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#wanda maximoff x black!male!reader

infernalodie · 1 year

Note

wanda maximoff x black!male!reader.

reader gets badly hurt during a mission and wanda nurtures him back to help. to show how grateful he is, he finds all of her favorite skovian snacks and/or stuffed plushies. just total fluff and soft smut if wanted.

𝐀 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 || 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘛𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘖𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦”

Inspo: Etta James - A Sunday Kind of Love

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Black!Male!reader

Summary: Dancing around feelings would only last until Sunday, the start of a new week...

Warnings: none (very tiny bit of angst) because this shit is adorable

Words: 2822

“How’s he been doing?” Natasha’s voice gently pulled Wanda from her thoughts. Blinking rapidly and turning her gaze to the rose-coloured-haired woman. Finding the enchanting assassin to already be watching her with an inquisitive look in her eye. This was something Wanda should be used to since she confessed to a few unannounced feelings she felt toward a specific man. “Been up since he got back from the mission?”

Wanda tilted her head slightly, eyes looking toward the ceiling. Fingertips gently danced along the exterior of her glass filled with a wine that had appeared in the kitchen one day. “He’s stubborn. Doesn’t like the help even when I could knock him over with a tiny press of my finger to his stomach,” Wanda explained, lips slowly curving into a tiny smile. “But his physical therapy has been going well. His skin has been healing slowly, so he’s still very sensitive to the touch.”

When you came back from your mission with Steve, Wanda had been by your side the moment you the Quinjet landed on the helipad. She remembers the sight of your uniform charred with the fabric of your sleeves burnt, revealing your skin that had been caught in some type of fire or explosion. And then she remembered you holding a charming smile when she met your tired gaze. But that had been swiftly followed by you collapsing and Wanda using her powers to stop your fall.

Natasha hummed, shrugging her shoulders. “When he joined S.H.I.E.L.D. he was a pain in the ass. But now, dare I say, he’s slightly easier to work with,” she said. “But with you nursing him back to health, I am sure he’ll soften up some more. Even if it’s just with you.”

“Speaking of Y/n-” Wanda pulled back the sleeve of her denim jacket, looking down at her watch. “-I need to grab him really quick.”

“The rest of the team will be spending out at the Jackpot by the time you get back,” Natasha told her. “So, if you want to come out after you bring him back, then swing by.”

“I don’t think I can,” Wanda sighed, grabbing her keys from one of the drawers. “Y/n’s has to eat, take his painkillers, and then try to sleep. All those steps involve my help which I am fine to do.”

When she heard a quiet snicker, she looked up and found Natasha hiding her lips behind her glass. Making her crack a smile, brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you giggling about?”

Still taking a sip, Natasha hummed with a wave of her hand. “It just seems like you two are together already from the way you talk,” she pointed out. “It’s adorable how much you care about him. Like you two are an old married couple.”

Wanda felt the heat from her body rise and nestle in her face. In the weeks of Wanda helping nurse you back to health, there had been some form of trust and care felt from both sides. Which made Wanda only want to get you back to the best state she could. If that meant driving you around, making you food, using her powers to help you go to sleep when your burns became irritated by the bed, she did it all for you. And maybe that was just her being naive and allowing her feelings to become apparent in her acts of kindness.

“Ok, I’m going to go now. Have a good night with the team, Nat.” Wanda quickly rushed out of the kitchen, hoping to avoid and run away from the older woman’s statement.

But Natasha sat there, a smirk etched on her lips as she shook her head. “Love birds.”

Arriving at the physical therapy that you’d been going to for about two months, Wanda stood in the lobby of the physical therapy office. Through the double doors, she could see you talking to a nurse helping you recover from your injuries. In the mission, you’d suffered a broken light leg with extreme 4-degree burns that left you bedridden for weeks before you started taking things slow with your movements. Wanda had been there for every step you took, holding your hands and helping you move through your room until you eventually were given crutches to move on your own.

But with also being able to see you, she could hear your thoughts, and theft undoubtedly put a smile on her face. Able to listen in on the pure boredom running through your head and how you just wanted to be gone and back at the tower drinking some coffee and watching a movie. Yet, on the surface, you wore an interested look on your face that could get by the nurse who was likely explaining your exercises on Tuesday. But you could care less. You just wanted to enjoy your Sunday.

When you were finally let go by the nurse, you hobbled your way over with a deadpan. Able to see the amused look on Wanda’s face through the glass. Entering the lobby, you glared. “Not one word, Maximoff.”

“But you look adorable when you’re grouchy,” she teased, earning a groan from you. She opened the front door, allowing you to go first before she followed. “When we get back, you can just enjoy whatever TV show you’re going to watch. I’ll make you some coffee.”

God, tonight is going to be amazing

“Just remember that you owe me after this.” Wanda looked at you, finding you inhaled deeply, exhaling heavily.

“Get out of my head, Wanda,” you muttered. “Don’t need you poking around at the stuff that you shouldn’t.”

Since you met her in that old base that housed Klaue and Ultron, she had poked her way into your thoughts. Made memories rise to the surface and remind you of the darkness that clouded it. That was the last and only time you would ever allow her to do such a thing. But now, her being a part of the team and taking care of you, your leniency with her use had wavered. If it meant putting your mind at ease before you slept, then you allowed it. If she wanted to poke around and hear your sarcastic comments when Tony went on rambling about one of his projects, you allowed it since it made her laugh. But to access memories and put you in a state where you had trouble seeing the differences between history and the present, you would never allow it.

“New nurse,” Wanda pointed out, hearing you hum in acknowledgement. “Cassandra couldn’t come in today?”

Opening the passenger door, you sighed. “Yeah, she had some business to take care of today,” you explained. “Her apprentice took care of me today. Not a terrible girl, just was way too thorough than I’d like.”

Slipping into the seat, Wanda leaned down and smirked. “You don’t like anything that doesn’t appeal to your moral compass.” And before you could protest, she shut the door on your face. Silencing you as you exhaled heavily and leaned back in the seat. Glancing over when Wanda got inside, not waiting to pull out of the parking lot and make her way toward the Avengers tower.

The two of you sat in silence for the majority of the ride. That familiar comfort falling over the two of you that needn’t be accompanied by any conversation. It was the beauty of the relationship you two had. There wasn’t any need for words when the presence of one another was enough to relax. And even when you got to the tower, the two of you didn’t speak. Just standing by one another in the elevator till the doors open with the two of you stepping out into the lounge.

Truthfully, Natasha wasn’t exactly entirely wrong in her statement earlier. Wanda was beginning to see the relationship you and she had as something natural. Something that didn’t need to be made official when your guys’ words and actions spoke more than a title connecting the two of you could. For you, even when you were a belligerent fool, you still showed your care and love toward the witch. Because every day when you woke up to the sound of her soothing voice, you felt like there was something to get up to. Like there was something calling and urging you to get started with your day.

Exiting the elevator, you followed Wanda toward the kitchen. “The rest of the team went out to drink. So, you won’t have to deal with any of them for the majority of the night.” Wanda tossed the keys onto the island, moving toward the coffee machine. “I can make you a cup of coffee if you want to go get changed into something more comfortable.”

Wanda looked back at you, seeing you lean your crutches against the island and carefully begin to move through the kitchen. No word was spoken with your actions of grabbing ingredients. And when you came by her side, you placed your hand on her lower back, smiling. “I’m going to need you to scoot over, darling.”

The nickname struck an anvil in Wanda’s heart, the sparks of a burning metal resting on her cheeks She quickly stepped away and allowed you to grab the bottle of red wine she and Natasha had been drinking hours ago. You grabbed two glasses and began to pour. “You can sit and relax,” you told her. “I’m going to make you dinner.”

She wanted to protest and use her powers to sit you down, but she knew what that would result in. Likely you ignore her for the rest of the night or an argument starts over her actions. Either or, she didn’t want to deal with that, and the offer was too good to let down. Especially with her curiosity brewing with the wonder of what scheme you were brewing.

So, she took the glass you extended to her and sat on the island. Legs crossed as you moved with an elegance only a chef could have. Yet, she often needed to remind herself that all her cooking techniques had been from you. Because before you became gifted or cursed with the super soldier serum, you were chef down in the streets of New York. If she remembers correctly, you worked in Hell's Kitchen right next door to where one of your lawyer friends worked.

It often became hard for her to think of you ever being anything else besides a hero. On the battlefield, you were a brutal human being. In the way, you disposed of the opposition or in your moral compass and what you believed was right. So, seeing you cut up these carrots with speed and precision was new every time she sees it.

Glancing up from the cutting board, you met Wanda’s gaze. Her hands zeroed in on your hands, lips slightly parted, and a layered look in her eyes of something you could identify. Making you smirk, clearing your throat. The sound made her blink rapidly, looking up at you inquiringly. “It amazes me that I don’t need powers to understand what you are thinking, Wanda.”

“It’s not like that,” she defended, biting her bottom lip. “It’s just hard to think that you used to do this. After seeing the things you’ve done in the field-”

“I did those things to keep the team and world safe,” you interjected softly, dumping the carrots into the pot of boiling water. “Everything I will do has a reason to it. So, although I understand what you are trying to say, it doesn’t mean I have forgotten what makes me human.”

Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, head slightly tilting as she stares at you. “I think even when I’ve seen you kill people you were human, Y/n.” Her words make you falter for a moment, a moment too long that it allowed her to see that her words indeed had an effect on you.

Pursing your lips, you swallowed the lump in your throat and looked back at her. “Thanks, love.”

From there, a blanket of silence rested over the both of you in that comforting and warm way from before. Wanda watched you cook and you soaked up the warm feeling in your chest from being her center of attention. And somewhere in that time, she left to get out of some clothes. Coming back in some shorts with one of your shirts that hid said shorts. It was an adorable sight that you could get used to if things played well in your favour.

But she continued to watch you scoop the food from inside the pot and pour it into the bowls. Grabbing a spoon, and placing it in the bowl, you walked toward the girl and handed it to her. “Thank you.” She smiled, taking hold of the spoon and diving into the dish. It was a soup with some meat broth involved in it. And the smell was so familiar it was hard for Wanda to not feel a warm sense of contentment. And when she placed the hot liquid between her lips, her eyes flickered shut. A deep hum emitted from the depths of her chest as she placed the bowl down.

You had watched and couldn’t shake the smile from your lips. “It’s Borscht,” you stated, gaining the girl’s attention. You shrugged, “I thought you deserved something close to home instead of some random dish we Americans have. And I know you don’t like talking about Sokovia, but I feel like you deserve the little things that remind you of home because we all deserve that right.”

Wanda chewed on the inside of her cheek, the stinging sensation behind her eyes making her blink rapidly. Leaning her face into one of her hands, hiding her features from your curious gaze. And you were left in silence before she finally sat up, sniffling and revealing her tear-stained cheeks and reddened eyes.

“You don’t know how much this means to me,” she wept, trying to smile, but the emotions are overwhelming. Causing her face to twist and turn in many expressions of pain and happiness. “Thank you, Y/n.”

The least she expected was to feel your arms coil around her and pull her close. A hand comes to the back of her head and pulls her into your chest. She didn’t hesitate to melt into your body, hands falling to your waist as she cried in your chest.

Although the vulnerability wasn’t new to both of you, this sure was. You hadn’t seen her cry in months since Pietro passed away and Sokovia was destroyed. It’d been months since then and you felt like you might’ve unintentionally brought back some bad memories with the good ones.

Except, when she pulled away from your chest, looking up at you with those teary eyes, you felt like your thoughts had been answered. And when her hands held your face, you felt all worries wash away. Especially when she pressed her lips to yours, replacing the coldness of fear with the warmth of love. Making you seek it deeper, pressing your lips firmer against hers and leaning into her slightly.

The kiss was brief, but it was fulfilling for what it was. Breaking apart only a breath away with your foreheads resting against one another. Wanda licked her lips, letting out a shaky exhale, tips of her fingers gently caressing your jaw and cheek. “I love you.”

You couldn’t help the smile to break out on your lips. “And I love you too.” You pressed a kiss to her lips, to which she reciprocated and sat in this close embrace for a few moments. At least until you jutted your thumb over your shoulder. “So, I may have also had Cassandra grab me some Sokovia candy today.”

That made her eyes widen as you motioned toward one of the cupboards. “I snuck them in when you went to get changed–Which I want to add, you look adorable in my shirts.” You smiled when the girl stared at the colour packaging of the candy. Her lips parted in an open smile, looking up at you with a chuckle.

“I thought you said she didn’t work today?” Wanda reminded.

A soft laugh fell from your lips. “Wanda, will all those powers, you still can’t tell if I am telling the truth or not,” you said. “I convinced her to give her mentor a chance to get experience whilst she did me a favour. Who wouldn’t help out an Avenger to win over the girl of his dreams.”

Wanda felt those imaginary strings pull at the corner of her lips, forming a large smile. “You are full of surprises, Y/n.” Pressing her lips against yours, standing to her feet, she hummed. “I love it.”

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fandomnerd9602 · 3 months

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Three's Perfect

WandaNat x Male Reader (Modern AU)

For @aloneodi

Rain hammered against the attic window, mirroring the storm brewing within Natasha. She sat bathed in the amber glow of a dusty photo album, her fingers tracing the faces that mocked her longing. Wanda and you, curled on the rug near the old rocking chair, watched her carefully, shadows clinging to your eyes.

Your polyamorous relationship, once a vibrant tapestry of whispered secrets and shared laughter, felt fragile now. Natasha, usually unflappable, was unraveling at the seams.

She choked back a sob, slamming the album shut. "Maybe it's just not in the cards for me," she rasped, her voice raw. Wanda reached out, but Natasha flinched away, a wounded animal seeking solitude.

Natasha had just gotten back from the doctors. They gave her some of the worst news she had received: there was only a slim chance that she could ever have children. The news had broken her heart into a million pieces. The three of you had dreamt of having kids for so long. Seeing Natasha's agony felt like being trapped behind a glass wall, you could see her pain and there was nothing you could do to soothe her.

Wanda, ever the empath, sensed her turmoil. She held your hand, the warmth of her touch grounding you. "I won't leave your side, Nat," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "Our love builds our family, remember?"

Natasha whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "But we talked about a whole nursery, tiny socks, bedtime stories..."

She trailed off, the image of an impossibly happy future shattering like a dropped glass. You swallowed the lump in your throat, reaching for Natasha. She leaned into your embrace, your own tears stinging your eyes. You held Natasha tight, not wanting to let this amazing woman out of your arms.

"This doesn't change how I or Wanda feel about you," you whispered, your voice laced with the ache of understanding. "Love doesn't change"

Wanda joined the huddle, a silent trinity full of grief and yet hope. The rain intensified, drumming a fierce rhythm against the attic roof.

Natasha, sensing the shift, pulled away, wiping her tears. "So, what now?" she asked, her voice a raw inquiry.

You met her gaze, Wanda's hand tightening in yours. "Now," you said, a hesitant smile gracing your lips, "we build that nursery. We can always adopt."

Wanda's eyes lit up, and Natasha, for the first time in hours, managed a shaky smile.

"Yeah" Wanda smiled, "I love it! I can see it now! You're gonna be such an amazing mother, Nattie!" Natasha actually began to giggle.

"Not as amazing as you, Wanda" the two gals hug each other and then you.

The storm outside hadn't relented, but within the attic, a new resolve bloomed. The love that they all shared would never changed. And the children that would run down the hallways of their home would feel that same amount of love.

You picked up Natasha and carried her down the stairs of the attic. Natasha giggled in your arms, just feeling all the love she needed.

Later, curled up in bed, the rain having mellowed into a soft patter, you held Natasha and Wanda close. The silence spoke volumes, a shared vow etched in the quiet. Their family was built on unwavering love that had weathered storms far worse than this. As they drifted off to sleep, nestled in the warmth of each other's arms.

Eventually the dream grew. The three of you adopted a little baby girl who Natasha named Maria. Wanda gave birth to twin boys who she named Billy and Tommy. And despite everything that she had been told, Natasha gave birth to a little boy who you named Alex. Your family of three grew to a family of seven and all of them knew only love.

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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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castielli · 2 years

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MARVEL x Male Reader (incorrect quotes)

[Might add some in the future]

Bucky Barnes / Winter Soldier

M/N: If you water water, it grows.

Natasha: ...What.

Bucky: He’s got a point.

M/N: What’s your body count?

Bucky: Do you mean sex or murder?

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow

M/N: If you water water, it grows.

Natasha: ...What.

Bucky: He’s got a point.

Natasha: I think you're still suffering the effects of your party last night.

M/N: All I drank was Redbull!

Natasha: How many?

M/N: Eighteen.

MJ: I can’t believe all these people are wearing black. black is supposed to be my thing, they’re all just posers.

M/N: MJ, for the last time, we’re at a funeral.

Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch (Tony Stark / Iron Man)

Tony: M/N-

M/N: sighs Wanda used to call me M/N...

Tony: ...Because it's your fucking name.

Peter Parker / Spider-man

M/N: coughs blood

Peter: Don't die, M/N!

M/N: Don't tell me what to do!

Peter: I’m sad.

M/N: Don’t be sad, because sad backwards is das.

M/N: And das not good.

Sam Wilson / Falcon

M/N, cowering in fear: What do you want from me?!

Sam, standing in front of M/N: bites into the whole KitKat bar like a heathen

M/N, crying: Please...stop...

#marvel x male reader #marvel #male reader insert #Sam Wilson x male reader #Bucky Barnes x male reader #falcon x male reader #black widow x male reader #incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes x male reader #Wanda Maximoff x male reader #Tony stark x male reader #castielli

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 2 months

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After almost like 2 years or something insane, I am finally opening my requests! Request guidelines are in my masterlist.

As a general rule, I really only write Wanda x Male Reader or Natasha x Male Reader.

If you have anything you want me to write, just shoot me a DM or send me an ask!

#wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #the scarlet witch #black widow #wanda x reader #natasha x reader #scarlet witch x reader #black widow x reader #wanda x male reader #Natasha x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #marvel #mcu #therealdisneyfan2319

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skylarinfinity · 1 year

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*team going out to the beach*

wanda: *watching m/n and natasha* aww look at m/n giving natasha piggyback ride! *squealing*

clint: *wince at wanda high pitch squeal and turn to look at what wanda mention* wanda... that- that not piggyback ride- natasha have m/n on a headlock.

wanda: oh-

*they hear m/n high pitch scream and see natasha chasing m/n*

m/n: *climb palm tree* go away red head goblin! *look at wanda* baby! help natty being mean again!

wanda: *turn away from m/n and natasha* you're on your own love.

author note: hello, i just want you guys to know that this is not my main account so i can't reply comments or dm... so i will reply anything on 'author note'.

tags: @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason

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marvels-bitch-boy · 11 months

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Emerald Eyes Part 3: Chapter 6

Chapter 6 (Y/N's POV)

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I ended up studying abroad for another semester and had a couple of things happen while I was over there. I had a hard time writing anything. But now that I've talked to a therapist and been back home I've found myself some time to write! I hope you all enjoy!

Master List , P1 Chapter 1 , P2 Chapter 1 , P3 Chapter 4 , P3 Chapter 7

Sitting in a pub you felt a pair of eyes on you. Your hair had grown out and you let your facial hair go with it. You felt completely unrecognisable. Finishing off your pint, you stood up and made your way out into the cold night air.

You knew where the silver-haired man would be at this time, with his sister coming out of a pub just a few doors down. You noticed a man on the opposite side of the street staring at the redhead. He had his face hidden by a ballcap. He started to follow the pair in front of you slowly, you watched as he continued and seemed to take side alleys that went right on their route. What he didn’t expect was you to yank him by the collar in one of these alleys.

Slamming him against the brick wall and holding him down as you waited for the footsteps you both were trailing to fade away.

“Release me before I make you” the voice made you roll your eyes. Fucking Vision.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you look at him with annoyance and rage that seem to be mixing together the longer you look at him. “Didn’t you get the message that none of them want to see your face after the accords!?”

He gave you a smug look “Is that why you lurk in the shadows as well? -or perhaps because you’re afraid of what they’ll say when they see who you really are” His words make you want to burn the synthetic skin that covers his face. The thought flashes through your mind for only a second before you took a breath.

“I swear to god if you even talk to her-” Suddenly you are cut off by a blast of some kind as it hits you in the chest. Fuck. The floor beneath you feels cold. The stones digging into your back like you are a shipwreck hitting the rocks. Your shirt feels heavy against your skin, your chest goes along with it. It’s a feeling you’re all too familiar with. “Fuck” Your hand goes up to cover the wound. Within moments you see Vision chucked through the sky. Landing somewhere in the distance with a large crash of the earth.

Attempting to get up, your hand slips from the blood that's coated your palm. Still making your way up you follow the sound of battle coming from the train station.

- - -

Fuck. You keep repeating it over and over again in your head as you take each step. Finally reaching the station you see Wanda preparing to fight against the attackers but their attention is shifted to a train nearby. You see a familiar silhouette emerge from the shadows and within seconds combat resumes.

Stepping out you watch as Natasha takes on an emaciated Skeletor. His robes are discarded as he begins to fight her with swiftness. You watch as he gets closer to her and the pain from your wound only elevates the fear you have for her. Before you could properly think your fist is raised and a blast of yellow and blue flame hit him like a truck and launched him farther away from her. She turned to the direction of his attack and her face was filled with surprise that dissipated as she saw the blood that now covered you. Your arm stayed up as you aimed one more blast in the same direction. “Move!” you felt the word rip through your throat seconds before the heat left your fist. The blast of fire ripped through the night air and rammed itself into the largest blue woman you’ve ever seen. Natasha had already ducked out of the way and watched as the large woman went flying like a rag doll. She lands next to the skeletal-like man, they both lean on each other and say something you couldn’t hear.

Actually, you couldn’t hear a lot now because you felt like you were about to pass out. Your mind went slightly fuzzy and you could only muster a few words before you hit the floor and you were pretty sure one of them was once again “fuck”

- - -

Waking up you felt almost a million eyes on you. The sensation stayed on you as you attempted to get up, your shirt was shredded around you and the sensation of dried blood was coating you like tissue paper and glue. Looking towards the eyes of everyone around you, finding that indeed every pair was locked onto you, each holding a different sense of emotion.

You thought for a moment… it felt like a pretty long moment actually. “How’s everyone been?” pursing your lips due to the silence that fell upon you all. “I’m doing great, how bout you Y/N?” you reply to your own question “Well I’ve been on vacation for a bit, sightseeing and all” You sneak a glance at Wanda who stayed near her brother. “-I’ve missed us” giving the group your best faux smile and a sigh. Standing up you wobbled for a second before catching yourself and taking in a deep breath “I need to get back to work, can I get a cab from here?” the attempts to lighten the mood didn’t seem to be working.

“Are you seriously not going to shut up?” you turned to see Sam leaning on the wall of the quinjet. “I mean, who is this? You never talked this much before”

“It’s the brain injuries, trust me they rearrange some stuff…” you try to crack your neck and loosen up “...made me fun-” you turn to Natasha “You’d know all about that, dyed your hair since then… looks good” A sly wink was given to her and you saw her flex her jaw, probably in annoyance. “I really do need to call my boss and let her know I’ve been taken” Holding a hand out you shrug.

“Can’t do that” the strong voice that rolled your eyes until they were in the back of your head reverberated through the jet.

“Why not? I’m in the private sector, I’m not on the run… it’s just so I can clock in?” you produce a face pout “I hate doing unpaid overtime”

“Just stop with the jokes, for god sake go back to being quiet!” the one voice you never expected to be yelling at you came from across the jet. Wanda. “Stop being this fake version of you!...” she had tears prickling the corners of her eyes “Just stop”.

Her words. She had no idea, none of them -except Nat. They all had no idea that this is the new real version of you. You couldn’t help it though, using the jokes to hide the awkwardness, the guilt you felt, it was all so easy to hide behind. “I can’t… I’m sorry, but this is me. Leave it or love it” You faced away from her, ducking your face from the rest of the wandering eyes.

The entire trip felt all-encompassing, you didn’t speak for the rest of it. Not even when Natasha sat down next to you. You just closed your eyes and tilted your head back. You heard Pietro whisper something about you, you didn’t care though. You couldn’t bear to hear him say anything bad about you. You had learned how to drown out certain sounds, you had to when you were stuck under rubble. It kept you mildly sane for the most part. You felt pressure on the side of your knee. Opening your right eye only a smidge, you saw the widow's knee press into yours. You felt the corner of your lips lift what felt like an atom. Sitting in silence for the rest of the flight you remained content with her choice.

- - -

After you wake up from a small nap on the jet you are helped through the compound by Natasha. It seems as though no one else would even lay a hand on you. The hallways were quiet. It reminded you of when you’d skulk around at night, walking to and from the library. You emerged from the hallway into the common room. You saw Rhodey and Bruce talking to General Ross. As soon as he saw the group heading in his direction, he and the captain began exchanging words. Ross only got a few in before Rhodey hung up on him. He had been projected like a hologram. It was so realistic to him being here, you could even see the detail in his face when he caught a glimpse of you.

Rhodey didn’t make eye contact with you but you knew he saw you. The way his body language changed as he talked to Steve and Natasha. It was obvious. She handed you off to Bruce who didn’t seem to understand why no one else even got near you. He attempted to make small talk when he brought you to the infirmary, you didn’t hate it. “So… where’d you go?” he continued as he lay you down on the gurney.

“Hell” you made sure to give him a smirk, lightening the response.

He didn’t really understand exactly what you meant by that, he didn’t pry either. “Sounds fun…” he kept his gaze down on your wound as he spoke “You seem more cheerful, you and Nat still together?” You remained silent and he just continued tending to your chest.

Thinking for a moment you decided to talk. You hadn’t had a real conversation with someone since helping Natasha almost a year ago. “No… and I don’t know if I’m more cheerful or just hiding at this point” He stopped and you worried for a second that you had said something you should have kept inside.

He sat up and put his tools to the side. “Why do you think you’d be hiding?”

You didn’t really have a full answer, just multiple short little ones. If you worked hard enough in your head maybe a sentence could form.

“There’s just been this… darkness- or maybe it’s just a hole..” you continued thinking “And I’m worried that I’ll- I’ll be stuck in it alone-” you had let out a deep breath before going on “-But I don’t want to drag anyone into it. Not her or anyone else.”

“I don’t think that’s true…” he seemed now to think of a continuation “This new you…-I just met him and I think that he’s already made his way out of the darkness enough- at least by himself…” you nodded your head in understanding as he got up “-it’s never too late to ask for help, sometimes you just need a hand” and with that, he left.

You sat up, looking out the windows of the infirmary. It was all so new and old at the same time. The life you had now was nice, but you just felt so alone, the shadows were all you seemed to have.

- - -

Finding new clothes seemed to be a bit of a difficult task, you had outgrown almost all of your old shirts that had been kept, and the pants too. You had to ask Steve if you could borrow something. Surprisingly you almost filled his clothes. You had overheard everyone discussing what the next steps should be. You felt like you needed some sense of fresh air. Slowly you inched your way out of the compound. You didn’t think anyone would notice you gone for a minute or two. You had swiped a phone too on the way out, as soon as you got far enough away you dialled her.

It took three full rings before she picked up, this had you puzzled and slightly concerned. Her voice was producing a fake confidence, that had you more concerned. “Hey there hot stuff”

“Valentina… how’d you know it’s me? -actually, never mind.” you looked around to make sure you were still alone “I had a bit of a run-in with some old friends -suffered a hit to the chest from unknown assailants… I’d love to get some intel”

She scoffed at your words “You think I know something about that? -well I do but still it's the principle” You heard her take a sip of something and clear her throat “There seems to be a bit of a pest problem coming from outta town… you might have to help them squash it”

“Yes ma’am- I’ll call you with any new details” You heard the sound of footsteps approaching you and hung up the phone before she could even make a snarky remark. You knew you’d get shit for it. You didn’t move, you stayed still and simply stared up at the sky. The sunset was beginning to fade and the night would soon replace it. “I never noticed before… the sun kinda makes the clouds look like cotton candy from here.” You tried to keep your tone as innocent as possible. The ground beneath your feet move and sink as the body that had found you joined your side. You turned to face her. “Can’t remember if you like cotton candy or not…” your hand gestures to your head as you talked “Whole brain injury and just all-around personality change” She didn’t seem amused.

“It’s kind of growing on me… -I mean except when you’re an asshole” You could sense the playfulness in her tone.

“Nat, I don’t want this- this new me to grow on you” You made sure to look as deep into her eyes as you could. You wanted her to know this was the truth. You needed her to know that you meant this. She looked at you with slight surprise. “Whatever you think is here right now-” you gestured between your bodies “-it shouldn’t be here. I need you to take back what you said in St. Petersburg…” you trailed off as you felt your voice catch slightly.

“No, I’m not going to take it back.” her brows stitched together as she looked at you “I’ll change it but I’m not going to take it back-” she took one of your hands into hers. The warmth of it almost sent bumps along your arm. “I’d stay by your side. Leave it or love it?” she took her free hand and set it up over your chest. Just past the bandages that covered you. You both stood so close to the other. You could practically feel the warmth radiating off of her and you knew she could too “Well I don’t want to leave it”

Your mind was still. You had no thoughts for once, no joke to deflect how you felt. The thing was you knew this wouldn’t end well. You couldn’t go back to the team, and you knew sure as hell she would never join Leviathan. “I can’t come back here, you know that…” You took her hand away from your chest “If you won’t leave this…” and you took a step back from her “I’m doing it for you” Turning away from her you began to walk back to the compound. You couldn’t look back at her or risk changing your mind. You didn’t want to pull her into the hole that you’ve begun to fall into.

- - -

Stepping into the compound you went directly to your old room. You didn’t spare a glance at anyone else. Closing the door felt like a million pounds. The sound of it echoed for what felt like ages. Everything in your room that had once occupied it was gone. Sitting on the edge of the bed, like you had many nights before; you felt like a ghost. The sensation that you were in the wrong place didn’t leave. You sat in silence until it became unbearable. The room was pitch black but you had the way to the door memorized. Standing at the edge of the doorway you had a sense of deja vu. Imagining the different nights this had happened. The nights when you had simply gotten up to just knock on Natasha's door and lay with her. Tonight though you couldn’t do that. If you had even tried you knew you would never leave her side. You decided to go to the kitchen, if you found anyone in there you would simply go for a walk outside. Perhaps you’d see if you could snoop on the computers for a while. Your feet had dragged you to the kitchen and there wasn’t a single light on.

Turning on the light above the stove to illuminate the countertops you began making some tea. Waiting on the water to come to a boil you stood near the window, looking out at the night sky. The moon illuminated the water of the lake and the tops of the trees. You hear scraping footsteps approach from the hallway and you slowly turned to see who they belonged to. The silver hair was almost an echo of the moon. You felt your body tense up as he saw you. The two of you hadn’t talked at all. Well to his knowledge you hadn’t spoken since Berlin, you remember seeing him in a bar in Scotland. He was on the other side of the room downing pints while his sister went to the bathroom. You were going to head home for the night when he bumped into you spilling his glass on you, he began apologizing profusely but you stopped him. “Completely my fault-” You reached into your pocket and handed him a couple of pounds. You left before he could say another word. You considered doing the same thing now and just booking yourself out of the room but the reminder of the water coming towards a boil took the idea out of your head.

His accent was much thicker than Wanda’s “How long?” you looked at him puzzled. Maybe it was the look of sleep that covered his face or the lighting. He caught your look and continued “How long were you in Scotland?”

You looked almost taken aback by his question but you gave him an answer “Roughly eleven months…” The kettle whistled and you moved to pick a tea, you knew his favourite flavour and grabbed an extra mug on the way back to the kettle.

“I never saw you once…” he thought for a second “I probably did, didn’t I?” you nodded your head “How many times?”

Pursing your lips and handing him the steaming mug “I think it was about five times… spoke only once though”

He took the mug and stood still for a moment. He looked like he was finally realizing the moment he was in “Why didn’t you reach out to me after the mission?” this question made you freeze. He didn’t really know everything… none of them did.

“I was in the care of my employer, and I wasn’t allowed to contact anyone while I recovered” You took a sip of your tea and felt the warmth spread. “-I also didn’t know how you’d react to me… especially with how I was back then -I was so angry, I just wanted to burn the whole world…” you stayed quiet after that. Your words trailed over to him and you saw the next question bubbling to the surface.

“How long did you stay in the rubble?...-I’m sorry for asking, I just- we looked through it for weeks…” you knew he felt bad about it. You knew if you told him the exact length of time and what you went through, he would feel even worse. The thing was you didn’t want to lie to him. You couldn’t after all this time you wanted to be as honest as possible.

You moved to the nearest chair and took a seat. Staring at your cup as he slowly joined you. Looking at the steam that continued to flow out you took a shallow breath “I was there for almost a month, I passed out after a few minutes and kept going in and out of consciousness… my throat was so torn and shredded from screaming, I lost a lot of blood -a good amount- after I was found they put me in a coma to monitor me. When I woke up I was filled in on everything. Couldn’t walk for a couple of weeks, talking was easier though…” you took a sip and thought again “I had some pretty bad head trauma… the memories of being trapped kinda just come back every now and then, can’t stay alone for too long either”

He didn’t ask another question. He put a hand on your back, it didn’t move. “You know…” he looked like a toddler attempting to put pieces together in his head “I can stick with you tomorrow…if you’d like” he gave a small shrug and the light showed you the small bashful smile he was holding back.

“What’s happening tomorrow?” holding the mug to your lips you listened as he filled you in on the details. And jesus christ there was a lot that you had missed.

Taglist:

@littlewinchester15 @ilostafriend-blog1 @nektotersh @ironscarletwidowsoldier @lexi21pro @zyguard118 @diaryoflife @ethanwoods @rokkyy @ihaveanxiety71 @blackwidow-3 @hangingcurtain10 @iamsimpforpoppy @axienic @wubio @dakotastormm @cristin-rjd @itsyourgirlmalise @feedonme @itsyourboymichaeal @lattayhottay16 @yourfavdummy @virtuanosh7 @aloneodi

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loverforfanfiction · 2 years

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Dating wanda maximoff would include

:she would be devastated after the death of vision so it would take her a little time to get used to you

:but once she did you made sure wanda would never regret it

Y/n:" I know you still miss him but if your not ready for this relationship I'm not gonna force it on you "

Her:...I th think I am

:she would love you till the end of her days

:and you love and give her all your time

Wanda:"I am your queen and you are my king/queen

It's you and me till the end "

[So the end will be gif imagines]

You guys running in the sand after going to dinner

[Imagine your race and gender ] you guys playing around in your own little world

Hugging after talking about your future

Wanda loves you and will always give you her alll

#wanda maximoff #wanda x y/n #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x male reader #avengers x plus size reader #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x male reader #avengers x black!reader #avengers x you #avengers x platonic reader #marvel x black!reader #marvel x reader #marvel x gender neutral reader #marvel fic #marvel x platonic reader #marvel x you

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theodorelore · 11 months

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𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

❋ spider-man

❋ iron man

❋ doctor strange

❋ matt murdock

❋ bucky barnes

❋ wade wilson

❋ wanda maximoff

❋ black widow

#platonic x reader #x male reader #spider man x reader #iron man x reader #doctor strange x reader #matt murdock x reader #bucky barnes x reader #wade wilson x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #black widow x reader

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sytoran · 5 months

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟕 — 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘

kinktober day 007 | bimbo!wanda x ghostface!reader

for years on end you've chased sweet revenge. from being your high school bully to the fount of your desires, wanda maximoff is your esteemed salvation and utter demise. today, you plan on taking it all back.

rating ♤ contains explicit smut, 18+

warnings ♤ mentions of violence, self-harm, homophobia, suicide. elements of non-con. read with caution. heterosexual sex (🤢) (it'll be worth it tho i swear)

word count ♤ 2543

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It’s an eerily quiet night in Woodsboro.

Perhaps the odds are falling in your favour, for once. Your black robe gets dragged along the concrete pavement of Elm Street as you silently make your way towards the desired location. The metal handle of the scythe is cool in your hand, and you twirl it around in anticipation.

In the third house on the street, the light in one of the bedrooms is still switched on, and faint noises are emitted from that vicinity.

You approach the window of that bedroom, lurking in the shadows. The sight that greets you is sickeningly fantastic.

In the dimly lit bedroom, a male figure is bent over a female one. He’s entirely undressed, emitting low grunts of pleasure while chasing his own high.

“Shit, Wanda, you feel so good,” the male voice gasps, driving his hips into the young woman with shallow thrusts that could hardly elicit pleasure for her.

A sadistic smirk crawls up on your face behind the mask.

Wanda Maximoff.

She was your high school crush, your unrequited love, your hate-filled vengeance, and now your esteemed salvation.

Ultimately, Wanda was the fount of your desires.

Then, she had been unreachable, completely out of your league, condescending and sadistic towards you. The bratty cheerleader dubbed as ‘Queen Bee’, perched atop the school’s social hierarchy for her parents’ connections and wealth, being waited on hand and foot by just about everyone.

Now, she was lying under that miserable excuse of a high school quarterback, suffering through less-than-mediocre sex.

Who’s the one winning now, sweetheart?

You watch in unbridled glee as Wanda’s disinterested eyes flit across the room. She’s still half-clothed — you don’t take that for granted, a cool gaze gliding over the fragments of her exposed skin, a gaze with an underlying quivering rage to mark the pretty skin up — and she has a blank look adorning her half-illuminated features.

Wanda’s body moves with each of Vision’s thrusts but you can see it in her eyes that she’s not feeling any pleasure, and you grip your scythe a little tighter.

Look at me, pretty girl.

Almost as if Wanda could hear your thoughts, her gaze finally floats towards the window where you’re standing and her entire body stills.

You look back emotionlessly, your ghastly mask facing in her direction, the light of the streetlamps reflecting off your blade. You stare at Vision, then, and your heart rate rises, as it always does, in some kind of sick excitement at the prospect of taking a life.

None the wiser, the blonde man continues to fuck into her, oblivious of the looming danger that is your presence. Wanda’s mouth opens, terror draining the blood in her face, but you merely raise a gloved finger to your lips.

The threat goes unsaid. Wanda squirms under Vision with widened eyes, but she slowly closes her mouth.

Good girl.

It’s second nature for you to pry open the window. You almost scoff at the fact that it’s unlocked. The wind from outside rushes in, and it creates enough noise for Vision to get distracted from what he’s currently preoccupied with.

You look back at Wanda, raising your scythe, and she swallows harshly.

Wanda tugs Vision’s turning head back to her breasts, dragging her fingers over his scalp. “It’s nothing, baby,” she chokes out and looks back at you pleadingly. “Just fuck me.”

You imagine those three words are directed to you, and you can barely conceal your sadistic excitement. It’s lecherous, the way desire swells within your otherwise blase self at Wanda’s breathy little gasps.

You’re now standing tall in the confines of Wanda and Vision’s room. You reside in the corner, and Wanda’s eyes never leave you. Her eyes are wide and dancing with fear, but you swear you’re not imagining the hidden layer of sexual excitement beneath them.

You tilt your head to the side in expectancy, and Wanda looks frightened and confused, devout of understanding.

Stupid little girl.

Using the tip of your blade, you point towards Vision’s desperate form, his back facing you. You can see the embarrassment flush Wanda’s features once she understands your request.

You make an open gesture with your free gloved hand. Go ahead, it reads.

Albeit warily, Wanda wraps her legs around Vision, hands shakily combing through his blonde hair. “You- you can continue, Vis,” she murmurs, locks of hair falling into place. Heartbreakingly gorgeous was what she was.

“Oh- okay,” Vision sounds slightly winded already, stupidly enough. That man should either be on his knees in reverent worship of the threshold between her legs, or substantially rougher to draw out those pathetic little noises. There was no in-between, not with Wanda Maximoff.

Though you much rather preferred the latter, wishing to see Wanda relinquishing all control, Vision instead opts to continue those shallow thrusts as if he’s doing something. You tilt your head in slight boredom as Wanda’s body moves meaninglessly on the bed.

If you were Vision instead…..

To kill or not to kill. Was it really a question, in this situation? Did you have to consider your options, weigh the possibilities, and contemplate using your moral compass, when the answer was so blatantly clear right in front of you?

You’d never felt so alive.

Your heart raced beneath the confines of your earth-bound ribcage, pulsing with the sole need to chase that dopamine rush and adrenaline high. Wanda seems to acknowledge the change in the atmosphere of the room, looking up at you with fearful eyes as you approach the bed.

One step. Two steps.

You could always turn back, and navigate your way back to calmer times with the guidance of the angel on your right shoulder.

That was boring, though.

Three steps. Four steps.

Wanda lets out a choked scream as you raise your scythe. You can smell her fear, taste it, palpable and unyielding and the most delicious kind of terror you’d chanced upon. Her mouth was contorted, probably trying to plead but not being able to find her voice.

In for the kill.

The last thing Vision sees is the stricken look on Wanda’s face, frozen into submission, frantic and desperate, before your glimmering blade strikes.

You plunge your scythe into Vision’s back. The pieces fall into place like a demented symphony: the blade enters right from the centre of his back, and emerges from the front of his chest. Crimson blood spills freely from the wound like a faulty fire hydrant, spraying onto Wanda’s front.

His body falls limp in slow motion, rolling off to the side, leaving you to stare blankly at a completely vulnerable Wanda Maximoff.

“Who-who are— what are you?” Wanda trembles, her voice shaky.

Deathly satisfaction slugs inside of you as you watch her vulnerable form. It was everything you craved, finally getting back at your high school bully.

You remember locking yourself into a dismal bathroom stall, curling up into a ball, tears streaking your face. The jeering taunts of the girls outside had you shaking, but only one voice rings in your head.

“Come out, we wanna have some fun!” Wanda calls out in mock playfulness, and her stupid little giggles has your fury vibrating beneath the surface of your skin. “Coming out for the second time can’t be harder, right?”

That was just one of the many times Wanda had made your life a living hell.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” you answer, the mechanical voice changer inside your mask giving you a robotic tone that was humanly unrecognizable.

Wanda doesn’t seem at all eased by your dismissive response, and opens her mouth to retaliate, but she freezes when you raise the scythe again.

This time, you’re not seeking bloodshed. Instead, you let the sharp tip of the blade run across her bare skin, not hard enough to draw blood but firm enough to raise goosebumps.

Wanda swallows as she realizes she’s still completely naked in a room with her dead boyfriend and a cold-blooded murderer.

“Stop, please,” Wanda breathes shakily, her heart rate rising even further as your blade runs over her stomach. The cold metal sends tingles throughout her body, all the way south to between her legs.

“Oh, you want me to stop?” You ask with faux sympathy, the scythe stilling right above her cunt. A smirk washes over your face behind the mask as Wanda clenches her thighs shut.

No, a tiny voice in the back of her mind says. But that would be completely absurd and immoral, so Wanda nods hesitantly. “Stop, please.”

You pause, seemingly entertaining the idea of actually stopping. You can see from Wanda’s eyes that she’s been lulled into a false sense of security, as your blade relaxes against her skin.

But then your free gloved hand forces its way into the threshold between her legs, and Wanda lets out the most pathetic squeal.

“If you want me to stop then why’re you so fucking wet?” you growl heatedly, right next to her ear, two fingers easily sliding past her damp folds and sinking inside.

Wanda mewls at the intrusion, eyes going wide as your thick fingers stretch out her cunt. She’s embarrassingly wet, coating your fingers with slick, staring up into emotionless eyes.

Then it hits her that she shouldn’t be liking this, and Vision’s dead body was on the floor, and the stench of blood was invading her nostrils.

Tears prick at her eyes as she claws at your wrist, mouth wanting to voice out her disdain but only moans fall out. Your fingers are deliciously thick as they plunge into her sodden cunt, the fabric of your gloves adding to her simulation.

Yet, you’re unnerved by Wanda’s sharp nails digging into your skin, and then the cold metal of your scythe is taut against her neck.

“Try anything like that again and I’ll slice your pretty little neck off.”

Wanda gasps, and she feels so dirty because your filthy words cause another gush of arousal to flood her pussy. You, of course, notice it, and you press the blade a little harder.

Wanda chokes out a breath, because if her neck moved even a millimeter further you would draw blood. It’s so sick, but she’s so wet, and you’re the devil reincarnate.

You remember the blood on your arm as you held an army swiss knife in the other hand. You were shaking, shuddering, as Wanda stared at you with a crazed look in her eyes.

“I didn’t ask you to cut yourself, stupid litle bitch,” she barks out, staring at the blood dripping down your arm. You’d do it again for her. “You’re insane, fuck.”

“Fucking little slut, yeah?” you grunt, curling your fingers harshly inside her tight walls. Wanda’s teeth sinks into her lower lip to prevent more embarrassing sounds from escaping, but you don’t seem to like this.

You use the blade to tilt her chin up so her eyes are level with yours. “Asked you a question,” you say dangerously. “So you fucking answer.”

Wanda shouldn’t like this, she knows, but there’s something so alluring about your mask and your commandeering demeanor.

“Yes,” she responds tentatively with teary doe-eyes that are oh so pitiful. “Y-yes, I’m a… slut.”

“Mhm. Good girl,” you approve, and then your hands finally start moving again. Wanda keens at the praise with a helpless buck of her hips.

As if sensing her inner turmoil, you greedily push another finger against the opening of her dripping cunt. Wanda’s high-pitched moan turns into a breathy gasp.

“I- I can’t—”

“You will.”

Wanda sobs, three thick and gloved fingers stretching out her pussy. You’re merciless in the way you explore her sodden pussy, finding her sweet spots all too easily.

“Better than your asshole of a boyfriend?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Each of your calculated thrusts fills her up perfectly, and her velvet walls clench around you so tight.

“Y-yes! Please, more—”

Like you’ve flicked a switch, your gloved hand jackhammers into her sodden pussy so fast and so hard that Wanda can only let out the wettest, filthiest, little ‘uh’ sounds with every thrust.

“Oh, God, I’mna come,” Wanda mewls, rutting her hips against your palm in a devoted search of her ever-closening high. Sensations are flying all over her body, and Wanda’s head helplessly loll to the side.

“I know,” you respond smugly. Seeing your fated enemy unravelling before your very eyes brought a different kind of satisfaction, something so toxic and poisonous but so rewarding.

“Come like the little fucking slut you are,” You spit in the most degoratory tone known to mankind. You move the smooth metal part of your scythe to press against Wanda’s hardened bud, and that last sensation has her coming undone.

Wanda arches up against you with a broken cry escaping her throat, pebbled nipples pressing against the cold metal of your scythe.

Her hands twist into the fabric of the bed she once laid in with her boyfriend, but now her heated cunt was chasing your thick and talented fingers.

“Oh, fuck! Please, please, please, oh God, please—”

You drown in the filthy moans Wanda lets out, eyes burning in glorious victory. You grip her hips like it’s a forsaken altar, forcing her to choke on that pleasure and go to hell with it.

The pleasure, in question, is overwhelming, nothing like Wanda had ever experienced, lighting up every one of her nerves. Her body was alight, whipping flames tearing at the cruel night sky.

You bask in Wanda’s shaky breathing as she comes down from her high. You want to keep her vulnerability and lock it in a jar, hang it on your bedroom wall like a prized possession.

As Wanda regains her senses, you decide it’s time for the final piece of your grand plan to fall into place.

Slowly, you take off the mask that gave you the identity as Ghostface. You shake the hair out of your face, and Wanda’s breath constricts in her throat.

“Y-Y/N?” she chokes out, and you can see the million little things that flit through her mind.

The bullying. The boyfriend. The blood. All her fault.

You remember standing at the ledge of a very tall building, cold wind whipping in your hair. You remember thinking about Wanda’s poisonously breathtaking face, wondering whether she was worth it. You remember thinking that falling would be easier than seeing her again.

“My beloved,” you whisper with a deathly smile. “I hate you. Every cell of my being screams with burning rage for you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

You may have lost the battle, but you won the war.

No one could ever know your identity. How you had been spending the past years running around Woodsboro as Ghostface, killing all traceable contacts to Wanda Maximoff. Clawing back your dignity back piece by piece.

And it had all led up to this very moment.

Wanda can’t even tear the petrified scream out of her throat in time, before you raise your scythe again, for the last time.

“Goodbye, my beloved.”

A shining blade and crazed eyes are the last thing she sees before her final demise.

Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

GUYS I THINK THIS MIGHT BE IN MY TOP 3 FAV KINKTOBER FICS I'VE WRITTEN..... reblog? pretty please? ☹️

fun fact: i've never watched any of the scream movies HAHA i'm just writing based off what i have in my head. (let me know how i did!)

@33-mrvl i know u were looking forward to this one, hope i did good 😉

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 8 months

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Double-Agent (Avengers X Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Avengers X Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Talking about torture and experimentation (HYDRA)

Request: Avengers x (22) reader. The reader is has been working for the team for 4½ years being able to use their teleportation, telekinesis, and healing powers to help. They capture Rumlow before he's able to damage in Sokovia and harm anybody. Later while being interrogated he request for the reader. Upon entering the room Rumlow reveals that the reader use to be with Hydra as their parents (mutants) were Hydra agents. He even reveals that the reader used to bring down bases and ruin shield. Later after that conversation the Avengers confront the reader. The reader tells the Avengers that when they saved them from that Hydra prison he was put there for betraying Hydra for Shield.

It was hard for you to focus on anything in moments like this. Knowing that there was a HYDRA agent nearby always made you hyper focus on everything they were doing, watching their every move, making sure they didn’t do anything. You were usually good at hiding your anxiety, tucking yourself in the corner to be out of the way and rolling a rare coin Steve had given you a while ago between your fingers. However, your team knew you well enough to know what it meant when you did those things, and would try their best to handle the situation themselves and make sure the HYDRA agents never addressed or even looked at you.

You were thankful for their understanding. They tended to do the same thing for Bucky, though he preferred to not be in the room at all, but you did, just to be there just in case and watch like a hawk. The team never questioned your quirk, because they partially understood. You were a past experiment of HYDRA that they liberated a few years prior, and after some healing, you joined the team as a valuable asset. You could gather information with your telepathy and telekinesis, and could provide immediate on-site medical care if anyone got hurt due to your healing abilities. You were important to the team, and the team always found themselves thanking you for things you did for them, so letting you stand in the corner and monitor any HYDRA agents they captured and interrogated was the least they could do.

This was another one of those situations, but while you would often look away and listen to what was being said, trying to appear unbothered and simply there as backup for your team, this was different. Because they had Rumlow, and you were the one to capture him.

It was in no way intentional, more like you saw an opportunity and took it, and it was definitely a good decision- finding he had several powerful bombs on him that he could use at anytime. You stripped him off all weapons, and gave him over to your colleagues, only speaking when necessary. You stayed in the corner, playing with your coin, though whenever Steve glanced in your direction to check on you, he saw you glaring at the man, and the coin was actually floating in your palm, turning rapidly. He could tell you were stressed, and he had no doubt in his mind you had a history with Rumlow, though he didn’t say anything.

Rumlow was handcuffed to the table in the small interrogation room, and for the most part he just glared straight ahead as Natasha questioned him, Steve behind her, and you in the corner. There was a pane of one sided glass where you knew the rest of the team was watching, Hill and Fury on their way to also monitor- this was a big deal after all. Everyone had thought Rumlow had died years ago, yet here he sat, badly burned from the collision with the helicarrier and the building, but breathing, which you personally found insulting.

“You sure you don’t want to tell us anything?” Steve asked, leaning on the table, trying to tempt the man to speak. He didn’t say anything and first, but then his eyes moved, and they met yours. The coin stopped dead in the air as a chill ran down your spine, though you didn’t break eye contact.

“Now that you mention it… Y/N-” He started. Natasha moved to stand in front of you, arms crossed, glaring at him. Steve turned and looked at you, motioning his head for you to leave the room. You didn’t budge. You had to be here- control the situation.

“Y/N. Out. Now.” Steve ordered, voice low and quiet, but demanding. You swallowed, grabbing the coin from the air, and leaving the room. You took a step to join the others, but you felt the bile rising in your throat, and instead you turned on your heel, going to find somewhere quiet, and the first place that came to mind was the bathroom.

The rest of the team remained focussed on the interrogation, their intention peaked since he started speaking. “How well do you know Y/N? You sure you should just let them walk around?” He teased them, making eye contact with Romanoff, whose arms were still crossed and presented unphased.

“We’re here to talk about your crimes, not for you to try and re-traumatise our friend.” Steve scolded, pasing across the room slowly.

“My crimes? What about theirs?” He laughed. Silence fell on the room.

“What does he mean?” Bruce inquired in a whisper from the other side of the glass, glancing at his friends, who seemed just as confused. “Weren’t they an experiment?”

“Yeah, they were, that’s how we found them.” Clint confirmed, eyes focussed through the glass.

“Elaborate.” Natasha demanded sternly.

“They never told you?” He teased her with a grin. “They’re one of ours. Always was, always will be. Our ears from the inside. Our own Agent Garbo.”

“You’re telling me Y/N is a double agent?” Steve asked. Rumlow only grinned, leaning back in his seat. Him and Natasha shared a look, before they made for the door. “Someone get agents to watch him. Where’s Y/N?”

You sat on the floor of the stall, trying to calm yourself. You already had an idea on what Rumlow was cooking, knowing if they didn’t let him mess with your head, he’d mess with theirs, pinning you against each other, and you didn’t know what would be the best way to deal with it and resolve the manipulation. This could permanently poison your relationship with your only friends. Your only family.

You heard the door open to the bathroom, and you held your breath, knowing this was it. You tucked your legs closer to you, squeezing your calves, as several footsteps were heard on the tiles. “Y/N?” You heard Tony’s voice call, and you gulped. You hesitated for a moment, before reaching up, unlocking the stall door, letting the door fall open, and it wasn’t long till the entrance to the stall was surrounded by your teammates staring down at you, their expressions ranged. Confused, sad, hurt, angry… “We need you to come with us.”

You didn’t fight them, standing up, letting Clint grab your arm and escort you through the base, surrounded by the other Avengers, no one speaking, and you knew quickly they were leading you to a holding cell. As you got closer, you turned to Steve. “What did he tell you?” Steve didn’t face you at first, but as Clint shoved you to keep moving, he did, but you didn��t get a chance to read his expression before you were put into the cell, void of any windows or view of the outside, and you looked up at the camera in the corner, before taking a seat on the harsh bed.

It wasn’t long till you heard the team arguing. It was mostly muffled beyond comprehension, but every so often someone, usually Tony, Thor, or Steve, would raise their voice loud enough to be heard. “Betrayed” “Double agent” and “Liar” Were words you heard frequently, as well as other mumbles, and you were able to gather an idea of what Rumlow had told them. That you were a double agent, a backstabber to the Avengers, the most successful plant and informant that HYDRA had, and for the last few years you had been playing them like fools. Your chest felt tight, trying to figure out what to do, getting up, pacing back and forth as you listened to them argue. You didn’t know who hated you, wanted you dead, or who wanted to hear you out or straight up was on your side. You weren’t sure if any of them were, and if it was just an argument of how to deal with you; a trial or an immediate execution? Was Natasha going to simply walk in and shoot you dead? If a trial is held, what court would hear it? What can you do to defend yourself? It’s Rumlow against you.

The yelling stopped, and you immediately noticed. There were faint mumbles, but nothing concrete, and then your door opened, making you flint. In stepped Fury. “Agent.” He greeted stoically. You straightened up, head lowered, hands at your side. “Would you mind if we speak alone?”

“Sir I don’t think-” You heard Vision start, before Fury turned to face out of the door, a glare enough to silence them, before he turned to you.

“Or would you like them here?”

“Just us please.” You requested quietly. You didn’t know why you didn’t want them here, force to listen to your side with Fury keeping them under check, but as he entered the room, closing the door behind him, you realised why. You knew you were going to have to talk about what happened, and you didn’t want them to know.

“Rumlow’s spun a story depicting you as a double agent.” He commented.

“I heard.” You confirmed, remaining stiff, though you now looked up at him. He met your eyes, before glancing up at the camera, not moving his head, a silent comment. They were watching.

“Would you mind going over what’s true and what’s not?” He asked you. You nodded, trying to relax your shoulders, though your fists were clenched, along with your jaw. “Are you a double agent?”

“I was previously.” You admitted.

“When was that?”

“Several years ago.” You responded, keeping eye contact with Fury.

“Can you elaborate for me?”

“I was a civilian at the time, but I kept up with what was happening with the Avengers and their enemy, HYDRA. I did my own research into them, and after a lot of digging, I found a way into their ranks. I took it.”

“So you worked for HYDRA?”

“Correct.”

“Why did you join them?” Fury asked, moving to lean on the wall, and cross his arms. He was calm, relaxed, his voice monotone and calm, though you understood- you two had had this exact conversation many years ago- when he questioned you after the team pulled you from that HYDRA base. It didn’t make it any easier for you though, your hands shaking, reliving everything in that moment.

“So I could give information to SHIELD.” You responded, your voice starting to shake.

“So you were a double agent, a spy, but a spy for us?”

“Correct, sir.”

“Even though we didn’t hire or train you to do so? You went in without a back up or team behind you to swoop in, in the case you were found out?” He asked. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak as you nodded. “What information did you provide us in that time?”

“I leaked details on experiments and projects. The Forest Project, the Kingston Project- that was me. I supplied SHIELD with the names of cover groups they were using to hire people- the same way I found my way in, so they could be stopped to weaken their numbers… I helped roughly 70 prisoners escape… the number passes me, I didn’t keep documentation so there was no trail.” You admitted.

“82, actually, I had Romanoff track them down and get a status update on them to make sure they’re safe. They are. Several have families now. I didn’t tell Romanoff who it was who freed them, just told her it was an anonymous agent.” Fury confirmed. You smiled to yourself at that, even though knowing Fury just on purpose let slip that he already knew all this information about you, that you’d already discussed this a long time ago. Still, he continued. “Then they found out what you were doing.”

“That’s right.”

“What did they do to you, Y/N?” He asked. This was the hardest part. It always was, even back then. It took several hours for you to admit everything to Fury from that hospital bed, and while you were stronger now, more mentally healed, being able to tell your team bits and pieces over the years, dropping it all at your feet right now was just as hard as it was back then.

“They turned me into their experiment. I’d freed several of their guinea pigs, so all those tests that were prepped for them was used on me, all at once… it hurt. A lot. Sometimes I’ll still feel the needles, the incisions, the burning, the effects like when it was really happening, even years later. After they were done, those did their usual torture techniques- I later found out it was the exact same techniques they used on James to break him. Eventually, the effects of the experiments showed. Some were a failure, but some succeeded… its how I ended up like this.” You expressed, pulling the old coin Steve had given you long ago, letting it float in your fingers, before you placed the coin on the bed, and hugged yourself. “With the healing factor… the torture became worse… knowing they could rip me apart and I’d grow it back and be ready for the next round in just a few hours… there was no point to it. No end goal. They were just punishing me for what I did. For crossing them… I think they probably had goals of breaking me like James and making me another weapon, but that was several years down the line… several more years until I broke.”

“But that didn’t happen. Because we raided the base and found you there.” Fury finished, and you nodded, only now feeling the salt in your mouth from your tears, sniffing and trying to rub away the tears, your whole body shaking. “And despite it all, you still wanted to do the right thing, and decided to become an official agent for us, and eventually an Avenger. The only person you’ve told exactly what happened to you to being me, since it only matters that I know the full story, until now.” Fury moved from leaning against the wall, walking over and standing in front of you, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry you’ve had to relive that experience to prove your innocence and loyalty to your team. Hill is waiting outside, she’ll drive you home. You take as much time as you need to heal from this again. I’ll handle the team and make sure they don’t cause more damage.”

“What about Rumlow?” You asked.

“I’ll make sure he pays for what he did to both Barnes, and you, everyone else he’s harmed. He isn’t seeing the light of day for the rest of his life, I promise. You’ve done good kid, now go rest.” He told you. The door opened, Hill stepping inside. You silently walked to her, head low as she guided you out, passed your silent team who stared at you, not even knowing what to say as Hill escorted you out. When you were out of the room, Fury stepped out the cell, looking pointedly at the team.

“You knew this the entire time?” Natasha asked.

“That I did. I know all your secrets, and it never should have happened that I had to expose Y/N’s biggest secret, especially like that!” He snapped at them, making several flinch. “Why would you believe Rumlow in a situation like this? In the middle of an interrogation? When he is known for being good at causing inner conflict in the team, pitting people against each other, and getting into people’s heads. The second he tried to put attention on an agent who you knew had a history with HYDRA- especially one which involves torture and trauma- you should have shut him up, not heard him out!”

“We know. We’re sorry.” Tony apologised.

“Not me you should be apologising to, Stark.” Fury reminded. Everyone at that point looked like a kicked puppy, heads low, uncomfortable, but mostly upset and disturbed at what they’d heard. “Do not, and I repeat, do NOT, go and bother Y/N, they were talk to you when they’re ready. They don’t trust you right now, and I don’t blame them. I’m temporarily taking them off the Avenger’s initiative until they feel like they can work with you again. In the meantime, you lot better think of the best way to make up for all of this for when they decide to come back.”

“IF, they come back.” Thor corrected.

“I would say if, but I know them. Like stated in there, they still want to do good and help SHIELD. They’ll come back, it might not be back to the Avengers, but they’ll come back to SHIELD at least.” Fury told them. “Now stop moping around and deal with Rumlow- and don’t believe a word he says unless you can fact-check!” He ordered. The team nodded, forcing themselves back into work mode, and trying to continue with their work, even if they were all haunted, though now they were a lot more angry at the smug man in the interrogation room.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

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acriminalmind · 2 years

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Mommy’s Good Boy

SoftDark!Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Y/N is a former Hydra soldier with a fear of witches. They manipulated him with mind control so that he did what Hydra wanted. He is now a beloved member of The Avengers after they freed him. Years later The Avengers are tasked with defeating the dreaded Scarlet Witch, not knowing that she was one of the witches who manipulated Y/N at Hydra. All these years she was looking for Y/N and now she has found him again and has no intention of ever letting her baby boy go out of her sight again. Whatever it takes.

Warnings: angst, smut, non-con, Soft dom Wanda, (forced) sub reader, kidnapping, manipulation, pegging, strap-on use, praise, mommy kink, oral (Wanda receiving), vaginal, collar, pet names, magical bondage, begging, overstimulation, aftercare, fluff with a dark edge, lactation kink, breeding, Stockholm Syndrome, somnophilia-ish.

Tell me if I missed any warnings.

*In this story Wanda was never a part of The Avengers. She never met them, except for Y/N. She was part of Hydra but left a year after you got rescued. She became the Scarlet Witch in her search for you.*

I should have never set foot in the mysterious building. The moment I did something felt off. A strange but horrible familiar feeling arose in me. A scent I hadn't smelled in years flowed around the room I just entered. Splitting up the team wasn't your idea and at this moment you cursed Cap for suggesting it and the rest of the team for agreeing on it. When Fury informed the team about this mission and who you were against alarm bells started ringing in your head. Hydra had left you with a huge trauma for witches, so the moment Fury told you about the target you felt anxiety starting to creep up. This mission acquired every member's presence. You would have rather stayed home, but you didn't want to let the team down. Maybe facing your worst fear would help to overcome it. Right? Dumbest thing you ever thought.

When all the metal doors towards the room you were in slammed shut and a certain soft feminine voice entered your head, you knew your past had caught up with you. "Finally I found you," was the last thing you heard before a pair of soft fingers touched your temples and knocked you out.

"Wake up, my precious boy," the tone of her voice dripped with sweetness. It took you a few seconds to open your eyes and fully register where you were. A pair of shining green eyes drew your attention. In fear, you looked down at your magically cuffed feet and hands which help you on the chair in the middle of an empty unfamiliar room. "No, this isn't happening. This is just a nightmare, a horrible nightmare I will soon wake out off." The redhead kneeled in front of you and cupped your face, "This, baby, isn't a nightmare. It's a dream come true. I finally have you back." The sweet smile on her face didn't make you feel better, not even a little bit. It made you feel more scared. Not being able to move from the chair to run far away cause you to panic. "Stop worrying, darling. It will be all better once you let me inside that pretty head of yours and make you fully mine. And this time only mine. Hydra of The Avengers will not be able to take you away from me again." By the mention of your friends, anger started to rise. "They didn't take me away from you back at Hydra. They saved me and they will do it again, I promise you. We will defeat you and then I will have to never see you again." A slap against your face kept you from saying more things to her. "You're mine and you're never leaving me again and if I have to punish the brat out of you to finally make you admit that, then so be it. You will be mommy's good boy when I'm done with you and you will love it."

With a simple flick of her wrist, the both of you were teleported to another room. A huge bed with red sheets stood in the middle of it. You were bent over the edge of it, with your hands on your back and your face pressed sidewards into the sheets, which smelled like her. A chill spreading over your body made you notice that you were fully naked. "Mommy didn't want to do this, baby. But you gave me no choice. You will take me till I think you've had enough." Wanda walked toward her dresser, picking out a box and laying it on the bed before undressing herself. Her body was divine. Total perfection. The moment these thoughts entered your mind you tried to get rid of them as soon as possible knowing the capabilities of Wanda's powers, but Wanda, unbeknownst to you, already heard your thoughts and an unnoticeable smirk took place on her face. When she took the object out of the box your eyes widened. Red tendrils made you unable to move away. "Please don't, Wanda. I'm begging you." Taking place on her knees behind you, "That's mommy to you, baby. Keep begging, maybe I will believe it after a while." Goosebumps covered your body when she slides her cold hand over your spine. Her nails dig into your hips when she grips them. Leaning over your body she whispers into your ear, "I want to hear you, baby. Let mommy know how good I make you feel." In one swift motion, she enters you with her red strap-on. A yelp leaves your mouth at the painful feeling. Stilling inside of you to give you some time to adjust makes the pain slowly fade away. Hearing your thoughts about the leaving pain she slides out of you, only leaving the tip in before thrusting back into you. The magical strap-on makes stimulates her too, so when she starts to pick up a pace she starts moaning, loving the feeling she gets from fucking you.

Even though you tried to contain your moans, the immense pleasure you're feeling keeps you from doing that. Your throbbing cock is painfully hard now. Her voice, echoing in your head tells you to give in and accept her back in, shocks you out of your trance. "I don't want this." "Yes, yes you do, baby. You're close to giving in. I can feel it." "No, I don't. You're just messing with my head. Please, stop. Let me go." "Why do you keep fighting it? You want this and you want me. You want to be mommy's good boy." Her words make you doubt what you want. This isn't right, far from it. But hearing her calling you her good boy makes you feel so good. You don't want to disappoint your mommy...you mean you don't want to disappoint Wanda. Right? It's all so confusing.

Tears stream down your cheeks. There are two voices in your head fighting for the upper hand. One tries to convince you to give in while the other tries to prevent that. Your mind wanders to your time with Hydra where you first met the witch. She was nicer to you than the others. She took care of you when you were hurt, gave you hugs when you looked like you needed one, and made you feel good. Weirdly enough you couldn't think of any bad things she did to you. Those memories were...gone like they never happened. Her accelerating thrusts made you lose focus on your inner battle. The two voices faded away and were replaced with the soft humming of your mommy, making you feel fussy and relaxed. Without even noticing it you start to softly moan, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy," with each thrust. The walls that kept her from fully entering your mind are now completely broken down.

The feeling of your ninth orgasm approaching has made the feeling in your legs disappear. "P-please, mommy, stop. I'll behave," you bring out with a tired voice. "Are you mine baby? Are you mommy's good boy?" "I'm yours, mommy." Finally, her brutal pace stops and she carefully pulls out of you. Red tendrils lift you and lay you on your stomach on the bed. You tense when you feel her hands on your body again, afraid of more punishments. "Relax, baby. Mommy's got you. Let me take care of you." With a wet washing cloth, she cleans you before packing a quick kiss on your lower back. The throbbing of your cock prevents you from drifting off to sleep. A small sob leaves your mouth. "Talk to me, baby," her hand rubbing over your back calms you down. "It hurts, mommy. Please make it go away." When you are placed on your back she gives you a peck on your head and says, "I will help you, baby. Just close your eyes. I know you’re tired. I will be here with you when you wake up." "I love you, mommy." The words make her smile, "I love you too, my boy. I'm so happy I finally have you back." Slowly she starts to stroke your shaft, while you close your eyes and fall into a peaceful sleep.

"Come here, darling," your mommy calls out from the bathroom. Stepping out of the bed you walk to the other room. When you arrive you kiss your mommy on her lips, which she happily returns. "Here, put this on for me, baby," handing you pink boxer shorts with a bow on top. "I have a surprise for you. Will you turn around for me?" You do as you’re asked and turn around, looking in the mirror. A red collar is put on your neck within black letters the words 'Mommy's good boy. Looking at it in the mirror, you start to smile at the words, which, of course, your mommy notices. "You like your present, don’t you, darling," she hugs your waist from behind and leans her chin on your shoulder, watching you in the mirror. "I love it, mommy, I love being your good boy." Seeing you so submissive and obedient to her in comparison to yesterday she feels overwhelmed with joy. She fell for you when she met you at Hydra. When she planned on escaping together with you The Avengers took away that chance by taking you with them. It took her years to locate you. Now you are finally hers.

Your mommy takes your hand in hers and walks you towards another room which turns out to be her study. "I want you to kneel in front of me, lay your pretty head onto my lap en be still while I study. If you do that then I will reward you tonight. Can you do that for mommy?" Nodding your head let her take place in her chair before kneeling in front of her and carefully laying your head on her lap. While she holds her study book in one hand, she starts stroking your hair with the other. "Good boy," she hums.

Hours later she finally was done with reading her book. She led you back to your bedroom en told you to lay down on your back. Magically she makes her clothes disappear. The beauty in front of you makes you hard. A certain heat overtook you. "See something you want, baby." You nod. "Words, baby. I need words. I can't give you what you want if you don't tell me what it is, silly." "I-I want you, mommy. I w-want to t-touch you," you stammer out nervously. It adores her how nervous she makes you. Crawling over the bed towards you and placing herself on your lap, she keeps strong eye contact with you. "Don't be nervous for your mommy. Touch me. If you need help I will."

Your eyes wandered over her body but were mostly lured towards her full breasts. Hesitantly you brought your hands towards the sides of them while you stroked her nipples with your thumbs. A moan left the woman on top of you, which encouraged you to squeeze them a little. She laid her hands on top of yours. "Kiss me," she pleaded. You shot up and placed your lips against hers. "Kiss my skin, I want to feel your mouth on my skin." Leaving her mouth to kiss her neck before going lower and leaving small hickeys on her chest. While you were kissing every inch of her chest, she brought one of your hands to her now dripping core. The feeling of her wetness made you look up to her. "Touch mommy," she whispered with hooded eyes. Heading your attention to her core you see her glistening juices on your hand. Bringing a finger through her folds you collect some and watch it with amazement slide down your finger. "Taste me, baby. You can have a taste if you want." A moan left your mouth at the sweet taste of her in your mouth. Lowering your hand again you insert a finger inside of her. She bucks her hips against your hand. "More, baby. Please put another finger in me." Instead of only giving her one other finger you bring in two, earning a louder moan from your mommy. "Yes, baby. So good for mommy." While she moves her hips, you start to move your fingers. Her arms are wrapt around your neck, pushing your head into the crook of her neck. "I-I'm almost there. Mommy is cumming on your hand. D-don't stop." The tightened grip around your fingers makes it almost impossible to move. You feel wetness drip over your hand onto your boxer shorts. She leaves a loud moan in your ear while riding out her orgasm, praising you over and over again for being her good boy, making your head feel fussy.

"M-mommy, I-I want to be inside of you, W-with my..., " the nerves take over, but luckily your mommy knows exactly what you want. Sliding off your pink underwear she lets your cock spring free. Taking the shaft into her hand she brings the tip towards her core and gently slides down onto it. It feels like you're in heaven the moment you are fully inside her. She pushes you onto your back and lays her hands on your chest before she starts riding you. The bouncing of her breasts has you mesmerized. "You feel so good inside me, baby. Love having your big cock stretching me out, making me feel so so good." "I love feeling your soft walls around me, mommy." You buck up your hips to fuck into her more. "I'm almost cumming, mommy. Can I cum?" "Come for me, now. Be my good boy," she moaned at you filled with need. "Fill mommy up, breed me." Those words bring you over the edge. You cum inside her, painting her walls white with your seed. This brings her over the edge too. She squirts all over your cock, your tighs, and sheets before falling on top of you.

After you both caught your breath she slide off of you and walks to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth. When you were both clean and the sheets were changed you both returned to lay back in bed. You lay your head on her stomach while hugging her. The sound of your growling stomach caught your mommy's attention. "Are you hungry, precious? Come sit up so I can feed you." Before she found you she discovered a spell to make her produce milk so she can properly feed you. Bringing your head to her breast, you knew out of habit what to do. The sweet taste of her milk flowing in your mouth made you slowly close your eyes. "If you finish your meal you can go to sleep, baby. You did so well for me today, darling. Mommy is proud of you. Keep loving me, and then everything will be okay." She played with your hair while she hummed a familiar Sokovian lullaby.

A month later you were walking around your house when you heard a commotion in the living room. Quietly you tiptoed towards the living room where you saw the Black Widow standing in front of your mommy, pointing a gun to her head. It looked like something was preventing your mommy from using her powers. "Where is Y/N, you crazy bitch," the spy spits. "He is not coming back with you Nat. He loves me and will not leave this place with you." "You're just manipulating him. Where is he?" Before Natasha can do or say anything else she's knocked down to the ground. Broken vace pieces spread next to her head. "I'm not going anywhere. I love my mommy and I am her good boy." Running towards your mommy, you hug her and she hugs you back. "Thank you for saving me, sweet boy," she says to you. Standing up she walks toward the unconscious Russian and crushes the device that kept her from using her powers before lifting the Russian off of the floor with her red magic to bring her to the cel she had kept you in the first day. Locking the door with her magic she walks back to you bringing you into another hug. "You did so good for mommy. You deserve a reward, don't you think?" Looking up at her you get an idea. "Can we keep Mrs. Romanoff here for a while? She wasn't very nice to you, maybe you need to learn her how to behave." Your mommy thinks about it for a second before smiling at you. "That sounds like a good idea, baby. She indeed needs to learn how to behave. Maybe when she's punished enough she can be our little pet to play with." Your eyes lit up at that idea, "I would love that, mommy." She kisses you and takes your hand to walk with you to your shared bedroom for some 'naughty time' together as you like to call it.

In the bedroom, she undresses before laying at the end of the bed where she opens her legs, showing you her glistening wetness. She beckons you to come to her with her index finger. "Come to mommy, baby. I need you to down there." With the speed of light, you are laying on your stomach with both her legs draped over your shoulders, eating her out. "Good boy, my good boy. So good for mommy," she whispers with closed eyes whN lile playing with her nipples.

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#criminal minds #fanfic #marvel #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x male reader #dark fic #dark wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximommy #wanda maximoff smut #black widow #natasha romanoff #mommy wanda

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darkdemeter · 3 months

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GUARD DOG

The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN (ONESHOT) #4 —

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

Mafia! Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

A/N — First time doing the sex pollen trope so it may be a bit stiff? Looking at doing more werewolf exposed to sex pollen stuff because I think it’s an interesting concept!

WORD COUNT — 24.7k

READER DISCRETION — Mafia/mob orientated stuff — violence — death — slight alluded to relationship with Natasha — trauma, some ptsd — mention and implied SA and forced sexual encounters (none main cast) — graphic depictions of torture, "animal" cruelty, experimentation and family death — exposure to sex pollen (reader only) — mention of previous usage of drugs (forced) — reader is dehumanised, usage of negative titles/names — sexual themes — SMUT** 18+ MINORS DNI — monster-tongue fucking — "Mate" usage and status — will feature "male variant" and "female variant" smut separate segments — I think that's it?

SUMMARY — All that you are is a guard. An obedient soldier. You have killed, maimed and other atrocities, but before you lose yourself you will do all these things for her. With the death of Pietro, Wanda remains as the sole heir to the Maximoff empire. As her loyal guard, it is your duty to protect her at all costs, and you will do so until your last breath; come what may. You now engage in a manhunt for Brock Rumlow, to exact revenge for the Maximoff heiress. However, it's not that simple. He's disappeared to the winds without a trace and so, those of the American brotherhood come your aid. However, when they bring news of Brock's whereabouts, it will force you to encounter a part of your dark history that you've purposefully kept hidden from Wanda. Ironic that you will venture to a place that still holds you captive yet is the stepping stone of how you gained your "freedom".

ACT I: AMBER & BLOOD

It all happens so fast. After a torturous incline of sinister lingering just out of reach, Rumlow finally struck. Wanda could very well have died tonight if it weren’t for you, unfortunately, Pietro is lost in the crossfire.

A black SUV rolled over with a fried, sizzling engine, and crumpled metal, Wanda’s leg is pinned between the driver’s seat and her own, unable to prevent Pietro from being dragged out.

His yells of protest mix with the blood curdling sounds of flesh being pummelled and choking on his own blood. Wanda cries out in her suffering, her agony that cuts her deeply like a knife, turning without pause. She now realises she should have listened to you when you told them it was a set up.

She’d been adamant the Rumlow Family had want for peace, such as them, and that with some luck, they could forge a new schematic and plan to control the European territories together in their newfound alliance. Foreign powers were not often taken in by those of the European empires and families unless they proved to have wealth, power, influence and anything else that could bolster their own standing.

How wrong the Maximoff twins were, to think of such pleasantries like children with an over imaginative mind for wishful thinking. To believe honey-coated words. They were revealing their hand of cards to the dealer before it was the right time.

She and Pietro only glimpsed at the surface of this opportunity, they didn’t take care in looking into the depths, they blindly ignored your advice to consider what was being offered. They had no elders to hit pause and test them, to let them properly judge the situation accordingly.

The only means of guidance the twins were offered after the death of their parents did little in doing the right thing. Blubbering messes, hidden agendas, so-called family friends that failed so miserably in their job to counsel the Maximoff heirs. Trusted members that swore they would do all in their ability to protect the interest of the family, blood and business all.

It then fell into the palms of your clawed hands. Hands that were often healing bruised and splintered knuckles if not blood stained. It was up to you to rectify their mistakes. To provide the support of being a shadowy advisor, because of the scolding looks you were given whenever you tried to voice your own opinion at the sit downs.

The ideal scenario of meeting with the Rumlows also implied that you were nowhere in the picture when the negotiations went down. Yes, Wanda and Pietro both agreed that your presence would only push Rumlow to refuse the deal, along with their desired terms.

Did they truly think that he wouldn’t agree under the silent oath that he would later turn on them, your presence there or not? Rumlow was the dagger in the cloak.

That’s why you were not in the car with them when it happens. But you were tailing behind them, to ensure that they were safe. That was your job, your purpose to be with the family, to protect them. And thankfully, given your experience, you knew something was off from the very start.

The black, winding street lined by the green foliage of woodland is shrouded in darkness, Rumlow’s men are convinced that this was the perfect spot for their ambush to take place. Their cars formed a blockade in the direction the SUV was driving through, the white lights blaring through the thick shroud of night, a thin and constant blanket of fog muffled their black silhouettes. They appear more ghost-like than they really were. But they were very much real.

Wanda continues to scream for her brother, pleading with the suited men to let him go, but they don’t. Instead, they laugh and joke while Pietro is beaten into a broken, bloody mess. His face is cut and littered with dark welts that contort his features, a hideous display of the brutality that could have been avoided if they just listened.

She tries again and again to pull her leg from the tight wedge but cannot. When the car rolled, it sealed her fate, locking her in place to endure the cruelty of their consequences.

You hear her shout for you then. Her voice, shrill and raw with desperation, she wills you to be at her side; unexpecting that her words seemed to be a work of magic when the large, muscular frame of your other side leaps from the canopy of trees and bushes behind her.

Rumlow thinks he is the only beast that none can trifle with. His memory is lacking or perhaps he’s purposefully blocked out the incident.

The men who are your now sworn enemies are caught in the frenzy of their panic, alarmed by the swift form that tears Pietro’s attacker into shreds in seconds, his blood rains down like a storm, covering them and the dark road illuminated by the streams of light.

From Wanda’s trapped place, she cannot help the swell of admiration and hope in her green eyes, the men cower before you as you protectively stand over Pietro’s unconscious body. The threads of her vocal cords are tightly constricted under the influx of tears that mist her eyes, making them faintly shine, yet she prevails to utter your name in the midst of her shock. To see that you actually came for them.

Like a guardian angel. A guard dog.

The fiery orbs of your amber eyes haunt the darkness and even so far to reach Wanda’s soul. To behold the gaze of such anger, she cannot even pray that those targeted by such hatred find rest when their bodies have grown cold and lifeless.

It is one thing to test the fury of a man. It’s a completely different story when one tests the wrath of a werewolf. As far as the reputation of your collar goes, you don’t take kindly to your enemies, as expected, nor are you known to be merciful towards prisoners. If they intend harm on those that are under your protection, they will die.

In the amber fires of your eyes that bare the gateway to the underworld, she sees that deeply driven will to protect. She finds comfort in that notion, that you are here right now, already one man torn to pieces, and several more to join him, she releases the breath in her chest like a floodgate as she utters, “kill them all.”

The large outline of your muzzle dips obediently and you turn your sights to the men sent to kill the heirs to the Maximoff Family. No mercy. There was to only be blood and carnage.

Your towering height only drives the stakes of primitive fear further into their hearts as your bloody jaws pry open, bellowing a baritone howl that freezes fauna and flora both, terrorising their once moment of harmony.

One of the men shouts orders to the others, his words die on the junction of his Adam's apple when you strike an arm forward. Your claws puncture first and followed by the digits of your pawed fingers, he chokes around the intrusion, and with an equally viscous tug you tear the cords from his throat.

Claps of gunfire echo with each flash, bullet after bullet try in vain to penetrate your hide, some find more prominent purchase while others ricochet off you and clank against the bloodstained road with false promises that that single bullet would be the one to bring you down.

For a family allied with the very facility that made you the ruthless killing machine - a family who have knowledge of their fingertips - they were greatly under prepared, sorely lacking the equipment needed to cause you any real damage.

One man gains a surge of bravery or stupidity and he runs at you, gun in hand firing until his magazine is emptied before he knew it, you see his very life flash before his eyes as you raise your opposite arm up and sweep downward. His scream is cut short when his head is shredded in half and blood gushes in oozing streams, he falls with a meaty thump to the ground.

Two men armed with shotguns empty their barrels, reload and fire again, the process repeats itself. It’s the middle one that awakens that predator drive in you when he turns and makes a run for it.

You run at the two men and dispatch of them, claws tearing through their suits and divulging the contents of their stomachs, their internal organs now unguarded by the crushed remnants of their bones, they topple free and onto the ground at their feet. Their legs are quick to give out as shock wracks their bodies, hands shakily attempting to pull their innards back in with little hope of succession.

The final man who now flees the scene wheezes, and quite loudly at that, firearm disarmed when your jaws clamp shut around his forearm and tear the limb from his shoulder with a squelch and a bone-breaking pop.

He clutches at the deformity of his missing arm and his hand is soaked with his blood, the wound leaves a trail to paint a streaky, black line that now shines under the uncovered moon; taking a leisurely peek through the veil of obsidian clouds.

You can tell that the shock is getting to him as much as he tries to carry on, he’s becoming weaker. He now stumbles like injured prey, exactly what he was to you in this moment, whimpering as he drops to the road with a helpless grunt.

He’s desperate from how he crawls from you. You slowly stalk behind him with some level of intrigue, head cocking to the side and your ears twitch against the blowing breeze, you snarl lowly when he turns to peer up at you.

“P-please!” he shouts weakly as you flip him into his back with minimal effort, “d-d–don’t! No–!”

You make him suffer for the trouble he and his fellow men put Wanda and Pietro through. You make the agony last, something that goes against the natural instinct to end a poor animal’s suffering; it was broken out of you in that facility.

You maul to hurt people. You kill to hurt people. All things natural and that bring you closer to that connection, that tie that binds you to the balance of nature, was ripped out of you to mould you into an obedient pet.

An animal that follows orders. The duality between wolf and human, both were equally broken in.

His screams of horror and agony tear through the night until he couldn’t anymore, his throat tired out from screaming to whatever god he held faith in, your teeth rip into his bowels and chest, flesh and bone minced into chunks of paste and blood. He now laid bare with the entirety of his midriff destroyed. The light in his eyes now faded.

The threat is now neutralised, you realise and swiftly you turn and trudge back to Wanda. When you reach her, she’s managed to just wiggle herself a little ways out of the open door frame, fragments of glass dig into her palms until they draw blood, mere droplets in comparison to what you drew from Rumlow’s men.

“Y/N,” she whimpers quietly in relief. Her face is scrunched tightly with a hiss as she attempts again to free herself, a strangled cry of frustration is what it takes for her tears to break free.

Your ears are pinned far back against your head at the sound. Brutally self-beating in her vulnerable state. You reach forward with a growl, you shove the leather seat forward and with the mechanical gears popping, Wanda’s leg is freed. You help in dragging Wanda out from the car, Your nose is wet and hot against her skin when you press it to her, inhaling her scent as you sniff her over for any potential injuries.

“I’m fine,” she assures you but the wrinkle of your muzzle tells her you don’t appreciate her diffusing the matter of your job. “Pietro!”

Wanda pushes herself to her feet with newfound strength. She hurries to her twin brother and rolls him onto his back, a gasp on her tongue, you hear her breath hitch in her lungs while she takes in the sight of him.

Her next move is hesitant but she has to know. She dips her head, turning it and presses it against his chest, her hand covering the deep cut right at her nose, the iron scent of blood fills her senses and her face winces.

The lively thump in his chest is silent.

“I knew this would happen. I told you, but you didn’t listen.”

Though with words so evident in their truth, Wanda finds them venomous and harsh to her ears, still in the grasp of shock, the loss of her brother is the final straw. Not only two years ago her parents were killed, and now another Maximoff finds themselves in the grave. She is the sole surviving heir to the Maximoff Family and their empire hinges upon her.

A burden, you feel, is crushing her from the inside as all eyes will now turn to her.

She sits on the edge of her lage bed with her legs pressed tightly together, hanging down over the side, hands folded in her lap in defeat. Her long hair shields her tears from you, when you glance up from your place at her vanity do you catch her reflection. A girl done in by the trauma. In the moonlight that pours through the window, her body is quivering in waves, mind and body at battle with overcoming the death of her brother.

You cannot help but wonder if maybe this is all your fault. Had her parents not been killed, had you been there to protect them, would she have been spared from it all?

She’s terrified. The grief that accompanies her loss doesn’t go unshared, you have your own reasons to mourn. Pietro, although a little too cocky at times, was a good brother and son who intended to change the playing field of your world. A young man who had a vision but ultimately was blinded by his ideas to see the world as it was, that there were those who saw different alternatives to get what they wanted.

And Rumlow was one of those people.

The heat of your body angrily laps at the streak of icy coldness of your blood when you hear behind you the shriek of a thousand tears, memories shattered into pieces, torn apart by the fragile thread between life and death and all the unfair tactics this life offers.

Wanda now screams into the palms of her hands, body caught in a violent spasm amidst the ocean of her pain. “H-he’ll come back any minute… he will, he’s just– just in a meeting–”

You walk slowly towards her and kneel down in front of her. “Wanda, look at me,” you growl and turn her chin up so her watery eyes meet yours.

“He’s gone. Rumlow isn’t going to play things out the way you both hoped he would. Think about it, he fucking almost ended this entire family tonight had I’d not been there.”

The delicate, plump shape of her lips part with a small and faint gasp, her eyes bore the slow realisation of what you were saying. Yet her eyes beg for you to take back what you said. To offer her an escape from it all, to just tell her what she wants to hear; not what she needs to.

It’s unfortunate news to her as you shake your head slightly. You cannot let her fall into the false dream that everything was alright. Like a bandaid, you have to rip it off. She had almost been killed. Had you not been there, after the men dealt with Pietro, they would have gotten her too. The thought of it causes an unwelcome shiver to run up her spine.

“Rumlow aims to snuff out the entire Maximoff Family in order to gain territory. And he’s not going to stop until he’s put you in the ground too.”

How could your words be so hard to hear but equally so right in their conviction? You were trusted by her parents, someone they considered part of the family despite your otherwise humble dismissal that you were just a guard to the family. They considered you equal to their standing.

And Wanda waved off your warnings as if you didn’t have a clue. Hell, she doesn’t even know half of what you had to endure at the facility. The horrors of your time growing up in that damn place are accounts you’re not overly excited to share with anyone.

“Wanda,” you say her name to draw her unfocused eyes, to bring her back to you, “you’re all I have to protect now. I swore that I would do everything in my ability, and I will. But promise me, you won’t do anything like that again.”

Your eyes hold her attention, firm and unwavering in the looming silence between you. She feels her heartbeat race a little quicker now as she becomes lost in the certainty of your protection, the caged beast beneath the surface, she nods. “I promise.”

“Good.” You sigh heavily as something finally eases the tension in your shoulders, you let them drop lower and bow your head, face inches from resting in her lap. Her fingers comb the length of your hair, soft and drenched from your quick shower to rinse off the blood that clung to your fur.

She lets her head dip as well and soak in the scent of your shampoo, a strong smell of pine, something naturistic, compared to the one she used. Not at all the scent she would peg you for with your rough exterior and stoic personality.

But that was all a front. Time and time again she’s seen a side to you that you keep away from others. A tenderness you reserve for her, even your claws tend to be drawn back whenever you’re just in her company. Much like they were now, she marvels at the sight of those sharpened tips that you use as a weapon, as they now reduce back into the nail beds.

Other than that, all she got to see was your dominating and intimidating stature, tough as iron front, letting all know that she was under your unwavering protection. That you guard her.

Your head rolls up and your noses brush against each other, breaths mingling together in the miniscule gap between your lips, an inch apart you would have considered inappropriate before. But that was when you were unsure and reserved, humbly turning down any sort of praise and keeping your feelings locked away in some dark corner of your heart.

Before you came to realise you were in love with her.

You try to calm the rapid increase of your heart rate as if somehow she is still in the clutches of immediate danger, that at any moment she will be taken from you. Her lips, so plump and full and kissable, ghost over yours in silent contemplation. She knows just as well as you that this teeters on a fine line, that this can jeopardise everything between the two of you.

And nobody could know. A werewolf guard and the heiress to one of the largest and well established criminal empires in the world, if anyone found out, it would cost you both everything.

What terrifies you is the thought that you could lose Wanda at any moment. The constant what if questions.

‘What if I were unable to prevent her demise? What if I fail her?’

“I just can’t lose you, Wanda.”

You shake your head at your own words, their meaning so plain and simple: a confession.

“I promised your parents that I would always protect you.”

It’s like she could see through the cover up. Yes, you did swear yourself to them that you would protect their children, their daughter, but you also used it as a line of defence. To save face from the awfully timed confession.

“They’re gone, Y/N. Swear it to me.”

Her hands cup the shape of your face, the pads of her thumbs soft, delicate against the contours of your features, the tiny and healed scars that littered your face alone, the rest of them were hidden beneath your clothes, how her simple touch calms you and makes you more alive than ever. Her touch is a revival. For once, you’re given the reprieve you long for. To feel trusted wholeheartedly. Loved.

Your hands run up the sides of her thighs until they pause right on the rise of her rear, your fingers grasp firmly and tug her that little bit closer, your forehead pressed to hers and that amber glow shines brightly in your eyes in the dimly lit room.

“I swear it.”

Your lips come together as two separate forces once held far apart for too long, now the pull draws you both inwards to the other, magnetic and electrical. Passionate and hungry. You waste no time in sharing one another’s taste as your tongues glide and entangle amidst the heat of your kiss.

Her fingers rake through your hair and tug on the roots, earning one guttural of an animalistic moan from you, the sound results in a wetness to pool between her thighs, and you can smell her alluring scent. Your hands knead her arse, your tight grip possessive as you have her in your grasp, after all this time.

You’ve done many horrible things in your long life. But Wanda drowns it all out. For a moment or more, you are free of the guilt, the shame, the fear of being capable of hurting her. You’d snap the next man’s neck or shoot a hundred bullets into a corpse without so much as a sweat. But you’d be damned if you laid a hand that intended harm on Wanda.

And that’s why you swear to her now, that your loyalty shall remain intact. Because you have killed for her. You will kill for her.

It came with the job but now it comes with the instinct, the desire to have her as your own.

Then again, that was the light of your soul, what little there was that isn’t eclipsed, the faction of your humanity and questionable morality, talking.

ACT II: ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE & WAR

ONE WEEK LATER

The party was hosted in honour of Pietro, a final toast and salute to the young male heir, a dear boy and treasure lost in the battles of struggling power. Many of the European mobsters respected the Maximoff Family, and would attend the party to pay their respects forward.

However, Pietro’s death did not only shake the foundations of the criminal underworld within Europe, but overseas as well it would seem. So when mobsters from the Americas attended the honorary party, to say you were more protective in regards to your duty to Wanda and the Maximoff Family doesn’t cut it.

Tony Stark and the band of his notorious brotherhood swagger in, Tony wearing a brighter shade suit than those of his company - who at least took greater care in setting their palettes to the familiar dark shades of mourning - the bright pink of Stark’s tie makes something seethe inside the pit of your stomach.

The disrespect of Pietro’s memory makes your blood rush and the wolf inside is itching to unleash itself right there and then. You can just tell he’s stirring up the party on purpose, no doubt to get the attention of Wanda, and your assumptions were correct when Natasha joined your side.

You took to seeing over the guests from the upper balcony that circles the lower level of the great hall. Your eyes narrow and zero in on the American group of gangsters the moment they walk in, not too long after their arrival does Stark lead them over to the bar, the server working double time to fulfil their order.

Natasha follows the target of your gaze and smirks. “You’re burning holes into them with your eyes.”

She sees the amber hue dissipate, but only slightly, the lowly embers ready to become a roaring fire once the right fuel is added, to be devoured by your anger. “They’re here for a foothold.”

You only hum, the sound is short and dismissive. “They’ll behave themselves and ask for nothing, if they know what’s good for them.”

“Stark has already sent an inquiry forward to have an audience with Wanda,” Natasha says and you finally look at her behind the hardened scowl, set hard into your face like stone. Your grip tightens on the glass nestled into your palm, the sound of a fragility splintering in your hold threatens the iced liquor of becoming a wasted mess on the floor.

You take in her appearance, red hair short and styled into wavy curls, makeup neutral for the most part, save for the shadowy appeal around her eyes and full lips painted in red to draw attention - even yours momentarily - to them.

She takes notice of your eyes wandering her body from head to toe and she playfully quirks a brow. “See something you like?”

As if to test your resolve, she arches her back ever so slightly, her already short, black cocktail dress rides only higher, leaving little to the imagination. The work of art is already standing there beside you. Once you would have leapt at the opportunity, but not anymore. That was the old you that would have instantly pulled Natasha to you and smacked her rear until they were red with your handprint, whispering in her ear all the ways you would deal with her teasing.

But the new you stands above that. You’re loyal to one woman and one woman only.

With an unamused shrug, you take a swig of your liquor. The taste rolls over your tongue with a rich, burning sensation.

“Not interested, Romanoff. I’m a changed wolf.”

She chuckles at that, head tilting to the side with a cheshire grin. “And here I was, getting all dolled up for you. What a waste.”

She juts her bottom lip out and you roll your eyes, gaze falling back onto the scheming mobsters below.

“Maybe not. You can always use your skills down there,” you nod your head in the direction of your eyes, “and convince them to back off.”

“You can’t always protect her from people like them. Sooner or later, she will have to engage in business deals, and you can’t keep her hidden in her ivory tower forever.”

“Not forever,” you correct sharply, “just until Rumlow is dealt with and she has recovered from Pietro’s death. The last thing I want is for her to be taken advantage of.”

What you’re asking of her is laughable to her by the way she quietly cackles beside you as if you told some hilarious joke. “Naw, Puppy, are you letting something show?”

You shake her head in response to her nonsense, you won’t be baited into feeding into what she alludes to.

“You know, I hate how it’s expected of us women, when our means of support is taken. Now that Pietro’s gone, she’ll be expected to marry some rich overlord or some don.”

That makes your blood run cold and skin turn searing hot. The idea of Wanda marrying someone like that isn’t what you want to be thinking about right now, no matter how true Natasha’s statement is, it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Your tongue runs over your top teeth, a fang manages to nick the moving muscle, drawing a few drops of tangy blood to join the tartness of truth.

You bite back your next comeback, the muscles in your cheek clenching tightly like coiled springs ready to snap under the pressure, she and Tony both are equal in their game to piss you off tonight. Nobody wants to see a werewolf snap, even those who think they do, they’re quick to see the error of their ways. But Natasha always found the thrill in that, in her little games, she was always doing something to rattle your chain.

“Just do that for me, yeah?”

“And what if I don’t?”

She teases you again, bending one leg forward until her thigh brushes the centre of your groin. Her eyes are half lidded in her mission to weaken you, to break you in, and in this case you’re not taking a single liking to the notion; that someone is still trying to achieve what another has already done, too far gone in your head that it’s a fried mess of pure disturbia.

Your other hand curls around her bicep and you drag her towards you and spin her, pushing her back against the pillar next to you. She stares up at you, eyes wide and hopeful in their longing to watch you crack, your lips curl into a sneer.

“You don’t want to find out.”

You push her away from you, taking great care not to be so rough, lest she falls back and stumbles in her black high heels, she scoffs with a wave of her hand. “Alright, alright, I was just fooling around. I’ll deal with them.”

With a gust of a snort through your nose, you nod and take your leave after draining down the rest of your drink and slamming the glass down on a nearby server’s platter as you strut off. You pay no mind that the force you restrained only prior with Natasha had transferred over and the glass shattered upon impact with the metal tray, glass clattering and ringing like a steady beat of a drum.

Your little show with Natasha proved to be quite the performance to the American mobsters who occupied the seats by the bar.

You didn’t want to doubt Natasha, but you held some mistrust in her task to do as you asked, the matter more personal than practical to the business side of things, but you wanted to seek out Wanda.

You couldn’t blame her for lingering back from the party for the time being and drown herself in the sorrows of isolation.

But particularly after Natasha brought up the case of marriage, you had to seek Wanda out. Your fear is irrational, fearing that somehow someone who played the part of some wealthy don or overlord was with her now, down on one knee and presenting her a ring as they asked the question.

“Will you marry me?”

You all but force the door open with a thrust of your arm, the hand on the doorknob wary of the strength you forced to choke it with. You’d been so deep in your messed up head, you actually thought you heard someone’s voice ask the dreaded question.

You catch your unhinged jaw in the act, about to scream your objection before Wanda has a chance to either accept or deny, but she looks up at you from her place behind the large, dark wooden desk, the sacramento green leather only brought about to highlight her form.

She gives you a look of expectancy and beckons you in with a gentle wave of her hand and inviting, sad smile. “Y/N, please come in. Is there something to report?”

You shake your head in response to her question as you walk into the office - her office - but you believe that it was also to shake the intrusive thoughts in your head away. With a sigh of relief, she lets you involve yourself in her space and become accustomed to whatever strikes your fancy.

You walk across the way towards the table on the opposite side of the room beneath the large window, curtains tied back to reveal the onslaught of rain and brewing storm clouds. Even the heavens were crying over the loss to the Maximoff Family it seems.

You hit yourself with the stronger alcohol, tip the decanter and pour the rusty brown liquid into a short whiskey glass. You all but slam the decanter down, this time you thankfully avoid smashing it into crystalised shards.

Wanda turns her head in your direction. “Everything alright?”

“Just peachy,” you huff as you stare out the window, brows knitted together and you take a sip of your beverage. The burnt taste is stronger than the drink you acquired at the bar, but it does little to quell your troubles and bring about that soothing buzz that warms your chest.

“I take it you received Stark’s inquiry?”

“I did. And I assume, by the way you’re aggressively scowling, that he’s here?” she answers from her place at the desk. You take another gulp from your glass, lips pulling back into a thin line. Your eyes become thin with a glare, the stare awfully predatory with warning.

“Yeah.”

She stands from her seat and wanders over to where you are, the long skirt of her dress tightly fits her silhouette, the ruffle slit along her thigh provides some relief for movement, you watch as she carefully approaches you.

Her naked hand reaches up and with a touch so delicate in its pure nature to soothe, you lean your cheek into her palm with a rumbling purr, the sound brings a smile to her lips as you’re lured by the touch you were deprived off for most, if not all, of your life.

How can a mere touch be capable of healing the disturbed fragments of your tormented mind for but a moment? But just like that, the illusion of your wishful thoughts is shattered. Your tone is sharp and cuts straight to the point.

“Wanda, I strongly advise against it.”

“I-I know, but listen–”

“No, you listen!”

Wanda gasps aloud when the shackles of your mind threaten to snap right there, the mentality of a previously caged animal losing itself to the mindless blur returning for the fraction of a few seconds, you pin Wanda in place against the table you stood by, glass rattling together violently from the force behind it, your arms cage her at both sides. The second time she becomes trapped without the capability to escape.

She has no choice and is forced to watch a darkness creep into the blazing hellfire of your glowing eyes. “Men like him are dangerous. They are the definition of what makes a man untrustworthy. If you choose to see him, then you may as well have Rumlow be walking through the front door as well.”

“I think I can handle a few men in suits, dog.”

‘Dog...’

That was a fine line being crossed. She’s never called you that before and the shrinking of her pupils leads you to believe she regrets letting the word slip out. You can’t begin to dig up the memories of those old bones, the unidentifiable names and titles that stripped you of who you were. Your teeth ache from the pressure that compresses them together like metal plates of a vice, the muscles beneath eyes darkened by exhaustion, they twitch in recognition of the heat of tears.

Quickly, you squeeze them shut to hide the shameful level of care she'd see. The embarrassment you carry for that more than professional fondness for the heiress. There are just some things that are unable to escape you. In some form, either by something you do or by someone else’s hand, it triggers the past to return and hits you with a punch to the gut, forcing the memories back into the forefront to torment you.

Through a battle of grit you push aside the conflict that makes your head swim and dizzy. “Will you think that way during or after he has you pinned like this, as he and his men have their fill of you?”

It’s the question that makes the penny drop. One that doesn’t need an answer, you don’t want an answer to.

“Because believe me when I say this, Wanda, that I have bore witness to too many women who said very similar things and ended up as the victims at the dealing table; not the victors. All the while, I was ordered to sit. Stay.”

The number of times that shock collar went off to prevent you from protecting those women have only blurred together. The victims became faceless and shielded by the black behind your eyelids. You wouldn’t watch. The one luxury within the sea of evil your prior masters afforded you.

The striking green of her narrowed gaze widens, the act she portrays to exude confidence and power - qualities expected highly of her more than ever now - they drop within an instant of your words that shatter all hope. Words that bring about the monstrous turn of reality, the world infested by such evil that it plagues all who come into contact with it. You as well, counted as both the victim and driving force that instigates it.

She sees the recollection of something dark and prominent dominate your eyes, watching the dying embers of amber come to life like fire. Your dark pupils once lingering in the shadows of your thoughts stare Wanda down, right into every inch of her young, and all in all, untouched soul; while also having never left her alone to begin with. She feels the notch of fear bounce in her lungs. Threads of rubber bands quivering, at any given point ready to snap.

You’ve never given her reason before to be scared of you. But now, you both anxiously bask in the uncertainty of that now.

These were stories you had no thrilling interest in sharing for the passing of time. Oftentimes you’d rather take a silver bullet to the heart and be done with it all. But then who would protect her from the monsters?

Monsters who only needed the skin on their bones and the horrendous intention behind their actions to do unspeakable things that violate, destroy and corrupt.

The dread brings death to the liveliness that Wanda can only bring, a unique source that shimmers in her brilliant eyes, a green hue you knew you were enraptured by the moment you met her. She can’t even bring herself to say anything, to question you and what those eyes have had to endure before the Maximoff Family took you in; sheltering you for what you thought would be just a little while. But no, they took you in. Gave you a place to belong.

Before the Maximoff Family, you had served numerous other crime lords and the like. As a loyal hound tethered to their leash, you obeyed every whim, every command, no matter how heinous it made you appear; a feral animal at the ready with the simple utterance of an order.

You knew how these people did their dealings, how they operate and scheme. You’ve seen men getting gunned down across the table, women taken advantage of, and prisoners with sacks over their heads begging for their lives before their slaughter; by your hand or by that of your boss.

Wanda would be tested and prodded by the elders of the criminal underworld. And if they can see it can be done, you know they won’t hesitate to make her one of those women who were bent over and taken on the very table meant to guard their interests and forge alliances.

You refuse to let that fate befall Wanda.

So you take it upon yourself to educate her a little on the matters of criminal diplomacy and negotiations. You push yourself against her until her front is flushed to yours, her breasts having no space but to brush on your chest with every deep breath she takes. Through her dark lashes that bat at you with dark innocence and longing, the colour of her eyes forces a groan to tumble over your bottom lip.

“Still think you’re capable, Kitten?”

Your core is a fire that warms every part of her being, she’s drowning out the sorrows with you as her addictive fix, all that she can think about is how you create that electric charge that shocks her nerves and causes that wetness to pool between her thighs once again. The reverberating and husky texture threaded that gives your wolf a voice makes her head swim.

How that voice would feel against her sensitive, swollen bud as you devoured her, carnally and without restraint. To truly succumb to your beautiful nature and have her the way you would want to. Your nose burrows into the arched curve of her jaw and neck, her perfume hits your senses first, smelling of lilac and vanilla but beneath it, her natural scent hides.

She takes longer than she would have personally liked to answer you, the blurred haze of her mind frazzles any attempt to utter a response.

“I-I… I just thought that maybe he can– he can help us find Rum–LOW!” You bare your teeth against her neck with a low growl. Her body flinches against the wall of your body.

“Quit with the stuttering, and let’s try that answer again.”

A hand grasps hold of her face, fingers firmly pressed into the skin of her cheeks and forcing her gaze upwards. You’re leaving her with little to no choice. You remove your hand when her head moves within its grasp in a nodding motion.

The arch of your brow rises slightly as you wait to hear what you know that must be made known. You want her to admit it. “No.”

“Better,” you drawl, teeth grazing the plains of her warm skin, you can very well taste her but you crave more. Your hands hold her by her hips and your fingers dig into her, sure enough to leave bruising behind.

“Shit, I need you…” She’s on you in a flash of a second, lips hungry in their mission to ravish you and invade all thoughts you had prior, filling your mind with only her. Wanda’s legs leap off the ground and circle your strong waist and your hands support the extra weight you carry, the slit of her dress parts to reveal the tantalising prize of her thigh, in which you curl your palm around greedily.

You shuffle back, allowing your heightened senses to guide you back until the back of your calves butt up into one of the accompanying, sacramento leather sofas, you drop yourself into the cushion with Wanda straddling your lap.

Your lips latch hold of one another, caught in the erotic dance that shuts out all imposing forces. You use a hand to handle her and roughly pull her closer, fingers becoming entangled in the roots of her red locks. Her front rhythmically rocks into you as your clothed bodies try desperately to reach one another’s skin.

Fuck, how her body fit so snugly into yours and so perfectly, it’s like she was made for you. That somehow, Mother Nature herself, ensured that Wanda Maximoff be the only woman to belong against your body, to make your lungs burn with great fervour and stir the strongest instinct to protect. The fitting piece of the puzzle you never realised you were missing until now. Like two marble statues carved, you’re infused together, the bond of carven contact intimate and soul binding.

The call of something distant and past, a faint memory once far lingering behind reaches through the veil and beckons you to entwine the separate threads of your souls as one.

Your tongue darts out and teases her top lip. She moans, soft and deep, she parts her lips for you and you slither the eager muscle in, running it over her own, she moans again until you swallow the noise. Her fingers are clawing, clenching the fabric of your suit jacket until her nails scratch at the threaded seams, head tilting to the side as her hair falls onto her exposed shoulder.

Her taste is divine, hypnotically venomous that leaves you craving more with every passing second. Her core that’s now buzzing in her aroused state, she whines at the friction of your pants digging in between her thighs. Just as you, she craves more.

She drinks down the vibrations of a husky purr crawling up your throat, she lets out a small noise that all but has both your hands on her arse in an instant, tugging her impossibly closer while she continues to grind away; core against fiery core.

Her left hand trails down the length of your larger body until it rests over your groin. Your head dips back against the sofa’s back when she palms you, rubbing you firmly through your trousers. The muscles in your torso strain and flex, pangs of arousal shoot to every nerve end in your body.

“But maybe they won’t dare touch me if they know who I belong to,” she breathes out when she has a chance to break away from your lips, before a high pitched gasp is ripped from her chest. You buck your hips up, harshly to rub her sensitive bud through her panties, the sensation drills her further into lustful madness.

“Wanda,” you warn between clenched teeth, “that’s quite a few important men I don’t really feel like cleaning up after.”

“Imagine our relief.”

Yours and Wanda’s head snap in the direction of the voice. American, a hint of the borough of Brooklyn, and his eyes a cold, harsh winter of blue. He stood there at the entrance of the office alongside those of their criminal brotherhood, tall and broad shouldered next to a man who matched his height and physique, his own hair short and blonde but eyes very much the same; a reflection of something icy in his blue orbs.

James “Bucky” Barnes and Steve Rogers. You recall their faces. Not only theirs, but the others too share the same form of recollection, that of a dark skinned man, hair shaved back and facial hair styled similar, clean and simple. He too is equally broad across the chest as Bucky and Steve, his dark eyes ever haunted with that looming glare meant only for you.

To Sam’s side is a lithe shaped personnel, long, raven hair grazing to his shoulders and slicked back behind his ears, pale skinned and pointed nose, and of course, that wide and toothy grin that spoke one language: trickery.

Amidst the wall the four men form, adorned in their dark, three piece suits, was Tony standing front and centre, his short brown hair slightly brushed in an unkempt manner unique to him. He was a hard man to miss in a crowd when you think about it, in his extravagant suits and auburn tinted glasses.

They stare at you and Wanda, caught in the compromising position you find yourselves in, their eyes smirking and accusatory.

A deep, hostile growl rattles loudly into the air, laced thickly with silent tension, and Tony raises a hand up. He leans his shoulder and Natasha walks past him, a smirk of her own plastered on her lips. Her eyes, green and dark like the woodland canopy, portray the power she now holds over you. Of course, she would do anything to ensure Wanda’s dignity remain intact, but yours; she could have some real fun with you.

Natasha always favoured the power struggle when you both treated the other as nothing but a reliever of stress. When the dynamic of your relationship with Wanda hadn’t been so intimate.

“Well, to think I was actually correct that you were letting something show back there,” she chuckles and you tug Wanda closer to you, lips contorted into a snarl, “I don’t think you’re enlisted in your paperwork as a certified breeder, or that you’ve been granted your freedoms pass, Wolf.”

“Y/N?” Wanda questions with a whisper, her brows pinched in her confusion. You cannot bear to look her directly in the eye, just catching her stare from your peripheral.

You growl again and the flicker of amber brightens around your obsidian pupils.

“Natasha–”

“But Stark wants a deal. I advise we hear him out, don’t you agree?”

The room gathers silence like dust as you gather your racing thoughts and reel them back in. However much you despised the clean up, now seems like the one and only chance you have to keep this as a tight lipped secret. You would deal with Natasha on your own afterwards.

But Wanda beat you to it as the skin beneath her palms quivered and grew flaming hot to the touch, she had to draw her hands away lest you burn and blister her skin.

“Okay, we’ll hear you out. But my guard stays.”

“I believe they’re more than that, but very well, they’ll stay.” Tony huffs a haughty chuckle, nodding as he kinks his fingers in sign to his men to follow his lead, to approach you both. Wanda slips out of your lap and smoothes out any crinkles in her dress, chin tilted down to avoid looking up at the mob boss as he stalks closer to her.

She feels vulnerable, far more than she would have liked, the surge of confidence she had prior to being caught - that naive hope - of getting the upper hand vanishes before her very fingertips. Despite the power of Europe to sustain her as the top Family, she’s revealed her hand yet again to the wrong sort, the dangerous sort.

The sort that can now utilise you and her as a form of blackmail. The society of criminals as a whole finding out about this would bring a tidal wave of backlash towards Wanda, she would be hindered greatly, maybe even lose support and thus, the empire of the Maximoff Family would crumble into ruin.

And if Pierce found out, then there was nothing stopping him from dragging you back to that facility. Natasha is correct in regards to your paperwork. You’re no free dog. It darkens your heart to think that you never have been and most likely you never will be.

Seeing Tony stand in front of Wanda, testing the boundaries of her personal space, he intrudes and you immediately stand on your two feet and meet behind her, your firm front grazing against her back. Your hands ball into tight fists and the claws come back out, harshly they bite into your palms.

That bright light of amber never once threatens to go out like a singular flame of a candle. It’s a shadowed threat to them that the wolf is just beneath the surface, staring them point blank in the eye, you witness the faint, fiery glow reflecting in their own eyes.

Wanda is warmed by the heat of your body behind her, she almost finds herself leaning into you but refrains. She must remain strong in front of these men.

By the venom in your voice and the scarred recollection of something horrific past, she couldn’t underestimate these men, and especially not now. Not after what they’ve seen.

She gestures for them to make themselves comfortable. A tactic she picked up from her father whenever he conducted business, the non verbal form of communication to guide fellow associates and company to relax themselves.

Your eyes momentarily leave the tinted shades of Tony’s glasses, his eyes meeting yours after he sent a cheeky wink to Wanda, and your eyes narrow sharply when you spy Natasha coming around behind one of the sofas. With a baritone levelled hum, you catch Wanda’s gaze and you cock your head towards the desk, telling her to get behind it.

It was a matter of ensuring she wouldn’t be in such close proximity with the mobsters, that if they dare to try anything, they have several feet to cross before they can even reach her.

Wanda does as you indicate and with her head held high and shoulders dropped back, she struts to the large, red wood desk and takes a seat; once the men have taken theirs.

‘Good girl.’

A ghost of a smirk crosses your features. You’re proud that she managed to pick up on a thing or two, given the position you’re both now caught in, she’s going to regain some of that stolen power. She sits in the tall backed seat, the dark green brings her even brighter shade to shine and almost ominously. The wired wall lights fuel the room with a dark orange halo, but the storm outside grows bolder, thunder begins to roll in to fill the void of silence.

Each of the four men occupy the four sofas and Natasha lingers between Steve and Tony, she’s like a cat lounging happily, body poised against Tony’s sofa with darkened grace. And still she wears that prideful smirk. Your jaws clench hard, the familiar ache of your vice-like strength makes itself present and the muscles in your cheeks strain and flex.

You join Wanda’s side, a clawed hand rests on the back of the seat, but unlike Natasha’s relaxed pose you take to carrying a sense of duty and responsibility - chest puffed out and shoulders straight. You’ve seen these very men and more of their own brotherhood operate in sit downs before. Letting your guard down is not an option.

“So,” Wanda clears her throat and all eyes fall to her, “am I right to assume you want for a foothold in Europe?” You’re both amazed by how well she’s holding herself in front of Stark and his captains, but another part of you dreads how long she can keep it up for.

“That’s right.” Tony smiles wide with a nod of his head. “I understand that the loss of your brother has struck quite a nerve among the European Families. We wish to lend our support to you and aid you in finding Rumlow. As far as I’ve heard, he has mysteriously gone silent since the attack.”

“But at the price and percentage of the Maximoff’s empire and holdings,” you cut in sharply, tone bitter from the audacity Tony dared to flaunt. He was a blood and power hungry tyrant hidden in the guise of a peacock, strutting around with his colourfully crime-stained feathers - accomplishments that weren’t lacking admiration by many.

The men before you each glare at you in warning to keep yourself in check. They mean to challenge you, to restrain you and remind you of your shackled status, just like the others that scorned you for doing what was not in your job description.

But Wanda doesn’t allow these men across the seas to get away with such iron-glad judgement.

“Quite right, Y/N,” she praises, eyes bearing the form of daggers, “I cannot just simply agree to your support without knowing the finer details. Terms must be discussed, gentlemen, and I will not leave this meeting with no clean water in my basin.”

You feel the corner of your lips tug up at the flustered, annoyed sight of Tony and his men. Bucky and Steve glance to one another, the pure intent for murder springing to light as a bright flash of lightning blinks through the window. Loki looks to Tony, tight lipped and tongue to the cheek of his mouth in contemplation.

Are they figuring out that the foundation of their newly gained power is beginning to struggle? Fuck, you hope so.

“Then we’ll make our terms known,” said Sam with a danger-laced purr, “as a start, we want access to trade outposts and warehouses from Russia to Romania, as well as along the coast of Italy. On top of that, our asking price is fifty percent of the Maximoff holdings and shares, forty percent of earnings from the black market - twenty percent commission if the supplies are manufactured or supplied by us - and thirty-five percent earnt from legitimate business pools.”

You and Wanda spit in unison, “As a start?”

They really were coming straight in with the big guns. Tony usually was direct, but had a way to honey the words into better luring in the fish. Sam, however, was more abrupt and bold in his demands.

“I’m able to provide the necessary warehousing and trade routes for them in Russia,” Natasha affirms from her place, sharing a look with Tony. Was this part of some elaborate scheme?

As far as you could tell, Natasha was on board with keeping Europe completely clean of the American mobsters and criminal empires. What changed?

“No, that– that is too much…” Wanda’s stumbling over her words. She’s beginning to let those cracks show and you can see the telltale signs that the wolves are now closing in. Bucky smirks, dark, shoulder length hair casting a shadow over his bright blue eyes, nodding as he observes the ever faint breaking in Wanda’s resolve.

“I have holdings in the military that rivals Rumlow, and as far as I’ve investigated, you are fundamentally lacking within the weapons trade and already, you’re beginning to be cut off from your intel and extortion resources. Really, the only reliable bird you have to your ear is this stunning fox,” Loki says with a hand gestured to Natasha, who waves a hand at him.

“We have gained a surge of supply and demand for our weapons, thanks to me of course, and if you agree to our terms, I assure you that you’d want for nothing ever again.”

You cock your head to the side and narrow your eyes, a sliver of amber visible within them. As much as you would like to announce the man a thief, for being the likely one responsible for your out of pocket trades with weapons, you think better of it.

‘We’re not known to be saints at our roots. Our foundations are built on thievery, murder and extortion.’

Tony Stark is a brilliant minded man when it comes to manufacturing products and supplies, both for the public and the underworld. He had quite the gallery. But even then, he wanted for more. He wanted plots to further his expansion.

‘What if he asks…’

You swallow down the poisonous bile of wrath and disgust climbing your throat. No way in hell would you allow Tony to drop to one knee and live. If that is even his goal to ensure this alliance sticks.

More and more, Wanda slinks away in her seat, shying away from it all as the walls break further under the pressure of this attack.

Tony puffs his chest out, arrogant that their plan is working and weaving its way into the folds brilliantly, with Natasha there as a vouching card in their hand of cards. Steve and Sam both lean forward slightly and Loki grins again, pearly white teeth glistening and taunting in the ice blue haze of another lightning flash.

Thunder rumbles in, louder than before, providing a baritone and ominous tumble of beats. The tension grows thicker and Wanda sits back in her seat, mouth agape in her dissipating will to remain strong, fearing that she’s truly trapped herself and her hands fiddle together under the cover of the desk.

Something stirs within her core that pulls her green eyes to yours, slightly overstimulated and red with a glisten of tears, she’s telling you with her gaze alone that she needs your help.

She needs her guard to protect her.

With a furrow of your brow and hard pressed line of your lips, you assure her with a nod of your head. Wanda became painfully aware that she has to pass the reins over to you in this moment before it’s too late.

Natasha’s face instantly drops before the initial change. All she had to witness was that plea in Wanda’s eyes and that obedient nod of your head, she straightens in her place, almost submissively shrinking away.

The structure of your face begins to alter, morphing until the skin shreds around the protrusion of a long, canid snout and sharp fangs, Long, straight ears twitch from the brief moment of muffled noise, the fur on the nape of your neck mimics that of your hair and blends down the slope of your growing spine and outward stretching of your shoulders. You’ve grown several feet taller, if the men before you who now pin their backs to their designated seats had to guess it, they would have to summarise to at least eight and a half feet.

Your clothes become ragged scraps that fall to the floor, and what little still clings over the form of your body is shredded at the bends of the fabric.

Fur covers skin and a thick, bushy tail sweeps down to the wood panel floors, your body contorted to accuminate a thicker layer of skin and muscle, fur in a thinner density cascades down your front, most of the fluff of it covering from your shoulders and down the back of your arms and back.

A sight to behold, you’ve changed into a monster to strike terror into the hearts of the mob bosses. Powerful men who know your weakness, who are most probably armed with that very weakness. But are they favouring their odds to make the first move?

An angry bolt of lightning illuminates the scene for them, your hackle puffs up and with a fold of your ears, you snarl a viscous and predatory sound straight from the bowls of your gut, your very fur bristles from the vibrations throughout your body.

“Unacceptable. Try again.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Miss Maximoff,” Tony says between clenched teeth, head tilting further back when you bend forward enough that your back stoops low and your larger head is at level with Wanda’s.

The pink of your bared gums is slick with saliva, the long tendril of your tongue comes between your teeth, licking over the top of your lip and nose.

“Put the dog away, young lady,” Tony attempts to order only for Wanda to shake her head, refusing to obey his order. A raspy snarl bellows in the hollow of your throat.

“No, I think I’ll keep the wolf out.”

Tony visibly squirms in response to this denial.

Wanda tilts her head and sensing her eyes on you, the burning furnace of yours glances back at her and she smiles. She’s finding that resurgence of confidence in the comfortable luxury of your protection. With you, she wants for nothing.

“As they said. Let’s try this again,” Wanda says with her voice renewed with strength.

“Come on, you can’t seriously think you can–”

“I think she can.”

Steve holds a hand of compromise up to cease the bickering on both sides of the deal. His eyes move between Tony and then you and Wanda. “We didn’t come here to fight, Miss Maximoff. But we’ve had this plan on the back burner for years.”

“How unfortunate for you,” Wanda interjects with a click of her tongue. Steve isn’t impressed with the sokovian’s accented sarcasm. With a huff through his nose, he continues, “your father was unable to be convinced. We had hoped that you may be better where he was not. We’re offering you support here, a life line, all you need is to grab hold of it and say yes.”

Wanda’s brows pitch down and she gives the captain a chilling scowl that dare he admit haunts him, especially when such a beast at her side leans evermore forward, at the end of its tether and ready to attack. Never has he ever worried about you before during sit downs in the presence of your former bosses.

They had their ways to keep you in line, the only time you would shift would be to kill some prisoner who had no further use and thus, no purpose to remain alive when privy to such information, or to maul a fellow gangster that didn’t see eye to eye on the table’s terms.

Had they now turned into that very man?

Right now, Wanda held a dangerous animal in her grasp. With one command she can set you upon them and they would become the mauled victims in the meeting room.

“Forty percent within the Maximoff holdings, twenty in the black market with a ten-to-ten split on commission to our own donated supplies, the other five we place into a shares fund that we both equally have access to but must come under agreement to use it,” he pauses and when he sees you both nod, he knows it’s safe for him to carry on.

“For now, we want the trade outposts on the coastline of Italy and within Russia. We can sort out the finer details for warehouses elsewhere and the like at a later time. When Rumlow is kicked out of the fold, we refurbish you with his estates, a cut of his holdings and you can have access to those as warehouses and your own trade outposts. Some connect to fine routes that make for excellent business opportunities.”

Tony looks to have sucked on a lemon, lips pursed and dark brows pinched together. Bucky and Sam share much of the same expression, Loki although, appears mildly amused by these adjustments.

You suspect that they had come together and agreed that they would not be swayed into lowering what they originally asked for.

But all in all, you and Wanda find that to be your middle ground. She looks to you again as if to see if you approve. When she sees you nod to her, she knows she can continue.

“Very well, I accept those terms.” She then lets her eyes flicker up to Natasha. “I trust that you do retain some level of loyalty to the Maximoff Family, Romanoff. So I will let you deal with the matter of your offer in regards to warehouses for our new… allies. But I admit, I cannot exactly wave you through freely into settling in Europe until Rumlow is dealt with. Permanently.”

Natasha nods to this, obviously in agreement with it. To what exactly her own intentions are in allowing them to have access to her own warehouses is primarily not your concern; your only concern is Wanda. But you’d be lying if you weren’t a little curious about Natasha's motives.

There is a cold bitterness in Wanda’s final word. The grief still comes to her, the death still so fresh to her. And she plans to exact her vengeance against those who have taken almost everything from her.

Although defeated, the men become more at ease, and with a wave of her hand, Wanda dismisses your overprotective stance. She stands up from her seat, finger pads planted on the smooth surface of the desk.

Everyone of the four men eye Wanda, dark in their curiosity of her next move. “Now, about Rumlow…”

Tony clicks his tongue with a finger pointed upwards, memory finally catching up with him. He too stands up and for a moment you believe he intends to come at Wanda, your body jostles into action with a deep, rumble of a growl that fades into the next chorus of thunder. Wanda is quick to usher your calmness, hands delicate as she strokes the fur along your back and over the crown of your head.

Tony slightly stumbled back on his heel but ultimately made it to the table by the window. His sights were set on the liquor. He helps himself easily to the fine brand of whiskey and downs a gulpful. “He was in America but he covered his trail. We cannot say for sure where he is.”

“So how can we find him?” Wanda asks to hide her groan of defeated annoyance. Tony peers over his shoulder, but his focus does not land on Wanda as you suspected. No. They land directly on you.

The way his eyes bear into you like that, it unknowingly unsettles you. You shift your weight on the four pillars of your limbs and your ears flatten against your head as Tony takes another languid sip of his drink, hissing in delight at the taste.

“I know that he has a business partner that knows where he is. He’s In Madripoor. You may know him as Vision.”

Why, of all places, of the single partner to have knowledge of Rumlow’s whereabouts; why did it have to be Vision, Madripoor’s criminal overlord of the drug trade?

Each muscle in your face is touched by the sting of something best left forgotten, memories you wish you could just shake, a past that you wish every waking moment would leave you alone. You choke on a whimper, the sound weak and hitched tightly in your throat, it causes you to wince in phantom pain.

“It’s awake. Vitals are stable for now.”

A doctor whose identity remains hidden behind the white mask over their face, hovers in front of you, studying you behind the bars of your cage, they’re a voice drowned out by the overstimulated sense of your hearing. The background is filled with a high frequency ring, the people around you move in a blur, faces only recognisable and in focus in the line of your tunnel vision.

“Another dose.”

“Let me out!”

“Sir, if we give it anymore, it may have unforeseen side effects.”

“Another dose. As you wish, Sir.”

“Just give them the injection.”

“Let me out!”

That face you recognise haunts you, you scurry further away into your cage but no matter how far you retreat, the back of the cage pushes you forward until your face is against the bars and inches from his own. Alexander Pierce.

His eyes marvel at the sight of you. He admires the near end product of you. His finest pet in the facility, the role model for the others, and a grand and valuable asset. But he needs this experiment to work.

Another face comes into focus and you cannot fight the roar that shreds through your throat. He ushers Alexander away for a moment, their backs to you as they speak, their words going unheard as another figure moves to block them out of your sight.

“Preparing the asset for injection of the serum.”

“No!”

A doctor approaches you and within the clutches of a gloved hand, they raise a needle high into the sight of your peripheral. The liquid bubbles in the tube, the white lights above blind your vision and make the serum glow a reddish pink.

Your muzzle is restrained, but nothing physical holds it shut, by sheer force are you trapped in place inside that cage.

You're carted out and laid atop a metal table, the surface is cold against your back.

“Vitals are spiking, we need to tranquilise the asset now.”

“They can take it. I know they can.”

“Let me out!”

The sting of the needle penetrates the thick layer of your hide. Your fur bristles, your heart pounds heavily in your chest and your mouth feels dry and hot.

Your body violently convulses. Muscles become strained and skin constricts you, like leather straps holding you down, your very own skin holds you prisoner. In your chest a scream is locked deep inside. Your leg kicks out in a desperate flurry to move, the act is only half successful before a cramp reels your leg back into a trapped status.

“Y/N?...”

All you can do is pant, loud and thick in the overly bright lab, it feels so cramped being surrounded by these blurred ghosts.

“I don’t want this!”

“Mr Pierce, Sir, it may not take to the serum still. It’s body fights it.”

“They can take it. I know they can.”

“Second dose of the serum. Rumlow, please stand by in case of emergency execution.”

“I never wanted any of this!”

Your mind begins to cloud and mist over, your vision turns a shade of that reddish pink, you can hear the unsynced rhythm of all the collective heartbeats in one room. Your muscles spasm in timed units of two minutes, three minute gaps in between your muscles fall lax against the table.

Your natural body heat increases and you feel as though you’re burning away. But you’re not feeling the desired effects of the poison now flowing through your veins. You writhe and shake against the invisible restraints.

“Let me go home!”

You want to go home. Where is home? You have no idea what or where home is but all you have is a feeling. A deep-rooted feeling. Is it somewhere far away from here? It must be. It feels long gone.

Home can’t be the facility. Not in the iron bars, not the metallic and clanky shackles that bind you in place, that keep you there against your will. Home doesn’t restrain you. It comforts you.

“Where is home?”

Your own voice echoes but nobody reacts. It falls into the deafness of the void. They refuse to listen to the asset of their experiment.

“Where is home?”

Home cannot be the cold concrete of your cage, or the moth riddled lights that paint only the centre of your cage in a sickly yellow tint. Your home is elsewhere but forgotten. Never seen by you. Never embraced by you nor are you embraced by it.

“M-Mother!”

Shock rattles you, your vision flashes white before that reddened tint returns over your vision. You see your mother opposite of you, laid on a similar table but she’s turned on her back. Her ribcage is torn open and exposed.

“You’ll be alright, Y/N. Just think of me and you’ll be alright.”

Her body is knocked to the floor and instantly, the world around you is swallowed up by darkness. You smell the dried odour of blood and rotten meat. Only that shitty yellow light flickers to illuminate her body. From the darkness you see the foul creatures leap out and tear her apart. Their eyes are whitened with madness. Their minds are tortured into a spiral of neverending want for carnage. Lost to the touch of their humanity.

She cries out, howling and yelping as they shake her apart, her body remains still throughout the attack. She cries out to you. She’s begging you not to watch, urging you to never see it happen. Try as you might, you attempt to claw your way towards her, to defend her. You can’t. You’re unable to protect her from those monsters. No matter how far you crawl, the back half of your body dragging behind you like dead weight, you can never get any closer.

“Ready the injection.”

“Vitals are peaking, we cannot risk another dose so soon.”

“We’re losing vitals, we’re losing it!”

“Ready the injection.”

“Give them a moment. They’ll pull through.”

Your back, laced sweat, arches up from the bed, a groan is on the edge of your lips but cannot escape. You’re fighting. Fighting and struggling against it, it will not let you go. You struggle about, rocking your body from side to side, your muscles fall loose for a few seconds.

You try to cease this moment. But then you’re trapped again. Pulled back into the mixture of torment.

“Y/N, wake up. Y/N!””

Everything is dark red, the erratic pulse of your heart flushes pink in time with each coursing beat, the voices are drowning in the song.

Your mother is strewn about the cage, the corners blacked out, bleeding into the void beyond.

Your breath stills as the yellow light shuts off with a whirring moan.

You’re back in the lab. Alexander’s hand grips at the fur along your neck until he’s tugging it harsh enough to rip it out. “Don’t you dare give in, dog. Embrace it. I need this to work. I’m counting on you.”

You just want your mother back. But she can’t come back to you. She’s gone. She’s taken from you. Has been for a long time now.

You grew up in that cage alone.

Suddenly you’re knocked off that metal examination table. You see a woman in the blackness of the cage’s corner. She weeps into the crook of her elbows, hands bloody and clutching onto the iron bars. Her feet slip in the inky, crimson puddle at her feet whenever she tries to pull herself up to stand.

Her naked body is covered in blood and marks made by claws and teeth. It’s… confusing.

“G-get away– f-from me! M–monster!”

A shroud of dizziness cloaks your mind and you stumble slightly on your hind legs. Your vision goes from dark to bright, unable to make its decision and commitment. You see now that your clawed hands are covered in a warm and thickened substance, crimson and smells of iron.

“Another failed attempt.”

“Mr Pierce, the experiment has ended in another failure. It’s body cannot adapt to the serum as we hoped.”

Alexander Pierce glares at you from the window in the observatory room. His lips screwed into a thin line and his brows troubled by the news. His fists clench together until his knuckles turn white.

“What did you make me do to her!”

“Mark them down as unbreedable. Gas it.”

The vents hiss with an aggressive poison clouding the cage. You can’t see through the green haze, your lungs slowly giving out the more you breathe in the gut wrenching scent of the gas. The taste is awful on your tongue and soon enough, you taste bile along with it. Your body lurches forward and you fall.

The woman’s face had been hidden, unable to make out any distinct features, to put a face to an unknown name. She lays ahead of you some feet away, the gas having killed her far quicker than you.

Her hair that you swear was once a chocolate brown colour is now brighter. Her eyes lost that light of life but you can make out the green shade of them, and that unknown face and unknown name is now identifiable, you can hardly believe who you see before you - with you - dead in that cage.

“W–Wanda…”

You cough and sputter as the air in your lungs becomes far too polluted to continue breathing. A low, sombre howl fills the chamber and your vision goes dark.

“Y/N!”

Finally you find the willpower to scream and it utterly terrifies Wanda, chilling her to the core at the horrific shrill and raw intensity that ensures your vocal cords are shredded and sore. The much needed reprieve that brings tears to her eyes and a hand to clasp over her lips to keep herself from sobbing aloud, all because you’re in pain, you’re suffering, and she fears she’s unable to help you.

“Wanda! Wan… Wanda…” Your shoulders rise and fall in rapid succession, chest taking in the fresh air that thankfully isn’t polluted by the gas, only the four walls that are now imprinted with your screams.

She crawls the small distance between you both across the bed. When she finally reaches your side she brings your head to her chest as she ushers you to relax, the rest to that scarred mind filled to the brim with horrors you want to forget. You can’t forget.

However, the world is still a little fuzzy, at least it appears that way, as if the fogginess followed you out of that world and into this one. You wish to call it a nightmare, and it was for the most part, but the most ghastly and haunting nightmares always stem from the evil roots of the past.

“Wanda… oh, fuck, Wanda.” You sigh in your relief and you don’t hesitate to pull her to you, face burying into her chest, absorbing this one good thing that is her - just her - before the claws of that darkness tears you from her; and you fear for good.

You can always feel yourself slipping. You’ve run, only to continue slipping, and you still run, only to remain slipping away. No matter what, you know you’re falling into madness.

It’s just a matter of time. You’re a ticking time bomb at this point. And you’re left to wonder, how will you protect her then?

“Shh, shh… I’m here, Y/N. I’m here,” she whispers against your scalp, lips beating down a warm breeze that begins to recharge you and make the fuzziness go away.

Is this home? It’s uncertain but maybe it can be.

‘Maybe she is my home.’

“It’s okay, not real, Y/N. You’ll be alright.” Your arms pull tighter around her, the words of your mother echo in the misty haze of your memory, tears prick at the corner of your eyes. She whines softly that you’re squeezing her too hard. With an uttered apology into her breasts, you slightly ease your iron grip so she is able to breathe.

You don’t ever want her to experience being at a loss for air, to never suffer the suffocation she had to in your nightmare. All you want for her is her safety. There is nothing else.

But this is war and when love is thrown into the fray and spied as a weak point, there is no level of fairness to what comes next.

ACT III: MIXING POISON WITH PLEASURE

A FEW DAYS LATER

Streaks of light reflectively race across the sleek, black coat of the escort car as it passes over the long draw of the bridge. Steve and Bucky occupied the driver and passenger seats, the tinted shield muffles the snippets of their conversation. Perhaps old friends reminiscing on memories, talk of minor business advantages, all of which you can only suspect without much confirmation.

Tony and Sam sit across from you with their backs to the tinted panel, leaving you and Wanda to be the target of their sharp and penetrating observation, done so in silence.

Silence that is broken by Tony taunting you, his new hobby since being stuck on a jet together for a few hours prior to the drive. “Excited to be going back? A lot of familiar sights and faces to get reacquainted with.”

Something in your stomach flips and your palms grow clammy, eyes fluttering from side to side as you chase to calm the unease setting into your shoulders, heavy with the weight of the question upon you.

Your eyes freeze when Wanda’s eyes meet yours, a faint crinkle in her brows prods you inaudibly for clarification. An answer to the mystery of your place exactly in Madripoor.

A part of your past that you left ambiguous and for good reason. Wanda’s parents were the only ones who had knowledge of your origins, so to speak. How exactly you made your exit from the facility and right into the employment of some prideful overlord.

“Not particularly,” you answer quietly, the answer dry on your tongue. Ice clinking together when he orientated his wrist to churn the liquor, Tony chuckles over the rim of his glass, the nervousness in your tone a dead giveaway to the truth of your feelings. Repressed to save face.

“You’re rather well known among the populace,” Sam chimes with a cold drawl. His eyes are thinned into a glare. “For reasons… Well, I’m sure you know why. Can’t say the same for her.”

His head cocks in Wanda’s direction and you feel that worry simmer more in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N, what are they talking about?” Wanda finally asks, voice strained by the betrayal of her hurt, the seed planted in her mind that she is some sort of outsider to the information that passes between you and the two men seated before you.

“It’s nothing, Wanda.” Your answer is fired too quickly to simply mean nothing. No, she knows you’re hiding something sinister.

“You know,” Tony sighs to conceal a gurgle in his throat, “I’ve said to Steve once that I don’t trust people without a dark side. But you…”

He utilises one finger to point at you, accusation at his fingertip, the ice clinks harshly against his glass now. “You’re the exception. I don’t trust you because you have too much of a dark side.”

Your brows pull down hard and your lips curl into a tight frown. You feel the animal stir below the surface of your skin. Your muscles tense until the skin begins to strangle around them. Outside, the familiar buzz of criminal life and night lights give away your location.

“And why exactly do you think I have too much?”

Your nightmare from that night comes to you in flashes. Perhaps Tony is right in his given reason…

He taps a finger to his temple slowly. “Because, I’ve found that Alexander’s werewolves always tend to be fucked up in the head.”

This underlying fact is not exactly news to you. But hearing it from another person, it begins to dawn on you. The slipping away. Your eyes falter until they see nothing but the toes of your boots.

Never would you think that you’d be on route to Madripoor. Back to the established territory of all crime, the residential host of the black market. A place which incidentally led you on the path you lead now, despite still lacking your freedom, the Maximoff Family did allow you some sense of it.

But you still weren’t in complete control of your life. When children mature, they’re expected to go out into the world and make a piece of it their own. When you matured, you were put out into the field and ordered to complete that task. And then another after that, and so on. Never given the chance to make a little piece of the world yours.

The world - the criminal world - made you theirs.

And because Alexander did a fantastic job in rearing an obedient pet, you were an expensive investment. Surely enough to continue pouring funds into the project that supplied loyal hounds into service. Last you heard, more and more werewolves came into demand after your rise of succession.

And a good part of it began here. Now Madripoor remembers you just as much as you remember it.

Steve pulls off to the side of the street, engine purring lowly, Bucky pats his shoulder before he shuffles out of the car. Sam pulls a handgun from the hidden holster in his jacket, checks over the magazine and slots it back in. Tony pours himself another drink as you, Wanda and Sam also exit the car.

“I’ll see you guys when you get back to the hotel. Try to stay out of trouble, dog.”

You rasp over the curve of your shoulder, eyes burning with that dangerous amber. Tony snaps his fingers at you to garner your attention. “Hey, keep the eyes from doing that. You’ll be recognizable enough, don’t let that get you pulled into a messy fight.”

You grumble in response to his warning. Like he’s ever been in a messy fight, too busy firing the gun when his assailant's back is turned. Wanda stands right next to you, brushing against your arm. Draped over her body is a long, fox fur coat that reaches the ankle of her black heeled boots. Her chin tucks into the soft textured collar to keep something of her identity unrevealed.

If she is discovered so early before you locate the man you’re looking for, things could escalate into that messy fight Tony wants you to stay out of. With a wave of his hand, the car pulls out and speeds off down the strip, leaving the four of you on the sidewalk, left at the entrance way that leads down into the slums of Lowtown.

It’s like Madripoor was frozen in time, everything is how you remember it. The dark and neon black market scene, stalls and cube stores packed with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the cluster of smaller gangs. The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs.

The only thing that has changed only serves to prove Tony’s case; there are more werewolves about. Beasts loyally shackled to their masters, bought and enslaved to obey. In passing, you spot a rather poor sight. You’ve seen gangsters put their skill into the ring countless times and a way to earn reputation and some cash.

However, now they’ve taken it further and put werewolves into the pits. The crowd enveloping the ring cheer and shout, arms pumping in their enthusiasm for their bet to win. Meanwhile, two wolves are pitted against each other. A male and female, her body is more lean - and dare you admit it with a gulp - scrawny looking than the male’s. He’s been taken under someone with finer living circumstances than her, better resources and care.

Bucky, Sam and Wanda follow your stern inspection of the fight. You smell their mingling scents of unease at the sight.

“So this is what Tony meant,” you sneer. Bucky and Sam don’t answer you but you just know that if they did, they would confirm it.

The male has the female pinned, she yelps and in a flurry of panic, she snaps her jaws around the bulk of muscle on his shoulder, her teeth doing little to rip into the flesh hard enough to get him to back off.

He’s enjoying the torment of her struggle. The way he isn’t rushing to finish off the fight, idle in his stance above her as he holds her down.

It truly sickens you. Humans can be a foul lot, corrupt in their ways of seeking entertainment to cure their boredom and wealth to cure themselves of poverty. But it’s all you know.

Even then, a deep-seeded growl emanates from you and rumbles the tension laced air around your companions when you see the male become aroused by the squirming female.

“Come on,” Sam says rather quickly and wraps a hand around your bicep, dragging you away before you do something that will get them into trouble.

Wanda gawks at the monstrous sight, the female’s whines and howls echo in her ears, perverting her with images she never wanted to ever conjure up while Bucky steers her after you and Sam with equal haste to his partner.

You take no leisurely pleasure in walking through these parts and it doesn’t help that you get questioning glances from the large variety of locals. You too follow in Wanda’s lead in keeping your identity on the down low, you use the high collar of your jacket to keep your features unrecognisable to the crowd.

Sam and Bucky tail behind you both with a lax swagger to their step, eyes taking in the neon and polluted scenery around them. The slums are where the amateurs and those smaller gangs operate freely and without much prejudice. Above the poverty, Hightown shines with the more luxurious affordability, belonging to the bigger fish, the real criminal powers.

And Vision has that power within that grasp. Up there, rubbing elbows with the grand gentlemen and dolled up women, mingling and gaining alliances under his belt. So why venture into Lowtown?

Because once, these streets harboured a terrible incident, one that now leaves your face smeared on for show as wanted. Because just down the series of lanes and roundabouts of corners, there is a divide between the common criminals and Vision’s depot, because it also operated as a factory.

“So you’re not going to tell me anything about what was said back there?” Wanda asks. You tilt your head and you catch the sharp incline of her raised brow, her eyes piercing through the veil of your clouded, troubled thoughts.

“Not really something I want to go into detail about.” She huffs at your response. Ever the one to avoid the topic whenever the subject revolves around you.

It’s little wonder how she knows what she does about you. “So you have some sort of history with these men in particular, you have some estranged connection with Vision and with Madripoor, and to top it all off: Tony doesn’t trust you because of this supposed… dark side. What is it you’re hiding from me, Y/N?”

She’s getting assertive with each word as she walks in stride with you, eyes glaring up from the curtain of her hair, still keeping her chin as low as possible. Your lip curls up to reveal sharp, elongated canines.

You rasp coldly, “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

There is a challenge in those green eyes of hers, unrelenting to be brushed off. After the connection you both shared, the way your lips were in sync with one another and how your bodies melded together in the heat of that feral passion and need. She thought you could trust her, to be more open with her.

It seems she was wrong.

“Don’t take it to heart, Miss Maximoff,” Bucky drawls from behind and a growl resounds in your chest, “Y/N is what we tend to call a wounded dog. Licking the wounds of their injured pride because they can’t afford to let anyone in.”

“And on top of that, they end up all fried in the head,” adds Sam with a venomous tune. You can just sense the dance of his eyes, brows high and cheekbones drawn down in his taunting.

If they were trying to get a rise out of you, they were succeeding much to the unwelcomed behest of your annoyance, maybe filling in for Tony’s absence. But if they intended to heed Wanda with a warning of who you were before your employment as a guard for the Maximoff Family, then you fear that this is also a succession in the making.

Wanda stops in place and turns to face the two men behind her, willing herself to not shy away from them or the way they tower over her. “You speak of my guard as if they are purely a mad-driven, bloodthirsty animal who has no grasp of the human they are. Wolf beneath or not. Show some respect or else.”

Sam and Bucky also stop, causing you to commit halfway in turning to look at the scene. Sam sighs as his eyes divert from the Sokovian heiress. “Apologies, Miss Maximoff.”

But just like that, the act switches and he gestures with a hand, a dark smirk on his lips. “But look at this. I mean, criminals are wanted all the same. But in Madripoor? My, that is one persevering poster. One mean lookin’ animal.”

You snarl towards Sam and Bucky as they guide Wanda’s sights to the screen panel that displays a photo of you. Written beneath, it states the price rewarded for your capture and turn over to none other than Vision.

100,000 Madripoor dollars.

Her gloved hand lifts up, her plump lips - lips that you want nothing more than to savour and taste against yours again - agape in their shock to find a piece to the mysterious puzzle that is you and your shrouded past. A past you preserve in the shadows and where she believes you intend to keep it.

Away from her. Out of sight, out of mind.

Out of your own fucking mind. A twisted and corrupt mind. Is what these men say true? Are you some wounded hound licking at the gaping festering scars of your past mistakes and vulnerability?

Her fingers curl forward, mere inches away from the display of your face, fingertips just caressing the digital profile of your jawline when a hand snaps hold of her wrist. The grip is tight and a gasp is torn from her lungs, eyes watery in their gaze as they stare into yours; that amber hellfire prominent beneath the cooler tones of the neon lights and grey tinted smog.

Your jaw is clenched hard. She’s really struck a nerve now, unintentionally, but still, another attempt at crossing that line leaves you with a bitter taste of something resentful. Ashamed.

“Let’s go.” You leave no room for her to argue. With a hand on the small of where her back is, your hand momentarily feels the true soft, silkiness of her coat, you push her forward to continue walking. Then your eyes lift up to meet eye to eye with Tony’s men, the two of them basking in the way you hide Wanda from yourself.

Twin smirks stretching their lips, they both chuckle in cause of their muted plot. Now you’re beginning to think they’re trying to poison Wanda against you.

“What? We’re just trying to help the two of you bond, being some couple and all…” Bucky hums with a shrug, blue eyes darting between you and Wanda curiously.

“We’re not–” You bite the words that become overthrown when Sam’s hand slaps your arm.

“Besides, it’d make an interesting story for the kids.”

They walk now, passing on either side of you like the haunting walls of a tunnel that locks you into that place where your nightmare meets you halfway, blurring it all together.

‘Fuck, I hate this place!’

You take one look at the wanted poster, eyes shadowed heavily by the furrow in your brows. That’s when an idea springs to mind. Your crazy and fucked up mind… with a crazy and perhaps fucked up idea.

“Yo, you coming or what?” Sam hollers out to you and you visibly stumble back a couple of steps, shaking your head of whatever came over you there. A sense of sinking finds itself in your stomach again.

“Come on, the depot is up this way.”

You briskly walk past all three members of your company, blatantly you avoid looking in Wanda’s eye, simply pushing her forward again, as gently yet urgently as you can muster.

At the end of the street and another few corners and you were where you needed to be. Behind the tall chain link fencing, the yard is crawling with security as expected, watching over the compound’s goods waiting to be loaded into the trucks waiting in the docking bays. Thankfully, the guards pay no mind to you, as if you don’t exist to them. Ghosts within the smog.

“So this is it, huh?” Bucky sneers with a visage of judgement. “Doesn’t look like much to me.”

“Because this is one of his ‘private’ storehouses that also happens to be the manufacturing powerhouse of his supplies,” you retort over your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, you need to explain this to me again. You want us to turn you in for the reward money?” Wanda cannot believe what her ears hear. This will now be the fourth time you’ve had to reiterate your proposed plan of getting in.

“There’s no way they’ll just let us in. And if we sneak in, Vision will most likely flee. We gotta lure him in.”

“By using you as bait,” Wanda clarifies and you nod. She’s shaking her head, now in sheer, utter disbelief.

“No no, this could actually work.” Sam taps a finger to his chin, the gears in his head turning the wheels of schemes. “But if we’re going to do this, we gotta rough you up a little bit. Make it look like we’ve dragged you into the joint.”

Your brows arch in a way that expresses your confusion. “What exactly are you–”

Given no more time to question him, Sam strikes his arm forward into a left hook, and shit, did he go all in for it. The adrenaline in your blood pumps but not before the initial sting of the surprise attack hits you first. Wanda makes a noise between a gasp and a horrified shriek, her hands cup over her nose and mouth to muffle the sound.

“The fuck!” you spit harshly, biting back on the urge to shift right there and then. Sam had distracted you with his left and now he swiftly drives his right fist into your gut, forcing your back to the brick wall of the building next to you.

“Sh-shit, okay… n-now I get it…” Sam only nods with a shit eating grin and you’re convinced he’s enjoying this, soaking it in and will most likely brag about it to Tony and the rest of them.

“Come on, Buck, let’s rough them up.” Bucky didn’t need anything else to motivate him to join in, he steps around Wanda and at Sam’s side, he also drives a hard hitting punch into your stomach that causes you to keen forward with a groan.

Your head hangs forward and Sam brings his right knee up and butts your nose, splitting it. You grimace with a pained wince to keep a temperamental roar at bay.

Yeah, they’re fucking enjoying this.

You’re not even close to recovering, swaying on your two feet as a hand nurses the space between the bottom of your ribcage and stomach, you lift your head only for Sam to land a knock to the corner of your brow, temple buzzing a little. That’s when Bucky comes in with an upward strike, your lip busted in the fray of his blow.

You can only growl and grunt, having to further suppress the wolf below the surface so it doesn’t come back with an attack of its own.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” Wanda hisses at the three of you. After a few more hits to sell the act, Bucky pulls his handgun free of its holster, racks the slide and puts it to your bruised temple.

“Adding a little bit of realism to the play. If we walk in and they’re not a little bit bruised up, then they’ll know something’s up,” reasons Sam with a glance to Wanda who shrugs, that scowl of her disapproval showing in all its glory.

The cute way her nose scrunches a little. Fuck, you can’t help but grin yourself with a breezy, husky chuckle, eyes sly as they look Wanda up and down. It must be the rush of adrenaline and pain that’s gotten you a little riled up.

“We have to make it believable,” you drawl, voice hinted with a lacing of sarcasm, but Wanda cannot help the way it stirs her core; nickname and all. Those eyes you’re giving her are doing things that make her cheeks become dusted with a pink hue.

Wanda shakes her head and she crosses her arms, firm in her resolve that getting the shit beaten out of you is a little more than crazy, in fact, she thinks it’s completely psychotic. No less, you weren’t given a fair warning in the beginning and now here you are, it’s like you’re getting off on being brutally beaten.

For you, it gave you a weird sense of reprieve. It took you away from the usual routine of pain and replaced it with something new - fresh - and it made you feel alive.

Much like when you shared a few passionate sessions of expressive want with Wanda. That kindling of being alive after wandering around, licking your wounds, feeling dead in a way to the world.

“I-I don’t think that was called for,” Wanda utters once her bottom lip is safely hidden beneath the fur of her collar. She’s shielding herself, her embarrassment and you can’t help the way the wolf becomes intrigued, head tilting to the side with that shimmer of amber passing over your eyes.

“If it gets us closer to Vision, then it’s worth every punch. Now come on, you looker, let’s hand you over to ‘em,” Bucky grins with a dark chuckle.

Your hand moves up to cradle your jaw, the scent of blood wafts into your nose and coats your tongue, Wanda’s heels clap against the pavement as she walks up to you. Her hand brushes along your hand and replaces it. She’s observing your face, a soft and troubled frown does little to hide the true concern from her orbs, ever so delicately glazed with a watery coat.

“I hated that,” she drawls with a strong and lowered lilt of her Sokovian accent. You can only find it within yourself to flash her a smirk.

“I don’t think this is the right plan. What if they actually take you away? Y/N, I don’t have any clue as to what’s going on here, but it just sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Wanda, you just have to trust me.”

There’s hesitation in her eyes, you can see it, conflicting with her want to trust in you, but how exactly could she just go along with this plan? She never saw it at the time, but now she knows Vision is a dangerous man, and whatever history you have with him makes her skin crawl uncomfortably. Who knows what you’re all walking into.

Still, she bows her head in agreement and you both tail after Bucky and Sam who weren’t too far up the way. “Are we ready?” Sam asks while Bucky repositions his gun at level with your head.

“Ready,” you reply and Wanda mumbles her own answer. With a roll of your shoulders, breathe in and out, adjusting yourself before you enter the lion’s den and then you let Sam and Bucky direct you inside as Wanda tucks herself to Bucky’s other side, a little distant from him.

“Hey, what’re you doing here? This is private property, you need to leave.” One of the guards stationed at the front gate of the depot approaches, gun in hand as he stares your group down, a few of his fellow guards also take a wary stance in your arrival.

Bucky cocks his gun against your jaw, tilting it up to showcase to the guard.

“We saw your wanted pet. Now we’re here to collect.”

The guard’s firm and sceptical gaze moved between the three before they settle on you, squinting in a moment of faint remembrance, out of knowledge by seeing your poster or because he was maybe one of the guards who worked here and remembers you by face, he gruffly huffs with a cock of his head.

“Yeah, bring it in. Take the stairs down when you get in and head through, the guard there will let you pass.”

The sound of a buzzer sounds off and it shakes your brain like nails on a chalkboard. The chain link fence rattles to life and slides open, the guard above loom as dark shadows from the white blaring lights behind them.

With a small mock salute, Sam passes the guard, following closely at his side now is Wanda and Bucky nudges you forward. You have to hand it to them, they know how to get an in. You distinctly remember seeing them bring in numerous prisoners and deadbeats who refused to pay up.

The guard wrinkles his nose at you and with a gurgle in his throat, spits at your feet. You almost break character with a laugh, dark and sinister before you imagine tearing him open until he’s nothing but bite sized chunks for the local street dogs.

The guard unlocks the door with a keycard and pin, the metal door hisses as it swings open. Entering the building and ignoring the way your stomach knots up, the pungent smell of iron, fuel and a hint the residue of the facility’s drugs suffocates your lungs and blocks your nose from smelling anything else, anyone’s scent.

You take the immediate stairs to your right, the hallway ahead blocked off, reserved as the onsight dormitory for security. Down into the depths of the factory, you walk the narrow walkway in the otherwise spacious room, rooms to both your left and right sealed off into smaller cubical styled holdings, protected under padlock and doors fashioned from old cages.

Old cages big enough to house something like you.

Another door is opened by the occupying guard watching over the room. He shares the same scornful look the first guard at the gate did, however, you pick out his features and identify him as one of the unlucky men who was caught in the crossfire. The side of his head closest to you and his jaw is mangled and flesh wrinkled, all down his neck before his vest and shirt cuts off the rest of the damage inflicted.

Again, you almost break character, but not because some guard had the audacity to disrespect your boot. No, it’s because of the memories in the lab you now stand in. It took Bucky a hard shove when he noticed your hesitance to cross the threshold. His need to remind you of the loaded barrel pinned to your jaw forces you to brave the nightmare before you.

The adrenaline, that smugness you airily carried. All gone. Your lungs give way to a shaken inhale and your eyes take in your surroundings of the lab.

It’s been a while since last you saw of the place, and nothing much has changed. No less the man in charge. Seeing him now, it really is a packing punch to the gut, your insides violently churn with a sickening swell of bile. This is an encounter you’d wish would never come to pass but here you are now, all to find out where Rumlow is. You had to stiff upper lip and face the broken record you left behind you.

But seeing him only makes this harder. Dressed down into a white, button up shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, he stands with his back to you, leaning his weight to one side.

“Yo, heard you were looking for a lost pet?” Sam hollers, garnering the man’s attention.

He turns to leer at you four, blue eyes cold and malicious, pupils shrunken in the way of a madman and hair haphazardly sweeps past his ear, shrouding half his face in shadow. Lines form on the outskirts of his cheeks with a deranged smirk.

“Ah. You found it,” he hisses in glee, “I must thank you sincerely for this delivery.”

You’re brought forward at the nudging of Bucky and now you stand under the scrutiny of Vision himself. A man-made monster by his own devices. His upper body contorts to lean forward slightly, head tilting heavily on its axle to gauge your expression, to probe at your mind, just as he had done so many other times.

Furthermore, it does little to boost your self-esteem when he whistles and snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Are you in there, dog?”

You swallow without response. With a snort of amusement, he’s satisfied by the compliance of your silence; your defeated resolve to fight back - though he does enjoy a good show from time to time. To see the rage burn in your eyes like a fearsome storm of fire. One that swears to devour him in the flames of your wrath once you broke free of your shackles. A storm that never came to pass until that fateful night, but a storm that didn’t sweep him away into ash.

He directs his attention to someone else and only then does your upper lip curl into a snarl, a feral sound of an animal under threat, or in this case, Wanda being under threat, Vision sneers at your attempt to intimidate him.

“Always one with a temper,” he sighs as if reminiscing on those memories, like they were days of happier times. Perhaps they were to him.

“Wanda, it’s good to see you again after all this time.” He pulls her hand up to grace her gloved knuckles with his lips, the eyes of a predator drinking in the sight of her discomfort.

“Vision.” Her tone of voice is cold. Strict and aimed sharply as a dagger to penetrate the fortitude of his unwanted advances. Vision was never one to take a hint. Much like Wanda’s lack of knowledge of you, you were left in the dark in regards to her relation to Vision.

Now you see it. They at some point in the past shared some form of intimate connection. One that she inevitably regrets with every fibre of her being that uses her body to shield herself. She all but rips her hand from his grip, her other hand subconsciously wipes at her knuckles. Vision quirks a dirty blonde brow up in the face of her denying act towards his given affections.

To ease the infectious growth of humiliation on his part, he shoves his shoulders back and cocks his head. “Come, you must be paid for a job well done.”

He directs two guards, two of your own kind, rendered obedient to his command, to lead you away from Wanda, Sam and Bucky. She’s mortified once your presence is eliminated from the group, leaving the three of them alone with Vision.

Bucky and Sam are quick to catch the wary glare you cast their way, a low threat to not abandon you there, to not let this play act go too far; the last thing you want to do is fall back into that pattern. To have Wanda be subjected to just a taste of what ordeals and trials you had to endure.

“I’m sorry to hear about your brother. He had a bright future ahead of him.” Vision’s condolences die on the tip[ of his tongue, turning into ash that rots away any ounce of sincerity for her loss. She cannot bring herself to respond verbally.

Wanda is moreso driven apart from you by Vision, his hand a little too close to lingering too low on her back, the sight of it forces a growl from between your clenched teeth, the two guards overseeing you snarl in your direction.

Obedient pets to him, twisted into a falsehood of loyalty. Wolves corrupted by the unfortunate dealings of their upbringing. Much like the ones in the fighting ring, like you, they don’t lead their own lives. They do as they’re told. They obey.

Following where the drug overlord ventures, he leads the three of them over to a far table in the corner, procuring a black suitcase. He hands it to Bucky.

“There we are, 100,000 Madripoor Dollars.”

Your eyes glance from the shackles to Sam and Bucky with narrowed eyes. Silently, through eye contact alone, you’re telling them to hurry the fuck up and spring into action, to get the situation under their control before things take a turn for the worst.

“Now, if you’ll be on your way, gentlemen–”

“We’d like to have the money recounted. Just in case, you know. Wouldn’t want the boss to feel cheaped out of our work,” Bucky snips suddenly before Vision could turn them away. He also notices the way Vision leers at Wanda like a salivating beast, no doubt he’d try to keep her with him as he practically booted them out the front gate.

This comes as a hindering surprise to the man, blue eyes glassed over with something void of any true human emotion.

With a nod of his head, he beckons over one of his assistants, and the summoned woman takes the case from Bucky to ensure the promised amount is all accounted for.

“What’s your whole deal with the mutt? Why pay such a hefty price for ‘em?” Sam questions, tilting his head in your direction. If they were here to divulge information about Rumlow, he wanted to make sure they knew exactly what they were getting themselves into.

Vision turns to follow where the man was looking and a dark smirk crosses his lips. Your eyes glow with the animal’s boiling rage, a formidable sight to behold and marvel at. He’s missed having you as his lab pet.

At first, Vision is reluctant to share his thoughts, however, something that is unreadable to your observant gaze, his smirk turns into a wide grin that causes Wanda’s complexion to pale.

“The Asset is among the very first of its kind to achieve such accomplishments. Paving the way for its kind. An investment with so much poured into it,” answers Vision.

“Would you like to see what my work entails?” His own question, laced in deranged malice, is met by three unsure visages.

‘What the actual fuck are they doing?’

Without so much as a word, Vision is herding them off behind a large control panel, screens displaying all sorts of data and diagrams of humanoid and werewolf anatomy. “As I am sure, you know I was partnered with Alexander Pierce for his little project.”

“Was?” Sam sneers in confusion.

Vision nods slowly. “Yes. After… numerous trials ending in failure, Pierce cast me aside. Told me that my work wasn’t good enough, that for all my progress with the serum, the desired goal wasn’t meeting his expectations.” He pauses to calm the venom behind his words. His eyes glare at the screens before they rise to meet your harrowing stare.

“Prepare it for trial exposure to serum SX-P,” he commands his workers, lithe fingers jabbing expertly against the keyboard.

“So why exactly did Pierce get rid of you?” Bucky asks now and Vision takes a moment to cease his actions and turn to look at him.

“Alexander’s campaign was relatively new and industrial to begin with. At first, potential investors weren’t convinced that werewolves could be rendered ‘tame’ to serve as liable enforcers and guards. There was a lack of trust in his project—” Vision began before needing to pause, the sound of your irritated growls bouncing off the four walls of the expansive lab as you’re led by the guards.

They shove you down to sit on the horizontal, metallic surface that centre’s the room. But you’re not going to make it easy for them, play acting or not. You thrust an elbow back, colliding into one of the two guards who stumbles back with a pained howl, hand nursing their broken nose that weeps with blood, the other guard retaliates with the butt of his gun. Your head lurches to the side, further damage to your already busted lips runs down the side of your chin.

His partner comes around for round two, fist raised high to land a blow to your contorted snarl, but Vision reels him back in with a single command. “Enough! I need it in as good condition as I can get it.”

He glares at one of the nerve wracked doctors. “And put the muzzle on the damn thing!”

The guards pin you down against the table and restrain your wrists and ankles in the shackles bolted down into the table.

Wanda is beyond the conceivable thoughts, utterly repulsed by this dark crater she must know festers in the world. That this treatment is inflicted upon you - and perhaps countless others - she looks to Sam and Bucky. Both of them mirror each other’s stoic expressions and tightly clenched jaws.

“We have to do something,” she whispers just enough for Sam to make out.

“As I was saying.” Rattling his throat of any vocal hindrance, he combs his dishevelled hair back. “It was vital to raise an exemplar to the species, to garner investment support. Thus, the animal before us contributed to that. But when the investors learnt that we didn’t have enough stable minded werewolves, it was cause of another concern. Given my expertise, Alexander then came to me… and I tried. I really did. But each trial failed, each match was torn to shreds.”

Your eyes meet Wanda’s, the tearful glaze that wavers beneath the fluorescent lights, your troubled brows only deepen into a scowl when a doctor procures a muzzle. It’s not familiar like the leather and metal barred one Vision often used for you, this one was crafted for a nefarious purpose. The guards tug your head back to keep you from engaging the doctor, their hands work swiftly in snapping the contraption around your mouth and the base of your neck.

That is when you’ve had enough of this charade. This is when you decided here and now that Vision will pay for all those years of fucking around with you, tormenting you, provoking you without giving you the chance to rectify the errors of his arrogant ways.

The moment that muzzle went over your face is when the game field changed. Your muscles strain and flex, body violently convulsing in your struggle to break free, your claws growing longer and clawing divots into the metal beneath your palms.

Alarms and panic ensues. It all moves in a tight framework of blurriness. Rage has blinded you to this point.

Wanda’s screams echo over the fog of your hazed and crazed mind, layering over into a morphing choir, other voices are muffled. All you can recognise are the two forms of something similar to your own towering one, their ears pin back and their snouts curl up to bare their teeth.

In a matter of seconds you're tangled between the two wolves, clawing and maining at their flesh until blood paints the polished floors, a racket of gunfire disturbs your ears. The nape of one of the guards is in the clutches of your jaw, you twist harshly and snape the elongated bone of their spine.

The second pushes you hard, bearing down on you with clawing fists and gnashing fangs that tear into the flesh and muscle of your shoulder and upper arms.

More gunfire blinks and sprays into your vision, white spots in the heat of your vision. Your hind legs arch up and kick the second guard off of you, their body flying back into a heap of equipment that combusts into a show of sparks upon impact. Workers flee in all different directions, more guards from the outside flock into the lab in a blaze of bullets.

Some penetrate through your thick hide and others aren’t so fortunate. Your ears twitch in response to Wanda’s voice, she shrieks your name, your head whips around in the direction to see her behind cover, Sam at her side as he takes shots at the guards.

“Look out!”

Her warning comes a second too late. A bullet fires at your shoulder, clean and true; an entry and exit wound. Your eyes momentarily meet Vision’s, a handgun of pristine gold flickering in the distance he kept from you. But your moment to strike is thwarted by the familiar reddish pink now shrouds you in a thick cloud.

The scent burns your senses and stings your eyes until the word wavers before you, your muscles fried and you’re choking on the smell of each chemical and pheromone in the gas. You roar amidst your stampede, chaos of tossing anything in your path aside. There are screams, pleas for mercy and shouts to shoot to kill; despite the conflicting order of Vision to keep you alive.

By now, the blaring alarms set off the emergency lighting, the once white lights darkening into a shade of red. Wanda calls your name again and again. You can’t see her through the tinted colour of the gas, your tail sways wildly from side to side, skin growing far too hot for your liking, you yelp in discomfort. Your body slumps against something that clanks together as the world around you spins. You grunt and snort to blow the burning scent from your flaring nostrils to no avail. Another fired bullet and hiss, and then a forceful gust of the same gas sprays directly over your face. Your howl as the agonising sting it causes, irritating your skin and fur, your clawed hands swipe at your face.

Your lungs feel like they are weighted down like iron anchors with each intake of air. You hear Vision laugh from above and your head snaps upwards, seeing him reign high above in his victory, from his place on the looming platform.

“But I figured it out, dog. Like all things natural to a wolf, it needed to be exposed just the same.”

His blue eyes beam wide in their amazement. Their admiration. You rear back as a shattering cry of a roar bellows from deep within your chest. Saliva coats over your gums and teeth and sweat has already begun to seep into your fur.

Vision gives a gesture of a mock salute before he dashes away, Sam and Bucky far too late and miss any shot they could have landed, the overlord making his escape.

“We gotta get outta here!”

“Where are we gonna go, Sam? There’s this fucking gas everywhere and—” Bucky cannot exhale another word, set off into a coughing fit.

“We have to find Y/N!” Wanda shouts to the two men.

She’s gaining higher ground. Her heels clatter against the metal framework of the platform. “I’I think I see them,” she calls out, head darting left to right, arching to see the dark shape before it sinks away into the reddish mist.

She continues to search until she is no longer able to. A scream is torn from her lungs when the platform shakes and jolts her forward, hands grasping the railing before she’s thrown over.

You stalk towards her with each step you take threatening to break the now unsteady frame you both stand upon. The once familiar glow of amber now feels strange to her, like she doesn’t recognise you - shouldn’t recognise you - and yet she says your name all the same. It’s the only thing that’s the middle ground now.

She backs away slowly and you continue forward until you arch forward swiftly, hands snatching hold of her, she struggles in your grasp. “Let me go! Let me go, Y/N!”

You growl in warning to her, the sound rumbles like booming thunder, she can feel it even through the thick layer of her coat.

Your nose buries into the crook of her neck, ignoring the way she squirms about in her resistance.

“We’re coming, Wanda,” Sam’s voice coughs from below, his shoes hitting each step hard with Bucky not far behind, skipping one step to reach you both quicker.

“Get off her,” warns Bucky with an arm raised, gun aimed at the bevel between your hellish, animalistic eyes. Eyes that he sees no humanity within.

You raise your head high to snarl at the intruders. There is little to remember or recognise, all that you feel is the need to kill and something more, something that stirs within your core. Your hips move to grind against Wanda, angling them to soothe that growing ache between your thick, powerful legs.

Wanda whimpers and that’s the last straw either man can take. They open fire and give Wanda the opportune moment to break free of you, she pushes away from you; but not before one of your hands snatch hold of her collar. She falls forward but Sam catches her before she can fall face first against the creaking metal, dragging her further away from you.

Bucky continues to rain bullet after bullet. The constant bite of the attack eventually deters you and your form moves, crashing through the side window of the lab. Glass bursts in a flurry and all that can be heard by the trio is the baritone howl that fades into the night.

Bucky pulls his phone from his pocket and lifts it to his ear when the call is received. “Steve, tell Tony we’ve got a loose collar problem.”

“Well, that could’ve gone much smoother. Now we have a sexed up hound on the loose.” Tony presses the glass to his temple with a huff in his low of defeat. Only Steve could have an idea how many drinks he’s had that night and he’s beginning to look a little rough for wear.

Bucky and Sam were in no top shape either, the two of them nursing their own bruises and scrapes in the fight to escape. They’d done well in keeping Wanda out of harm’s way, but as for them, they paid the price for it.

The tired sag beneath his hazel orbs. It makes her wonder just how bad this spanner in the machine is, how it affects Tony so.

Without her coat, Wanda is left only with a sense of unease, the article of clothing lost to the clutches of you; a missing you. She continued to replay earlier events over and over, trying to pick out and decipher each little detail’s meaning.

Vision obviously had a goal to win back Alexander’s favour. The abandoned project could have been yet another scheme to bring in profit, as Vision clearly made his intentions known.

He was after profit in the breeding ring.

“So regale me with the synopsis again: Pierce had Vision create a sex pollen engineered specifically for werewolves to then use on Y/N, however, it failed in the past until now, where you believe Vision has succeeded. That’s what I’m hearing, right?” Tony paces the kitchen now, pupils shrunk and hand quivering in the restraint of his outburst.

“Basically down to a T, Boss,” confirms Sam with a tilt of his head. Tony runs a hand down his face as he sighs audibly.

He takes a moment to reabsorb this information, Bucky grunting as he shifts his weight, having taken to laying on the couch. He took a werewolf arm to the stomach that flung him across the lab. In his books, he was deserving of a little rest.

“So how do we find them?” Steve asks after another moment of periodic silence. That’s when Tony’s eyes slowly float over to Wanda, that flicker of realisation dawning in his eyes, he lifts a hand to point at her.

“Where’s your coat?”

Wanda is chilled by the way Tony draws attention to this question, its nature a mystery that begins to make her head churn and her stomach flutter; and she isn’t sure in what way exactly.

“U-uh…” Her eyes dance between Sam and Bucky, uncertain to give her answer, but when Sam nods his head to her, she breathes in deeply. “Y/N took it. They… snatched it off of me, th-they tried to grab me but I slipped out. That was right before they fled.”

“Oh, well then, that solves our little lost dog problem.” The mob boss breathes an air of sarcasm to fan the flames of his words. But it also pulls everyone’s eyes to him, confusion visible in each of their own gazes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wanda asks and Tony chuckles dryly in response, eyes zeroing in on Wanda’s.

“It means that we can stay put. They’ll find you.”

Wanda isn’t sure what to make of it. Wandering down the hall to her separate apartment, Tony’s words play over the backdrop of your acts of slaughter, your actions of violence and aggression and primal desire. When you snatched a hold of her coat in the lab, she could sense it, that need to have her beneath you, to ravish her wholly without consequence or regard for anything or anyone’s order.

Having her within your grasp was an exotic experience. She felt the power you possess in its entirety without needing to experience every single level of it. She could just tell it was there.

‘They’ll find you.’ Tony’s words repeat themselves for the millionth time.

All she can think about is you. Where you are, if you’re alright, and how you’re coping with that pollen running in your veins. Tears coat her eyes in a blurred, wavering curtain. What if you got yourself killed?

No. She cannot think like that. She won’t think like that. But can she help it?

Still trapped in her mind with the troublesome thoughts and endless unanswered questions.

It begs one of the questions for her, how Tony can be so sure that you will find her, and how her coat had any relevance to his statement. His warning.

Soon enough, one cruel thought only breeds another. Vision’s disturbing fascination with his drug trade, with the sex pollen. It just makes sense - all of it - in the city of dark and neon. A criminal’s haven.

Something in the jumble of her scattered thoughts told her you didn’t consider Madripoor as a haven. What she saw in your eyes back in the lab; a raw and bone chilling expression of fear, she has only left to suspect that you see Madripoor as a prison.

Her chin wobbles slightly at the thought of you going through years of that hell and torture, to be trapped without anyone there to help you. To save you.

The city isn’t even an impressive sight to her. It’s poisonous, built on ruin and lies, betrayal and dirty money. What’s worse is that she’s lost you, some part of you, because of this fucking city. This cesspool of despair, destruction and corruption. Werewolves of a varying amount now dwell in those other towering buildings - hell, perhaps even in the same hotel as her - and below in the streets of Hightown. In the slums of Lowtown. And you’re somewhere amongst it all.

All because of those who used and abused you. For profit.

All Wanda can think at that moment is to just see you. To be near you. All she wants is for this to be over and to go home with you.

Everything she could ever want, she sees in you. She just wants you.

But Madripoor has taken you from her. Swallowed you up in the festering dark and neon glow. A wolf lost in the haze, with nothing but that desire to want. And maybe, if Tony is at all correct in his fearfully made assumption, you’re a lost wolf with a desirable appetite for her.

It almost feels like some dark, wet fantasy of hers. To believe that the only reason you have her coat now is to track her down. Because you want her. Her skin is plagued by a sudden chill that makes her spine tingle.

She takes a moment to bring stillness to her negative and lust spiralling thoughts to dry the unspilled tears as she finally arrives at the door of the apartment. Withdrawing her key, she unlocks the door and enters.

The room is dark, left to remain cold in the vacancy. Or so Wanda thought. Closing the door behind her and pressing her back to it, it takes her a moment to regain her strength and composure before she pushes herself off it; only for her back to all but smack hard against the door again. Her mouth fell agape and eyes widening.

Even in the unlit space of the common area, the neon haze of the opposing buildings floods in through the wide panel windows. But none of them compare to the sharp amber of your eyes hiding amidst the darkness. The lethal regalness of the true born predator that uses this element to their advantage. The common area is a mess, furniture torn to shreds, miscellaneous decorations littering the floor and the walls, canvases to long and jagged claw marks; a lot of them. You’ve practically left no space left safe in the chaos of your outburst.

And your large form is at the centre of it all.

“Y/N,” she breathes out, breaking the silence between you both. Your eyes flitter up to meet hers from your previous interest point, the accumulated bundle at your large, pawed feet. Blankets, sheets, pillows and anything else in your wolfish mind you deem comfortable to lay on the floor.

Wanda’s eyes move over you. Were you… building a nest?

Your amber eyes burn into her soul, the pit of radiant hellfire focuses on her with primitive hunger. The sight of her against that door makes your core become plagued by shockwaves of agony that disperse downwards, turning pain into an empty void of pleasure that moves downwards, to the aroused mound at the juncture between your powerful, muscular thighs. You could do some very damaging things to her up against that door.

And there she sees it, her coat clenched tightly in the grasp of your right hand. So Tony had been correct in the end. You used her coat to track her down from wherever you’d escaped to, only to then follow her scent here.

The heavy pound of your weight on your pawed feet moves closer to her, the article of fox fur discarded to the pile - or what she presumes to be a nest - and she’s soon cornered.

Muscles ripple beneath fur, the colour of it always a delicate sight Wanda found herself often cherishing. Soft to the touch, well groomed beyond the scars that litter your body, hideous marks that remind you of what you are. But to the hidden scope of Wanda’s own thoughts, you were the closest thing to sculpted perfection; the rough edges providing a ruggedness that many often depicted as ruthless and merciless.

But she knows that you use those sharp edges to protect her. To protect yourself.

“Remember me, Y/N. Y-you know who I am, l-look at me–”

Your muzzle wrinkles and you snarl, pink gums lined with long, sharp teeth bare at her in a display of what she perceives as hostility. She’s only begun to slide along the wall and away from the door before one of your larger arms thrusts forward. She yelps in surprise and flinches back, your other arm follows suit of the first, trapping Wanda between you and the wall behind.

Your maw extends down as a raspy snarl echoes in the back of your throat, the foundations of a monster with not an ounce of humanity left in the soul, her eyes are now coated with a hot layer of tears. “You know me, Y/N, I know you do! Look at me, remember me.”

She can’t even bear the thought to fathom the fates of the other victims. With Vision’s lack of details, it ended up being both a blessing and a curse. Now all she thinks about now is becoming another one of those victims. And how the aftermath would only break you.

“I remember, Mate.”

Wanda would celebrate in her relief, had it not been for that single word. Mate. Goosebumps form over exposed skin, her breath hitches in her throat and she cannot refrain from the needy moan surpassing her lips when you push your overly large body to hers, bending down low to grind the dangerously aroused location against her.

“I fucking need you. I need you so badly.”

“I–I…” The words escape her, leaving her to the dizzying of her own growing desire. To be beneath you, to have you ravish her beyond reprieve.

“One way or another, I’ll have you in that nest, Mate.”

The lilt of your baritone growl reverberates in the chamber of your ribcage, husky and primal laced. Dominating. Wanda’s mind swims with the endless possibilities, that black sea of fantasies rising up in crashing tidal waves. Her head arches back into the door and leaves her neck bared for you, the long, pink tendril of your tongue laps at the dew of her skin, deliciously sweet and intoxicating, it brings out a pleasurable rumble from you. One that she feels vibrates her alit core.

“Do you know how long I’ve been repressed, Lamb? All that torture and for what? Only to suffer without release. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Oh, there’s something in the way you blatantly threaten her with a fucking good time. A chill runs up the column of her spine and she mewls, you roughly begin to grind your body into her in your dire need. Suffice to say, you aren’t kidding her when you warned her that you’d have her one way or another.

“I want to help you now,” she whispers softly. Her hands roll through the texture of your fur, nails scratching at you like a kitten, your shoulders jolt with a rumbling chuckle. You purr lowly, breath hot against her neck, “You know how.”

The razor points of your canines rake over the sensitive spot, right where her mark belongs, and exposed to the point that you could do it; and she would have no chance of fighting it.

She pants now, whining when the bulge of your mound rubs over her aching pussy, already her lips are sweetened by her juices.

“I want this. I want you… Mate.”

Her scent is alluring to the point that you think it’s a drug of its own, a dose of it enough to get your blood pumping and your heart pounding, her words only serve to break the last restraints you barely have a hold of.

The action is swift and drags a gasp from Wanda’s lungs, your right arm scoops her up, resting her ass along your forearm as you hoist her up, in tandem your left hand claws down, slicing her short dress down the middle; leaving her milky skin exposed in her lingerie.

Your left hand moves her thigh over the curve of your shoulder and with this guidance, she does the same for her other leg, her drooling pussy just below eye level now. Her scent wafts into your senses and you growl, tongue running over the daggered incisors lining your maw.

“You smell good, Lamb.”

The drawl of your wolfish tone makes Wanda’s eyes roll back, her hips bucking at the pleasuring sensation of your hot, wet tongue licking a long strip upwards, from the edge of her folds to her pulsing clit. All her hands can do is clutch hold of the long, silky locks of fur that are reminiscent of your hair.

“Sh–shit!” she squeaks with jostled breath, “D-do that again?”

You obey her request with a haughty snort, snout wrinkled into a prideful smirk. The fabric of sheer and opaque of her panties being a perfect blend to pleasure and torture. She’ll want more soon enough, you’re sure of it. Your tongue laps upwards again and she groans quietly with a struggling pant. Her mouth hangs open, and shit, if that isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen then you can happily take a silver bullet to the brain.

Her body quivers with each stroke of your tongue, wide enough to cover her entire cunt each time, and a little rough to offer that desirable friction she craves, and of course warm to sooth the chill that envelops the rest of her skin. “A–ah! Hah!”

“Feels good, doesn't it, Mate?”

Wanda is pleasure-struck, unable to form a single tangible response by word. All she can do is nod her head frantically, streaks of her brownish hair fall over her visage contorted with delight, a moan bouncing in her throat. “M–mmhm…”

A dark chuckle escapes you and that smirk turns into a wolfish grin. “That’s not all this tongue can do.”

Her brows lift in curiosity and her plump lips fall apart with another moan, her anticipation is short lived by you putting her out of her misery or before she can question you. Your teeth slip between the band of her panties and her skin, revelling in the way her body shivers against you, with a quick snap the fabric is torn apart and gives the perfect view of her dripping cunt.

Your maw is buried between her legs in an instant, tongue greedy devouring the slickness on her folds, the taste as sweet as honey on your tastebuds, your ears pin back when her fingers ring further towards the roots of your fur.

“F-fuck, fucking hell, oh shit!” she gasps loudly, “Y/N!”

A hot fan of breath hits her sensitive bud as you part your powerful jaws wide open, you press the thinner tip of your tongue to her entrance, teasing her slickened folds until she’s mewling for you, fingers clenching your fur harder.

“Please… please,” she begs, doing her best to angle her weeping core for your leisure whilst keeping her thighs balanced on the broadness of your shoulders.

“Show me what else it can do.”

With a pleased huff with her begging, you angle your tongue and push forward. With each impending inch that sinks further between her southern lips, she whines softly - dare you say it - she’s howling tenderly in her reverie of euphoria.

With each surpassing inch she realises that your tongue alone is as thick as a well endowed man. And it only seems to keep going and her hips wriggle, lips trembling until her teeth sink into her bottom lip to keep her screams at bay lest the entirety of Madripoor hears what its finest werewolf does to defile her.

You grunt when you’ve filled her with all that you can with the pink and hot, muscular organ. Breaths heavy and heated, each wave hits Wanda’s clit and brings a delightful spring to coil in her abdomen and her pussy to clench around you.

Her back arches slightly in sync with the first thrust, the wet muscle powerful enough to make her gently bounce upwards, a breathless wisp of air is pressed from her lungs forcefully.

“Oooh, oh yes, j-just like that.”

You repeat the motion again and her legs squeeze closer around your large head. Her nails dig into the nape of your neck. Your arm that doesn’t support the weight of her lower body comes up and your clawed hand supports the back of her own neck, her head lazily drops back, eyes rolling into the back of her skull as her lips close shut.

Her hips roll into the next thrust, meeting your wet muscle halfway, and the way she moans makes you groan.

So your pace quickens and becomes rougher, her body bounces with each forceful stroke, continuing to roll her hips in tandem, following the set rhythm with a chorus of wistful moans and teetering howls of her own.

You’re enraptured by the sight of her. The heiress at your beck and call now, drawing closer to her starlit climax. She feels it, deep inside, like rubber bands coming together and twisting in wait for the inevitable snap.

She chants your name, a one word mantra that drives you to the precipice of lustful insanity.

Her tight walls only tighten with each push and pull of your long tongue, dragging against the current that seeks to pull you in forever with no chance to grant escape. More of her aroused juices get you drunk in your haze and your greed becomes damn near insatiable as you drink every drop you’re granted. The few stray drops of her sweetness only roll down the flexing front of your torso.

“I-I’m close.” She breathes deeply through her nose, eyes squeezed shut as her fingers claw the absolute shit out of your silky fur. All these things mixed together in a delicious combination makes you growl, and that sound shoots through your cunt-fucking tongue, and brings her walls to clamp around it hard. Her body is wrecked by the crash of her orgasm, coating your tongue with a mouth watering amount of her release, you groan at the taste.

Your tongue works at slowing down, stoking the fire to cool down, her breasts push and strain against the thin fabric of her lingerie, nipples stiff beneath the sheer’s opacity. With a husky grunt you pull the slick drenched muscle with a moistened pop, Wanda’s body reacts with a flinching motion.

Fuck, how you enjoy having her like this. Before now, you’ve held back, refused to carry on any further out of fear that it would be too much for her. Now seeing her, drunk on your mere tongue and her quietly pleading more of you, you think she can handle it.

When Wanda manages to recover enough of herself that her eyes open to look at you. She isn’t sure if she should be aroused or terrified by the expression on your canid visage. Your lips lift over the line of your gums, stretching to a smirk.

You drop the courtesy support you offered her, the only thing keeping her suspended at your eye level is the large form of your single hand, circling around the slender build of her waist. Her body is still recovering from her orgasm, lazily but trying, she supports in holding herself from falling back.

In this moment, she’s at the mercy of an eight and a half foot animal doped up on sex pollen. She’s at the mercy of you.

“Now, let me show you how a werewolf really fucks.”

COMING SOON...

— MALE VARIANT — FEMALE VARIANT — ACT IV

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST

@alexawynters @alyciaddict

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 1 year

Text

Remember | Wanda Maximoff

Summary: After an accident leaves you without your memories, your wife makes it her mission to make you remember her

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Angst, car accident, mentions of injuries

Word Count: 2.4K

Masterlist

A/N: This was a request from @Joewatt111 on Wattpad. Enjoy!

It had been six weeks since the accident. You were out of the hospital by now, back at home with Wanda taking care of you. Physically, you were okay. A couple of bruised ribs and a black eye were the worst of your external injuries. But mentally, you were in rough shape. You’d developed post-traumatic amnesia from the concussion you sustained as your head smacked the steering wheel of the car. You woke up in the hospital three days later, able to tell the nurse what year it was but unable to recognize your wife of three years.

Wanda was devastated. She’d spent three whole days and nights by your side in the ICU. She held your hand, told you how all of your friends had come to visit and how she had to stop Pietro from drawing a sharpie mustache on you as you lay unconscious, read you chapters out of the book you’d been reading, and told you how much she loved you. She was thrilled when your eyes fluttered open for the first time. But that all changed when you panicked at the sight of her, screaming for the nurse to get that strange woman away from your bedside. The nurses sedated you while the neurologist brought Wanda into the hall. He’d told her that these things happen and that it’d probably take a while, but there was a good chance you’d regain most of your memories.

“And if he doesn’t?” she asked. He didn’t respond.

You were discharged 48 hours later. A kind social worker had stopped by to make sure you understood that you’d be going home with your wife, Wanda, that she wasn’t going to hurt you, and that your memories would probably come back slowly over a period of time. She also made sure that Wanda understood that this was going to be difficult for the two of you. You might not come back the same person.

“I stood up in front of our family and friends in that synagogue and promised for better or worse that I would be there for him. I will not break that promise,” she asserted as she twisted the wedding band on her finger.

But the social worker was right. Getting you home was the easy part. In the following days you weren’t yourself. You were angry, snapping at her left and right, saying things you wouldn’t have normally said in your right mind. It hurt her to hear you say such cruel things, but she refused to give up. Soon enough she decided to take matters into her own hands. You fell in love with her once. She was going to make you fall in love with her all over again.

She started small, doing simple things she knew you liked. She made your favorite foods, played your favorite radio station in the car, made the bed with your favorite sheets, hoping that something would trigger a memory.

You were sitting in the car one day, driving back from a doctor’s appointment, when you suddenly remembered…something. You sat up a little straighter and looked around, almost like a haze had cleared from your view.

“I remember this song,” you said, straining to remember what exactly you remembered about it. “This…this was…this is your song, right?” You squeezed your eyes shut as fuzzy images passed through your mind. “You sang it at a bar? And there was someone else singing - Clint, right?”

You remembered the double date you two went on with Clint and Laura right after you announced your engagement.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “We went to a karaoke bar. Clint and I got very drunk and I dragged him up to sing with me. You couldn’t stop laughing because we were so bad. And you stayed up with me while I threw up all night and you sang that song to me.” She sniffled and shook her head hoping that it would get rid of the tears forming in her eyes. She reached up to wipe them away. “Sorry,” she murmured.

You sat in silence for a while before you spoke again. “I’m trying, Wanda. I really am. I want to remember everything but…” you trailed off, unable to look at her.

“I know,” she replied. She kept a neutral face but inside her heart was breaking.

You sat in silence the rest of the drive home. Every time you turned to say something to her she looked away. The guilt was eating away at you. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t remember, but you felt awful for the way it had hurt her. You were frustrated with yourself and you often took it out on her. She didn’t deserve that, and you figured that’s not how you used to be. Sighing, you looked out the front window as you slowly moved your hand from your lap to her hand that was resting on the shift stick. You felt her hand jump slightly as you grasped it for the first time in weeks. Neither of you looked at each other or said anything as you drove hand-in-hand the rest of the way home.

You didn’t speak Wanda for the rest of the day, opting to stay in the guest room you’d been sleeping in since your discharge. You simply didn’t know what to say to her anymore. You stayed quiet as she knocked on the door later that evening. “Dinner’s ready,” she said. When you didn’t respond, you heard her turn and head back down the stairs. What you didn’t hear was her sobbing as she sat at the bottom of the stairs. For the first time since you’d come home she wished you hadn’t. Maybe it would’ve been easier if you simply died. That way she would know for certain that you wouldn’t be coming back.

It was nearing midnight when your grumbling stomach finally got the better of you. You tiptoed out of your room and down the stairs, not wanting to wake Wanda. The house was dark as you felt your way through the halls to the kitchen. As you made yourself a sandwich in the dark, you looked up to notice a dim light coming from the living room. You decided to investigate the mysterious light and grabbed your sandwich as you creeped down the hall.

Turning into the living room, you noticed that the TV was on. The DVD player screensaver was bouncing from corner to corner. The remote was sitting on the arm of the sofa. As you reached down to grab it, you realized that Wanda was fast asleep on the couch. She was curled up in the corner, a blanket covering her legs, as she hugged a leather-bound book in her arms. For the first time in weeks she looked peaceful. You knew that you shouldn’t go snooping, but your curiosity got the better of you. Taking great care not to wake her, you gently removed the book from her grasp. You sat on the opposite side of the couch. She stretched her legs as you sat down which caused you to freeze momentarily. In the dim light of the TV screen you opened the book: it was a scrapbook.

You leaned back on the sofa as you started to flip through the pages. Each page was covered in pictures of you and Wanda, a small caption placed underneath each photograph. They were forgotten memories of a person who no longer existed. But they intrigued you. You wanted to look at them. It was like looking at them would cause all of your forgotten memories to return. You didn’t think it would work but at that point you were willing to try anything to regain some semblance of your old life back. So you sat there and studied each and every picture.

You didn’t remember most of the events. Wanda and you all dressed up at the opening of the art exhibit she was curating. You holding a sack lunch and giving a thumbs up on your first day of grad school. Wanda digging her new garden. The two of you at the beach, at a concert with her friends from work, on top of a mountain, sitting in inner tubes at the river, proudly showing off your medals after completing the New York Marathon…You felt sad as you looked at these moments that no longer meant anything. But as you flipped through the pages, you paused as you came across a seemingly boring picture. It was Wanda. She was wearing a grey beanie and a dark blue raincoat as she sat on a grassy hill looking out over a large body of water.

Scotland. You didn’t have to look at the caption to know what that was.

“Y/N?” You jumped as you heard Wanda’s sleepy voice interrupt your thoughts. Her eyes fluttered open as she realized you were sitting on the couch. “What are you doing?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“What is this?” you asked her as you raised the book up to show her.

“It’s a scrapbook I made. For you. I was hoping that it might help you remember something,” she answered. She pushed herself up so that she was sitting. “I don’t know, maybe it helps me to think that it might help you, maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Scotland,” you said.

“What?”

“You always wanted to go to Scotland. So I surprised you for your birthday by booking us a trip for two weeks.” You pointed at the picture of her in the book. “I took this when you weren’t looking. You told me you were going to sit there until you saw the Loch Ness Monster, but it started to rain and you didn’t want to get wet.”

“You remember?” Wanda gasped.

You nodded. “I remember that. I tried to remember everything else but I can’t. I’m sorry.” You looked down at the book, too ashamed to look her in the eye.

“Hey, look at me, Y/N” she coaxed, bringing her hands to your face. She turned your head to look at her. You didn’t have much of a choice. “You remembered.” She leaned in slightly, but hesitated. You hadn’t kissed her in weeks and she didn’t want to push you. “Sorry,” she apologized sheepishly as she pulled away.

You knew what she had wanted to do. Truth be told you wished that she had done it. You wanted to kiss her but you didn’t know how to tell her. You hadn’t known if she even wanted to be intimate with you, especially after the way you’d treated her. “Wanda,” you said. She turned to look at you. You could see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. You placed the opened book on the coffee table and crawled over to her side of the sofa. She was pressed against the armrest as you brought your face directly in front of hers. You could hear her breathing, how shaky it sounded in the silence of the night. “Can I kiss you?” you whispered.

“Yes,” she breathed.

You pushed yourself to your knees on the couch as she stared at you, her eyes reflecting the glow of the screen. Placing your hands on her face, you tentatively leaned in and shut your eyes as you pressed your lips against hers. Her hands reached up to grab your wrists as she melted into your touch. The kiss was soft and gentle. You moved your lips against hers as she did the same. A soft moan escaped her lips as you lightly nibbled her bottom lip. You broke the kiss, pulling back to see her smiling up at you.’’

“I missed that,” you admitted, smiling down at her as you brushed a strand of her hair behind her hair.

“Me too.” She was still holding on to your wrists. “I’m not giving up on you, shefela.” “You used to call me that when we first started dating.” Wanda nodded. “I’m trying,” you whispered. “I’m trying to fall in love with you again. Because I want to. I want more books full of pictures of new memories, memories that I remember. And I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you. I don’t think I would’ve said those things before.”

“I forgive you,” Wanda said as she reached her hands up to grasp your head. “And I’m not going anywhere. I fell in love with you once, I’ll do it all over again. Not everyone gets this chance, Y/N,” she sniffled. You sat there for a moment as she held you.

“What were you watching?” you asked, motioning your head to the TV.

Wanda smiled. “Do you wanna watch?”

“Sure.”

She grabbed the remote from the arm of the sofa and hit play. The screen flickered to life as your face appeared on the screen. You were standing on the side of a river, skipping rocks and looking over at the camera after each throw and yelling to Wanda behind the camera.

“It’s the video we made of our honeymoon,” she explained.

“Maine. We went to Bar Harbor.” The words slipped out of your mouth as visions of the salty coast crashed through your mind.

“Mmhmm. One week. We made this video and said we would watch it for our fiftieth anniversary, but I hoped that it’d help you remember.”

You were watching yourself set up your camera to take a picture of the two of you, but you couldn’t stop giggling long enough to get a good one. You smiled as you watched yourself grab Wanda from behind and lift her in the air while she screamed at you to put her down. As you continued watching, you started to lower yourself down to rest your head in Wanda’s lap. She kicked the blanket off her legs and pulled it up over the two of you. The movie played on and you sat there cuddling for the first time in forever as she ran her fingers through your hair. You didn’t remember much more as you watched that evening, but something told the two of you that things were going to turn out alright in the end.

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skylarinfinity · 1 year

Text

*natasha walk into common room wearing snow jacket while holding other one for m/n*

natasha: *looking for m/n* did anybody know where m/n is?

*people either shrug or say they don't see him*

wanda: do you want me to help finding him?

natasha: *sighed* uh yeah sure , where do you think he i- *look at the window and see paw's prints* never mind i found him.

tags: @sonicqaulan

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marvels-bitch-boy · 1 year

Text

Chapter 5: (Third Person)

A/N: HI guys! i know I said the series would be on hold for while but i just wanted to give you this before it was officially on pause. I have an endgame decided and I'm just taking some time for myself to make sure I can give you guys the proper ending and resolution when it comes time. I hope you enjoy

Word Count: 3.3k

P1 Chapter 1, P2 Chapter 1, P3 Chapter 4, P3 Chapter 6

As Y/N walked in the line of men cladded in all black armour he began to look for a way out of the line. Discreetly slipping down a side hallway He heard a small voice in his ear. “Y/N… I need you to help Yelena, can do you that?” this voice was a very calming one that didn’t seem to be in a rush. He whispered a response and listened to her. “When you hear medical equipment you know you’re in the right place” He felt himself let out a small huff of hair with a smile under his mask as he began to search the nearby rooms.

Within a few moments, he was greeted by borage of fluorescent lights that hit his eyes like a slap in the face. As he saw the way that Yelena was now releasing herself from the straps that held her down. He rushed over to her and within seconds she threw a small blade in his direction. Dodging it in the knick of time he turned back to her and found her barreling towards him with a terrifying glare that could rival Natashas. Grabbing her hand as she went to strike him and she quickly kicked out his knee and he knelt down to the ground. As she went to hit him once again he struggled to rip off his helmet and stop this fight. “Yelena! Jesu-” she strikes him which causes the helmet to go flying and his face hits the cold floor.

“Ooooh… shit, are you dead?” her accent is thick and slightly muffles her words in his ears. She nudges his side with her foot and attempts to roll him over. She can see the slight trickle of blood that spills from his mouth.

He groans as she looks at him. “I feel like if I was it would be better at this point” closing his eyes he feels two hands grip his arms and tug him up.

“Up now you big baby” she rolls her eyes as he struggles to stand up.

“I’ve been used as a punching bag the last few days…” he opened his eyes and looked down to pick up his helmet and found a small puddle of blood and wipes around his mouth “for fucks sake, I just had a dental inspection” he mutters a few curses under his breath as he follows Yelena around the poorly decorated makeshift hospital room. She spoke into the earpiece she had and directed him to help her find the cold storage.

After he heard glass shatter his head whipped around and he saw her reaching into the freezer and producing a bundle of red vials. “There's a handle…” he says in an exasperated tone.

She shrugs at his words “not as fun” She begins to leave the room and ushers him down the halls. Yelena seemed to attempt conversation as the two made their way around to expose the other widows. “So, you died? And now you’re an asshole?... seems stupid” she could not see his face under the helmet but he found himself with an offended expression.

“That’s a very reductive take on it, Leviathan helped me come to terms with my feelings. They showed me the truth” he held his weapon up as he checked the hallway to their right.

“Why are you using a gun? Can’t you shoot fire like a dragon” he sighed and lowered his weapon. His thoughts mainly consisted of questioning why Val wanted her and also the fact that she was completely right about that. “I- just shut up, where are the widows?” she smirked at him and motioned for a door that had red lights blaring from it.

“I’ll guess they were here…” she smacked him over the head and rushed to the wall of dangerous weapons, grabbing a grenade she rushed out of the room. Y/N quickly joined her as she ran through the building. As he rushed alongside her the two of them came across a horrifying sight, Natasha was being heavily beaten by a swarm of widows. Y/N acted as fast as he could and sprouted small bursts of fire above the widows, as Yelena tossed a vial high into the air and fired at it spreading the nerve agent across the room. Once the punches towards Nat yielded he threw his helmet off and rushed to her side, he began rapidly checking her, his hands on her cheeks and eyes filled with concern. He attempted to get her attention on him as she looked dazed and around the room. “Natty, hey- hey I’m here…” he pulled her into a hug and as he stood up with her she leaned her weight on him, his hand on her waist and his eyes cautiously watching the newly freed widows.

Natasha stood next to him and barely registered his actions, she saw the looks on the widow's faces and knew she wouldn’t be harmed. She stared into their uncertain eyes and saw them ponder a million questions each within only a few seconds. A brave widow speaks up from the group “Minne me menemme?” (Where will we go?). The question lights a spark inside Natasha's eyes. She looks at them all and then towards the now freed girl who spoke up. “Get as far away from here as possible.” a gentle smile tugged at her lips and she spoke with pride “You get to make your own choices now.”

The girls all looked at each other and murmured as Yelena moved to stand beside Natasha. Who now shifted her weight from off Y/N, he stood there slightly awkwardly as he still felt his hand on her waist and her arm strung across his shoulder, it fell off him and landed on her side and he began to move away from her but she reached for his hand that was sliding away from her. She looked into his eyes that appeared to perfectly mirror her emerald eyes and he stayed in his position beside her. Suddenly an explosion sounded from around them and shook the floor they stood on. All the women were now on high alert as the building continued to rattle like a fun house. Objects from the nearby shelves began to hit the ground and Yelena yelled to her sister as she allowed the man to take the full weight of the woman once again. “We gotta get outta here. We need to find Dreykov.” she looked at her sister who didn’t seem to be moving from her place “Are you coming?” she looked at her with question and concern. Y/N nodded to her with sincerity and Natasha replied “I’m right behind you.”

With those words, Yelena and the newly freed widows made their way down to the jets at a rapid pace. Y/N helped Natasha towards Dreykovs desk and she made a quiet comment about his behaviour. “So I’m Natty again?...” she said with a sly smirk that was made to produce false confidence. She wanted him to think she knew how he felt, she wanted him to think that she knew how she felt. In actuality she had zero ideas how he felt, she didn’t know why he called her that, since his death and betrayal she hadn’t allowed anyone on the team except Barton to call her that. It felt wrong to hear the name come from another voice. There was nothing that seemed to fix the taste in her mouth that appeared when she heard it.

“I- I just thought a familiar name would help… that’s all it was.” she didn’t let the slight hurt fill her face she only looked at him with pity before she went back to her task. “What are you doing anyways?” He was closer to her this time as he spoke, he had moved to stand so close beside her that he was almost directly behind where she stood. His presence felt menacing but had a duality to it. The feeling of anger that had once radiated off him was gone and now she could feel the almost instant security he brought to her.

“I have to get the information on the girls… all the girls, I didn’t end this the last time,” she watched as the screen began to show the loading of all the information “I won’t leave until I’m certain this is burned to the ground.” He smirked at her words and held up a single fist.

“Say the word,” he let a small flame grow on the top of his hand “This one will be on the house.” She looked into his E/C eyes and saw the man she could recognize. She felt her heart slightly repair itself. The tear that was in place of him had produced two new stitches. “You keep looking at me like this I’ll start to think I’m not as much of a monster.” His words were low and his voice was full of emotion, she could get the base of it but the deeper meaning of his words rattled her brain. She heard the alert that the download was now complete and the two of them let out a sigh and an enthusiastic “yes!”. They ran out of the room and down the hallways, as they ran a large explosion hit the two of them which launched Y/N out of the window and into the sky, while Natasha had been thrown through a hole that was deep in the floor. She fell into the room that contained the cells and found the taskmaster trapped in a cell. The woman would have no chance of surviving a crash at this altitude. Yet Natasha was aware that the first chance Antonia got to kill Natasha she would take it. Natasha had already now lost Igg in the chaos and couldn’t lose another life.

“Antonia.” a punched was thrown at the glass that stood between them “No!” she let out a heavy breath and attempted to catch the air she had lost “I’m gonna open the door. You’re gonna come after me. It’s okay. It’s okay. I know you’re still in there. And I’m not gonna leave you. Okay.” She opened the door and for a second a mere second it seemed as if Antonia was in control, that she was going to escape with Natasha. Instead, she began to attack her, she threw a punch at her head that had easily been dodged and they began to do the age-old dance of combat. Limbs were flying and connecting in all directions. Neither was going to give up but for contrasting reasons. Natasha was hitting to subdue, while Antonia was striking with a passion to inflict pain. She was like a wild animal in the most graceful way, her blows were calculated and precise. Through the chaos Natasha found herself clinging to the floor as her opponent went flying out the window, just like Y/N had been. She pulled herself back up as she saw an opportunity.

—

Natasha was sprinting onto the runway as she saw Yelena raise her staff. With the determination on her face and the content that filled her, Natasha knew which direction this was going. She let Yelena's name fill her throat as she called out to the woman attempting to change her mind. “Don’t do it!!” she felt the pleading leak from her words, watching the girl raise the staff high above her head and look into her eyes. It was the bond the two held since they were kids that were reignited in the pair.

“This was fun!” a sorrowful smile that reached the tears in the corners of her eyes appeared on Yelena's face. She used all her might and strength to shove the staff into the turbine, within seconds the engine exploded and sent her flying into the air. As Natasha looked back towards the building in haste she was the mask of Antonia and quickly reached for a stray parachute. Diving off the side of the runway into the morning sky she felt the sun bask over her, it illuminated the path toward her sister and she latched onto her within seconds. Releasing the chute she was able to look around finally and saw her opponent barrelling towards her like a bullet that had been shot out of a gun.

Natasha only had a few seconds to make her plan and she knew exactly what she needed to do. Pushing off her sister she dove back into the air and found herself facing her opponent once again. As her feet hit the glass that was hurling towards the earth, she once again felt the sun hit her skin and used the surface to slow her own descent. As Antonia held onto her while they both fall from the clouds like two fallen angels who had been banished by god. They were fighting like sisters and all they needed to fit the picture perfectly would be their two wings. One could imagine that if they had not been taken up in such a filthy place that maybe, just maybe they would have those wings, they would not be in this fight for their lives, and they would not be seen as fallen angels. They would have been seen as goddesses amongst men. One of a kind, as all women deserved.

Instead, here they were, attempting to escape their own clutches. A swirl of black and blue, almost like a meteor.

—

As he hit the ground almost like a ping pong ball, bouncing off the dirt and grass he laid for a moment as he began to feel the immense pain coat his body. The wind hit his face and woke him up from his pain-induced sleep. A familiar set of voices filled his ears and suddenly he was greeted by the face of Melina. “Hello,” she felt his chest and ribs which forced a strained groan out of his throat “tell me if you can breathe or not, does this hurt?” suddenly she moved his right leg only to the right by half an inch, a scream that pierced through his ears and shook its way out of his throat. “God, are you not invincible?” the snarky remark came from the blonde who was now watching him splayed across the ground.

Soon Alexei lifted you up and you came face to face with Natasha who was standing hip to hip with her sister. The widows were making their way back to a black jet and the small make-shift family began to speak. Y/N had now passed out once again from his pain and felt a hand smack him across the face, he saw Natasha giving him a smile as he looked at her. “Hey,” he whispered to her through shredded vocal cords and a winded chest. “I’ll see you around” She leaned up to his cheek and left a soft kiss, the warmth from her lips caused his eyes to close on impulse and he found himself dreaming of his life back at the compound.

—

He saw Natasha sitting on his couch as he entered the door after a small mission, she greeted him and helped him clean up all the ash and dust that coated his skin from top to bottom. “There’s no way only one lab caused this much mess” she joked as she swept up the remaining contents that spread across the floor. “It was more like a small base for their genetics division” he walked out of the bathroom with his towel draped over his head as he approached the woman, wrapping his arms around her waist he found her facing him now, however it was Wanda who was in his arms. “And I’m sure you were able to handle them with ease? I mean Ignes can burn down entire armies!” she laughed at her joke and it sent vibrations down to his core as he stared at her. As he looked around the room he saw the photos around him change, the woman who was in them before was gone, replaced by the one in front of him. Deep within his stomach, he felt something off, something was starting to feel wrong. He moved to his bed and noticed the sheets had changed, they were no longer his usual dark green but instead a pale grey. His eyes drifted to the books on his shelf and the titles were different, they were all “Great Expectations” by Charles Dickens. He started to take them off the shelf one by one and couldn’t find anything but the same cover, the same title, and the same author. He looked back to Wanda and found her looking at him concerned, her brows were stitched together and her emerald eyes were filled with fear.

“Ogon’, are you okay?” she held his face in her hands and stroked his cheek. This brought his mind calm, and he relaxed almost instantly. He nodded and she brought him close to her. He felt the beating of her heart blend into him and they stood there for as long as he needed.

—

Snapping back into reality he found himself in a safe house, he knew it was a Leviathan safe house from the decor and the clothes he had been put into. Looking around the room there was a phone on the nightstand and he saw a message from Valentina displayed. “Welcome to Edinburgh, I hope you stay in the shade while you’re here. Wouldn’t want you to get burned” He groaned at the message and rolled onto his side. As he felt his skin rub against the sheets the absence of pain or ache startled him and he sat up. He felt around his body and to his surprise he found himself to be completely healed. He was no longer injured or recovering from any of his previous injuries. He stood up and made his way to the window, the sun was just barely able to peek through the curtains. As he opened them he got a look at a small open street, it was easy to access and easy surveillance. He caught glimpses of the people passing through, he could tell who was a tourist and who was a local. Though one man stood out to him. He had grey hair that peaked out the back of his baseball cap and was in a mismatched tracksuit, his running shoes looked beat up but were top of the line. This made Iggy smile to himself. He knew exactly who that man was, he watched as he attempted to pick up a woman who was in line with him at a small fruit stand. Pietro couldn’t avoid a catch, he had to try for it, even if it seemed hopeless.

Nodding his head, he went to the bathroom and showered before changing into neutral clothes that would conceal him the most. Making his way towards a small cafe across the street he kept his eye on the silver-haired man who was still striking up a conversation with the woman next to him. He sipped his coffee and was taken aback by a faint voice that approached her brother. Wanda. The shock of seeing her froze him in place and his mind flooded slightly. His senses went on overdrive and he was looking at the two of them like he hadn’t seen them in 100 years. The pair laughed for a moment before the redhead turned and looked in his direction, averting his eyes and focusing back on his coffee. She furrowed her brow and glanced over towards an empty table, it was only one away from him. She informed her brother and went to sit down. Soon after he joined her and the two of them talked and talked. All whilst the stranger next to them was listening and laughing along as if he was a part of the conversation.

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