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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.

811 notes · View notes

witchthewriter · 10 months

Photo

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

(slightly different to the one bed trope - you’re already in a sort of established relationship. And this is the very first time you’re sharing a bed as a couple).

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: tell me what you think about adding in the character photos, do we like it or not?? Because I can’t decide...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢

・You know his sly smile? Yeah... he did that ... a lot.

・It wasn’t that he had somehow tricked you into staying over. No, no, if anything you imposed yourself onto him.

・But his smug smile never left his lips, not for one goddamn second.

・It made you weak at the knees, but your relationship had been built on this love/hate, back and forth, bantery thing. Where you sometimes pretend to ignore the others advances; but you both know you want each other so goddamn badly

・His sultry voice is like a siren’s song, you couldn’t help but go along with whatever he had to say. It was one of the things he loved to tease you about. Which drove you insane.

・On certain days you’re able to ignore it, or give him a bit of his own medicine. But sometimes you just want so desperately to be near Loki

・There’s something about him that just makes you feel so many things at once. Annoyance, desire, anger, excitement.

・For most people, it just stopped at annoyance and anger. But for you ... because Loki loved you, yes, loved you, he let you see a side to himself that no other ever had.

・And when you said you were sleeping at his place because yours was compromised, he was elated.

・Did he clean up his house, deep clean everything and change the bed sheets? Yes.

・Surprise surprise, his bedroom was in black and green with hints of gold. His bed king size (obviously)

・By the time you got to Loki’s place it was dark outside, and he made you dinner. Trying your best not to scoff it down, you could feel the tension radiating off of him

・Even though you weren’t tired, you followed Loki into the bedroom just because he wanted you to fall asleep beside him

・As if he could tell you weren’t tired, he started to hum. A tune from his childhood that his mother would sing to him at night when he couldn’t sleep

・You rolled over onto his chest, your leg covering his.

・The soft thump of his heartbeat made it so easy to relax. Loki’s hand slowly ran up and down your back, while the other held your own.

・Loki is a night owl rather than a morning bird, so the next morning - he was very grumpy

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚

・So excited about it. She couldn’t wait to watch movies with you in bed, all cuddled up and cosy

・Wanda changed the sheets and pillow cases (even going out to buy new ones - in your favourite colour) and got a few extra pillows to make it cosier

・Of course the majority of this was done using magic so it didn’t tire her out by the time you came over

・Excited! Excited! Excited!

・She wants to show you the room as soon as you walk in but doesn’t want to make a big deal of it at the same time?

・When you finally make it to the bedroom, you’re both a bit shy as to who slept on which side.

“On the count of three, we’ll say whichever side we want. Okay?”

・You nodded and turns out you both wanted the other side. So it was easy sorted

・You both couldn’t stop talking, it was like a proper sleepover. And whenever you wanted a snack, Wanda would make it appear right before your eyes (perks of having a magical s/o)

・Her hands are constantly running through or over your hair

・Even though you’ve been in a relationship for a few months, she suddenly becomes very self-conscious and blushes at nearly everything you say

・Likes when you initiate affection, especially hand holding or kissing

・The tv is on all night because you both fall asleep watching your favourite shows

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

・Awkward about it!!!

・Hasn’t been able to sleep in a bed for a long time. Usually he lays in his loungeroom, on the floor, the wall against his back.

・Since you came along, he’s been staying on the lounge, feeling a bit more at ease whenever you’re near

・When it was the first time for a proper sleepover, Bucky was ... so ... unsure of what to do.

・He didn’t know if you wanted to sleep on the left or right, so he said you can pick

・He was fine with whatever decision you made. Bucky just wanted you to be comfortable

・And because Bucky isn’t used to the company at his place - he usually just shows up at yours. Because there’s something about your place; it warms him, makes him feel bright

・So when you get into Bucky’s barely used bed, he took off his arm and felt ... so vulnerable

“Hey, it’s okay,” you whispered in the dark, almost knowing what Bucky was thinking.

・You fall asleep facing each other, your hand on his cheek, and his on your waist.

・You didn’t know how long it took for either of you to fall asleep. But for Bucky... it was very quick. Something that hadn’t happened in ... well, since the 1940s.

𝐍𝐚𝐭

・Outwardly confident, inside she was so sensitive about this

・It’s the vulnerability for her. She doesn’t let people get this close, and yet here you are. In her home, seeing the real Nat.

・She honestly didn’t think your relationship would go this far. But somehow you got past her defenses. YOU made her feel safe. Which was a nice change - and something that didn’t happen very often

・She was always the person who saved others, who was the one to protect. And now, to feel protected, it was an amazing sensation.

・But it did take a long time for her to let you into her home. And then sleepovers would happen but rarely. Now they became more frequent - but she always took the couch.

・You never challenged her on it, knowing that it was a big move to sleep in the same bed as someone.

・Because as she explained before, she would have one night stands; but never at her place.

・It would be a breach of security and put the other person at risk

・But having you here meant you had great power yourself, and no one wanted to fuck with you

・So, finally. After all this time, she agreed to let you into her room, into her bed. Nothing sexual, only to sleep.

・You let her make the moves, because you didn’t want to push her in any way possible.

・But she led you upstairs and opened the door to a simple yet stylish room. A mixture of deep colours; maroon, emerald, deep blue. It had a royal essence to it.

・And you walked in, admiring everything. Because a person’s room shows a person’s soul.

・For a moment she just stood in the doorway, just admiring you. Nat was so overwhelmed with love

・When you were both ready for bed she turned off all the lights and got into bed

・You were automatically the big spoon

・Wrapping your arms around her, she let herself be cuddled. Which was also very new.

・Cuddling was something that was foreign to Nat. Not having it in her childhood, or teenage years ... or adulthood.

・She felt both overwhelming happiness and sadness for her younger self. And for one moment, she shed a tear

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞

・Very much the gentleman everyone thinks he is

・Even though you had been in a relationship, and for quite a while, it was the first time you guys were ready to share the bed (he wanted to take the relationship slow. He called it, ‘going steady’)

・Even after all this time together, he still insisited that he can sleep on the couch

“Steve, we’re in a relationship. I think it’s okay if we sleep in the same bed.”

“I just don’t want to make you feel pressured, or uncomfortable.”

“Do you think I would ever let someone make me feel pressured, or uncomfortable?”

・One look at you - from anyone - and their answer would be a firm ‘no.’ There was a reason you were a high risk on every countries radar.

・Who thought Steve liked the badass type?

・But when it came to him...well, Steve was your weak spot.

・So, when you agreed to go steady, a lot of people were shocked. (Not Nat though, she knew you two were made for each other.)

“Okay, you got a point,” Steve replied, looking at you from across the couch.

・Movie nights were a regular thing with you two. And this one was long awaited - you finally got to show him your favourite movie of all time.

・When your eyes started to droop, and Steve couldn’t stop yawning, he took your hand and walked you to his bedroom.

・It was immaculate. Everything was in its place, nothing was out of order, not even the pencils on his desk. He was the complete opposite to you. And yet, somehow you two worked.

・After taking a shower (he let you go first and while he was in the bathroom, you couldn’t help but take a look around his room)

・Steve came out with only a pair of pajama pants...no shirt. And you nearly gasped. Of course you had seen him without a shirt on plenty of times, but usually there was other people around

・But now ... it was just you and him.

“Ready to ... go to bed?” Steve said with a soft smile.

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤

・A lot of ‘umming,’ and ‘ahhing,’ and moving things out of the way.

・He didn’t expect you to sleep over, but you were too tired to go home, so you asked if you could stay

・Frank was ecstatic, and offered to sleep on the couch (he just couldn’t wait to have someone else in the house. To make food for someone else; especially breakfast)

・You huffed a laugh and shook your head

“Are we not ... you know ... together?”

“Ha, yes, yes we are,” he replied gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck.

・He knew this moment had to come, but he just didn’t know when. Frank did want to take the relationship slow, and you both agreed to do just that.

・So at four months in, you thought it would be okay to have your first ... sleepover

“Here,” Frank had disappeared from the loungeroom for a few minutes, and you were wondering where the hell he had gone.

・But he came back with a shirt and a pair of pajama pants

・Your neck felt red as you realised they were his clothes, but your heart fluttered because...once again he was thinking about you. That’s all Frank seemed to do - was think about you and what you needed

・Once you were both ready for bed (brushing your teeth & having a shower etc)

・He walked you into his room, where he had already made it spotless and pulled back the covers; waiting for you.

“I wasn’t sure which side you wanted, hell you can sleep in the middle if you want,” he chuckled and gave you a half-smile

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭

・100% more awkward than Bucky

・You know all about his background, Marc and Konshu. So you aren’t afraid or taken aback when you see the ring of sand around his bed

・Although he doesn’t need to tape the door shut anymore

・And he said that if he does leave, then he’ll leave a note

・You’ve slept over a few times, but he’s always taken the couch in the other room

・But you thought this would be another step in your relationship and he agreed (you’re really transparent with each other. If you’re not comfortable with something, said person feels safe to say what is on their heart)

・The way each of you acted was so sweet.

・He was tentative, gentle, even asking if you need a cup of tea or a hot water bottle. He really sees you as the best thing in his life, and he treats you with so much love.

・When you both got settled; the silence felt defening.

・But when Steven went to talk, you shushed him.

“It’s okay not to talk, don’t feel like you have to.”

・He nodded and you could only see because of the light coming in from the windows

・You rolled over and backed against Steven. He turned and nuzzled into your back, wrapping his arms around you.

・Within 10 minutes you were asleep and within 20 so was Steven.

・And when he woke up the next day ... he was in the exact same position

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫

・It was you who wanted to take your relationship a bit slower - not wanting to be another person that Thor kept for a short period of time before he had other things to do

・But your relationship started strong and remained strong; to the surprise of both Thor and yourself

・He’s very proud to call you his. You’re a brilliant person, and he thinks that you make him better

・So, he’s very ... proud that he gets to sleep beside you.

・ When you entered his chambers, he ran and jumped on the bed, beckoning you to do the same

・It creaks and for a second you’re scared it was going to break

・It wouldn’t be the first time that Thor had broken something

・TAKES UP THE MAJORITY OF THE BED

・Lays side by side with you, like an excited kid on his first sleepover

・Asks you all these random questions and you’re so taken aback but go along with it

“Do you ever think about your destiny and why you were put on earth?” “Have you farted in public and blamed it on someone else?” “How many books have you read?”

・And ends up being a blanket stealer; not meaning to though, he just moves around a lot in his sleep. So, he gets tangled in the blankets.

・SNORES SNORES SNORES. You ended up asking if he had a medical condition...

・Wants to cuddle with you but the next morning you woke up unable to breath because Thor was completely on top of you

・Thor falls asleep very easily, and it takes a lot for him to wake up. But he is an early bird, unless he’s been drinking

573 notes · View notes

ladylokilaufeyson5 · 3 months

Text

Marvel Masterlist

Series:

You’re Not My Spiderman

Summary: After a strange incident involving a light in an alley, you encounter Spiderman, only to realise… he’s not your Spiderman.

Peripatetic

Only available on Wattpad

Oneshots:

Dating Peter Parker (TASM) would include... Power Couple Poison Late Night Cuddle With Peter She Fell First But He Fell Harder

Series

Hashtag Heroes (Social Media AU)

Summary: Just the Avengers messing around on Twitter

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Oneshots:

Together Forever

MCU!PETER PARKER Dating Peter Parker (MCU) would include... DRUIG Connections STEVE ROGERS Madam President WANDA MAXIMOFF A New Reality WANDA MAXIMOFF & NATASHA ROMANOFF Cuddling after a long day at work

167 notes · View notes

thenatashamaximoff · 11 months

Text

Whispers In The Dark

Summary: When a casual one night stand develops into a deeper, forbidden love, you and Wanda try to keep your relationship a secret as you navigate the challenges of balancing your growing emotions with the fear of being caught.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut)

Words: 6,462

✎

┌─────────────ᗢ─────────────┐ @diaryoflife @women-am-i-right @creatively-analytical @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @beforeoursecrets @iliketozoneout @olsensnpm @hoefnagel └─────────────ᗢ─────────────┘ ┌─────────────∞─────────────┐ @myfavoriteficss @pinkytoecrust @cyncity32 @romanoffomixam @peachbear88 @magicallymaximoff @therealmeari @peggycarter-steverogers @ba-romanoff @natashabelovas @morbid-gaymer @reminiscingtonight @when-wolves-howl @idontknownemore @natashasilverfox @sayah13 @fuxk182 @scarletwitchofthewilds @natashamaximoff69 @wuwu96 @jsonebraincell @whendarknessturns @marvel4liferz └─────────────∞─────────────┘

⚠️IMPORTANT ARTHOR’S NOTE: The following story (or following chapters) will not include detailed moments of smut. However, it does contain enough sexual content that I feel more comfortable labeling it NSFW/18+/MDNI. With that being said, read at your own discretion. Enjoy.

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The extremely comfortable bed you were laying on beckoned you to stay put, the weight of the covers over your body engulfing you in a warmth you didn't want to disrupt. It was hard to stay awake when you were so perfectly nestled in like a swaddled newborn. You had to find the energy to toss the covers off of you, though your limbs didn't seem to want to really move at the moment. Yet, with the seemingly loud vibration hammering away on the nightstand next to you, you were being signaled that it was time to get up.

Wait a minute… you don't own a nightstand yet.

You turned your head, the confusion evaporating quickly as you realized exactly where you were. You remember the bar, the attractive woman you knew you wanted the second you were aware of her presence, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And you couldn't help but smile when you remembered just how successful you were in accomplishing that. But now it was almost six in the morning and you had to get ready for work.

You didn't want to wake her up. The slivers of light sneaking past the curtains to show the peacefulness across her face in the midst of slumber was the best thing you've ever seen. You didn't want to be that kind of one-night stand, being unnecessarily loud, not even being thoughtful of the one who doesn't need to wake up at the ass crack of dawn. No, you were going to be considerate and make a quiet move to the bathroom.

You kicked your feet over the bed, but you still weren't entirely used to the fact that a nightstand was present. You bit your tongue when your leg smacked into the front of the bedside table with a loud thump, and you weren't quick enough to catch the falling lamp, flinching when it fell to the floor with a crash.

A peal of light laughter came from behind you as you stood up, bringing the sheet along with you and using your phone to survey the damage done to the lamp. And, boy, that lamp did not survive that fall.

"I'll pay for that," you said, looking toward her. How does that even happen? The one time you wanted to make a smooth exit and the nightstand wanted to put up a fight. An inanimate object was your downfall this early in the morning and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. "I'm sorry to wake you."

You were defeated.

"Are you getting in the shower?" Her voice was soft with no hint of annoyance in her tone. Was she not mad at you for pulling her out of the pits of her deep slumber? You'd be pretty annoyed that you were woken up by your one-night stand at six in the morning because they couldn't handle the nightstand.

She should at least be mad about the lamp.

"Uh, yeah?" You wonder if that was okay. This wasn't your place, after all. Yours wasn't completely unpacked yet and you didn't want someone as gorgeous as her to see that storage container apartment you got going on.

She moved to flick on the lamp resting on the nightstand that hasn't embarrassed you (yet), replacing the morning sunrise slipping through the closed curtains with a brighter, artificial light. She ran a hand through her hair, getting some of it out of her face, as she sat up in the bed. You couldn’t help but stare at her - the way she tugged those locks brought memories rushing into your mind as you subconsciously brought your bottom lip in between your teeth in a gentle bite. "I'll join you," she said.

"You'll… what?" The smile she sent you at your confusion made your heart skip more than just a couple of beats. "Uh, we just met last night… in a bar, no less."

She raised an eyebrow, though the smile still remained on her face. "We also just slept together, Y/N. It's nothing I haven't seen."

You swallowed the saliva forming in your mouth so hard that it made the actual gulping noise. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment once more as you looked away from her, scratching the back of your neck. "That's fair," you confessed. You looked back at her and laughed as she hopped out of the bed with a smoothness that you wished you had earlier. It would've saved you from a lifetime of embarrassment.

She raced you to the bathroom, making you laugh harder at her little victory yelp when she beat you there. You wrapped your arms around her, bringing her close as you used your foot to close the door behind you.

It has been only a few hours since you parted ways. You walked down the halls, your mind occupied by… her. Her face, her hands, her smile and touch and laugh. You remembered every single second about last night and you just wanted to do it all over. Relive it once more. But you know how a one-night stand works, and there's a high possibility that you'll never see that woman ever again.

"Ma'am." You turned your head on instinct to see someone running up to you, holding a clipboard out along with a pen. "Just need a quick signature."

"What's your name?" you questioned as you accepted the items she was holding for you.

"Jennifer, ma'am," she answered, even throwing a little bow in there. You couldn't help but shake your head with a smile, quickly scanning the paper before scribbling your signature over the line, turning your head to meet her gaze.

"It's nice to meet you," you told her. Your eyes were drawn to something over her shoulder like a magnet to metal, your next words getting caught in your throat when you saw her leaning against the wall, focusing intently on the person she was talking to. You handed the woman the clipboard (her name was irrelevant now, you couldn't think of anything coherent at the moment) as you walked past her like a zombie ambling toward fresh brains.

You reached Wanda, looking at the agent she was conversing with. It only took mere eye contact for the man to send you a stiff nod before immediately walking away, turning to look at her.

"What're you doing here?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, almost just as confused as you were. "I work here." The crease in between your eyebrows only deepened with more confusion. "I'm an Avenger." Even with her clarification, it didn't make it any more clear to you. You don't remember her name on the list. She must be a new recruit. "Why are you here?"

You opened your mouth to answer but were interrupted when someone stepped up to you.

"We're ready for you, Director." You looked at the older man, reading his name badge as Phil Coulson. That answered her question for you, your eyes going back to Wanda to see the raised eyebrow and tight lips.

"Director?" She looked away from you, getting herself lost in thought. "Well, that's not going to work well."

You cleared your throat, your jaw clenching tightly as you turned to the agent. "Thanks, Coulson. I'll be there in a moment."

Coulson sent you a nod and left the two of you be, turning back to Wanda. As she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening, you waited for Coulson to be completely out of earshot.

"Why didn't you tell me that you're a new Avenger?"

"Probably the same reason you didn't mention that you're the new director," she countered.

You opened your mouth on instinct to rebuttal but closed it when you realized she had a point. You groaned, running your hands down your face. This is the worst-case scenario. It would've been better if you never saw her again compared to this, though just the thought of that pulled your heartstrings. You don’t really know how to imagine never meeting her.

"You're the boss," she said, once again pulling you out of your thoughts, "aren't you supposed to at least know who the Avengers are?"

"They sent the files, but I didn't read them," you confessed. "I wanted to meet the team members face to face." You did, however, read the names on the files and she wasn't there. You said her name so many times last night, you'd definitely remember seeing it on a folder. She must've been a last-minute addition, SHIELD not having enough time before your first day to compile and send over a file.

At the same time, would you have been able to stop yourself from approaching her at the bar? No. The way her lips formed a pout made you want to do anything to wipe that away, so you would've ignored logic and spoken to her. You still would've made her laugh. You still would've made her smile for the first time in what seemed like forever. You still would've made her moan and pant your name as your skins melded together underneath her blankets, lightly scratching her back as she made you-

"Where did you just go?" She snapped you out of your thoughts again, but this time you were a bit upset about it. Your cheeks flushed red, burning hot. The smirk on her face told you that she had an idea, but you shook your head and ignored her question.

"You are aware that this… thing can't happen anymore, right?" As your finger bounced in between you and her, her smile expanded, tinged with a mischievous glint that hinted at something devious lurking beneath. You found yourself needing to bite your tongue harshly in hopes that the pain would distract you from the warmth igniting in your gut.

"Obviously," she assured you and you sighed with relief. Now that the two of you were on the same page, maybe now you can stop stressing out about it. You knew for certain that you wouldn't be able to hold back when it came to her, so it was nice to see that at least one of you had some self-control. Quite honestly, the only thing stopping you from dragging her to your office and feeling her right then and there was the fact that you don't exactly know where your office was located just yet.

Maybe someday…

No. The relationship between you and Wanda Maximoff could not come to be. No matter how strong the connection, how tempted you’d be, it could never come to fruition. The unfortunate reality was that your relationship with the woman standing in front of you had to end before it even began.

That thought abandoned your mind when you watched her teeth catch her bottom lip, raising an eyebrow at you seductively. Your breath caught in your throat and your thoughts immediately became a jumbled, contradicting mess. She laughed as you finally managed to utter, "You're going to get me fired, Wanda."

"Director." You didn't turn, losing yourself in her eyes. You wanted to touch her. To take her face in your hands and connect your lips right at this moment, in front of everybody. New job be damned. And the annoyance that demanded your attention cleared their throat impatiently.

You turned your head to look at the addition to your conversation to see Coulson standing there, nodding his head at Wanda, a sign for her to skedaddle.

"I'll see you later, Director," Wanda hummed as she walked away, your head turning back so you could watch her leave.

"It's been more than a moment," Coulson pointed out, forcing yourself to tear your eyes away from Wanda's retreating figure to look at him.

You blinked. "What?"

"You're late," he clarified.

Your eyes widened. "Oh, right! What are you waiting for, Coulson? Let's get a move on." You gestured for him to lead the way, patting him on the shoulder when he rolled his eyes and turned his back on you.

"It's a good thing you're getting acquainted with the Avengers," he said as you walked alongside him. "You two know each other?"

"Not at all," you stated.

He hummed thoughtfully, clearly not believing you in the least bit. "That was Wanda Maximoff. She's got magic hands."

The snort that escaped your nose was involuntary. "She does indeed." You hadn't realized you said it until Coulson stopped moving to stare at you, his eyebrows bunched together, bewildered. You cleared your throat, your back straightening as you clarified, "That's what she told me earlier. She just didn't really tell me what she meant by it." You were right, there is no longer any more doubt in your mind that she was definitely going to get you fired. "Why don't you tell me more about Maximoff?" Though phrased as a question, he knew it wasn't one.

He continued forward and you easily matched his speed, walking alongside him. "She has a long list of powers," he started. "Telekinesis, energy and mind manipulation, and she can read thoughts. I’m willing to bet there’s more, she just hasn’t unlocked them yet."

You stopped walking this time, trying hard to keep your composure. "Mind reading?" So, she definitely knew what you had been thinking about earlier. "That's… nice to know."

Observing your reaction to the subject being discussed, he quickly decided to switch gears. “Well, she’s not the only one on the team. There are other Avengers you have yet to meet. We’ll start with…” He gestured for you to follow as he led you through a set of doors, revealing a sprawling laboratory that occupied most of the floor.

Pausing at the entrance, you watched as Tony Stark worked intently on a holographic keyboard. It was only when Coulson began walking deeper into the lab that you followed, cautiously advancing until you stood in close proximity to the brilliant inventor.

"Who's disturbing my bubble?" The hologram vanished as his fingers moved away from it, turning his head to look at you.

"New director," Coulson explained. "We're just making the rounds and you're the first stop."

"Y/N," you extended your hand towards him. His gaze shifted from your hand to your eyes and, in that moment, it became abundantly clear that he was not going to meet the handshake. You quickly withdrew your hand and let it fall to your side.

"Tony Stark, but you already knew that." He smiled at you, though it seemed a bit forced as his eyes assessed you from head to toe, sizing you up. "You're a bit young to be a director of something like SHIELD, aren't you?"

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of annoyance at his comment. Without thinking, the words slipped out before you could sensor yourself, "You're a bit old to be playing dress-up, aren't you?" As soon as your response left your mouth, you realized the potential consequences of your remark. Insulting the man who was throwing a lot of his money into this agency was not the smartest move. All it would take is a simple “adios” and you’d be out of a job.

To your surprise, Tony simply smiled widely and extended his hand toward you. Stunned, you accepted the strong handshake. “It’s refreshing to have someone bite back," he said, glancing at Coulson. "Take notes."

"Yes, sir," Coulson agreed, nodding with a forced smile. You couldn't help but grin, crossing your arms over your chest.

As Coulson gestured for you to follow him, you lingered for a moment to watch Tony go back to work, biting on a pen when he watched a small simulation of his suit taking on a battle, to which the suit loses. He huffed in exasperation, taking the pen out of his mouth and tossing it aside. It made you wonder how long he had been tirelessly working on this project.

"I know someone who specializes in nanotech if that's something you're interested in," you confidently suggested, capturing the billionaire's attention. Ignoring Coulson’s constant attempts to guide you away, you continued, "I can introduce you to her if you'd like."

A spark of curiosity ignited in Tony’s eyes as he reached for the pen he had just thrown, handing it to you along with a scrap of paper. With a grin, you swiftly scribbled down the specialist’s name, eager to offer a valuable connection. Tony glanced at Coulson with piqued interest, “Where’d you find this one?”

“She found us, sir,” Coulson replied, monotonously, before subtly guiding you out of the lab with a hand on your back. "The rest of the team would be a lot easier to please."

"I'm not looking to please them." Well, not all of them, at least. There was one person you found yourself wanting to please more than most. She did things to you that you just can't ignore. "My job is to lead them. I'm not here to make friends." Or lovers, but you refrained from adding that.

"Nice to know," he stated, leading the way into the training room. "Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, meet your new director."

The pair, entangled in a fierce sparring session, paused and separated as Coulson made the introduction. It was evident that they were skilled fighters, evenly matched and fully engrossed in their training. Or they were just taking it easy. Friends normally don’t beat the shit out of each other just for fun. You shook their hands.

“Directors usually don’t properly introduce themselves,” Clint remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he rested his hands on his hips with a heavy breath. “They just read our files and assume they know us.”

“They sent the files, but I didn’t bother with them,” you confessed, shrugging loosely. “Bonds grow stronger when everybody’s on the same page, not reading personnel off of a piece of paper.” Glancing at Coulson, you added, “I’m making this guy walk me around the building to introduce me to the team face-to-face.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips as her arms folded over her chest. “Did you meet Steve yet?” Coulson fidgeted for a moment beside you, and one of your brows quirked up with interest at the sound of her teasing tone.

“I’m sure he’s next,” you replied, a faint smirk lifting a corner of your mouth when the redhead’s smile only grew wider. “I’m sensing an inside joke here.”

“Coulson is a bit of a fan of Rogers,” she explained.

“I have all his trading cards,” Coulson interjected, cutting the conversation off before it went much further. “We should get to it.”

“Can’t wait to see him, huh?” she joked, her grin turning sly as she stepped back. While they returned to their sparring, you and Coulson made your way out of the room.

“All of his trading cards?” you asked. “Do you have them laminated?”

“Each and every one of them,” he confirmed, and you could sense the pride hiding in his words.

He led you into the war room, where Steve Rogers stood, engrossed in a discussion with other agents about an ongoing mission. As the two of you entered, the captain’s attention shifted, and he straightened up, displaying his characteristic posture.

“Captain Rogers, this is Y/N, the new director,” Coulson announced, adopting a more professional demeanor in front of the patriotic hero. Natasha’s description of him being a fan seemed under-exaggerated, but maybe that was the point. You’re relieved to see that the team wasn’t all as serious as Coulson here.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Steve greeted respectfully, offering a small nod from his position across the table.

You pressed your lips together, a mischievous grin forming as his eyes traveled up and down your figure. “I know you all think I have big shoes to fill,” you began, acknowledging the weight of the previous director’s legacy. “Nick Fury was one of the best, but I’m here to bring about change. I’m not looking to repeat history.”

“I can respect that,” Steve commented, crossing his arms over his chest. A slight smile tugged at his lips, and you could feel Coulson’s subtle restlessness next to you. He was clearly worried you might embarrass him.

“What’s your current mission?” you asked, leaving Coulson’s side to join Steve at the table, studying the scattered papers.

“We’re dealing with drug dealers hijacking ambulances for narcotics,” he explained, arranging the papers to give you a better view.

You looked up at him, a hint of surprise on your face. "I didn't expect a big-time Avenger to be doing a simple drug bust," you commented.

"You’re not the only one around here looking to make changes," he said.

You grinned. "I can respect that."

Coulson cleared his throat and you both looked over him. "If you'll excuse us, Captain. We have a busy day ahead.”

"Of course," Steve said. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"As you, Cap." You accepted his hand when he offered it over the table, giving a strong, brief handshake before releasing you. You walked behind Coulson as you left the room, grinning widely as you moved to his side. As soon as you were clear from Steve's earshot, you spoke. "You're jealous." It wasn't a question, and Coulson didn't show any expression in the statement. What did it take to coax a genuine smile out of this stoic guy?

"Thor is off-world dealing with some other stuff," Coulson said, ultimately ignoring your comment. “Banner has been MIA since the incident in Sokovia. And, since you’re already acquainted with Maximoff, I’ll show you to your office.”

Your heart fluttered at her name, immediately looking away from him to hide the faded blush forming on your cheeks. Why did her name make you feel this way? You had just only met her last night, so there weren't any long-time feelings between the two of you. But just thinking about her is taking away your ability to breathe. You didn’t struggle to follow your tour guide, but you did have trouble straightening your mind. You had hoped these introductions would last longer, giving you more time to avoid having to deal with everything. But without any distractions, you were forced to succumb to the realization that Wanda Maximoff was going to be in your life for as long as you were the director.

"Here." You released a deep sigh when Coulson finally stopped to gesture towards a door, giving you the distraction you needed to catch your breath. “This is your office.” You released a puff of air at the closed door, your name engraved on a plate nailed in place. You couldn’t let the emotions get to you - not in front of Coulson, at least - but this seemed to have made your title a lot more official. “The door’s unlocked.” If you didn’t know any better, that was a passive way of rushing you. “We also left you a little treat as a welcome present.”

Your hand pressed down on the handle, pushing slowly against the door with the agent right on your heels, and you managed to look up just in time to see something in your office that was most definitely not Coulson’s “little treat.” You quickly backed out of the room, bringing the door with you as you turned to face him. A nervous laugh nearly crawled out of your throat, but you managed to swallow it just in time. “I’m pretty sure I can handle this part on my own, Coulson.” The man didn’t argue with you, shrugging and walking away without another word as you slipped into your office. “What are you doing?”

“This isn’t the kitchen?” Wanda sat at your chair, not even bothering a glance in your direction as she casually ate what looked like a croissant (most likely the treat Coulson was referring to). You huffed, glancing over your shoulder as you made your way to the desk. Finally, she looked toward you, a smirk tugging a corner of her lips. “I could’ve sworn it was…”

With every step you took, your heart raced harder and faster. You couldn’t deny the intense attraction you felt towards the woman occupying your desk, even though it seemed so sudden and unexpected. She leaned back in your chair, crossing her legs and taking another bite of the croissant, slow and drawn out as she maintained eye contact with you. You couldn’t help but notice how the crumbs fell onto her lap, biting the inside of your cheek rather harshly as your breathing hitched in your throat.

“Is there something you need, Agent Maximoff?”

She quirked an eyebrow at you, though that smirk still lingered on her lips as she hummed thoughtfully before saying, “Agent Maximoff?”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “That’s your name, isn’t it?” you replied.

“It is,” she answered, shrugging as she added, “but it’s a much different turn from what you were calling me last night.”

Her words hit you with surprising calmness, as if she were merely commenting on the weather. You struggled to hide the impact they had on you, the way they made your stomach twist and turn in a way that would make a professional dancer jealous. You had a job to do, and engaging in whatever this was with one of your employees was definitely not part of the job description.

You took a deep, steadying breath and reminded yourself of the boundaries that needed to be maintained. This was the type of position people would kill for (literally) and you didn’t want to blow it away by fraternizing. No matter how tempting the allure of a forbidden connection might be, you had to separate yourself from the matter. “I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression,” you expressed, your voice composed but firm. “Our interactions last night were outside the scope of our professional relationship. Neither you nor myself could’ve predicted this kind of… predicament. As of now, we need to focus on our respective roles within SHIELD.”

Wanda’s smirk faded slightly, and she leaned back in the chair. “Is that what you want?” she questioned, her tone holding a hint of defiance. “To just pretend like it never happened?”

You met her gaze - the way her eyes were soft nearly made you take back everything you had just said - but you maintained confidence in the matter, your expression determined to just rip this Band-Aid off and toss it in the garbage. “We have to be realistic, Agent Maximoff. We can not carry a personal relationship. It’s for the best if we maintain a professional distance moving forward.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly, and a flicker of disappointment passed through her eyes. “I understand,” she said quietly. She stood up, popping the rest of the croissant into her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. “You want to carry on like strangers.” A friendly smile lifted her lips, and you could feel a tug against your heart at the sudden loss of warmth.

You nodded, standing your ground. “It’s the right thing to do,” you affirmed, but your voice wavered slightly as you cleared your throat. As you spoke, you couldn’t help but notice how slowly Wanda was approaching you, as if she were a lioness hunting a gazelle. Panic fluttered in your chest, causing you to take a small step back. You made the mistake of meeting her intense, dangerously hungry green eyes. “I’m the Director, you’re an Avenger,” you stammered, your confidence suddenly faltering. The realization of the inappropriate proximity between the two of you struck you like lightning as the back of your legs bumped into a couch you didn’t bother to notice when entering the office, stepping to the side so your back hit the wall behind you instead. Wanda was now mere inches away, her presence enveloping you. Panic and desire wrestled within you, making it hard to form coherent thoughts. “I’m your boss. We…” You trailed off, a sharp breath catching in your constricted throat.

At that moment, Wanda’s grin transformed into a wicked smirk, her eyes seemingly penetrating your very soul. The air between you crackled with tension, and you could feel the heat radiating from her body, or perhaps it was the fire building up behind your flushed cheeks.

You were torn between the weight of responsibility and the magnetic pull of desire. The line between professional boundaries and personal longing blurred as the intensity of the moment consumed you both. The electric pressure hung in the air, captivating you and her in a web of conflicting emotions. Time seemed to slow down as you battled with the overwhelming desire and the consequences of succumbing to it.

“We can’t…” you managed to utter, your voice barely above a whisper, the words feeling feeble against the mounting temptation. Every fiber of your being yearned to give in, to explore the forbidden depths of this connection with Wanda. But the weight of your position as her superior, the potential repercussions, and the need to maintain professionalism weighed heavily on your conscience.

Wanda’s smirk only grew more wicked, her eyes gleaming with mischief and raw hunger. She leaned in closer, her breath brushing across your lips as she whispered, her tone dripping with seduction, “Who says we can’t? Sometimes rules are meant to be broken.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between reason and desire. You could feel the fire burning within you overwhelming any remnants of restraint. With a surge of courage, you closed the gap between you, surrendering to the intoxicating pull of her presence. The world around you faded away as your lips met in a fiery embrace, unleashing a torrent of passion that had been brewing beneath the surface. Walls crumbled, and the pressure of responsibility melted away as you both embraced that forbidden desire that had blossomed between you. In that stolen moment, you chose to abandon caution and surrender to the allure of a love that defied expectations.

Wanda didn’t hesitate to return the kiss, making it more intense, more fervent. You were ultimately pinned against the wall by her body when she moved to get closer to you, feeling the tip of her tongue swipe your bottom lip, silently asking for permission, and she swallowed your moan when you granted it. Her hands gripped your hips to tug you flush into her, sparking a burning sensation in your core, and it only seemed to get hotter when her fingers danced up your body, slipping under your shirt to surf the smooth skin of your curves.

You pulled away breathlessly, your head falling back to the wall as her lips landed on your neck with no mercy, licking and sucking any spot she could touch. You attempted to say her name, to bring these overwhelming feelings to an end, but the only sound you could produce was a groan when her nails dug into you to leave crescent-shaped imprints on your shoulder blades.

“You’re not doing a very good job at keeping things professional, Director,” she whispered, her lips suddenly brushing against your earlobe. She laughed, and your stomach tightened at the breathy sound so close to your ears. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were enjoying what I’m doing to you.” You gasped when her knee squeezed itself between your legs, pressing against you in a way that nearly had you whimpering. “I love the sounds you make for me, Y/N.”

“W- Wanda,” you whispered. “Ple…”

“That’s it, baby,” she breathed, laughing gently as she pulled away slightly to meet your gaze. Her eyes were dark with desire, hooded by a smoldering intensity that mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want.” She smirked, thoroughly enjoying this moment. “Do you want this?” She picked her knee up higher, pressing into you harder, causing your body to jerk forward at the feeling of her touch. Everything inside of you burned painfully, desperately. One of her hands descended across your spine, bringing it around to drag a finger down your gut until it reached the hem of your pants. Chills covered your arms when you felt her dive in without a second thought, an inhuman sound getting caught in your throat. The wide smile crawling on her face told you she found exactly what you wanted.

The sound of a knock on the door shattered the fragile bubble of intimacy that had enveloped you and Wanda. Time seemed to slow down as she moved away from you, your hearts pounding in sync. The handle turned, and your chest tightened with a surge of panic, fearing that your secret would be exposed.

With a casual nonchalance, Wanda stepped aside, effortlessly transitioning into a composed state. She sauntered over to the couch you had already forgotten about, settling herself as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, you seemed to struggle to regain your composure, attempting to mask any signs of the passionate encounter that had just taken place.

The interrupter entered the room without a second knock, Phil Coulson pausing at the door when his eyes landed on Wanda before they flickered to you. He cleared his throat, crossing his hands in front of him as he said, “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just a meeting, Coulson,” you claimed confidently, fully collected at the sight of your deputy, raising an eyebrow at him as you folded your arms over your chest. “We just finished.”

“Not really,” Wanda countered, and you didn’t need to look at her to know there was a teasing smirk faintly tugging a corner of her lips, “but I’m more than willing to wait to thoroughly finish later on, Director.” You managed to fight the shivers that rode your body, but the chills that erupted across your spine were a different story. You wondered if Coulson could hear the way she calls you Director, or if it was all in your head. She stepped into your field of vision when she made her way toward the door, giving Coulson a happy smile as she rested her hand on the door handle. She looked at you over her shoulder, and you could feel your cheeks flush when you saw the darkened look in her eyes.

The door seemed to echo when she closed it behind her, sealing you and Coulson in the room. His words cut through the lingering tension, bringing your attention back to him. “I apologize for interrupting, ma'am,” he began, his voice laced with urgency, “but we have a bit of an emergency.” He stepped closer, holding a tablet that illuminated with an image on the screen. “It seems that Thor’s notorious brother, Loki, has returned to Earth.”

The weight of the situation settled upon you, dispelling the remnants of desire and reminding you of your responsibilities as a leader. As Coulson played the video, you watched a seemingly ordinary scene: Loki calmly walking down a sidewalk. It felt odd to watch. Loki’s presence seemed to always bring a catalyst for chaos and destruction, so you find it difficult to believe that his return could just be taking a stroll, enjoying the sunshine.

Coulson’s gaze met yours, and you could see the faint colors of concern clouding his eyes. “We need to assess the situation and determine his intentions,” he expressed. “While it may seem inconspicuous now, we can’t underestimate the threat he poses.” The memory of Loki’s previous misdeeds lingered in your mind, a vivid reminder of the destruction he had wrought. It was clear that immediate action was necessary to prevent another catastrophe.

“I don’t want to waste time waiting for him to make a move,” you declared, your arms crossing firmly over your chest. Your gaze shifted back to the tablet, a sense of urgency seemingly squeezing your heart. “Loki didn’t return just to enjoy the scenery. Bring him in.”

Coulson nodded, tucking the tablet under his arm. “I’ll mobilize our resources and initiate the necessary protocols,” he affirmed, determination steeling his expression. “We’ll do everything in our power to locate and apprehend Loki swiftly.”

You strode purposefully past him, making your way to your desk. With a swift motion, you brushed away the loose croissant crumbs from the chair before settling down. As you took your seat, your voice carried an air of authority, “I trust you understand the importance of conducting this mission covertly.” Your attention moved away from the man standing in front of the door to one of the papers resting on the surface of your desk. “We cannot afford to have the public become aware of Loki’s presence, not after the chaos that ensued during his previous visit to our planet.”

He nodded in agreement. “I will assemble a team that can operate discreetly,” he replied.

“Make sure Maximoff is included in the roster,” you stated unequivocally, your voice firm and decisive as you reached for a pen.

Coulson hesitated, stepping forward to stand on the opposite side of your desk. He cleared his throat, attempting to voice his concerns, but you were quick to shut him down, “She may be fresh, but, from what you’ve told me about her, her powers have the potential to match Loki’s.” Your eyes locked onto his, and the next words that came from your mouth held a hint of a challenge. “Did you mislead me about her abilities, Deputy Coulson?”

His head shook vigorously. “No, ma'am,” he responded quickly, his tone filled with conviction.

“Then what seems to be the problem?” you pressed, a brow arching with curiosity.

He squirmed under your scrutinizing gaze, his discomfort palpable. “She hasn’t fully gained the trust of the others,” he claimed.

A smile played at the corners of your lips as you leaned back in your chair, assessing Coulson intently while tapping the tip of the pen against your palm. “This mission presents the perfect opportunity for her to earn that trust,” you countered. “I don’t recall my orders being up for debate.”

“Understood, Director,” he responded, resolved. You could see the way his jaw tightened in irritation, but you chose to overlook it as he added, “Agent Maximoff will be included in the mission.” You nodded, acknowledging his commitment, and watched as he walked away, disappearing through the closing door.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you released a heavy sigh, feeling the full weight of being director bearing down on you. Exhaustion crept through your body, and you sank deeper into your chair, running a hand over your face in an attempt to dispel some of the weariness that had settled upon you. You tossed your pen back onto the desk when a realization dawned on you…

Today was just day one.

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 3 months

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Fate's Plans (Wanda Maximoff X Male!Reader)

Characters: Wanda Maximoff X Male!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers (Takes place sometime after AOU)

Warnings: Pregnancy, vague mentions of birth, bit of swearing

Could you write Wanda x male!reader, it’s just fluff really if that’s ok. Wanda and the reader find out they’re pregnant and the fic’s about their time throughout the pregnancy and after their child is born. Maybe the reader kinda freaks out a bit and Wanda finds it really funny/cute.

There were a lot of people who believed that finding true love was an act of fate. If it happened to you, you’d know immediately, and it would become a story to tell your kids and grandkids beside the person you were destined to grow old with. Wanda was one of those people. She believed with all her whole heart that her parents' meeting was fate, even if it meant that they would die young, leaving behind her and Pietro. However, she also believed that this fate wasn’t ever going to happen to her. Life was too cruel- why would life beat her down so hard so far just to throw her a bone now? And she was okay with that. She believed this so hard, that it actually took her a while to realise that she was wrong. Fate did have other plans for her, and the love of her life was already with her.

Wanda only realised it was you, was when she watched you excitedly calling her name repeatedly, getting a little quieter as you got close and closer, beaming as you proceeded to hand her a cloth bag that fit in her hand, and watched excitedly as she opened it, finding several stones, shells and even sea glass, and you went on to explain that on your PTO (Because you’d gotten injured on a mission and should have been resting) you’d gone to the coast with some family and gathered some trinkets because you thought she’d like it. She didn’t like it. She loved it, and she loved that you had thought of her and did this. That’s why immediately after, she asked you to dinner, and your eyes widened, not expecting that, before stuttering out an acceptance.

She was surprised it took her so long for herself to realise how special you were. You were an agent of SHIELD, and had been for two years, starting just a year after Wanda became an Avenger. Being young, and a rookie, you got a lot of teasing, especially from people like Clint and Tony, but you took it all in your stride and with a smile. You were always kind, eager to help, which on first appearance made you appear a bit of an airhead or gullible, but oh boy, was that wrong- Tony learnt that the hard way, when he tried to prank you by putting you in charge of checking over his security software for any faults, bugs, or cyber attacks, him already having it planned out for you to be overwhelmed and for FRIDAY to mimic an actual attack to scare you, only for you to handle it, and actually catch a bug in the system. All of which you announced to Tony in front of several other Avengers, including Wanda. Not long after, you ended up being assigned on a mission with Natasha, Clint and Steve, and come back with the three gobsmacked, and then tell a story of you being the most competent and well trained agent any of them had actually worked with. That kind of complimentary talk really boosts you up the ranks, it turns out, and soon Wanda was able to see it first hand.

But out of missions, you were that kind, slightly silly person. You always asked about her day, complimented her on her recent mission, and eventually, you began giving gifts- getting her coffee in the morning, then also a bit of breakfast, then snacks, and eventually your gifts moved from food and drinks to finding DVDs of obscure movies she mentioned wanting to watch again, or fixing things for her in your down time. Your sewing skills on her cardigans and skirts were far from professional, but they worked as intended, and it was a lovely gesture. Wanda practically slapped herself when she realised these were your ways of trying to show you liked her.

As soon as you two actually started dating, everything just clicked. Your acts of love and affection didn’t slow down at all, except now the coffee and breakfast was something you grabbed together, you kept her favourite snacks at yours for when she came over, and she did the same for you, and dates between you was basically anytime you two got to be alone together- which was whenever you two had time after work, or after a mission, where you two just cuddled and relaxed after it all. The only real problem was the part where you two would be at work and be teased by your team for being kids in love, but it was all in good fun. The team was fully supportive. They saw how happy you made Wanda, and how well you two clicked. It was worth the aww’s and teasing whenever you told each other you loved each other or shared a look across a room. This did get a little better though when you two actually moved in together a year and half into your relationship, though now the team would regularly question when you two were gonna get married already.

Imagine the team's surprise when Wanda announced that she was going on desk work for the next few months- because you two were having a baby.

“You know, there’s still time for a shotgun wedding.” Tony commented, walking past Wanda as she was sitting reading a mission report, also enjoying some baby carrots, the bowl balanced on her belly that had grown a lot the last few months.

“Not happening Tony. Knowing my luck, I’ll go into labour while saying my vows.” She commented, not looking up.

“You don’t even have to walk down an aisle or anything- we get you a white dress, get Y/N in a suit- can’t Captains officiate weddings? I own boats, that counts, right?” Tony questioned.

“Tony, we know you just want another party. I have no clue how you’re still functioning after what you pulled at the baby shower.” Natasha commented, coming in the room to give Wanda new forms, before taking the ones from her. “Now leave her alone, before I tell Clint.” She warned. Tony raised his hands in surrender, before leaving the room. “Now you.”

“I haven’t done anything.” Wanda defended.

“Other than you’re supposed to be working from home? You’re due any day now.” Natasha pointed out.

“Exactly- Y/N got dragged off to that mission the other day and isn’t back yet- if I go into labour at home, I’m by myself.” She pointed out.

“And if Y/N finds out you’re not following doctor’s orders, he’s gonna be irate.” She pointed out. Wanda knew she was right. Ever since Wanda had shown you the test results, you somehow became even more affectionate, even more loving, but also now protective. You always tried to not be overbearing on her and get on her nerves- she was the one actually going through it after all. You made sure her snack stash, which adjusted to her cravings, was always well stocked. As the pregnancy progressed, you switched chores- her doing any that she could do with minimal moving or while sat on a stool, and you did anything that would cause her any back pain. You set the nursery up together, you doing the painting, and Wanda put together most of the furniture, not having to do any heavy lifting thanks to her powers, though every few weeks you could come home to the nursery reorganised because she wasn’t happy about some aspects of it- the cot too far away from the door, the chair too far away from the cot, the cot and chair are too close together. Eventually she settled on a layout.

When Wanda entered her 3rd Trimester, was when you became a true worrier. If she showed any discomfort, you were by her side to try and help, and with every day closer to the due date, Wanda could tell you were getting more anxious- she blamed all the books and research you did pretty early on in her pregnancy, which led you down a rabbit hole about risks and worst case scenarios, though you didn’t want to talk about it with her- as to not worry her. That stress really showed when you found out about your current mission, and Wanda saw you actually raise your voice at Fury for sending you on it, knowing the situation. In the end, Fury could not reassign who was on the mission, but he did extend your leave after the baby’s birth by 2 months. Wanda promised to keep the baby in till you came back, and Natasha, Clint and Bruce promised to look after Wanda and also to keep Tony on a leash.

“Have you heard anything from them on how the mission’s going?” Wanda inquired, trying to change the subject.

“Got a vague text from Steve saying ‘nearly done’ early this morning, but other than that, nothing, but knowing how effective Steve, Thor and Y/N work together, I’m expecting them back tonight.” She told Wanda. “In other words, you have until tonight to get home, or I'm telling.”

“I can handle Y/N being a little annoyed at me being here- I want to see him as soon as he gets back, not a second longer.” Wanda decided, resting her head back in her chair. Natasha felt a buzz in her pocket, pulling her phone out, before grinning and putting it away.

“Well better get moving- they’re already landing.”

You were exhausted from the mission, but eager to get off the jet and get to Wanda. You didn’t like the idea on her being alone, both in the day and at night while due any moment- you heard a lot of labours start at night, and you’d had a nightmare while on your mission of Wanda waking up in the middle of the night with contractions, no one answering her calls because they were asleep, and an ambulance not getting to her for hours. You didn’t want that, so the best spot for you was by her side.

As soon as Steve landed the plane, you were off it, stripping off harnesses, belts and gear as you walked, rushing inside the building for the quicked debrief which you planned to mostly consist of ‘I’ll do the paperwork later’ talk, only to spot Wanda shuffling towards you, right beside Natasha, who sent an apologetic smile. You dumped your gear on the spot and ran to her. “You okay? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting.” You fussed, taking Wanda in your arms, seeing her face for any discomfort- any sign she was having contractions or in labour- but she just smiled back at you.

“Figured me being here meant having people around, so even if I went into labour, I wouldn’t be alone.” She pointed out. You sighed, your shoulders relaxing, the comment actually soothing that horrible thought that had been haunting your dreams. It was almost like-

“Have you been reading my mind again?” You asked her.

“Only when your thoughts are so loud, I can hear them without telepathy. You worry too much, my love.” She told you, resting her hand on your cheek.

“And now that you’re home- go take her home before we have to have Bruce deliver your kid- I’m not sure if Bruce could handle that stress. I’ll handle the debrief and Fury. Enjoy your last few days of peace for the next few years.” Steve commented as he walked past you both. You jokingly saluted him, and did as told.

As soon as you got home, got Wanda settled and got the chores done that needed to be done, you joined your girlfriend in your bed, putting on one of the old DvDs of an old sitcom Wanda loved that she got you addicted to as well. “Tony giving you any trouble?” You asked.

“Other than wanting us to have a shotgun wedding so he can get as wasted as he did at our baby shower? No… how did he even get that drunk?” Wanda asked.

“If I had to guess… Thor and his flask of Asguardian alcohol. But then again I wouldn’t put it past him to figure out where we ordered our chocolates and got alcohol laced ones and ate them all to himself… can you imagine him getting drunk at our daughter’s Christmas Nativity? Or her toddler ballet classes?” You humoured, making Wanda laugh.

“Oh, I think you mean our son’s Christmas Nativity and his toddler ballet classes. This, is a boy.” She said, tapping her stomach.

“Hmmm, I still think for a girl, little Wanda Jr.” You told her, leaning over to kiss her bump.

“If it is a girl, we are not calling her Wanda Jr.” She grinned, and you hummed. “You sure you’re okay with Pietro for a boy?” She asked.

“Of course I am. Has been since we talked about it 6 months ago. Hell if it is a girl, we can have Petra, or something.” You suggested, wrapping an arm around her. “I wish I could have met him. I bet he would have been the best uncle… and also he’d join Tony in the shotgun wedding idea.” You commented, making her chuckle.

“Yeah, he would… I think he’d love you though, he’d want us to marry just to gain you as a brother.” She added. “Anyway, one episode, then bed, I’m tired from looking at paper all day, and don’t lie to me about being tired yourself.” She told you. You agreed to that, but ended up falling asleep not even half way through.

However, you did wake up to Wanda shaking your arm. “Hmm? Yeah? Need water? The bathroom?” You asked on autopilot, before you became more aware of your surroundings, realising Wanda was already out of bed… a bed, that was wet.

“Get dressed and take me to the hospital- my water broke.” She told you, keeping her voice low as she brushed her hair out before clipping it back. You stared at her, processing her words, before it clicked. Hospital. Water. Broke. Labour. Baby. Now.

“Oh fuck we’re doing this!” You announced, jumping out of bed, rushing to grab clothes from your drawers to get dressed, while Wanda watched you, happy in her pyjamas, slippers and dressing gown as you hurried to get half decent, before grabbing her to-go bag from the chair in the corner, taking her by the arm and escorting outside to drive her to the hospital. “Let me know when you feel a contraction- have you felt any yet? Have you timed them? Your water breaking means it’s gonna speed up.” You requested as you drove.

“Had a few in bed- thought they were braxton hicks, but then my water broke, so I woke you up. I wasn’t timing them, but I will now- hold on.” She said, her voice becoming strained as she grabbed the door and your arm, and you pulled over and looked at her. “No, drive! Contraction!” She ordered.

“Oh! Right, sorry!” You apologised, taking off again. Wanda already knew this was going to be an experience, and a story to tell later with you right there.

Boy was she right. From getting there, to getting her checked into the maternity ward, all attempts to hold back on being dramatically worried was forgotten. At all times, you had some sort of contact with Wanda, whether that was holding her as she walked around, letting her squeeze your hand through contractions, rubbing her back to help with pains, or hugging her and telling her she was doing amazing, you were there. You were there every step of the way, all attention on her, checking in on her, making sure she was as comfortable as she could be, and being a rock. You made the whole thing go as smoothly as they could, and Wanda was thankful for that. She wasn’t sure she could do it without you. But eventually, it was over, and she had her baby in her arms. She looked over at you, sat beside her, arms leant on the siderails, looking at your daughter, mesmerized, before looking up at Wanda. “She’s so small.” You whispered, making her smile.

“Get over here and hold her, you dork.” She told you, shuffling over as much as she could so you could partially lay with her, taking your daughter in your arms, and looking down at her, before once again turning to Wanda, this time kissing her head.

“My girls. My beautiful girls, my whole world.” You told her, and she smiled, resting her head on you as you got comfortable with your baby, who was sound asleep in your arms, like she’d been the one doing all the hard work. “I knew you were a girl. Dreamt about it all the time- my little girl who looks just like her beautiful mom.” You told the baby in your arms.

“So, what are we naming her? And don’t say Wanda Jr.” She questioned.

“Thought we already agreed? Petra, right? Unless you want that as a first name, in which case, we could do what Clint did for you and name her after him. What’s the female version of Clint? Clinton?... Cli-”

“Don’t finish that thought, you’re too sleep deprived. Petra’s fine.” She told you, already seeing where exactly you were going, even if you didn’t. “Anyway, you should probably go tell the others- let Tony know a shotgun wedding is no longer an option but he can throw a party anyway.” She told you.

“Alright, I can do that. Want me to put our baby down to sleep so you can get some rest? I’ll make sure they don’t come around till late morning.” You told her, kissing her head as she nodded, and you put Petra in her cot beside Wanda.

“And as soon as you’re done, get back here, I want more hugs, even if it’s cramped.” She told you, getting a playful salute like how you had done to Steve earlier, before you grabbed your phone to step out and share the good news. Wanda rolled onto her side to look at her daughter, reaching out to put her arm into her cot, running a finger across her cheek.

Hope you like it! I wrote this in about 2-3 hours in one sitting so if there's mistakes please let me know. If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort @freyathehuntress @abbybills22-blog @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero@originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

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mrs-barnes-rogers-writes · 4 months

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A Second Chance Is A Better Chance - Christmas As A Roamer - The Ninth Christmas

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Witch Reader, eventual ? x Omega Witch Reader and Alpha Steve Rogers X Omega Witch Reader

Summary: Rejected by your true mate at 21, you’ve given up on the Fates and the Moon Goddesses giving you a second chance. Being a Roamer for the last 9 years, you’re an Omega hardened by the world. You’re safe on your own because of your witchcraft, but it doesn’t stop Alphas and plenty of others sniffing around, especially when you’re an unmated Omega witch, who’s wolf also happens to be white, the rarest kind. You don’t need anyone, but why do you keep coming back to Brookville and why do you keep walking into trouble and helping people that you don’t know but for some strange reason feel like family. And where is that smell of apple pie coming from?

Warnings: A/B/O, eventual smut, violence in parts, witchcraft, shapeshifters,

You watched as the flames flickered in the fireplace, ignoring the buzz of your phone again. The library was your favourite room in the X Pack’s house. Dark bookcases lined the walls with a mix of the classics and modern tales along the shelves.

“You’re gonna have to answer that at some point” pushed Logan.

You sighed and flipped your phone over, so it was face down on the couch you were curled up on.

“I don’t know who it is.“ you lied.

“Oh so it’s not Frank then? Trying to make sure that you’re not on your own at Christmas, I didn’t realise you were on such close terms with them.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, but I’d appreciate it if you’d pick up the phone, then at least he’d stop calling me.”

“What? he called you? Why would he do that?”

“I’m guessing because he cares. He called the Coulsons too.”

“How did he even know I was here?”

“Well, your list of friends isn’t exactly long, is it?”

“Rude.”

“And it doesn’t really take a rocket scientist, or Sherlock Holmes to figure out where you’d be. Either you’re gonna be back home, which is very unlikely, or with someone you know.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve spent Christmas alone before.”

“But it ain’t pleasant kid, take it from someone who knows and understands.”

You huffed and looked up at the ceiling.

“You can stay as long as you need to”

You nodded and let out a broken thank you.

“But I might need a favour?”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“You’re asking a favour of a witch that isn’t yours Logan?”

“I am.”

“Go on then. Although I’m not into women if you’re wanting to turn your throuple into a quad.”

“Ha ha ha” Logan replied dryly “I think I’ve got my hands full without throwing you into the mix.”

You snorted with laughter.

“Yeah you might have a point.”

“It is about them though, well, us.”

“OK. This is very vague so far.”

“Jean and I are ready for pups.”

“And Storm?” You answered quickly.

“She’s partly ready.”

“Again vague.”

“She’s scared.”

“Well being a mother is scary. Birth is scary. Even being pregnant can be scary for some.”

“And throw in being a witch into the mix and it’s got her, well, even more scared than she should be.”

“Do you usually dictate how your mates should feel?”

Logan held his hands up in surrender.

“That’s not what I meant.” he sighed “I, how do I put this without sounding like an asshole alpha?”

You said nothing but raised an eyebrow.

“I already sound like one don’t I?”

“I mean……”

“Yes you do.” Came a voice from the doorway. Jean.

“You understand her in ways we never can” she added as she set herself down beside you.

Logan went to interrupt but was cut off by a firm look from his mate.

“You can understand her where we can’t. We don’t know what it’s like to be an omega. To be an omega witch. To be a rarity. When your powers have been a cause of pain, ridicule and questionable childhoods.”

You shot her a stern look.

“And where do I fit in this?” you asked.

“She’s scared her powers will get out of control when the labour starts.” Jean replied.

“Getting ahead of yourselves aren’t you? She’s not pregnant yet.”

“Exactly, she’s not off birth control. She won’t even consider it without having a plan in place.” Logan snarked.

“And that’s her choice and we have to respect that.” Jean added.

“I’m not going to ask her to come off birth control or convince her to let you knock her up just because it’s what you want!” you quipped back.

“Damn straight sister.” Came another voice and Storm stepped out of the shadows.

Both Logan and Jean eyes went wide with shock.

“How? Why couldn’t we smell you?” Logan almost barked.

“A concealing spell, a damn good one!” Jean frowned.

“Oh I wonder where she learnt that.” You sniggered.

Storm perched herself on the arm of the couch you were sitting on and started to play with your hair and smirked.

Jean and Logan glanced at each other. Storm hadn’t taken the overheard conversation as badly as they’d thought. They quickly discovered they were wrong, as she opened the bond and rushed her emotions through it.

“Don’t ever pull this shit again!” Storm snapped. “You aren’t as discreet as you think you are. White wolf ears, remember?”

“We thought you were sleeping.” Logan replied

“Well, that’s your own dumbass fault.” You quipped.

Storm’s expression softened as she looked down at you, still fiddling with your hair.

“We’ve already spoken. Y/N has agreed to be around during the pregnancy and during the labour. Logan you can speak to the Coulsons about a long term rental on the cottage and you two will be paying for it.”

Logan rolled his eyes as Jean replied.

“Of course.”

“You didn’t tell them the best part!” you added, smirking at Logan.

“Oh of course, she’s going to be godmother.”

“What!!?” Logan was quick to reply.

“Storm, that’s usually a mate decision.” Jean added.

“Yeah, so is trying for a baby.” she quipped back.

Jean and Logan locked eyes and it was obvious to you and Storm that they were mind linking.

“Well, it makes complete sense. Whoever guides our pup safely into the world should be a godparent.” Jean confirmed.

“And that’s me. You’re welcome.” you replied.

“Great, now we’ll never be rid of her.” Logan threw in and you snorted with laughter.

Meanwhile on the other side of Brookville……….

Steve stood learning against the window frame looking out on to the packs land. Two years ago he had a letter in his hand telling him of his inheritance and now his pack were settled.

Well as settled as a bunch of ex-military reprobates could be.

“Uncle Steve” called a little voice pulling his attention away from the window. He looked down to see Lila, Clint’s middle child, starting to climb his leg.

“You k?”

“Yeah, sweetheart I’m ok.” Steve replied lifting him into his arms.

“Face sad.”

“I’m OK.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Steve spotted a shooting star dance across the sky. “Hey look, you think that’s a star or Santa?”

“Oooting star”

“Shooting star sweetheart.”

“Wish”

“Yeah, you’re right, I’ll make one and you make one, ready?”

“Yes”

Steve closed his eyes and made a wish and peeked as little Lila made hers too. He held her tightly in his arms and planted a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Would he ever gets this? His own child in his arms? He didn’t know anymore, he was starting to think that the chance had been taken away by the mate that rejected him.

“Everything OK over here?”

Clint asked, picking up on the melancholy in Steve’s scent.

“Yeah sorry, we were looking at the stars.”

“Oooting stars Daddy”

“Oh wow, you make a wish?”

“Yes for Uncle Steve?”

“You used your wish for me?” Steve asked.

“Yep!”

“That’s sweet baby, time to say goodnight though.” Clint replied, lifting Lila from Steve’s arms.

The Barton’s kids made their way around the pack saying goodnight, giving out hugs as they were told to go straight to sleep ready for Santa.

The whisper of little Lila wasn’t missed as Clint carried her upstairs, Laura following as she held Cooper’s hand and carried baby Nathaniel.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah sweetie.”

“I wished for Uncle Stevie to be happy.”

The remaining pack members turned to look at Steve, who promptly turned back to the window, swallowing hard to try and contain the lump that had formed in his throat.

‘Let’s hope your wish works sweetheart’, Steve thought to himself waiting for another shooting star.

On the other side of the room Natasha locked eyes with Bucky and mind linked with him. Bucky frowned at her, she knew he didn’t like mind linking since he was a POW.

“The Luna you keep dreaming, about what does she look like?”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at her, which she returned both turning to look at Steve.

#steve rogers x reader #avengers au #alpha steve rogers #alpha steve rogers x reader #alpha steve x omega reader #steve rogers x witch reader #alpha steve rogers x omega reader

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nekoannie-chan · 1 year

Text

500 years

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Witch!Reader.

Word count: 466 words.

Summary: After long, long time, Steve and you reunite again.

Warnings: Magic AU, Soulmate Au, I have no idea what I wrote.

A/N: This my entry to @the-slumberparty

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted

You opened your eyes when you felt the soft sea breeze on your face, and the smell of salt invaded your senses.

How long had you been asleep?

The sacrifice you had made in the last magical war had been... was 500 years ago, you were surprised to see how long it had taken you to wake up this time.

But you couldn't deny that you were delighted when the rest of the coven and other magical beings found out that you finally woke up, you had won the admiration of everyone.

As you ate your breakfast, you kept thinking about everything you had to learn new, the world had changed too much.

However, as you looked over the documents you had been given to learn about the most important magical figures that existed after what had happened to you.

You stopped to look at Steve's, something about it caught your attention, and you felt something itchy in your arm as you were reading.

Several days had passed and you couldn't stop thinking about Steve, the papers said that he had also sacrificed himself just like you. When you asked, they told you they didn't have a single piece of information on his final location, they tried everything, to no avail, but you knew of a way to find him. The only thing you were missing was an updated map, the ones you had were too old and useless.

Fortunately, your box, where you kept everything important, was still intact, you took one of the crystals, recited the spell and quickly the crystal showed you where it was.

You were simply following your intuition, which told you to find it.

You waited until nightfall, you didn't want anyone to know what you were going to do, and you didn't plan to answer their questions anyway.

Stealthily, you approached him, he was lying there asleep, and that's when you started the ritual to wake him up, if it was really what you thought, you were the only one who could make him open his eyes.

You smiled when you realized it was working, after a while his beautiful blue eyes saw you, at first he looked confused.

“Do I know you? “Steve asked you.

“You tell me, it's been a long time," you answered.

“I've been looking for you all this time.

“I know, some things went wrong.

“I don't know what happened last time, but it doesn't matter, you found me," he said.

“We're finally together again.

“What are we going to do?

“First I want to show you the new things in this world, it's so changed, then we'll make up for all the time we weren't together.

Finally, the mark had stopped itching and had regained its color, you noticed Steve's too.

#navy and roo’s sleepover #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x witch reader

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captainmarvel4ever · 6 months

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rxmqnova · 4 months

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Can i please request a Wanda x little sister reader.

Reader uses powers (they didn't know she had) when Steve is being extra hard on Wanda. "Stop making Sissy cry" as she turned the floor under Steve's feet to liquid. After getting the captain stuck up to the knees, reader only calms down once Wanda picks us up and cuddles us close. We refuse to release Steve though, not until Nat gets back (she tries hard not to laugh), and bribes us with the present she brought us back.

(Very brief WandaNat .... maybe)?

Anyway, thanks for reading 👍

No worries if you don't want to write this or can't.

Little protector

Y/N: 6 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV A loud gasp escapes Y/N's lips as soon as her house made of lego falls on the ground. The little girl has been playing in her room when suddenly a red magic ball formed in her hand and flew away, hitting her lego house.

"Cool!" She grins, happy that she can be like her big sister Wanda now.

Speaking of Wanda, the older Maximoff is currently in the gym, training with Steve. Y/N knows her sister needs to know about it and the little one really wants to train with Wanda and become an Avenger just like her sister.

Y/N immediately sprints to the gym, knowing her sister is there. As soon as she steps in, she sits down on a bench, loving to watch her sister train and completely forgetting why she came to the gym in the first place.

Though suddenly Steve raises his voice at Wanda on which the little Maximoff furrows her brows, a pot forming on her face. Y/N's very protective over her big sister, so Steve not being nice to her sister is making her really angry.

Once Y/N notices a few tears escaping her big sister's eyes, that's it for her and she immediately makes her way over there, standing in front of Wanda with her arms crossed and a pout on her face.

But because Y/N is still really small compared to Steve, he doesn't even notice her which makes Y/N even more angry.

"Stop making sissy cry!" Y/N shouts, stomping her foot which makes the ground under Steve's feet turn into liquid, causing him to fall down into it.

Wanda gasps, protectively wrapping her arms around her little sister and pulling her back a little bit while Y/N just puts her hand over her mouth, trying to hold her giggles.

"What have you done, Wanda?" Steve asks irritated, trying to get back on the floor, the weird form of the liquid not really allowing it.

"Don't be mean to Wanda!" Y/N shouts with a pout, not liking the tone of Steve's voice and stomping her foot once again.

The liquid turns back into its previous form, trapping Steve completely while Wanda's just standing there completely shocked.

"What are you doing?!" Steve raises his voice, still trying to get out, but can't move at all now.

"I said-"

"No, no, no, that's enough, honey" Wanda's quick to lift her little sister up, sitting her on her hip and holding her close before she can stomp her foot once again.

"But I don't like when someone's mean to you, Wanda" Y/N pouts once again, twirling her little finger around a strand of Wanda's hair.

"Honey, that's really sweet of you, but we can't use our powers on friends, even if they're sometimes mean" Wanda explains, tucking a strand of hair behind her little sister's ear. "When did you even get those powers?"

"Just now! I was just about to tell you. Now we can train together!" Y/N grins, kicking her legs happily.

"Hello? I'm still here" Steve reminds.

"Okay, bubs. It's time to free him" Wanda orders.

Y/N looks at Steve who still seems to be really angry and just shakes her head with a giggle.

"What do you mean no, missy?" Wanda raises an eyebrow, making Y/N giggle once again.

"When I'm not being nice you always sit me on a step, so Steve has to stay here, because he wasn't nice to you" The tiny girl reasons, looking at her sister seriously.

"Seriously? Get me out of here!" Steve orders, crossing his arms over his chest and not believing his ears right now.

"No" Y/N shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest as well. "What's going on here?" Natasha asks, appearing in the gym as she just got back from the store and was about to train for a bit.

She gotta try really hard not to laugh when she sees Steve stuck up in the floor, not being able to get out.

"Ask this little monkey, it's her job" Wanda sighs.

"Oh, really? You did this, Y/N/N?" Natasha asks, a chuckle escaping her lips at the sight of mad Steve stuck in the floor.

"How about some help instead of making fun of it, Romanoff?" Steve rolls his eyes.

"Can you let him go, sweetheart?" Natasha asks softly, tucking a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear.

"No" Y/N shakes her head no, crossing her arms over her chest again.

"And why is that, missy?" Natasha raises an eyebrow playfully.

"He was very mean to Wanda. She even cried" Y/N explains seriously.

"Well, but that's not nice, is it? I think Steve is very lucky I wasn't here otherwise he'd end up much worse than just stuck in the floor" Natasha says, giving Steve a glare for making her girlfriend cry. "I don't know, Steve. Maybe we should just leave you here" She teases, making Y/N giggle.

"What?! You can't be serious right now" Steve's eyes widen, watching the three girls in disbelief.

"Just get him out already" Wanda jumps in, knowing her overprotective little sister and overprotective girlfriend would let Steve here for god knows how long.

"Alright" Natasha sighs. "I might have bought you a little something in the store, детка. So how about you let Steve out and I'll give you that little something?" Natasha offers, knowing Y/N can't say no to presents. (baby)

"Hmmm…. Okay, but can I sleep with you and Wanda today?" Y/N asks, pulling out her best puppy eyes on which Natasha lets out a chuckle.

"Alright, I think we can make an exception. What do you think, Wands?" Natasha questions, looking at Wanda who smiles and nods.

"We can, but now let Steve out, honey" Wanda stands her little sister on the ground, placing her hands on Y/N's small shoulders.

"But how?" Y/N asks, looking at Wanda with hope she'd help her while Steve's eyes widen, already thinking he'll stay there forever.

"Oh… Close your eyes, honey" Wanda tries to help, kneeling down to her little sister when Y/N does what she was told. "Okay, now you need to really concentrate. You need to think really hard about what you want to do"

Y/N does what her sister said, thinking really hard about getting Steve out of the floor and after a few minutes, the floor around Steve turns into liquid once again, so Natasha's quick to help him out.

"Good job, honey" Wanda smiles, pulling her sister in for a hug and pressing a kiss to her little cheek.

"Natty, what did you get me in the store?" Y/N asks impatiently, making Natasha and Wanda let out a small laugh.

"Alright, you cheeky little girl. Come with me" Natasha chuckles, taking Y/N's tiny hand in hers and leading her out of the gym.

Wanda follows the pair, leaving soaked Steve in the gym. One thing is sure now… everyone should know not to mess with Wanda otherwise Y/N will teach them a lesson.

-----------------------

Sorry for the long wait, guys! I'm pretty busy with school, but I promise I'm working on all your requests!! <33

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

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marvelflame2010 · 1 year

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Y/n walking into the kitchen with a bloody dagger: Did you guys know that when you get stabbed, you also get a dagger in return?

Steve cautiously: Y/n...is that YOUR blood on the dagger?

Y/n: Yep. *twirls blade* Don't worry, I stabbed the bad guy back.

Wanda: Do you need to go the medbay?

Y/n: No. I stitched up the wound. I'll be fine.

Bucky entering the room: Hey guys. *looks at Y/n and the blade*

Bucky: Doll

Y/n: Yeah, babe?

Bucky: Did you get stabbed?

Y/n: I stitched up the wound, plus the serum will help it heal. I'll be fine!

Bucky slapping his hand on his face: You are the reason I worry

Y/n: Is that a bad thing?

Bucky: Does a pig have a curly tail?

Y/n: ...I'll take that as a yes

Bucky: Good. Do that

#bucky barnes x reader #incorrect steve rogers #captain america incorrect quotes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff incorrect quotes #scarlett witch incorrect #incorrect bucky quotes #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky x avenger #bucky x asgardian reader #bucky x agent!reader #incorrect avengers #incorrect avengers quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect quotes #marvel incorrect #marvel incorrect quotes #bucky incorrect quotes

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marvelouttakes · 8 months

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wmarximoff · 1 year

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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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