boiling hands dig into your shoulder blades, your body holding her in place on the bed as she spills between your digits, the velvety walls squeezing your fingers, the fiery cum running all the way down to your knuckles.

At her peak, Wanda collapses back to the length of the mattress, a warm dark lock, soaked in sweat, plastered to her forehead. Around the edges of the bed, a haze of scarlet wind slithers through the sheets. Her chest rises heavy and drops back into her rib cage. There are only gasps of hot air to be heard in front of the four walls of Wanda’s room.

“Hey,” you whisper in an affable tone adopted just after your nerves cool, bringing your face close to a strip of sweaty skin above her dark brow, “Are you okay? That… that was a strong one.”

“Yeah… fuck, yeah,” it’s her breathy answer, “I’m fine, I’m just… I think I needed that.”

A beam of golden luminescence penetrates the room of your accommodation through the cracks in the heavy curtain, interspersed rays of sun that franchise the brief layer of spectral red fog inserted in its interior, projected in three specific points through the serene countenance pierced by the ecstatic extension of the Wanda’s pale face, still in her post-orgasm hangover.

With a certain innocence deposited by her closed heavy eyelashes, spattered by drowsy droplets of pleasure, your ex-wife pulls your body towards her, laying her forehead on the extension of your right collarbone.

For a second she’s silent, and you know it’s so she can hear the contraction of your heartbeat inside your chest; after all, she used to do the same when you were still young lovers and she never quite explained why exactly she did it, but you always knew it was to let her know you were there, alive and well in her caress.

“You’re here…” she whispers in a tiny, soft voice against the fabric of your shirt, “You’re real…”

“Yeah,” you whispers in her hair, “I’m here now. I’m here.”

Wanda’s body relaxes against yours after a while. A bird is humming outside.

Her pendulous breathing is dictated by the conductor’s rhythm of a post-orgasm ecstasy – chest rises, chest falls, stops; chest goes up, chest goes down, stops – but her head turns intermediately to the side, in a half-sleeping movement, her chin down, a lock of brown peaks crossing her serene face.

“Wanda…?”

But she snores in lulls against your chest.

The action made you have to blink once, as your gaze went from her well-shaped eyebrows to the narrow bridge of her nose and the neat cheekbones of her strong bone structure, gazing towards the beautiful outcome that is her peach lips parted, flaring through her front teeth – exposed, in that small pulpy crevice, like the inside of a coveted fruit – a homogeneous strip of hot air.

Something reverberates inside you, like a spark that rekindles a fire that has long since waned and died. Wanda is asleep and warm against your chest after a long night of love and pleasure, just two lovers tasting each other’s bodies, getting familiar with the already known taste.

And then you smell wild strawberries in her hair. And a threat of crying curls into a ball inside your throat.

But it is a euphoric cry, a happy cry. Like the cry of someone who reaches their goal and, after so much effort, is finally praised with the cheers of victory. As if your icy heart was pumping red hot blood back into your veins. Like her arms make you human again.

Maybe, you think, maybe things will be like this again sometime. Maybe it doesn’t need to be more than that. And you smile tenderly, as you kiss the top of her dark-haired head and Wanda hums something contentedly in her sleep, moving even closer to you in the middle of the double bed. This time, the voice in your head tells you to stay. And so, you stay with her.

The metal faucet clogged some time later, when you turned it clockwise a couple of times, stopping the pouring water from the shower held palms above your head.

Leaving the shower and drying off, you slowly brush your teeth before guiding your right fingers towards the aluminum doorknob, a breath of steam coming with you as you walk serenely into Wanda’s room to the clean, folded clothes placed on the edge of her bed – a towel clumsy to your strands of hair, dulled by the particles of water that soak them, does the job of extracting the excess water that fogs up the strands stuck to your slender face.

There’s a picture frame on the left side of the bed, and you’ve noticed it every time you’ve been there, in your ex-wife’s bedroom, but the picture was still comforting to look at in a way – just Wanda with her right arm wrapped around the small shoulders of Billy, who wears a red blouse, while her left did the same with Tommy dressed in greenish-blue, guarding them like a mother in a nest, the small family of three, the mother and two children, exhaling a trio of sunny smiles towards the camera.

Maybe you could update that photograph at some point, you dare to allow yourself to dream big about it. Therapy is going well, and you are closer to your family than ever before. You feel a little hasty in thinking about changing the picture, it’s true, but well, it doesn’t hurt to dream. Just one step at a time.

You then dress in a plain knit shirt and cozy sweatpants as you pull the towel from around your neck, over your shoulders (Wanda’s clothes are soft and smell like her and you feel snug in your heart with it invading your senses), and you feel at peace as you make your way to the kitchen on the lower floor of the house, where your nose is met by the alluring aroma of freshly prepared food that makes your stomach growl like an animal inside your abdomen.

The vision employed before your eyes, however, stagnates your quiet strides in a sigh constricted into your throat; as Wanda’s flashy figure sees herself with her back turned to you, somewhat bent over, poking her nose into the fridge. You let yourself gasp, lifting and lowering with a heavy chest.

Her long brown hair flows down from her porcelain shoulders to the middle of her back like a wave of black coffee, although what exudes from those warm locks is an appetizing scent of soft strawberry, with pungent hues, to which you had become addicted and delighted to fit your nose and inhale this exquisite and eclectic aroma just hours before.

Even within the constrictions of her fine cotton shirt, her shoulder blades are partially protruded, luscious to the touch of your soft digits – you gazed at her as if Wanda were a figurine in an exhibition, unveiled before your passionate gaze, that of her understands so much of the cunning nature.

The velvety curve along the spine, the swelling of the firm buttocks covered by the pajama shorts, the long valley of the alabaster thighs – and then, a glistening piece of skin that makes itself present between the hem of the blouse and the waistband of the shorts, making explicit, as timidly as a cornered animal, a red band of lacy panties.

The blood in your veins quickens like an electric current and euphoria, for you remember having, just a few hours before, torn open, with your bare hands, an intimate piece of Wanda’s very similar to that one, opening your way to the wet aim through your ex-wife’s legs.

“You do realize that I can hear your thoughts, right?”

Wanda says in a rather jocular tone as she turns to you as soon as she closes the fridge door, holding the neck of a pale milk bottle in her left hand.

“Yeah, I think I’ve been reminded of that at one time or another, yes,” you say, a little teasingly.

You smile in realization when you realize that the shirt she is wearing is the very shirt you were wearing just the night before.

“But what do they say, huh, Miss Maximoff?”

You reciprocate in the same light, half-smiling voice as you cross the kitchen to approach her and give her hips a gentle squeeze, inferring, on Wanda’s part, a silly giggle that makes her nose scrunch like a little adorable puppy.

“They say you’ll be a sweetheart and take the boys for a ride this afternoon so mama can stay at home and rest from her long night, Miss Y/l/n.”

You lick your tongue iridescent through the pulps of your thirsty lips, tensing the folds of your fingers on Wanda’s exposed skin as she crosses her wrists behind the back of your damp neck, bestowing, there, a caress with her fingertips.

“But what’s mommy going to get if she does that, huh?”

“Well,” she pretends to think, a small smile lifted to her lips so dangerously close to yours, “That’s something mommy will have to figure out later.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” and Wanda makes her approach to place a kiss on your mouth, “Yes, it is.”

You don’t even end up feeling the brief ghost of hot lips against yours, a delicious tingle coursing through the commission of your desire-flavored mouth, because when does, quick footsteps on the nearby stairs stagnate you, and, with scorching cheeks and ears, flushed like the fruit of a ripe peach, you and Wanda pull away from your touch abruptly, lips parted as if clamoring for more, your pupils expanded as are hers (two buds linked by a green filament), the two of you panting with laborious chests.

You didn’t share a kiss for little more than centimeters and seconds, almost like two mischievous teenagers caught by adults in the middle of an intimate act – even if who surprised you, making you and Wanda look at each other laughing and blushing, so young at heart, has been your ten-year-old children.

“We’re hungry, ma!” Tommy cries out as he pulls up a chair on the right side of the table and sits down with his hands splayed across the wooden surface, “We want pancakes!”

“No, we want bacon and eggs!” Billy contradicts his brother by sitting in the chair opposite the one Tommy occupies.

“What do you guys think about starting to ask for things only after you say good morning to mom and me like the two polite little boys I raised you to be, huh?”

Wanda looks over her shoulder and, somewhat contradictingly, the two boys grunt a “good morning” in unison. You, on the other hand, set a couple of thick glass cups on the table, handing them out to each of the boys, watching carefully with a slight smile on your lips as a trifling rift unfolds between the two twin brothers.

“But we want pancakes!”

“No, we want bacon and eggs!”

“Pancakes!”

“Bacon and eggs!”

“How about some toast, huh?”

The two boys turn their gazes towards you, who then sets four plates on the table.

Tommy frowns, but it’s Billy who gives you a look that’s a little too diligent for what his age restrictions should allow (he has an adult look that you really think is something mystical), tilting his chin to the left as he glances from you to Wanda standing on the edge of the stove, and then to your clothes and to what she wears herself.

“Mama, why are you wearing mommy’s shirt?”

You press your lips together in a hesitant line.

“Well baby, you see, I… I…”

In your peripheral vision, you see Wanda’s figure stiffen at the little boy’s words, increasing the grip of her fingers held by the skillet handle.

“Wait, did you sleep here, mom?” is Tommy’s question towards you when, in a non-syllabic connection worthy of a pair of twins, the two boys exchange a meaningful look.

“I- I, uh… you know, bud, it got a bit late yesterday after you guys went to bed and, well, uh, I, I stayed for a while to help mama do the dishes and… and…”

Wanda, in turn, takes a plate with a stack of pancakes towards the table, placing it right in its center.

Covertly, however, she gives an indicative squeeze with her left hand before the length of your right forearm, before she then departs towards the table, where she places a languid, warm, courteous kiss on the top of the head of each of the kids that you have – Tommy sort of complains about being too old to be pampered (but doesn’t really do anything to stop it), while Billy willingly accepts his mother’s cuddles.

“Pancakes it is,” Wanda sits down in her usual chair, unceremoniously, right after such affectionate actions towards her children.

Tommy seems content with the lack of direct response when he slyly is the first to capture two golden pancakes for his plate – closely followed by Wanda, who has grabbed two more, just as you do yourself. Billy, on the other hand, looks a little hesitant as he looks at you and Wanda; but when Tommy calls him to talk about something related to some school activity, the boy takes his pancakes and engages in a lively conversation with his brother.

“Blueberry pancakes…?”

You aim at the luscious dough served on your plate, and your stomach, in response, reverberates in a hungry grunt. But you know Wanda has always been more of a pancake-and-strawberry kind of type.

“Yeah, I already told them that it tastes better with strawberries, but it’s no use… it’s just your bad influence on your children, I think,” says your ex-wife, taking a generous forkful towards her mouth.

You, in turn, smile, because you know you are among family, in the place where you should always be. You look at Billy and Tommy talking with their mouths full, and at Wanda when she asks them to “please chew with their mouths closed” in a very motherly tone of voice.

And as you chew (with your mouth properly closed, of course), you think that your pancakes have never tasted this good before.

ᗢ

It had started out as a triviality, something frugal that can be recklessly sneered at, like summer rains or autumn winds—something that by conjecture will be postponed, ignored and forgotten when a somewhat more significant or inescapable situation comes under the spotlight and momentarily divert your attention to another subject.

One night, perhaps counting two or three months after reciting your well-rehearsed vows in front of Wanda and exchanging a pair of golden rings between the two of you, transmuting your status from girlfriend to becoming then a wife, when both of you were lying on the bed, well covered to deal with the stinging European cold, Wanda had complained that her breasts were definitely more sensitive to the touch than usual.

“I swear,” she said, both to you and her reflection in the mirror, “They’re swollen."

All right, you thought to yourself in your head, sometimes this annoying soreness can happen when you have breasts, nothing saving the ordinary. It was a moderately common event, in fact. Nothing that you hadn’t already seen yourself as a victim of physiological pain at least once a month, of course.

Nothing that couldn’t pass after a proper night’s sleep. Sleep heals people, as you mother used to say to you as a young infant. But a night easily takes over a day, as do seasonal changes in the weather. As cold and heat come and go.

And one day turned into a week rather easily – Wanda tossing uncomfortably on the bed sheets before falling asleep, your attempts to engage in a somewhat needy sensual act dying off as the pangs of pain surfaced when you intended to stir up some stimulation through your wife’s sore nipples.

Constant grunts of pain, incessant complaints on her part—the crimson suit too tight for her to put on and keep herself comfortable during the long hours of increasingly exhausting missions across the globe. But living on the hustle as you were, never establishing any lasting bond anywhere but the caressing of each other’s arms, it didn’t seem conducive for both you and your wife to see such relevance in the brushstrokes of gradual pain that adorned Wanda’s days and nights.

Perhaps, who knows, if you two had made a (somewhat evident) connection between Wanda’s bodily changes and the pestering morning sickness that seemed uninterrupted, as intense as the speed at which they came to harass her in waves of abnormal nausea, the final news would not have taken you so much by surprise – the outcome should be unavoidable to understand, it is true.

The consequence of a compilation of specific acts that would clearly only be possible to explain with a single answer which, in this case, was in fact quite strange to understand as being the reality of what was materializing inside Wanda’s body – an amalgamation resulting from your genetics and her effervescent magical energy.

Who knows what it would be like if you had picked up the obvious signs in first hand? But it’s not like that possibility was even considered by you and much less by Wanda, at that time.

Not without the knowledge of having experienced it for the first time, of course. The first time is what opens the whole thing up, what prepares you for more of the same stuff.

When you saw yourself as old enough to understand, later on, looking back on that tempestuous time (but certainly not as turbulent as the times to come subsequent to these) you realized that still as young then as you were, so raw to the world and to life, so impervious to the limitations of reality around you, there was no way of knowing that the outcome of your love was no longer just a marriage union – not only a few papers signed and an exchange of fervent kisses and wedding rings, no.

The love between you two had grown, expanded and branched out like the blossoming flowers of springtime – and the fruit of that union would undoubtedly not be what you would call normal by any means. After all, you were indeed such an unusual couple.

But then Wanda passed out on a mission in Spain, after exceeding her own limits by holding back a battalion of at least eighty men using only the will of her mind waves. And on another mission in Argentina, about a few days after the last one. And on yet another mission in Kyoto, the week after that one. And her fragile stomach could no longer be imperiled to quinjet travels without expelling from her salivating mouth all the contents that filled it, even if what filled it was the purest nothing.

You held her long red hair as she regurgitated all the breakfast you’d just had into a repulsing paste inside a plastic bag, her thick tears trickling down the material of your black and white suit as you did.

And then you realized that something was quite wrong with the integrity of your wife’s physical health – but perhaps the absence of menstruation in the last few months should have been a suggestive flag for the main fact that, until then, had not yet been your consideration or even hers.

You find out, however, after a long-awaited team meeting on the outskirts of Consthum, location of one of Luxembourg’s former communes (just around Western Europe), when Natasha promptly enforced so much on taking a very sick Wanda to see a private doctor in the region, the physician who was an old remote contact of her and Clint – Vision was far across the ocean and could not take care of Wanda’s health at that time.

It was cold around the commune in season – each day a little bitterer than its predecessor had been before.

The winter chills took possession of the area in such a way that the leaves of the trees began to assume endogenous shades of white and silver, and the sky, in turn, became more gray and opaque, dense, instigating mornings encompassing through clouds as dull and thick as the down of a wild raccoon.

It had snowed during that dawn, and a dense eborean cover of flakes of ice crystals had clogged the region, whereupon the village was still asleep and welcomed to the comforts of its proper nesting beds so early in that morning.

At the inn where you and your other colleagues were currently residing (a magnanimous and long-lived house of Anglican architecture that vaguely resembled the structure of one of the last HYDRA hideouts that you had conquered, built right next to the small town, having as a neighbor more snow-brushed nature than other family homes), you were kind of stunned by the candid chill that had engulfed you during that time of year.

Wanda had been out with Natasha for quite some time now, a good handful of minutes that would easily make up the whole of an hour or two, and something tight was bothering you inside your constricted chest. After all, maybe your wife was sick. Maybe she was quite sick and slowly getting worse, and it didn’t please you at all to have such hurtful thoughts gnawing at your anxious mind.

The balcony, with its dark modular wood floor, towered over the structure of the cottage, rising from the second floor, about three or four meters from the ground and measuring two meters by four, with a comprehensive view of the expanses of the green ocean of esoteric trees to the ends that comprised the horizon line, covered by a long line of white snow, where sky and leaves metamorphosed into a single inscrutable and powerful figure.

You were able to see well through such enormities, seated on a woven fiber bank as you were. The dawn was as phlegmatic as it could be, and when you gazed at it you vividly reminisced of watching the world through the huge thick glass windows of your room back at the compound, in a long-lost undemanding time that already seemed so far away in your deep-rooted memories.

“You should come in for a while, kid,” the complacent voice had come from behind you, from the French doors open to the sky.

You turned your chin over your shoulder, and Steve was the one who was promptly carrying two cups of steaming black coffee with him. The full, dense beard that closed off his herculean square face was still a novelty that was slowly growing on you.

“It’s cold out here, and I think you’ll know when they arrive even if you don’t stay here like a guard dog all morning.”

“I can’t get sick. I’m fine, man.”

The stout man yielded to you that pale china mug which he held in his right hand, a beam of smoke dispersing into the morning air in a puff of murky steam – you gratified him with a placid, toothless lips-only smile, guarding the body of the recipient between a wall made up of your fingers of both your stiff hands, but still making no mention of getting up and going to the fireplace inside to take shelter from the cold.

The captain then, in his turn, sat down near your left elbow, at the opposite end of the bench, and of his own drink he usurped a copious draft.

You sighed in a concerned way, dismaying the muscles of your shoulders, and replicating the simple act carried out by the leader of your team, of your full-bodied drink you also sipped a leisurely sip, savoring the wholesome, even earthy, bitterness that settled into the facet of your tongue, between your teeth, to your taste buds.

Your sluggish eyes, at last, gazed over the obsequious figure of Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. And in such a way, you shook your head in an act of overwhelmed displeasure.

“I should have gone with her,” is what you said to him after a while, blinking once at the horizon as you did, “I’m her wife, I’m the one who should be there with her.”

“Y/n,” Steve sighed for half a second, “You know we can’t get public attention to ourselves. And people know who you are, who both of you are, what you girls’ relationship is. Honestly, I think the two of you together in public get more attention than if Nat is the one with Wanda. It’s the safer option, you know. And she really needs to see a doctor.”

Even from behind the cup of hot coffee, the war veteran ended up peering with his sapphire eyes towards you. And then, a complacent tone of voice took over Steve’s speech.

“But I know you’re worried, Y/n. It makes sense, after all, she is your wife. I know what it’s like… to worry about the woman you love, but not know exactly what to do about it. But Wanda can take care of herself pretty well, and she’s also with Nat, so I’m sure nothing bad will happen to them while they’re gone. She will be safe."

“Yeah,” you groan, “But that’s not what worries me, Steve. I know Wanda can fend for herself. That’s not… that’s not what worries me at all.”

Steve solemnly nodded his head in understanding, gazing at your battered profile—the nose sparsely upturned into your septum and the obstinate chin, the jaw set in concern into a solid bone structure.

With you being bursting with tension beneath the thick wool of the sweater you wore, your gaze was moderately dubious, laced with tinges of fatigue and worry. Of course concern was consuming you; your wife was in bad health, so you weren’t sleeping well.

“Thanks, though,” you say, after a while, “For the coffee I mean.”

You knew the bearded man was urged to do something, anything, to soothe your disconsolate soul over the state of your ill wife. So you decided to thank him for the coffee, the safest choice to go, and he smiled behind his thick beard of dark blond hair like beer color.

“You’re welcome, kid.”

Both of you toke sips of the dark coffee in a purely silent harmony. But the sound of a car engine did not take long to cross the mid-dawn chill, reverberating in the trees and the snow.

And you scrambled to your feet, without circumlocution, your heart reverberating wildly in your chest, and it wasn’t long before you made your way to the front porch, giving Steve no satisfaction when you just got up and eagerly set sail downstairs, hurrying inside the winter cottage as you did.

Quickly descending the steps of the wooden staircase, one feet after the other, the silence on your part was the return to the question asked by Sam when you passed by him and he asked you if they had already arrived.

“Okay, someone’s in a hurry…”

But there was no room for details; you just had to see her. To touch her, to feel her. Wanda was the only thing going through your brain, like a red neon sign flashing her name again and again through your neurons. You needed to see her and hold her between your affectionate embrace as much as if it were a biological necessity, as much as a hungry person needs food to nourish themself, or a thirsty person needs water to survive one more day.

But the front door swung open in a brutal hollow slam before you even reached it, even if sprinting across the pale wood floor in quick strides as agonized as you were.

And startlingly, Natasha was the one who entered the cabin’s stone walls firsthand, wearing a heavy faux leather jacket over layers of thick clothing—you even made an effort to aim behind Black Widow’s slender shoulders, but no sign of your wife coming after your friend could be singled out.

The woman with the shortcut, artificially platinum hair burst out impetuously, looking as if she had been swamped in a lapse of smoldering anger—she was fierce as a soldier, anger spurred by the moss green of her irate irises. And you just blinked in confusion towards your teammate’s angry grimace, slowing your stride until you came to a complete stop a bit away from her.

“Nat?” you called her name, in a voice watered with concern, “Nat, what’s wrong? Where- where’s Wanda? Did something happen? Is she okay?“

Natasha’s gaze flickered in your direction, dealing with a non-syllabic response to your barrage of questions all directed at her. And it was an unclear blend what was eclipsing her sharp face; anger transmuted into pity, indignation and unhappiness passed through each other without ever remaining in a managed expression. Natasha opened and closed her full-lipped mouth, fidgeting inside her jacket, trying and failing to say something to you, but finally seemed to decide with herself that she really wouldn’t.

And then she surged forward, trotting towards you like an angry buffalo – but just when you thought she was going to run into you, the former assassin just walked right past you, not sustaining any eye contact for much longer than necessary.

“She’s the one who has to tell you, Y/n. Not me.”

"Nat? Nat, what…?” but the name hung in the air, since the other woman was already gone for you to reach her.

You didn’t quite know what she meant (or even what happened indeed), but you left it to worry later; for you headed out of the cottage in readiness, being embraced by the cool breeze brushing your warm skin. That’s when you found her, Wanda.

Your wife was a restless figure perched on the polished wooden bench against the wall beside the front door; between Wanda’s long, delicate fingers adorned in scintillating rings in various shapes and forms, a sealed white paper envelope was well awarded like a millenary secret. Her state of mind was dismal and deplorable, like a corpse exposed at a wake, and you didn’t take much long to notice this fact; for her skin was faded and dying, pale, with tapered cheeks and high cheekbones in a foreboding look, as if Wanda’s face were that of a statue carved from bleached bone.

Her lips were as whitish and thin as the snow outside the house, unhealthy and sickly-looking, and the green of her eyes and even the simulated copper of her long hair were dull, faded like an unfinished sketch.

Wanda, hunched on that icy bench, was like a shadow of herself, an anemic terminally ill. The look you gave her certainly made her feel like one, at least.

“Wanda?” you called out to her, in a thread of a pitying voice, “Wanda, baby?”

Your wife, looking even a little engrossed in her own head, barely gave any indication that she would look at you at all. And then it was that you crouched on your knees, standing before her devastated eye level, intimately touching with your left hand to the back of her calf.

“Wanda, please talk to me, honey. What is it? What’s wrong?” you tried, but to no avail.

Her green gaze, so stricken and restless in its irises dimmed in insecurity, attached itself to yours as you stood there, placed before her, and winked inherently towards you, using no words as you disposed in a better posture on your knees, bringing your face even closer to hers.

You sensed in Wanda the dread in which the enchantress was unable to manifest with even a single set of words—as when she was a pubescent young girl all over again, so vulnerable of mind, despite all the power constricted within her core.

“Y/n…” she muttered your name in a weakened tone.

“I’m here, baby,” you assured her, giving her leg an intimate squeeze, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Wanda, however, just dropped her eyes uncertainly, aiming at her fingers placed on the envelope for a few silent seconds before finally bringing her right hand to a beam of skin on her forehead, running her palm down the length of her beautiful face until she handled it as a support at the disposal of her quivering chin – with wizened eyebrows, a wrinkled piece of skin in the gap between them.

She breathed a hard sigh through both her nostrils and turned her gaze to you, who so solemnly found yourself waiting expectantly for a clarification from your wife. And then, a lame sniff reached your hearing.

Wanda pranced into a harrowing sob that burst out of her throat in a rip, pressing the palm of her right hand against the pulp of her nacarine lips. She squeezed her eyes into two pained lines, shaking her head, the streaks of copious red hair rustling against the contours of her miserable, pitying face. It was like having a boulder entangled in gall at the bottom of her larynx.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, I’m so sorry,” a single strand of crystal teardrops poured from her left eye to her retracted chin, “I swear I don’t know how it happened- I, I promise I didn’t do anything wrong, I don’t know how it happened, I don’t know, I—”

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, please don’t cry, I’m here.”

You stood up in readiness. And then, without even saying a single word, you just wrapped your arms around Wanda’s shoulders, clasping her to your chest as if she were, your wife, just a young and simple girl desolate in the face of a broken heart, crying over her pain and making her tears her unsyllabic escape. Just like you did so many times before.

You deposited her, at the crown of the copper-colored head smelling like a sweet strawberry simulation, a warm and tender affectionate kiss.

“It’s okay baby, I’m here now.”

And Wanda hugged your waist in return, and so two lovers stagnated for so much longer than it seemed to pass, locked in each other’s arms like what you did when she missed her parents. Like what you did when she missed Pietro so much it felt like she was going to burst into embers.

You caressed her with the digits of your fingers down her back over the fabric of her thick coat, your cheek rested devotedly against her smooth hair, her sobs muffled against the top of your abdomen. And then, after a vague silence attained for her to recover her nerves, the news that completely disarmed you flowed along with her tears and her cries.

“I’m pregnant, Y/n.”

Three words. It took only three single words in a sentence for something to break down inside you. Something at your core collapsed, like the most devastating avalanches of snow and ice. You broke the hug to look down at her. And then, you blinked just once in the most pure form of sober skepticism towards Wanda.

“What…?”

Silence ensued – Wanda’s green eyes gleaming so clearly with expectant tears in your direction.

“I’m pregnant, around the tenth week or so,” the palm of her hand gently stroked the region of her womb through the thick wool blouse, “We… we’re going to have a baby, Y/n. I… I’m sorry. I don’t know how it hapenned. I’m sorry.”

The second time she said it felt like the first one, because it was only then that you comprehended what was truly happening – a wave of reality slithered through your bloodstream. There seemed to be ice dilated through your epidermis. And then you wanted to cry. And laugh like a maniac. And just fucking scream until your lungs bleed.

A flood of the most disparate emotions that weighed them all down your esophagus and blistered your lungs in a heterogeneous amalgamation, composed of astonishment and exasperation, expelled from both your flared nostrils in a gasping breath of cold fear, whereupon you wrinkled your eyebrows and the blood froze within your veins. You gazed at her hand resting on her abdomen. The baby was the size of a prune in there, and growing.

Ten weeks ago you were in London and she had said something about having children in the future, maybe two or three, when the world would be a better place for you to live again, and you agreed with her without giving it much thought; after all, children would come sometime into your marriage, when you actually planned to have them.

This was only supposed to happen a few years from then, and not that same night when you lay together and moaned each other’s names. But it’s not like you two knew at the time that Wanda actually had a unique way of manifesting her inner desires.

The blistering sourness at the edge of your mouth was nothing like an association with the doses of coffee you’d been sipping with Steve just a few minutes before. And then you blinked at Wanda again, like a broken doll, because you didn’t know what else you could possibly do – a crinkle formed by a beam of skin across the strands of your eyebrows.

“Y/n, please…”

“You’re… pregnant” you hesitated at the whispered word, as if it were a bad omen to utter it aloud, “Pregnant.”

She was pregnant, she said. And pregnancy meant a baby – you were going to have a baby. A baby to take care of while you were running away from the rest of the world.

And it didn’t even cross your mind for a half second that Natasha was possibly furious because she took it as a statement of an illogical infidelity on Wanda’s part, no; you just thought you guys would have a supernaturally made baby while you were merely to the firstfruits of your early twenties, being hunted like a couple of wild animals, drooling and roaring. And you were just young.

You had just turned twenty, and she had done so even more recently than you – far too young to truly understand what that statement could truthfully meant at its core.

“Please, please say something.”

You looked at Wanda and she at you, her greenish eyes glistening with another round of warm tears.

Your ominous astonishment and your dread, in company with each other like a grim specter. Pregnancy meant a baby, again, the dawning of a new form of life blossoming within your wife. A child (your child) flourishing inside her affable womb, and every second a little closer to bursting into the world, in your care and hers too.

Your heartstrings even tightened in a grim girdle, bathed in a greedy gloom when you realized one crucial thing – that this would be a child lacking the power of choice, a born possessor of superhuman abilities in which someone would never ask them if they intended to contain it in the first place. Maybe you should indeed cry for your still unborn child. Like you and Wanda, the child to come would have a burden to their shoulders to carry; they already were the heir of a legacy, even without coming into the world.

They would still be able to assimilate the great magnanimity of their powers, all of this inferred by their genetic inheritance as soon as they would take their first breath of life – you just knew they would be born into a decrepit world that would hate them merely for existing.

Wanda, for her part, leaned back against the seat and glanced in your direction, one hand pressing its palm along the length of skin on her forehead. The exhausted sigh on her nose was heavy and occluded.

And then you uttered, through a crack erupted between the pulps of your lips, a sudden and thoughtless sentence, as if in a tasteless gag, because your brain was no longer working properly anymore. You never imagined yourself to be a mother, but that’s what was happening anyway. You and Wanda had made a baby.

“Well,” you muttered poorly after a while, half laughing, but just wanting to burst into bittersweet tears, “Let’s just hope they don’t come out with my sense of humor.”

ᗢ

“I was thinking about Tommy”.

She had exclaimed some day, her back pressed against your chest, your fingertips gently massaging the round contour of your wife's exposed belly, her blouse lifted slightly below her breasts, her creamy skin emanating warmth and tenderness.

“Thomas. Nice, classic, all american way.”

“Thomas, eh?” You hummed thoughtfully, testing the name on the tip of your tongue.

It sounded right, you guessed. But something was still missing, and you couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

“Thomas. Thomas, Thomas, Thomas… but what about William, though?”

“William?” she raised her eyebrow.

“Yeah, William. Like William Shakespeare. Or maybe just,” you bit your lower lip in a thoughtful manner, “Just… I don’t know, Will? Willy? Billy, Billy sounds nice to me.”

“Billy,” Wanda repeated it curiously, to see how the name sounded in her tone, “But what if she’s a girl?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “Even though I would love if she was a little girl who looked just like you, my maternal instincts say it’s a boy, so I’ll stick with that.”

“But what if, detka?” she leaned the back of her head against the bone of your chin, filling your nostrils with the pleasant scent of strawberry shampoo that emanated from her silky red hair.

You smiled, rubbing small circles into her baby bump. God, you loved her smell.

“Well, I guess we'll have to be prepared for that, then,” you placed a modest kiss in the back of her head, “Do you have any name in mind, baby?”

“I like Talia.”

You thought about it for just a second.

“Tali- ah!”

“Oh!”

You opened your mouth to answer her, but the words never left your throat because there was a small bump, from the inside to the outside of your wife's belly, which touched the palm of your hand and made you stop suddenly with the caresses deposited in Wanda's stomach skin.

Turning her neck quickly, she turned her bright face towards yours, the tips of your noses almost colliding in midair. Wanda's lips carved an excited smile, eyes watered with a haze imbued with the most compassionate kind of love, which was soon mirrored by your own mouth. The baby was kicking.

“Hey, hi,” you grinned, feeling the energic child kicking against your palms, “Hi there, little one. Oh, you’re so strong! You’re so strong, Billy!”

“Tommy,” she corrected your speech, causing your nose to twitch in disagreement.

“Eh, I guess.”

“Hi, my baby,” Wanda put her hands up against yours, both of you holding her belly like it was some kind of basketball, “I’m your mama, kroshka.”

“How… how does it feels?” you asked softly against your wife’s ear, a relentless smile on your face, a beautiful tenderness in your tone.

“It’s… it’s such a strange sensation- it’s kinda fluttery!” she giggled, scrunching her nose. The baby kicked again, touching your spread hands.

“Fluttery, huh,” you repeated, leaning your nose against her hair, allowing yourself to close your eyes for a moment and smile gently,“That’s nice.”

A couple of months later, you were twenty-one when you first held Thomas in your arms – his nose was the same shape as yours, as was the shape of his eyes and the arch of his small mouth. He was warm, affable, and he smelled like the sun and the grass. After another ten painful minutes to Wanda (the house lights going crazy when a mirror shattered against the bedroom floor), William might have had your mother's eyes, but his face was a miniature of your wife's pretty features.

He was yours to hold and protect, and for him, his brother (Billy smelled like the apple trees) and his mother, you just knew you would do anything. Wanda was sweaty, a strand of coppery hair glued against a delicate bundle of skin on her forehead, tearful when she gazed at you, glistening a joyful weak smile on her lips that didn't go away even when you approached and kissed her, because you didn't know any other way to express your feelings at that moment other than joining your lips together.

“I love you. God, I love you so, so much, Wands,” you whispered, your voice loaded with feelings, and she smiled against your lips.

“I love you too, malyshka. You and these boys… You are everything I will ever, ever want in my entire life.”

Billy was snuggled quietly in Wanda's arms, her maternal gaze watching over the little baby in a flash of love, studying his little rosy face with chubby cheeks, wanting to understand everything about him, everything that she could forever engrave in her memory about his little childish traits, and you were the one holding little Tommy against your chest, welcoming his small weight into your body, feeling the heat emanating from him against your own torso. And you were happy.

You were genuinely happy, like never before in your life, as if the passion of the feeling was going to explode and overflow from inside you and you just didn’t quite knew how to deal with so much happiness emanating from you. You looked at her and you thought that she never looked more beautiful before. They were your family. Your children, your wife. You and she, together, wrapped in love, had built a family.

“Thank you, my love,” you sniffed, looking deep into the greenish color of your wife’s eyes “Thank you, Wanda.”

ᗢ

At the latest, with one bare hand pressing Tommy’s little fingers against your warm palm while with the other you do the same with Billy, the three of you walk in light strides, one foot next to the other across the concrete of the dry sidewalk in a thin layer of brightness, wide pools of sunlight that reflect in golden glows in the radiance of a warm afternoon, as a few cars pass by on the asphalt.

The day was reserved to take the boys to the ice cream parlor and the town square, and after you’d duly taught Tommy how to manage the exceptional strength contained in the muscles of both his small hands (this was right after an incident involving a mint ice cream cone boiled down to sticky crumbs and cold dough dripping through your child’s fingers, and a crisis properly avoided by then), you’ve decided within yourself that it was time to get the kids back home.

You, however, genuinely appreciate the moments you had with your two children, because you had lost so many of them, and that’s why you wanted to make up for it. These boys are your greatest love after all, like none before them.

Although so much of the boys refer to Wanda in your vision (Billy’s keen intellect and Tommy’s curious cut determination, always aiming to educate themselves about something new before their childish gaze), synchronically, your own peculiarities are attributed to them as the boys grow; maybe the high-pitched laugh of Billy, and certainly the way Tommy always creases a flash of skin between his brows when he finds himself in some messy situation.

The boys then, walking up to your hips, having draped their small torsos in polyester hoodies in a profuse shade of cobalt-blue and tomato-red, with big superhero symbols (which are so familiar to you) clinging to their busts, chat enthusiastically with each other as you maintain a healthy silence, enjoying every single small lapse of contentment that comes your way.

It’s the simple, frugal little things that you just learned to admire so much.

“Hey, you know who’s best?” Billy turns to his brother, “2003 Tigers! They’re the best!”

“No, they suck!” Tommy readily reiterates, “They suck so bad they suck egg!”

“No, they don’t,” says the other twin, “They’re the best!”

“Doofus.”

“Doofus two.”

“Triple infinity doofus.”

You cross the street after looking from one side to the other, confirming the inexistence of any vehicle that was crossing the lane and the security for this being stated. Billy’s innocuous gaze, however, flickers in a kind of childish diligence, as the boy pours his small, upturned nose into your face – an alluring look passing through his shrewd eyes, which scrutinize the silent figure that was you walking close to his right shoulder.

“Mom, can I ask you something?”

The boy asks you in an astute and somewhat perceptive way, like a little reporter, frowning towards you who leads him by the small hand.

“Of course you can, Bill. You can ask me anything,” and to the boy you offer a complacent smile, "What’s wrong, bud?”

“Are you and mama remarried?”

Your heart misses a beat – but, well, you actually said he could ask whatever he wanted in the first place.

Billy’s light-brown bangs point upwards, towards your sullen-looking face, as a complement to his doubt; the pale little brow creased like a statue, demanding a congruent resolution to his brooding inquiry. Looking to the side, you notice that Tommy does the same – two sets of expectant eyes awaiting some clarification for the so sudden (yet so natural) closeness of their two mother figures.

“Why… why do you think that, honey?”

“Because mama likes you,” he muss, “And you like her too, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” you don’t hesitate, because there’s no way around that fact, “Yeah, I… I like mama. I like her a lot.”

“That’s why!” it’s Tommy’s turn to intervene, “Lisa said at school that when adults like each other and have kids it’s because they’re married. And me and Billy are you and mama’s children, and you and mama like each other now, so you’re remarried, aren’t you?”

There is a momentary pause for you to think, and mentally your curse. There’s no telling two ten-year-olds exactly why you’re not married to their mother anymore, not with the restraint their young age imposes on the notion to what actually is a marriage. Marriage for you is turning to ashes when the other is burning. It’s wanting to stay when you have to leave, and wanting to leave when you have to stay.

“Kids these days know a lot, huh?” the boys limp with their shoulders, and out of you comes a lame whisper, “Well, look kiddo, your mama and I… It’s a little complicated, you know?”

“Complicated why?”

You, in a breath of mild air diffused through both your fearful nostrils, stop walking and let go of the boys’ hands, crouching on your knees bent inside the material that makes up your light jeans, so that, in such a way, your height matches the 4'5 inches which the two twins comprise in their avid childlike stature.

“It’s just,” and you click the tip of your tongue against the roof of your mouth in a bad way, “Adult things are complicated, you understand?”

Billy and Tommy’s keen eyes still scrutinize you, as enraptured as a probe or even a satellite. Even with their intellectualities restricted by such a tender and young age, lacking experience and cognitions of discernment for being just a child in the bosom of their childhood, the twins are still very attentive and committed to understanding more and more of the world around them, and so much they are able to understand through their ingenious perception.

They are nothing but a pair of very smart kids.

“A marriage… a marriage is so much more than just liking one or the other, honey. A marriage is a commitment, it’s a promise made between two people who love each other very much and that after a while doesn’t involve just them anymore. Me and your mama, we made that promise. We made that commitment, but… sometimes things just don’t go as planned. Some things happen and people… people change, kids. And sometimes people make mistakes when they change. I… I’ve changed. I messed up. And I hurt your mama when I messed up. And because of that, she also changed.”

There is a dismayed pause on your part.

“We were in a bad spot and so we just decided it would be better this way for both of us. It’s just that we were still quite young, you know? Too young to understand what we were doing with our lives, how it all worked and would work after… after… you know, after…”

You do not want to talk. You don’t want to bring it back. You don’t want to think about it anymore, not again. Not with them.

“Mom?” Tommy calls, winking in your direction, “Are you okay?”

You shake your head silently. There’s no reason to think about it now.

“Yes, buddy, I’m okay, don’t worry,” is a murmur on your part, “It’s just… complicated. I wish I could explain this properly, but the truth is, I don’t know how to do it. But I just want you to know that yes, your mama and I really like each other. Mainly because we made you. And you two sure are the best part of both of us.”

You smile at them, who remind you so much of you, but much more of Wanda. Your heart throbs an avid thud against the ribs in your torso; an affable warmth radiates through your bones and veins, inflates your lungs in a warm cordiality, giving you the sensation of having a deluge of loves filling your passionate core with appreciation and fascination.

It’s not the first time in your life that this has happened, but it’s been a while since your feelings fluttered with such amazement; since their birth, these children became your greatest source of pride.

And your affectionate smile is reflected by the boy—both brothers with eyes pressed into two tiny slits of glistening eyelashes, pearly lips curled up in a simile smile, because Billy and Tommy are your children, your epigonus and your joy, a small part of you and the spirit of your love. Your children with your beloved Wanda, to watch over and support.

“Well,” you get to your feet then, lifting your knees, “I guess we better get home soon, right? Or your mama will start to think I lost you two in the woods.”

They laugh when they readily take the hands you offer them. And then you walk home again, just one step at a time.

ᗢ

“Seriously dude, take it easy! What the hell!” you complain, weary and fretful, gasping for short breaths of air expelled from your tired lungs.

There is a brief attempt at a punch by your virtuous arm – duly evaded, however – and then the man takes advantage of the momentary gap to strike you with a closed hand right in the esophagus, at a central point of contact, precisely striking between your ribs.

And you fall to the floor immediately, and then you take a long time to get up, sniffling painfully as you do. Sam Wilson, the current bearer of the allegorical Captain America mantle, however, only quirks a dark brow, chipping a broken smile at the corner of his lip.

"Shit…”

With a bend of the wrist, you sweep away the oil from your sweat from your forehead, right at the ends of your hairline, from a mixture of the torrid climate with the strenuous physical activities required in a training, carried out assiduously by both of you and the Captain America for the last few hours.

He, who approaches you to provide a helping hand, which you use to leverage yourself back to your starting position, despite keeping your own hand flat on your stomach area and a disgusted look on your face, wrinkling the eyebrows in the middle of your forehead.

“I thought you were supposed to be invincible, mutant girl?”

“Man, shut the hell up,” you grumble in a bad way, taking distance from the other combatant.

And then, Sam lifts his clenched hands into sturdy fists to close to his particularly flushed cheekbones, making back-and-forth motions with his fingers, demanding a new thrust on your part.

“Come on, kid, let’s do it again.”

“All right.”

There’s another advance attempt, thwarted by an accurate block for every single strike you deliver against Sam.

The two of you drape your agile bodies into practice suits appropriate for a series of physical exercises, soaked in a sticky sweat that attaches your shirts to your stuffy skins, engaged in an avid hand-to-hand combat that, vector of such grace and discipline in its movements, so regulated, were, in turn, leveled to a choreographed dance, with light and meticulous actions.

You articulate a new punch, your fingers pressed together to do so, but Sam, in turn, holds your wrist in a handshake and circles your shoulder joint until your fist touches the scapula in your back, putting you on hold, down on your own knees. While you are indeed quite knowledgeable when it comes to physical combat, it turns out that you are just too out of shape to deal with someone who knows as much as you do.

And Sam, a former teammate, already knows how to use your superhuman strength to his advantage.

“Okay, okay, I got it, let me go!” you whine, the tip of your nose almost touching the floorboard under your bare feet.

Without delay, Sam lets go of your arm after hearing such pleas – rather pleased to do so, in fact.

You get to your feet, albeit a little whiny, and with your left hand you begin a disconcerted massage of your right shoulder that flares in sedentary pain. The captain, however, has his hands clasped at his sides wrapped in basketball shorts, and a small, playful smile doesn’t escape his amused lips.

“Man, when you said you were out of shape I believed you, but seriously,” he mutters then, looking in your direction as you pant heavily, “You really have seen better days, huh.”

“Well, when you said exercise helps mental health I believed it,” you gasp, “But all I’m feeling right now is pain… and to tell you the truth I think I’m a little sadder since when I arrived, also."

He smiles jovially.

“Believe me, it’ll be worth it in the long run,” and then he playfully punches you in the right bicep, “Come on, let’s take a break. You need to hydrate.”

“Oh, I need to hydrate,” you grumble like a grumpy kid, “Dude, when I was seventeen I kicked your ass every time we trained together!”

“Yeah, but that’s the age thing, isn’t it?” says Sam, as he takes a thermos of water in his right hand, “You get old and then you can’t do what you used to do.”

“Are you really calling me old? R-really?!”

It’s your indignant question, hoisting both your eyebrows at the man, an avid shake of your head, a shaft of hair slipping out of your ponytail and flashing across your vision as you do.

“When I’m literally younger than you?!”

“Well, only one of us is way out of shape here, and it certainly isn’t me.”

You roll your eyes in their sockets as you walk away, looking for water to quench your inordinate thirst that makes your tongue feel like a rough stone. There’s a comfortable silence as you press your lips around the spout of a plastic water bottle, your left hand braced on your hip, a tired little crease formed between the strands of both of your brows furrowed across your glossy forehead.

Good-natured airs were made swift in the task of cramping the entire training room of the Avengers’ compound, as you allow yourself to expel a breath of tired air from the core of your lungs, uneasy at the physical situation in which you and Sam find yourselves in.

“So,” he says after a few seconds, lips shining through a layer of water, “How’s therapy going, huh? Buck said you’ve been going for a while and haven’t given up until now."

“It’s been going well, I think,” you shrug, “I haven’t had a drink in a while and I’ve been smoking less, not to mention I’m also spending more time with the boys and Wanda, so there’s not a lot of time in my day to do these things anymore. And panic attacks are getting more manageable, too. I consider this a step forward.”

You turn your face towards the man with the goatee.

“It is a step forward, in fact. And I’m happy for you, Y/n,” Sam flashes a half-proud smile in your direction, “But Wanda and the boys, huh? So things are working out with the little witch? Because look, I remember the two of you couldn’t go five minutes without keeping your hands off each other when you were younger."

“Oh, shut up.” you grumble, even though a silly little smile wants to hide between your lips.

“But it’s true!” The captain exclaims, “You two were a cute couple… even if you were going at it like rabbits all over the compound. I mean, it was always crazy when my room was next to yours when we were on the run. Your girl really has a great set of lungs, huh?”

“Dude,” you look at him, and he chuckles in your direction, “Just shut up.” You know the hot sting in your flushed cheeks isn’t just from the workout anymore.

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buckyalpine · 2 years

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I don’t wike it

Yours + Bucky’s Babies x Aunty and Uncle avengers

Warnings: FLUFFFFF

Word count: 395

This is so random, and I thought it was cute; I’ll probably have this exact scene at some point in a future actual fic. But for now, just imagine:

Steve’s babysitting his favourite God babies; your 6 month old twins and 3 year old son Steve jr. The team has been on babysitting duty while you and Bucky are taking a well needed break (they were happy to chase you away because now they get to play with your little ones all the time).

You’ve only been away for about a week and little Steve has already been spoiled beyond reason; Uncle Tony’s build him a custom metal arm he can slip on so he can be just like daddy.

A mini vibranium shield is in the making so he can be just like his Uncle Steve. He’s a hide and seek expert now, thanks to his Aunty Nat. They no longer play hide and seek because he’s impossible to find.

He has a little bow and arrow set from Uncle Clint. He’s definitely flown in the sky (that stays a secret between Uncle Sam and Uncle Tony)

The twins have been spoiled with a thousand cuddles and kisses, being passed around like hot potatoes while everyone relaxes around the living room. They also now have about 50 new onesies.

Everyone is obsessed with your little super soldiers.

But no one like Steve.

Steve has been an absolute baby hog, carrying a baby in each arm along with your son on his shoulders. There isn’t a minute he’s away from them and because he’s with them so often, he’s picked up a few things.

***

“Alright, Rogers, you’re going to lead the mission with the new recruits”

Steve groaned; it’s not that he didn’t like to work with new recruits but it was daunting having to keep an eye on them the entire time.

“I don’t wike it”

“What did you just say?” Tony cocked an eyebrow while everyone else snickered waiting for him to answer.

“I said I don’t like it” Steve shrugged, confused over why Clint was looking at him like he lost his mind.

“No, that’s not what you said”

“Yes it is”

“You said wike. Like tiny terminator does when Sam steals his animal crackers” Tony snorted, watching Steve blush.

“You see what happens when you hog the babies all the time? ” Nat smirked while Steve rolled his eyes, off to find his tiny playmate, he wouldn’t judge the way he says like.

“Yeah? Well I don’t wike this either”

Tag list: Please let me know if you want to be added or removed! (also this is an 18+ blog, I can’t tag nameless/ageless blogs)

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchy-whore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @needybabygirlstuff @goldylions @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z

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buckymcbuckbarnes · 1 year

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Hey you. Yeah you. Fanfic author over there thinking their work isn't good enough to be published. Your work is amazing, it's so creative, whether it has 100 words, 10k words or 100k words, your work is amazing.

Your creativity knows no limit, your creativity is so appriciated, it's so very much loved, you're going to do great things with your writing abilities, it's unique, it's uniquely you, it's a little piece of your soul being put on display and your readers ADORE you for it.

You are adored by your readers, you are loved by your readers you are worth the whole world, we love you, we love you like the stars shine on a clear night's sky.

Cut yourself some slack, don't burn yourself out, and remind yourself that you are worth every bit of what joy you give others.

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bi-ss · 4 months

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~ Ties that bind ~

Bucky x reader- arranged marriage.

Summary: You agreed to arrange marriage when you were little, after seeing who you are to marry. You wish you could go back.

Warnings- violence, guns/weapons, illegal stuff, drugs, fluff if you squint, smut eventually, Sharon being a bitch, swearing.. That's all I can think of but every chapter will have its own warnings.

(Spelling may be bad as I'm very dyslexic sorry in advance)

Part 1 -here

Part2 -here

Part3 -here

Part4 -here

Part5 -here

(Yes, I liked my own blogs, OK? Also, if you don't like this sort of thing or my writing, please just don't read it. I honestly love feedback, but hateful messages are not welcome xx)

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geminigengar · 1 year

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y/n in the avengers gc: everybody shut up this is a girlies of colour moment

steve: girlies of colour?

sam: aht aht! not you

bucky: what does that even mean

nat: it means ur white, james

rhodey: damn yall still talkin?

clint: its a free country

sam: its not a free group chat

y/n: show of hands gets to talk, raise ur hand if u dont burn in the sun

y/n: (🙋🏼/🙋🏽/🙋🏾/🙋🏿)

sam: 🙋🏾

rhodey: 🙋🏿

y/n: period. as i was fuckin saying-

thor: 🙋🏻

y/n: thor no

thor: i do not burn in the sun of midgard. :D

sam: goddamn it

#incorrect avengers #avengers imagine #thor x reader #sam wilson x reader #avengers x reader #bucky barners x reader #captain america x reader #all playonic ofc #poc!reader #woc!reader #black!reader #my own writing

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incorrectquotesmcu · 7 days

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Y/N: You know what bothers me? Bats. Why can bats fly?

Yelena: Not again!

Y/N: No. Seriously, who gave them the right? They're mammals! Mammals walk on land, no exceptions.

Sam: Just wait until you hear about whales.

Y/N: What now?

#source: unknown #yelena belova #yelena belova incorrect quotes #black widow #avengers x reader #sam wilson #sam wilson incorrect quotes #falcon #captain america #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel #avengers #avengers incorrect quotes

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bvbygrl-writes · 5 months

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What Do I Know?

Pairing: Rich!Dilf!Sam Wilson x Black!College Student!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Your best friend ain’t tell ya her dad was a daddy.

A/N: This is a repost from my old blog since I haven't been able to write anything with how exhausting work is jtgktr enjoy! ♥

Warnings: Age gap, fingering, pussy eating, overstim, fucking

THIS FIC IS 18+!!! MINORS / ACCOUNTS WITHOUT AGE DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED WITH NO WARNING BUT THIS ONE. I CHECK EVERY ACCOUNT DO NOT PLAY WITH ME.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to come home with you? This isn’t some small break like spring or that lil rinky dink one they give us in February.” (Y/n) asked, zipping the sides of her suitcase together. The long awaited summer break had come and after tiring, long hours of college classes all (Y/N) and Miyaki wanted to do was head home.

Well that was the original plot however it had clearly been lost. One phone call home and all of a sudden her mom and dad had magically ‘forgot’ to inform her that they had planned a trip for the two of them and the addition of her other three siblings (who somehow had been informed and never got left out..) to Europe. Although the girl was originally mad - rightfully so- she got over it really fast. So much so that she didn’t even bother letting her mom finish her little half assed excuse of how she thought she had texted her with the info and what not. This was her summer too and she was not going to start it off being upset over family drama.

However she still did feel bad about joining Miyaki on her trip home. The two girls had become fast friends during their few years at college and as the tall woman had said “We’ve been friends for years and ain’t been to each other’s houses once. You don’t think that’s a lil weird?” and she had to agree but it was one thing to spend the night at a friend’s house but to spend an entire summer? That was practically unheard of from where she came from! Nobody had that kind of money and food to be feeding an extra mouth for an entire three months.

“Yes girl, relax! I asked my dad today if it was chill for you to come and he agreed! Quit worrying and grab yo shit, the car is waiting out front.” The green eyed girl said, tossing her faux locs over her shoulders. Before (Y/n) could get in another worry or complaint she walked out of the dorm, slamming the door behind her.

“That girl has some serious attitude problems, I’ll tell ya that…” the girl muttered to herself, rolling her suitcase in tow. She eyed the dorm one last time, smiling at the nice memories they had made this year before exiting, leaving the key under the mat for the next students that’d come to stay.

——————————

The first sign that Miyaki came from a different living situation from her was the shiny black Rolls-Royce parked in front of the housing part of campus. There was an older gentleman in a chauffeur outfit who put their bags in the car. She’d given her friend a look who gave her a confused one back before hopping in the car with her. Was this really not out of the ordinary for her? If this was just her car what would her house look like?

(Y/n) let out an audible gasp as the big black gates opened.

“You live in a gated community?!” she exclaimed, turning to her roommate. Miyaki’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Gated community? Sis….this is my house!” she let out a laugh as the (h/c) haired girl remained silent, looking at the large house in awe. How many people lived with Miyaki? To say she was stunned was an understatement. Miyaki was the most down to earth person she had met since going to college at Stonebrook. As the name suggested, it was a really prestigious and fancy school, tons of stuck up brats on daddy and mommy’s pay going to the school. (Y/n) had always been isolated by her peers since she was attending on a scholarship. They found it pathetic and pitied her which she despised. Why should she be looked down on for actually working to get into school?

Miyaki had never felt that way though. She treated (Y/n) as she treated everyone else…if not a little better (the girl had quite a mean streak) and was very quiet about her home life. But now as they walked up the quartz stairs and through the big marble columns, she could understand why.

“Dad, we’re home! Come meet my friend!” the girl’s voice echoed across the entire house causing her to snicker. ‘Does she ever use an inside voice?’

“I’ll be down in a sec, sweetheart!” a deep baritone voice called out. (Y/n) felt her heart race at the sound. The man’s voice went through her ears like silk. It was smooth but had a bit of a dark tinge to it, like a hint of cream in black coffee. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through her socials as she awaited the man’s presence. After what felt like forever a pair of footsteps came in their direction before parking in front of them. The woman almost dropped her phone at the sight in front of her.

In front of her was the finest man she had ever seen. Brown skin that had that healthy glow, prominent cheekbones, and a bit of facial hair around the mouth region. He was only in jeans and a t- shirt but the way it fit him? The shirt clung to his torso perfectly, the muscles of his upper arms constricted by the cuffs, toned chest. This was her father? She could’ve never guessed by how fit he was! Thighs so thick that she had to stop herself from letting her thoughts drift (more so than they already were..). But when he smiled? Her legs turned to jello. His smile was bright and blinding and he had the most charming gap. It seemed as time had slown down when she was looking at him and from the looks of it he wasn’t disappointed at what he was seeing either. She didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her midriff for just a little too long or the slight whistle he let out before covering it up with a cough.

“I’m Sam Wilson, Miyaki’s father. You must be (Y/n).” he said, holding a hand out for her to take. She gladly accepted it, shaking it with one hand as she placed the other one on top of both of them in a gentle way. The girl smiled back at him offering him a nod.

“Indeed I am! It’s so Nice to meet you Mr.Wilson and can I just say how thankful I am for you and Mrs.Wilson allowing me to stay with you guys for the summer. Especially with Miyaki’s short notice and all.” out of the corner of her eye she could see Miyaki roll her eyes at her sudden over-politeness towards her father and the way she had completely thrown her under the bus. Her attention was brought fully back to the man in question as he tightened his grip around her hand some.

“Mrs.Wilson? I’m not surprised Miyaki didn’t give you the details. It’ll only be the three of us here for the summer so in other words, there is no Mrs.Wilson.” he looked to the side a bit before turning back to face her, a smirk present on his face. “Also you don’t gotta be so formal, just Sam will do.” Miyaki cleared her throat impatiently causing the two to look to the side before laughing together. “Well it looks like Yaki is getting impatient so if you girls need anything, I’ll be around. Dinner is at 6.” the older man gave her a once over before walking off to what she could only assume was the kitchen.

“Girlll and you been hiding him from me because??” (Y/n) asked, rubbing her hands together. Miyaki smacked her lips together, dragging the girl towards her room.

“You betta stop playing with me.” when her friend stayed quiet, the girl gasped, turning her head. “Wait you’re joking…you tryna get my dad to hit?! Oof.” she grunted as one of her pillows hit the back of her head. Turning she saw her friend on her bed, glaring at her.

“Don’t say it like that! All I said was he’s fine nothing more nothing less. That can’t be your first time hearing that, one of your other friends has had to say something.” She felt the girl thud down beside her on the bed. She hummed for a bit before flipping over to face her friend.

“I mean I can’t say I’m surprised really. You love you an older man. Remember when you switched to that one baking course just so you could flirt and make googly eyes with Mr.Garcia?”

“That’s not why I switched! I was simply interested in getting to know his favorite dessert!” (Y/n) exclaimed, turning her head the opposite way. “In hopes that maybe I could become his favorite dessert.”

“Whateva. Anyways, you wanna watch a movie till dinner?”

—————————–

Dinner had been amazing. Sam went all out, pulled out the grill, made dessert, it was all so lavish and delicious! He even had lobster which (Y/n) made sure to take full advantage of. He had said help yourself and who was she to go against his wishes in his home?

It was now around three in the morning as she stumbled around the house curiously. She and Miyaki had gone to bed early, absolutely exhausted from the long car ride over and while it was easy for her friend to stay asleep when turning in early, she found it hard to. No matter what if she went to bed before twelve she’d always end up waking up during some odd hour of the night.

A sound came from down the hallway catching her attention. It was a repeated thudding and while usually she wouldn’t go chasing after mysterious noises, she knew it couldn’t be anything too bad. Sam had the security on this house underlock and she had seen how beefy his security guards were.

Once she reached the end she turned the knob from the room in which the sound was coming from. Gasping quietly, she opened the door a little wider trying to be as quiet as she could. The sight in front of her was absolutely heavenly. There was Sam, shirtless, in nothing but a pair of grey joggers beating the hell out of a punching bag. His jabs were sharp and powerful causing the chains to rattle with each blow to the sack. Goosebumps formed all over her skin at the sight of his power. If he could do that to a punching bag, what could he do with her?

All the what ifs invaded her mind causing her to rub her thighs together hungrily in thought. She hadn’t even noticed that Sam had moved until the door she was standing in closed, leaving the two of them in the room together. He offered her a smile, a yawn interrupting his incoming words. His arms flexed above his head giving her an even better view of his muscles. It was an even grander sight than she had imagined when she saw him clothed earlier.

“Can’t sleep?” she shook her head at his question, sitting on the bench in front of him. “ ‘S alright. Why don’t you help me train then? Try to get me to the ground. Come on, don’t be shy, didn’t seem like you were earlier.”

———————————-

As expected, (Y/n) couldn’t get him to the ground at all! Time and time again he had managed to get her down but she couldn’t complain too much. Being this close to a hot and sweaty man? Having him touch and feel all over her body? She could get used to this.

“You know, for an old man you’re pretty strong!” (Y/n) was out of breath, sweat dripping down her chest. Letting out a deep breath she held a hand out for Sam to shake. He eyed it before taking it causing her to give him a devilish grin. Within a few seconds she had dragged him close, sweeping a foot under his leg. He fell like she intended but what she hadn’t done was calculating him keeping a hold on her wrist. The two both fell with a thud, Sam hitting the mat while the not so sneaky woman fell on top of him. She pushed herself up, hands flush against his chest as she straddled him, looking down at him. Her eyes widened at the feeling of two large hands gripping her ass, eyes trailing up to his.

“Didn’t you say you were having trouble sleeping? I think I got something that can put you right to sleep.” was this really happening? Was she hearing him correctly? That thought didn’t last long at the feeling of his dick poking at her through the fabric of his sweats. His dark eyes were practically black from how blown out his pupils were. Leaning forward, their lips connected.

The kiss was slow and sensual like the vibes he gave off. His lips were soft, the taste of coffee mixed with his natural taste. As the kiss grew more heated, Sam flipped them over, laying the girl gently on the mat. He continued with a trail of kisses, from her neck, collarbone, his fingers massaging the flesh of her hips. His lips gave extra love to her chest, licking and sucking upon the brown sensitive buds.

His open mouth trail of kisses slowly became sucking the further and further he got towards the center of her legs.

“C-careful. Don’t leave- don’t leave marks our else Miyaki might see.” she warned, causing him to pause momentarily. Lifting his head he chuckled some, brushing his thumb against the sensitive area of skin near her upper thigh. Whether or not it’d be visible in summer attire was something she wouldn’t know until she got dressed the next day. Massaging her legs, he leaned up near her face, softly caressing her cheek.

“You’re a smart girl, (Y/n). I’m sure you can figure it out.” she huffed but remained quiet, a pout prominent on her face. A large hand came to rest around her throat, squeezing lightly. “ I’d advise you to lose the attitude if you wanna go to bed satisfied.” She shuddered at his words but remained quiet, anxiously awaiting what he’d do next.

From the looks of it, he wasn’t sure where he was going to take it next. He was eager, lust clouding his brain and thoughts. Sam was now acting on primal instincts alone. He reached for her sleep shorts, peeling them off before tossing them to the side. Keeping the eye contact they had, he guided two of his fingers into the mess that was her cunt. Despite barely touching her, her pussy was beyond creamy, juices dripping out the further he stuck his fingers in. Long, thick digits made their way into her with ease.

He made sure their eyes were connected, his stern eyes in a narrow assertion of dominance while her own (e/c) ones were glossed over as she fought to keep them open and focused on him. It was an agreement that didn’t need to be spoken: her eyes were to be on him at all times. Every so often her eyes would jitter close as his fingers nudged against her spot but still she persisted, wanting to be good for him, to prove herself.

Sam removed his fingers, guiding them up to the girl’s lips. Her eyes widened, gagging around the digits as waiting tears finally fell. Once he was satisfied he removed them, positioning himself between her legs. Using his thumbs he spread apart her pussy lips, salivating. Her cunt was so plush, clit engorged and pulsating, just aching to be touched.

He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking on it as he swirled his tongue. The girl reached instantly, hands clinging to his head the best that she could as her hips arched forward. This is something Sam usually wouldn’t fly with but he’d allow it this once. An airy moan fell from her lips as she continued to buck against his face, pelvis jerking rapidly at the feeling of his fingers lightly teasing her around her hole.

(Y/n) felt her entire body buzzing with pleasure. Her hands searched for anything to cling onto as her orgasm approached her, making its way to her faster and faster. An overstimulated whimper left her lips followed by her slick coating the older man’s face and mouth which he gladly accepted, the most sinful of noises leaving him as he cleaned her up. Her clench eyes relaxed as her body fell limp to the mat, chest heaving in heavy breaths.

“You tapping out already, princess?” she lifted her head from the ground, propping herself up onto her elbows as she gave him a glare. Kicking him onto his back, she climbed into his lap, aligning the tip of his cock with her entrance, bits of his precum mixing with the reminisce of her arousal.

“Not even close old man.” they both shared a loud groan as she sunk down onto him in one swift movement. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she tried to gain a hold on him, wanting to get the upper hand. However Sam was just so…large. His girth stretched her out greatly, the head of his cock just barely kissing her cervix causing her to let out a pathetic whimper. Sam chuckled some, wrapping his hands around her waist, guiding her own to rest around his shoulders.

“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you. You gotta relax though or it’s gonna be a toughy for both of us.” she nodded lazily at his words, tightening her grip on his shoulders, head under his chin. He rubbed at her back gently, feeling as her muscle began to untense around him. “Better?”

“Y-yes just move. Wanna feel you.” he placed a kiss to the top of her head before beginning to thrust, letting out a small ‘fuck’ under his breath. Despite her being fully relaxed and prepped, she was still so tight around him. After a bit of trial and error, he had finally managed to find a good rhythm but even with as patient as he was he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Locking his arms around the base of her spine, he gripped her in his arms, trading out his slow and deep thrust for a series of fast and shallow ones. The sounds she was making for him only egged him on as she babbled and drooled on about how she couldn’t take it, how good it felt.

“O-oh god! ‘M not gonna la-last any longer! Wanna cum with you! Wanna- can we, pl-please!” she cried out, tears mixing with the mess of drool on her face.

“Yeah? Let’s cum together then.” he agreed, not having much left in him himself. With a few final powerful thrust, Sam came deep inside of her, (Y/n) following right along with him. The girl fell forward into his chest, the both of them panting, holding each other covered in sweat. She let out a soft chuckle, looking up at the man who was already staring down at her.

(Y/n) had originally thought it was gonna be a long summer, but this was way different from what she had in mind. She was fucked.

Metaphorically and Physically.

#x black reader #x black fem reader #x black plus size reader #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #captain america x reader #falcon x reader #poc!reader #poc reader #black!reader #black!fem!reader #marvel imagine #marvel smut

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apocalypse-shuffle · 4 months

Text

SAM WILSON | CAPTAIN AMERICA/FALCON (the mcu | tfatws | captain america: the winter soldier)

────────────────────

“Arm Day” (Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader)

| You don’t show up for your running “date” with Sam so he shows up at your place to get a different kind of exercise in.

| SFW, exercising, romantic tension(?)

| Jesus, my summary is very nearly an innuendo. (Pic Source — Captain America: Civil War [peachy-ash icon], Captain America: The Winter Soldier [iconpsds icon], The Falcon & The Winter Soldier [marina-na-na icon])

| Inspo: Instagram

| 1k+ words

It’s the sound of your phone buzzing against your nightstand that wakes you up, and with a groan you lift your head to squint at it.

‘Sam Wilson’ flashes across your screen and you in no way can suppress the eye roll that elicits.

He was your gym buddy more often than not, but this was getting ridiculous.

When y’all ran laps together he’d slow down for you so you could keep one another company. When you were on the treadmill he’d be running in the one right beside you and hold out his arm if you stumbled so you wouldn’t go flying, emergency stopping the machine for you. You would spot each other, go out to eat afterwards, even make meal plans together. Sam was your number one.

He was also more of a pain in your ass than your actual personal trainers had ever been in the past.

You grope around for the phone, lifting it up to your ear once your clumsy fingers stumble across it.

“Yeah?”

Your grunt is met with an honest to god laugh. At this early in the morning?

“Oh my god,” you whine. “Sam, please, what do you want?”

A scoff this time.

“Y/N, it’s Saturday. Get your ass up, we got places to be.”

Still laying on your stomach you flip your head over to press the other side of your face into your pillow and switch your phone to the other ear accordingly, eyes slipping back closed.

“We? I told you I’m not leaving my house today.”

A beat of silence and then: “Okay…”

“Awesome. Have fun sweating by-”

“I’ll see you in five.”

You choke on your spit, words coming out in a whoosh and eyes snapping open.

“Fuck no! Sam!”

The sound of the dial tone reaches your ears and you curse, shooting out of bed, sleep no longer an option.

You drop your phone on your sheets and then scramble around for some shorts. If you could get to Sam before he got all the way to your apartment maybe you’d be able to shove his overactive ass back in his car.

In a frenzy you stuff your phone in your pocket and start towards the front door scratching at your head when it hits you. You’re scratching at your bare head.

“Shit- where in the world…?”

You whip around and start back towards your bedroom to look for where your head wrap had hidden itself during the night. You weren’t going all the way downstairs looking a mess.

Anywhere on your bed was a no show. It wasn’t hanging off your lamp like you’d found it once (who knows how it ended up there in the first place), and it wasn’t under your bed.

You're just about to throw caution to the wind and run out as you are regardless when two things happen at once. You find your wrap sunken into your shoes at the end of your bed and someone knocks at your door.

“Oh come the fuck on.” You grit your teeth, snatch up and firmly situate your traitorous wrap, then stomp over to jerk open the door.

“No.”

In front of you, dressed in a gray pair of sweats, Sam frowns lightly, thick brows raising.

“You made a promise,” he hedges.

You flip off said thick - accusatory - eyebrows.

“Screw my promise. I'm going to stay home and you’re going to leave. Goodbye.”

The door closes right in his face. He doesn’t take the chance not to let it, only to step back so he doesn’t break his nose. You appreciate that.

“Now hold on-! Aw come on, Y/n!” There’s muffled shuffling behind the door, him adjusting his gym bag more than likely, before he knocks again.

While you ignore him to start taking stuff out the freezer for a smoothie - you were already up, you might as well make it worth your while - he knocks three more times.

It’s when your phone starts buzzing on the countertop that you cave, stomping back over to the door and cracking it open just enough for him to see the glower on your face.

“What part of ‘Bye’ isn’t clicking? I’m tired, my muscles ache in places I didn’t even know were possible, and if I have to meal prep anymore I’m going to scream.”

He peeks through the sliver.

“Just one little circuit, alright? I brought everything with me so you won’t have to leave… .” His eyes have taken on a particular brightness that makes you just a little weak in the knees. “I’ll even cook for you after.”

Goddamnit. Your face smooths out from the glare you were rocking and Sam’s lights up.

“See? That sounds nice, now, doesn’t it?”

“Fine. A full meal, not no damn sandwich, and you make my smoothie before we start.”

“Deal. Thought you were gonna break my heart for a minute there, I'm really glad we pulled through though.”

“Yeah yeah,” you grumble and drag him and all his crap in.

_ _ _

“If you’re still aching after two days then we probably have to adjust your routine,” he curls upward and the muscles in his arms flex, stretching the sleeve of his maroon shirt to its limit. “I’ll take a pen and paper to it and we’ll figure it out, that fine by you Queen of Sheba?”

You scoff while going down on your push-ups.

“Yeah, it’s fine Sam,” you make sure to catch his eye as you straighten your arms to come up, “thanks.”

He smiles, switching to do curls with his left arm.

You go down, but end up watching unblinking for a few seconds as the muscles on his bicep become well defined peaks.

Hn.

Sam glances up and you rapidly realize that you’ve been laying on the ground and staring creepily at him for the better part of a minute.

Roughly, you clear your throat; Sam smirks and seems to go deliberately slow on his next curl. The way you gulp hurts a little.

“See something you like?”

Scowling, you roll your eyes and pick back up where you left off on your push-ups. You’re focusing intently on the tile underneath your palms when you answer him.

“No,” you snap to the floor.

Everything about Sam’s laugh says he doesn’t believe you worth a damn.

You don’t particularly care what he thinks though; something that you reiterate over and over in your head as you go on to the next workout.

Where the fuck Sam’s forward ass got off hiking a portable pull-up bar up to your apartment you did not know, but here the thing is, sitting nice and pretty like it belonged to be an absolute eyesore in the middle of your living room.

You sigh and decidedly don’t stare at him too hard as he eases down to the floor to take your previous place and start his own round of push-ups, and probably a few floor presses or something considering he brings the dumbbells down with him.

On your end starting your pull-ups starts off relatively easy. They’ve never been your favorite - and you’re certain they never will be - but at least you could do them now since you started training with Sam almost a year ago now.

Sam was neat like that. Uplifting without slipping into condescension, and being one of the few people who could push you so thoroughly out of your comfort zone.

Certainly the only person you allowed to upheave your more flexible boundaries with so little push back.

Breath huffing out of you you force yourself to rest before starting on your next set, eyes running over your workout partner’s back and the way the muscles there are also incredibly defined as he engages them.

It was a little unfair honestly. Who gave Sam Wilson the right to look so perfect? With a grunt you start working out again.

Eventually you begin waning, you can feel it in the way your arms instantly start to shake as you try to pull your body weight up for your next set, and the excess heat building in your fingers. How even as you attempt to swing your legs to get more momentum to do the pull-up you just barely manage to get one in before your arms give out, straightening back, and you’re left just hanging there.

“Goddamn,” you curse. Today really was just not your day.

Distantly you note the soft thud of weights being set down at your left but you're so focused that you don’t notice Sam move until he’s already in front of you.

He jumps up and you make a startled noise as you come face to face before he does a pull-up as easy as can be. Your lips purse.

He grins, “I got you, come on. One more rep.”

You sigh but he’s looking right into your eyes with that soft grin on his face - and you’re a sucker - so you cave in less than five seconds. Also, you don’t want to keep hanging any longer than necessary.

“I might not have one more in me, period, but I’ll try,” you murmur as you look away. You prep your muscles to move, assuming the right position, when Sam shaking his head in your peripheral catches your attention.

“Didn’t I just say I had you?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he’s swinging just that much closer on one arm - fucking show off - and grabbing enough of your thigh to nudge you forward so he can get his arm around your upper leg and then pull you in.

“You’re such a show off, you know that?”

You still follow his line of reasoning, though; pulling up enough that you can get both of your legs around his waist.

Sam just laughs, teeth glinting.

“I’m just happy to help.”

“Ha,” you mock, but when he pulls up you do so with him. Your arms bend, but not with nearly as much strain as before with him taking the majority of your weight, and the pressure on your core significantly lessens.

You won’t admit to having to bite back a smile at the feel of him tucked against you.

“You okay now?”

“Yeah,” you pant out, legs tightening absentmindedly around his waist. Sam grunts lowly in the back of his throat. “You in the habit of catching people like this?”

The look that briefly flashes across his face is far more severe than you think your question merits, and when Sam answers he makes sure to look you in the eye.

“I try to be.”

Then the moment’s broken, he’s pulling you both back up into your final exercise of the day and you’re left wondering where the hell Sam Wilson got off making you love him like this.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! If there’s any typos I’ll catch them later.

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

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sycamorelibrary754 · 5 months

Text

Guardian Angel

Chapter 3: You're Still Worthy

Summary: Emotional conversations and difficult choices were on the table for everyone the moment Wanda stepped back into the Avengers compound for the first time after Westview. But just because Wanda is starting over doesn’t mean she has to do it alone.

Warnings: Trauma, angst, cursing.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This chapter has two distinct parts. The flashback of Wanda’s first moments back in the compound (italicized) and the present day, approximately one year after Westview.

Guardian Angel Masterlist

Trust takes years to build, seconds to break, and forever to repair. Stepping foot back in the Avengers compound for the first time after Westview was freed was but the latest in a series of painful and tragic chapters in Wanda Maximoff’s story.

Fury was seated in his spacious office, a glass of Pappy Van Winkle Bourbon in his hand. He had a stern expression on his face as he intently watched Wanda's movements on the numerous security monitors placed strategically around the compound. Every twist and turn she made was being closely monitored by Fury, who remained vigilant and alert throughout.

As he sat there, lost in thought, a soft knock on his door broke his concentration. He straightened up in his chair, alert and ready to face whatever was coming. The door creaked open slowly, and a faint light spilled into the dimly lit room, revealing the outline of a figure standing in the doorway.

“Director, Ms. Maximoff is here,” Maria announced.

“Maximoff, have a seat. Or do you prefer Scarlet Witch now?” Placing the glass down on his desk.

Maria glanced from Fury to Wanda before taking her place next to the Director's desk. Wanda sat down, trying her best to hide her nerves. The two of them sat in silence for a moment until Fury finally spoke up.

“You know, it’s crap like this that gives me trust issues,” leaning back in his chair reading the file on Westview.

“Really? I thought it was your sparkling personality that gave you trust issues,” the redhead whispered under her breath.

“Come on, don’t give me that shit. What the hell were you thinking? Throwing the file onto his desk. “3,892 people. 3,892 people manipulated, tortured, and held hostage so you could live out some television family fantasy!” he shouted. “Do you know what I went through to keep Westview classified? What I went through with SWORD to make sure you walked out of there alive and not thrown in the Raft?” His anger growing.

"It wasn't a fantasy!" she exclaimed, as her emotions finally surfaced.

“It was selfish!” Fury shouted.

Maria flinched at the sound of Fury's voice before the room fell silent again.

"Director, have you ever lost someone?" Wanda asked, her gaze fixed on his desk.

“I was a Colonel in the United States Army and a CIA Operative. I’ve lost more people than you can count, including my parents. You’re most certainly not the first person to experience grief.”

Wanda had a determined look on her face as she raised her head to speak. "I cannot help but feel sorry for the ordeal those people went through," she said with a heavy accent, her voice filled with emotion. "Their suffering will continue to trouble me for the rest of my life."

Tears glistened in her eyes as she continued, "When I finally realized the agony I was inflicting, I knew I had to put an end to it. It was a difficult decision, but I have no regrets about the life I lived with my husband and children. We had our struggles, but we also had many happy moments together."

As she spoke, it was clear that Wanda had gone through a lot in her life. Despite the pain and hardship, however, she remained resolute in her determination to do what was right and to find peace in her memories.

Fury exhaled heavily and asked, 'Where are your boys?'

The redhead immediately tensed up, her heart pounding against her rib cage.

“I need you to be completely honest with me, starting right now,” Fury said. “If you want to remain a member of this team and continue to be a productive member of society, it's important that I know everything. Please understand that no one will hurt them.”

In a moment of urgency, Wanda found herself making a quick decision. Despite her reservations, she hesitantly slipped into Fury's mind as his thoughts were too loud to ignore. She knew that this was the only way she could be certain of his intentions and confirm that he was telling the truth. When she emerged, she was certain that Fury was to be trusted. She responded with confidence, "Billy and Tommy are with Darcy Lewis."

Fury nodded. “Where is the Darkhold?”

“I destroyed it.”

“That’s not what the wizard thinks. Strange is sure you wouldn’t have survived the destruction of that type of dark magic.”

Wanda leaned forward in her chair and cleared her throat. "Given everything that's happened, Director, it would be unwise to bet against my abilities."

Fury finished his drink; the ice clinked at the bottom of his glass. "You are dismissed for now, but do not leave the premises," he said.

After leaving his office, Wanda rose to her feet without saying another word. Maria locked eyes with Fury before hurrying after the redhead out of the door. When they were out of earshot of the Director, Maria called out to Wanda, "Wanda, wait!" The redhead had a determined look on her face as she raised her head to speak. "I cannot help but feel sorry for the ordeal those people went through," she said with a heavy accent, her voice filled with emotion. "Their suffering will continue to trouble me for the rest of my life."

Wanda stopped moving and stood still with her back turned towards Maria.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Agent Hill empathized.

"Sorry doesn't undo what I did or what I've lost," she countered. "Every season of my life has led to a goodbye. My parents, Pietro, Vision. No matter what I've done to try and be better, to help others, to heal. It never ends," her voice cracked. "I don't know how the boys survived, but my heart can't take anymore.

Maria gently placed her warm hand on Wanda's shoulder, feeling the tension and pain in her friend's body. In response, Wanda turned around and fell into Maria's embrace, her facade of composure crumbling as she let out a sob. Maria held her tightly, offering a safe and comforting space for her friend to release her emotions. As Wanda continued to weep, Maria could feel her tears dampening her shirt, but she didn't mind. All that mattered was being there for her friend in need, offering support and solace during this difficult time.

*^~^*

Wanda found herself wandering aimlessly around the compound for the rest of the day. The cold and judgmental gazes of numerous SHIELD agents going about their daily routines bore into her like a hot iron, making her feel like she had committed a grave mistake. The compound was the same as she had left it, but everything felt different. The once-familiar surroundings now seemed foreign and unwelcoming.

Wanda was not ready to return to her room, as she was not emotionally prepared to remember her life before Westview. The memories of her past life seemed distant and unfamiliar to her now. She was unsure of what she would say if she ran into any of her former colleagues. The fear of their judgment and condemnation made her hesitant and unwilling to face them. Lost in her thoughts, Wanda continued to wander around the compound, hoping to find some solace or a moment of peace. But the echoes of her past mistakes and the fear of the future kept haunting her, making her feel helpless and alone.

As she walked aimlessly, lost in her thoughts, the striking redhead found herself standing outside the familiar building of the gym. The sight of it brought back a flood of memories, both good and bad, of the time spent within its walls. She hesitated before peeking through the sliding doors, making sure no one was around before stepping inside. The gym had become a sanctuary for her, a place where she could channel her inner strength and work on honing her abilities. Countless hours were spent in this space, sweating, training, and pushing herself to the limits to discipline both her body and mind. However, all that hard work, all that dedication, was shattered. The unspeakable grief and loss that followed had left her shattered, both physically and emotionally. Yet here she was, standing once again in the same space, her heart heavy with memories and emotions that she had thought she had left behind.

“No matter how many times I tried to train you to fight without using your powers, you always resisted.”

Wanda's attention was immediately drawn to the distinct and familiar sound of a deep, slightly raspy voice that reverberated through the spacious gym. She turned her head and was captivated by the sight of Natasha Romanoff, who stood poised and confident on the other side of the room. Natasha's hair was elegantly styled in double braids, and her black workout attire clung to her fit and toned physique in all the right places, accentuating her curves and strength.

Wanda sighed, "Why fight with one hand tied behind my back?" She moved a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Because it makes you stronger," Nat replied, walking slowly towards her.

“I don’t feel very strong right now.”

“I beg to differ, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Nat quietly observed Wanda's demeanor, noticing the subtle nuances of her body language. The woman standing in front of her seemed to be a mere shadow of her former self, weighed down by the immense burden of grief. It was evident that Wanda was still struggling to come to terms with all that had been lost in Sokovia, Wakanda, and most recently, in Westview. The pain and sorrow etched on her face spoke volumes of the emotional turmoil she was going through, and it was clear that she needed someone to talk to, someone who could understand her pain and help her find a way forward.

Natasha took another tack. “Get in the ring.”

“What?”

Natasha put down her water bottle and stepped between the ropes. "Get in the ring," she repeated.

“I’m in no condition to spar,” Wanda argued.

“Says the Scarlet Witch,” Nat smirked. “Now, come on.”

Wand let out a long, tired sigh and slowly took off her jacket. With a hint of nervousness in her movements, she cautiously stepped closer to the ring, her eyes fixed on the ground beneath her.

“No hand tied behind your back this time,” Nat said, securing her Widow Bites to her wrists.

Natasha took her fighting stance. Wanda mirrored her as wisps of red danced between her fingers. She took the first shot, summoning a wave of telekinetic force toward her opponent. With lightning-fast reflexes, Nat rolled out of harm's way, narrowly avoiding the destructive force. Sensing an opening, Natasha launched herself into an acrobatic assault. Her strikes were precise, knocking Wanda off balance. The split-second window allowed Nat to grip her arm and flip her over her shoulder.

With a flick of her wrist from her backside, Wanda unleashed a barrage of red energy crackling with otherworldly force. The sparring became an explosive dance as Nat deftly dodged and rolled through the chaos, narrowly escaping each attack. Seizing her only opportunity, she countered with a well-timed Widow's Bite. Grunting in pain, Wanda launched her backward into the ropes with one swift motion.

With a fierce determination, Natasha charged forward. Wanda used the last of her depleted stamina to summon a swirling vortex of red. As the intense aura surrounded her, she directed one final blast towards the Black Widow. Nat mustered every ounce of strength and somersaulted forward through the explosion, landing sprawled out on the mat.

Wanda collapsed to the ground, her knees hitting the mat with a thud. She was gasping for air, her body wracked with sobs. Natasha lay nearby, her chest heaving and her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The widow slowly rolled over and crawled towards her, her movements slow and labored. She reached out and wrapped her arms around the redhead’s body, pulling her close. The two women held each other tightly, neither of them speaking. Wanda's sobs echoed through the room, the sound of her pain filling the air.

*^~^*

Secretary Ross glared intensely at the team gathered around the conference table, his virtual presence towering over his desk in a show of authority. With a tone that conveyed both anger and concern, he spoke up, "I'm genuinely curious. In what universe do you think I'm going to look the other way while you jeopardize the safety of everyone in existence?" His words hung heavily in the air, leaving no room for doubt that he meant every word.

“I don’t know, Mr. Secretary. Why don’t you pick one and we’ll find out,” Natasha remarked coldly. No love was lost between herself and Ross.

Maria gently placed her hand on Nat's arm, silently signaling for her to maintain decorum.

"If you had taken my warning about Wanda Maximoff seriously eight years ago, we wouldn't be facing the dangerous threats to all universes that she has unleashed. Her actions have proven time and again that she is a clear and present danger, and it's time we take action before it's too late." Ross urged.

"We don't judge people based on their past mistakes," Natasha declared.

"Perhaps you should," he said, his gaze fixed on the Black Widow.

Yelena stood up slowly from her chair, her voice laced with a hint of malice. "Maybe it's time the world knew about your worst mistakes, Thaddeus," she threatened, her eyes flashing with anger.

“And we’re sitting,” Kate said, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend and pulling her back down.

"Excuse me, Mr. Secretary, with all due respect, we are not seeking your permission in this matter. Our intention is to inform you of our decision as a courtesy. This meeting is solely for the purpose of sharing our plans with you and ensuring that you are kept in the loop about the steps we are taking,” Steve interjected.

“Tell me Captain Rogers, what is your intended course of action when the witch inevitably betrays your moral compass yet again?” Ross asked, rising from his virtual chair.

“We never abandon one of our own, Sir,” Steve said.

“To be honest with you, Mr. Secretary, the only one here who lacks a moral compass is yourself,” Maria hissed, swiping away his hologram in frustration.

A hard silence fell across the room.

“That went well,” Clint said, as he placed his head in his hands.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but he has a point,” Fury concurred, leaning up against the door frame.

"Are you still here? I thought you were off to sail the seven seas," Tony said sarcastically as he got up to pour himself a glass of scotch.

“Fury might be right,” Bruce interjected. Are we all forgetting how we met Wanda? Or would you like a replay of the nightmares she put in our heads?”

“No, I’m not,” Natasha said heatedly, turning toward Bruce. “And I’m sure as hell not forgetting who destroyed the Mind Stone when it meant losing the one she loved. Or who was a split second away from defeating Thanos single-handedly, had he not blitzed the shit out of his entire army.”

“Maximoff took an entire town hostage! She manipulated the realities of 3,892 people,” Fury argued.

“In a state of shell shock and overwhelming grief,” Maria countered. “You and I both know she would never hurt anyone intentionally or of her own accord.”

“Are you sure about that? Do you know where the Darkhold is today?” Fury yelled. “Because I can tell you right now, Strange sure as hell doesn’t believe it’s gone.”

“I think you’ve made your point,” Bucky interrupted sternly. His Vibranium hand on Fury’s shoulder.

“Buck…,” Sam cautioned.

Thor's booming voice cut through the tense and chaotic chatter, demanding attention from all present. "Wanda is still worthy!" he declared with the power of a god. "We shall leave no stone unturned in our quest to help her regain her belief in herself." The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, a solemn reminder of the importance of lifting up those who have lost their way.

“That’s more like it,” Nat said.

“Let’s go,” Maria ordered.

*^~^*

Upon her return, Wanda made it clear that her priority was to provide a normal and safe environment for Billy and Tommy, free from the influence of her past mistakes or her sterile work environment. She was determined to create a loving and secure home for her boys. As a result of multiple meetings with Stark, Wanda decided to move out of the compound and into a home that was designed by Tony himself. And true to form, the billionaire created a spectacular home for her and her family.

The elegant craftsman-style house painted in a soft, creamy white hue exuded a warm and inviting aura, beckoning visitors to step inside. The stunning embellished concrete path, beautifully winding its way up to the charming wraparound brick porch and the wide entryway, added to the home's alluring charm. The interior was just as captivating, with each room meticulously furnished and decorated to perfection. Tommy and Billy couldn't contain their excitement as they were each given their own room to adorn and personalize to their heart's content. She encouraged the boys to let their imaginations run wild, and they eagerly reveled in the opportunity to showcase their unique interests and personalities.

A series of photographs adorn the walls, each capturing a distinct memory that the family held dear. As Wanda gazed upon them, she was immediately transported back to the bittersweet moments of their life in Westview - a life that was nothing more than a fabrication. Despite this painful truth, she remained steadfast in her desire to preserve a fragment of that existence for her sons, who knew no other place to call home. The memories, though tinged with sorrow, were a testament to the love and bond that the family shared, and Wanda was determined to keep that flame burning, no matter how difficult it was to revisit the past.

The family room is tastefully decorated with a large navy blue sectional couch, two elegant Paisley armchairs, and a beautiful Cherry coffee table that seems to beckon you to come and sit. The focal point of the room is a stunning painting by Wanda, hanging above the fireplace. The painting is a reflection of her creative soul and a way to channel her emotions and thoughts. The built-in bookshelves are a treasure trove of knowledge, holding a vast collection of books for all ages. The shelves are also adorned with a few carefully chosen plants, each in its own decorative pot, adding a touch of nature to the room. The cozy atmosphere of the family room is perfect for relaxing and spending time with loved ones.

As you step into the kitchen, a beautifully arched doorway frames the entrance, inviting you in. This is Wanda's favorite room in the house, and it's easy to see why. The spacious area is furnished with sleek granite countertops and a convenient center island, making it the perfect place for her sons to sit and share stories of their day at school. As you take a deep breath, the delightful scent of Paprikash or homemade pies fills the air, reminding every guest that Wanda's favorite way to show love is through her cooking.

Through the off-white French doors, one could step into a tranquil and inviting backyard that was meticulously cared for by Wanda. Her passion for gardening was evident in the way she had transformed the space into a lush oasis of greenery. The fragrant air was filled with the aroma of the citrus trees that she had lovingly transplanted, and the raised bed, bursting with a variety of colorful seedlings that had sprouted on the kitchen windowsill, was a testament to her dedication towards creating a verdant sanctuary for her family to relax and enjoy together.

*^~^*

"Boys, it's time for cake and presents!" Wanda shouted through the window.

"Coming, Mom!" Tommy shouted in response.

Wanda organized a cozy and warm birthday bash for Billy and Tommy, and had cordially invited the team and their families to join in on the celebration. It was the first time they were having a group gathering outside of work since Wanda's return to the team. While the adults chit-chatted and caught up with each other in the cozy family room, the youngsters were having a blast playing games in the backyard. Cooper, Lila, Morgan, and Nate were among the kids who were enjoying themselves with Billy and Tommy.

Let's go," Clint exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Bring on the cake!

“Relax, it’s not your birthday.” Yelena teased.

Steve and Bucky, with their arms full of colorful gift-wrapped presents, walked over to the elegantly set dining room table, while Wanda gracefully lit the candles on the birthday cake, which was decorated with blue and green icing. As soon as Wanda finished lighting the candles, the group of friends and family sang "Happy Birthday" in unison, and the twins, Billy and Tommy, eagerly blew out the candles.

After the birthday song ended, Billy and Tommy tore open their presents with excitement, while their mom looked on proudly. The team made sure to honor Wanda's request for no Stark-enhanced gifts. Tommy's gifts included a pair of stylish Nike sneakers, a shiny new scooter, a high-quality baseball glove, and a popular video game that he had been asking for for months. Billy, on the other hand, received a high-tech microscope that he could use to explore the world around him, a remote-controlled drone that could fly up to 100 feet in the air, and a brand new sketchbook with Prismacolor Premier colored pencils, so he could continue to develop his artistic skills.

"Okay, here's one more small gift, but let's not devour it all at once," Wanda cautioned as she placed the personalized candy bags from your shop in front of the boys.

“Candy!”

“Sweet!”

"You can each choose a couple of pieces, and we'll save the rest for later," their mom instructed as the boys rummaged through their bags.

Tommy whirled around the table and embraced his mother. "This is the best birthday ever, thanks, Mom!"

“Yeah Mom, this was awesome!” Billy followed.

"Mmmm, this is good," Tony said, returning from the kitchen where he had raided the bag of candy you made for Wanda.

“Excuse me, that’s not yours!” Wanda scolded.

“I don’t see your name on it.”

“Turn it around.”

“Well,” Tony paused. Calligraphy is a lost art,” tossing her the bag.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.”

*^-^*

Maria and Natasha had decided to stay back with Wanda to help her with the post-party cleanup. As they were putting things away, they noticed red wisps of magic floating gently around the room, lifting empty plates and glasses over to the sink. Wanda had always been careful about using her powers outside of missions, but it was hard to resist the temptation to make things a little easier for herself, especially when her house was full of messy superheroes who weren't particularly good at cleaning up after themselves. As she was putting away dishes, one of them unexpectedly slipped from her grasp and hit the floor, shattering into two pieces.

"Are you okay?" Maria asked as Natasha carefully picked up the broken plate.

“I’m fine, just a bit clumsy.”

“Like mother, like sons,” Natasha teased.

“Oh yeah,” Maria said with a grin. “Nat told me all about your little adventure. She said you were smitten.”

“I was not smitten!”

“You had a goofy grin on your face when you came back to the cafe,” Natasha said, scoffing.

“I was simply being a good Samaritan,” Wanda argued.

Natasha's lips curled into a playful smirk as she spoke, "Oh really? And who were you pretending to be when you purchased those bags of candy for the young lads from Y/N's shop?"

Wanda's eyes widened as she asked, "How did you find out? And more importantly, how do you know her name?"

“Wands, I'm a spy. If one of my friends leaves with a stranger and goes up to their apartment alone, you can bet I’m going to check them out.”

“Well, nothing happened. I got her some ice for her ankle and left, and I didn’t even know it was her shop,” Wanda dismissed. Besides,” Wanda whispered, peering over at her boys asleep on the couch. “Billy and Tommy are just starting to feel at home here. I would never do anything to put that in jeopardy… Not again,” fidgeting quietly with the wedding ring still holding tight to her finger. It had been a year, but she still hadn’t found the strength to take it off.

“We know you wouldn’t,” Maria reassured, placing her arm around her shoulder. “But you are still worthy of the chance to be happy again, honey.”

“Just because you’re starting over doesn’t mean you have to do it alone,” Natasha added. “Is that what Vis would have wanted?”

*Chapter 4 coming soon*

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