#scarlet witch imagine

[missmonsters2]

Mirror, Mirror | One

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: The thought of something more had never really crossed Wanda's mind when it came to you. Best friends for 10 years and there hasn't even been one instance of accidental sexual tension. You're her best friend, that's all—until someone points out that you obviously have a very specific type when it comes to dating.

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: i'm back!!! Nothing like coming back and posting a mini series. Enjoy this superior trope. Updates will be on Tuesdays! As you can see, we're trying something new with explicit content lol 😬

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~4.1k

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It's strange how sometimes a single sentence can change someone's entire life. 

Wanda's thought about what sentences could change her life—usually, they're morbid and depressing.

'You have cancer.'

'Someone you love has died horrifically in an accident.'

'Your cat actually finds living with you miserable and would prefer the dangers of living in the streets.'

Never in a million years would Wanda ever think it'd be, 'Hey, have you ever noticed how your best friend exclusively only dates girls who look like you?'

And don't get Wanda wrong. It wasn't a morbid or depressing change; it was just...a change. An irrevocable change because now, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about it or noticing it. 

This was all Steve's fault. 

Because if someone like Stupid Steve could notice something like that, it had to mean something, right? But as Wanda remembers about the past girls you've hooked up with and brought around, she doesn't know what to make of it.

A part of Wanda wishes she had never talked to Steve that night at the bar. 

"Where's Vis?" Steve asked, looking around.

"With Tony playing pool, I think," Wanda shrugged. She doesn't particularly keep track of where her on-and-off boyfriend goes. She thinks they might be on an off-period right now, anyway. 

"And where's—oh, nevermind, there she is," Steve started to say but cut off when they both saw you across the bar talking with the bartender, flirting over drinks—which were probably free if Wanda could guess. 

Wanda's slightly annoyed because it's been a long week without seeing you, and Wanda's been used to seeing you almost every day for the past several years of her life. But you've been gone on a work trip this week for a wedding shoot and only came home just a little after lunch and needed an immediate long nap before tonight's get-together. 

That meant Wanda was sorely missing out on best-friend time, and now you were off flirting shamelessly with the hot bartender. Wanda's rooting for you, make no mistake. The bartender is definitely easy on the eyes, luscious hair, and lips—something Wanda knows you're weak for. 

Plus, Wanda's worried you're not anywhere near getting close to settling down. She wants you to be in a happy, fulfilling relationship. But she supposes she's in no position to talk herself. 

Wanda loves Vision without a doubt, but their relationship is definitely chaotic, and Vision keeps pushing for something more serious now that they've been dating (sporadically) for a long time. She's been considering it in her downtime and thinks it might make sense as the next step.

Best friends do everything together, right? So, maybe if Wanda decided to take the next step in a serious relationship, you'd find someone to commit to seriously as well. 

Then, both of you could get married at the same time. Then, they could buy a house in the same neighborhood right next to each other. There'd be endless double dates and vacations together. Wanda wouldn't have to miss you.

But first, Wanda needed to regain lost best-friend time, one-on-one style.  

"Hey, you know what I just noticed?" Steve said, breaking Wanda's drifting thoughts. 

"What?"

"Bug—" 

Wanda makes a face at your nickname. Granted, it was Wanda's fault you ended up with it back in your first year of university. You never let her forget it, especially now that you're a professional photographer.

"—over there has a very specific type she goes after for girls," Steve mused, sipping his whiskey before continuing. "I mean, they always have green eyes and brunette—wait, that's not true. She had two red-headed girlfriends in our last year of university. They still had green eyes, though." 

"Oh," Wanda said, unsure what to say since she's never paid attention to the girls you were dating. On average, they were a brief fling, and only a few lasted longer than half a year. "I guess so?"

Wanda distantly thinks about how she dyed her hair auburn in her last year of university because she was looking for a change that year and Natasha was insistent that she'd look amazing. Wanda recalls you were a fan of the look.

"Yeah," Steve nodded along. "Ironically, they always look like you in some way. Check out that bartender now—long, wavy-haired brunette with green eyes. She's got thick, long lips and even does that dark eye-shadow makeup thingy like you."

Steve just laughed it off, finishing his drink, thinking nothing more of it before he started talking about Bucky.

But it was like something clicked into place in Wanda's brain. A daunting realization that she was wholly unprepared for and not equipped to do anything about. 

Wanda watched as the bartender clocked off for the night and dragged you into a corner booth, drinks in hand. It gave Wanda the perfect view that the bartender wore many rings just like she did. 

In the poor privacy of the dimly lit corner booth, there was a staunch and needy kiss from the two of you, and Wanda swallowed roughly. 

From here, if you were none the wiser, Wanda could be easily mistaken for the girl in the booth with you. 

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Sometimes, Wanda believes she's just being absolutely ridiculous. So what if you go after girls who share the same features as her? That didn't have to mean anything. You've always told Wanda she was beautiful, and it was perfect how you said it. 

It didn't feel insincere or creepy. It felt good to know her best friend thought she was absolutely gorgeous. But just because you thought she was beautiful doesn't mean you harbored secret feelings for her. 

You'd be insulted if you knew Wanda had ever thought that. She'd just be another one of those girls Wanda's seen you humble on multiple occasions when they found out you dated women, and they were worried you might have a crush on them. 

But then, Wanda couldn't stop thinking she actually might be one of those girls because then she'd think about if you didn't consider her like that, it wasn't about her looks but something about her personality that wasn't your type. 

And what could that be?

Wanda thought long and hard, trying to remember the girls you've introduced her to. 

Sometimes they were funny, and Wanda was funny. She made you laugh all the time. She specifically remembered one time in high school when she made you laugh so hard you peed your pants just a little. 

Sometimes they were intellectual, and while Wanda didn't have an IQ of 160, she did fairly well academically and was on the right track in her career. 

Sometimes they were charming, and Wanda was the type where she got more charming the more you got to know her. 

So, Wanda just doesn't understand. She's nowhere further with her thinking ever since this weird information has been bestowed upon her.

Maybe it all just means nothing. You just didn't feel that way about Wanda despite the type of girls you dated suggesting otherwise. You didn't need a reason for it, and maybe the fact you only felt friendship for her was the reason. 

"Wanna order pizza in tonight?"

Wanda turns her head from the tv and notices you've put your book down. "Hm, not really. We had pizza last week," Wanda shakes her head. 

"How about that Greek place that just opened up on Willington Ave?" You suggest. "Pretty sure I heard you grumbling about wanting Greek food earlier this week."

"I was not grumbling!" Wanda scoffs but smiles when you raise your eyebrow at her. "Okay, I was grumbling a little."

You snicker as you pull out your phone to order delivery. "Oh, sweet golden best friend of mine, whatever shall you do when you get married to Vis, who hates Greek food. Do I foresee a life of Greekless cuisine? Oh, the suffering you'll go through!"

"I don't need him to like it," Wanda slaps your arm, sticking her tongue out before she cuddles you. "I have you to eat it with."

You laugh unabashedly, a sound that Wanda's accustomed to hearing the joyful sound. "Better hope the person I marry also hates Greek cuisine. I don't know if I can live a life of eating double the Greek food. I love tzatziki sauce, but if I grow to hate it from eating it too much, I will make you suffer the consequences of that."

Your voice trails off as you focus on ordering food, unable to see the cogs in Wanda's head turning. 

It's all so easy. There's no tension, no electric vibes happening. Just best friends enjoying the banter and making plans to eat. 

It was all in Wanda's head, right? You're her best friend, so of course you'd know everything about her. 

The right type of friendship is fulfilling and soul-connecting, and that's what Wanda has with you. When you have a one-in-a-million connection like that, the line between friendship and romance is thin, isn't it?

Wanda hates Steve. She'd never think about this if it wasn't for Stupid Steve. She can hear his dumb laugh, blissfully ignorant about the observation bomb he dropped upon her. 

"Do you wanna get ice cream after?" You ask, throwing your phone to the side. "I'll even treat you to the gelato despite knowing I'm going to suffer through your crazy farts later."

"Oh my god, I'm going to trap you under the blanket with it just for that!" 

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Within two months, Wanda forgets about it. Forgets, as in that she decides to drop it (let it linger in the deep depths of her brain that she refuses to acknowledge), and resolves that Steve has no brain cells and has no idea what he's saying. 

"Have you seen my strapless black top?" Wanda shouts from her room with the door open. "The one with the v-shaped front!"

"In your closet!" You yelled back from the living room, not taking your eyes off your phone. 

"I can't find it," Wanda whines, and she hears you sigh as you get up. The footsteps approach her room, and she finds you standing at the door with an unimpressed look.

"I don't want to hear it," Wanda sniffs. 

"Hear what, brat?" You say with a brow raised before you start rummaging through her closet. The nickname was a joke you started that Wanda was entirely a spoiled person, exhibiting bratty behavior at times. "That I'm not gonna be your roommate forever, so you need to learn to fold it yourself before putting it away?"

Wanda makes grumbling noises that are mostly nonsensical but smiles when you pull out the top she was looking for. 

"You are the apple of my eye, stinky," Wanda grabs the top from you before she runs into her washroom to briefly change into it. 

"A match made in heaven, yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes with good humor. "Hurry up, Natasha will kill us if we're late for Yelena's birthday. They're on an upwards mend in their relationship, so she's been so unbearably uptight lately to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"I know, I know," Wanda mutters, carefully pulling the top over her head to not ruin her makeup. 

"Alright, I'll hail us a cab, meet me outside."

"Wait, wait!" Wanda calls out. "I need help putting on my necklace."

You chuckle, walking back just as Wanda steps out of the bathroom with the delicate necklace she wants to wear. 

"Alright, alright, relax," you tell her. "Your accent gets really strong when you're stressed."

"You're stressing me out by rushing me," Wanda scrunches her nose even though you can't see it. "I'm also stressed knowing that you have to rush me, or I'll spend the party getting lectured by Natasha."

Wanda's voice comes out husked with the accent, something she's struggled between hating or loving, but mostly loving since you've expressed how lovely it is.

You grab the necklace from her hand, and Wanda moves her hair out of the way. The routine of it all starts to bleed the tension out of her shoulders. 

Then, that horrible Stupid Steve Sentence kicks into her brain. 

 It's only as you put your arms over, placing the necklace against Wanda's chest, and focusing on trying to get the clasp in. Wanda can feel your warm breath against her neck, summoning goosebumps along her arms. You're so close, and she can feel the heat of your body radiating onto her, your fingers just barely brushing against her.

The tension comes suddenly, squeezing inside her chest as her breathing slows and shakes. Her body warms in an unexpected way. 

"Ah, got it," you say, but Wanda can only focus on your voice and breath on the shell of her ear. "Cute necklace but the clasp is so annoying."

You pull away and start walking off. "C'mon, I bet if we tip our taxi driver an extra $20 bucks, they'll speed and we can pray we're on time."

Wanda's left standing there, knowing she probably sounds like she's fresh out of Sokovia with how stressed she is. Her right eye twitches.

Was that...Wanda gulps. Was that sexual tension?

And was she the only one who felt it?

Fuck.

She's going to kill Steve.

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Natasha's absolutely neurotic when they arrive. It's just a simple backyard party, but it almost looks like a wedding venue with all the catering and flowers. 

Wanda's pretty sure Natasha's only being like this because she's overthinking about whether to cling to Yelena or give her sister some space to mingle with others. She seems to be sizing up Kate, who Yelena might be seeing, but it hasn't been confirmed. 

Yelena looks between exasperated with Natasha and secretly happy about the entire thing. Wanda can sympathize with her. After all, she's also a little sister, and Pietro can also be way too overprotective. Sometimes she's glad he's abroad in Europe for work while she remains in New York, but she misses him more often than she admits. 

"Alright, alright, Natasha," you groan, and Wanda's mind slips back into the conversation. "We're 3 minutes late, relax, will you? Damn, are you always gonna be like this until you and Yelena get back into whatever sibling bond you had before? Hope you're just like this with us because otherwise, you're gonna scare away all her friends, and she's going to hate you."

"Oh my god, do you think she'll really hate me?" Natasha bites her bottom lip in worry while looking around at all the people that they can only assume she's nagged about being late or whatever mishap. 

"Oh, man," you sigh, putting your hand on her shoulders before pushing her towards the bar. "You need some drinks and maybe some desserts in you."

Wanda's about to follow you when you turn around and nod your head in a different direction. She looks over and sees you're nodding toward Vision.

"You should go say hi to him," you tell her. "You've been complaining about not seeing him all last week, even though I don't know why you guys won't just FaceTime, but I digress. Come find me later, or I'll find you after."

You look over at Natasha, who's peering on her tippy toes to see if she can find Yelena.

"And, hopefully, I'll have ditched this nutjob," you whisper conspiratorially and laugh when Natasha turns around to smack your arm. 

"I heard that!"

Wanda chuckles as you walk off with Natasha while she turns and heads toward Vision. Despite how she was complaining about not seeing Vision last week because she did miss him, her expression was sour as she made her way toward him. 

Vision spots her immediately and waves at her with a warm smile. Wanda feels herself somewhat loosened at his expression. They'd also been friends a long time before they started on-and-off dating, so at the very least, she does miss his easy friendship. 

"Hey," Vision hugs her, slightly rubbing her back before he pulls away but keeps his arm around her. "It's been a while; you look lovely."

"Thanks," Wanda smiles with a shrug. She looks around and sees he's standing with Tony and Pepper. "How are you guys?"

"Could be better," Tony sighs dramatically. "Natasha won't let me do any of my cool party tricks as if I'm going to ruin her little sister's party. If anything, I could make it the party of the century!"

Pepper rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "We were just talking about how we're thinking of going to the Bahamas for vacation in December and escaping the cold. We've invited you and Vision along since it's been awhile since we've all gone together. Of course, we can also invite Bug and Natasha."

"Oh," Wanda says for a lack of anything else to say. She doesn't know how to feel about it, but she peers over at Vision, who's just smiling at her and looking eager about it. 

"I need another drink if I'm going to suffer through this party," Tony sighs. "Maybe I can convince Yelena instead!" He grins, dragging Pepper along, and they walk off together. 

"So, what do you think?" Vision asks when they're alone. "I didn't want to reply on your behalf since I wasn't sure, but I think it'd be good for us. I've missed you," Vision pauses as if he's about his next words but then says, "a lot."

"Yeah, me too," Wanda starts to say, but then her brain gets all haywire because it feels like a lie. She did miss him, but did she miss him a lot? "I think."

"You think?"

Wanda wants to smack her forehead because she didn't mean to say that out loud. "I mean, I was complaining a lot that I haven't seen you in a while all last week."

"Yeah, work has just been overwhelming. I get so tired after work, I just can't keep up with the texting or calls."

But you can, Wanda thinks. Granted, you're her roommate, so it's easier. But even when you have to go on work trips, you regularly text her no matter what time and squeeze in a quick call, even if it's just to say goodnight. 

The entire thing makes Wanda bite her tongue because why was she even thinking about that? That was completely irrelevant to Vision. 

Then—because as if just thinking about you wasn't enough—her eyes trail across the room, and the scene before her makes Wanda even more confused about her feelings.

You're standing there with Natasha at the bar, but it looks like Natasha's calling someone over to introduce you to them.

Another brunette with long, wavy hair, like she just had a blowout done. Wanda's not 100% sure from this distance, but she has an inkling that the brunette also has green eyes. She's wearing a white halter top and wide-legged sage green pants. She wears a lot of rings, but her makeup is lighter and more summery compared to Wanda's darker, smokey eye makeup.

In short, this woman was the clean girl aesthetic version of Wanda. 

And you look interested. 

This was ridiculous, Wanda fumes, feeling her stomach sink and cheeks flare hot in anger. As quick as the anger came, it dissipated.

Why was she so angry?

She feels betrayed, and her thoughts are turning very ugly. Wanda is definitely not being a girl's girl right now with how much she's thinking she's better than the girl in front of you. 

But that just makes everything so much more confusing. 

"Wanda?"

Wanda turns her head back to Vision. He looks concerned, and even when his eyes trail toward what Wanda's staring at, there's no additional reaction. He's not upset that she's staring at you, and that has to mean something, right?

It must mean there was never a concern about how Wanda might've felt about you. Sure, there were a few things Wanda couldn't be without, and you were one of them, but nobody can't be without their best friend. 

No one had ever blinked twice about you and Wanda.

Except now.

And that person was Wanda herself. 

The more Wanda thought about the entire thing, the more she became curious. The idea of you dating people who looked like Wanda was intriguing. She wanted to ask questions but didn't know what to ask.

It might mean nothing, but it also might mean something. 

And if it does mean something, Wanda wants to know what exactly it is. 

Therefore, Wanda needs nothing in her way to find out the truth and exactly what she wants, regardless of the answer. 

This was insane, wasn't it? Wanda's always been ambivalent about dating women. She's never gone out of her way to try it since she had Vision. Never mind entertaining thoughts about dating her best (girl)friend. And now, she was giving everything up in the pursuit of finding out what it could mean that her best friend was dating her lookalikes—and why she cared.

Wanda doesn't even know what she'll want to do with that information. 

Wanda looks at Vision, peering at his features she's always found handsome. When she thinks back, she's not even sure why she complained to you about how she hasn't seen or heard from him lately. She hadn't even gone out of her own way to do something about it.

"I'm not going on the trip. I don't think I actually missed you like that."

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The girl introduced to you was named Raye, Natasha's coworker that recently moved from Nashville. It was also confirmed she has green eyes, though they had specks of brown in them. She was a southern belle with a bold attitude, witty, and a wicked sense of humor. All in all, undeniably charismatic. 

At least, that's what you told her in private because all Wanda could feel was unrestricted aggravation with the other girl. The southern twang made Wanda's eye twitch, mostly because she knew you were head over heels for accents.  

"And then before I knew it, I was panicked and more lost than a blindfolded turkey on thanksgiving!"

You burst out laughing while Wanda's expression is stony, but when you look at Wanda, she forces a smile on her lips.

"Hahaha," Wanda dryly let out. "So funny."

But it wasn't. What the fuck did that even mean?

Raye continues to talk while you listen with rapt interest, and Wanda takes the time to observe your features in a way she's done many times before but with a different mindset. 

Your lips are curved in a smile, glistening from your chapstick. They're shapely, and they look soft. It rivals her favorite feature of yours, which is your eyes. They've always been so expressive with her, and Wanda's been around long enough that she knows what every expression means. She can tell when they glint with mischievousness or are soft with immense compassion and empathy. 

"So, what did you think of Raye?" You ask Wanda as you leave the party.

"She's cool, I guess," Wanda answers nonchalantly. 

The rest of the party was excruciating between Raye constantly hanging around you and Wanda also being too nervous to be alone with you. 

"Really cool," you sigh with a grin. "Glad I got her number. It's been a while since I've met someone so funny."

Was she funny, though? Wanda wonders.

"Funnier than me?" Wanda finds herself asking.

"No one could be funnier than you, brat," you smirk. "I almost peed myself laughing again when you almost knocked off Yelena's cake. I thought Natasha was about to enter into a coma." You snicker while Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile. 

"Glad I can always give you the biggest laughs, stinky."

Wanda glances over at your face, recognizing the excitement by the brightness in them. It's just another reminder that, as your best friend, she knows you like the back of her hand. 

But lately, when Wanda watches you pick up girls, she can tell when they're heady with desire. That look hasn't been directed at her, and Wanda wants to know what it'd be like if it were.

Wanda recalls the night you kissed the bartender and imagines if it had been her instead. She pictures your hand sliding across her jaw and cheek while your other pulls her closer at the waist. 

It's horrifying when a slow pit of arousal builds in Wanda's gut and...other regions. It feels utterly frightening and wrong like she's betraying the friendship for having and then reacting to such thoughts about you. 

But there's another part—the part that tells Wanda there's nobody in this world that she loves more than you. The mere idea of ever being apart from you was unfathomable. Wanda could and has endured so many things, and it would always be okay as long as she had you. 

So, knowing that Southern Belle Raye has the potential to be more than a one-night stand to you, Wanda realizes that she has a very small window to not only come to terms with her newfound feelings but also act on them as well. 

If this didn't go well, Wanda would definitely murder Steve.

PART TWO

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #modern avengers au #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics

[fandomnerd9602]

Wanda floats in front of Strange…

Wanda: you will all kneel before me!

Y/N kneels happily…

Strange: idiot! She didn’t mean right now.

Y/N: well I’m on my knees what else do you want me to do my queen? (Winks)

Wanda blushes…

Wanda: forget Chavez, can I have-

Strange shoves Y/N into Wanda’s arms…

Y/N: hey

Wanda: hi. how do you feel about kids?

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader

[wandasgf]

WUNDAGORE. 18+. mdni.

pairing: villain!wanda maximoff + avenger!reader

summary: wanda gets rid of that pesky memory block of yours

warnings: angst, emotional and mental manipulation, mentions of murder, pet names, reader is overwhelmed and confused, one (1) mommy, allusion to smut at the end

wc: 1.6k~

a/n: кошечка (koshechka) = kitty

The wind that blows past is frigid and the rocks underneath your hands are sharp-edged and cold as you stare up at the Scarlet Witch or whatever the hell Wanda was calling herself these days from your place on the ground. You’re tempted to try and kick her feet out from under her where she’s standing above you, catch her off guard and send her tumbling down the cliff, but you don’t. You just glare up at her, knowing that even if you managed to catch her off guard, she would never fall that easily. She would rise up like the most beautiful archdemon you’ve ever seen and deal whatever damage you’d dealt to her tenfold. To anyone who might be watching, lurking in the shadows but not daring to interrupt either of you, the look in your eyes is one of pure hatred, disgust in its purest form that mirrors the look in Wanda’s eyes. But you both know it’s not true, that the hatred disguises something much worse. Something you’d never admit even in the emptiest of places, something Wanda would only ever admit in your dreams. Something that would destroy you both if you’re not careful. 

“You’re disgusting.” You spit, icy and cold. “Destroying those universes like it’s nothing, like they’re nothing.” You finally get your bearings back, standing up and clenching your fists at your side, trying your best not to just hit her, punch her, shove her down, anything. “All for what? So you can get back a man who tried to kill you?” Jealousy. “A man who wanted to destroy the universe and start over to create the perfect humanity? You know, the more I think about it, the more I think maybe the two of you really are meant for each other.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Wanda hisses, and you think she might push you down again, but instead she pulls you closer to her by your collar. You can feel her warm breath against your skin and you have to repress a shiver. “You think that you know everything about everyone, don’t you? You think I’m doing this for that man? You think any of this is for him?” She laughs like you’ve just said the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?” It’s almost comical to her that you really think that, that you’re so god damn blind that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. She knows why you can’t see it, of course, but she hadn’t always realized how susceptible you were. You can’t see that she’s been trying to find another universe, any other universe where you don’t hate her anymore, where she didn’t fuck everything up and the Avengers didn’t take you away from her. 

She knows she should stop talking, she knows she should shut her mouth before she makes things worse, but she can’t stop herself. She knows how to play the role of the villain to a T now, and if the only way she gets to be close to you again is to make you cry then so be it. “You think you’re better than me because you kill people in the name of the Avengers instead of your own?” She laughs, her grip on your shirt tightening. “I have some news for you, little hero, you’re certainly no better than I am. What is it that keeps you there, anyway? You know you don’t belong there.” It’s a low blow, but she knows how true it is even if you no longer do, “Is it the Russian? Do you stay so you can see the look of approval in her eyes whenever you kill someone for her?” Jealousy. “But you’d do it even if she didn’t ask. I’d say you and I are rather the same, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck you!” The smirk that curls on her lips makes you nauseous and you push her away from you. You know that she let you, loosened her grip on your shirt so you could feel like you’re even half as strong as she is, but you don’t care. “I think that I know everything? What about you! Acting like you know anything about me besides what my blood looks like on your hands.” Your hands are shaking both because of the look Wanda gives you and because you’re upset that she would ever bring up Natasha. Upset at the possibility that this encounter would taint your relationship with the Russian redhead, that Wanda’s words would burn at the back of your mind like acid. Because it’s not true, what she said is not true. You don’t like killing those people, you don’t like seeing their blood on your hands or seeing the light drain from their eyes. You don’t like it. You don’t. 

Wanda doesn’t have to look into your mind to know what you’re thinking, it’s written all over your face. She knows she hit a sore spot with that comment. “I don’t know anything about you?” She tilts her head, taking a step towards you as you take one away from her. “You always talk,” another step forward, “like you know,” and another, “what you’re saying” and then another, you try to take another step backward, but your back hits the jagged wall of the cave, “but you don’t, do you?” Wanda hadn’t been this close to you since she had nearly torn your heart out of your chest and it was making you dizzy. Had she always smelled this familiar and good? You’re very purposefully avoiding eye contact, not wanting to see the satisfaction in her eyes at having cornered you. Suddenly you feel Wanda’s hand gripping your face and forcing you to look at her, “No, you don’t. I’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

Wanda’s eyes glow red for just a minute and you feel like there’s a fog in your brain being lifted before your memories crash down on you like a tidal wave. Wanda’s eyes go back to their regular green color and her hand moves to cup your cheek, her darkened fingertips tapping against your skin. She gives you a second, knows this is going to be a lot for you. She did just unlock over 5 years of forcefully forgotten memories after all. She wasn’t going to do this, it will result in everything the Avengers have at their disposal being thrown at her for taking away their leverage over her, but they shouldn’t have let you come alone and she was growing rather tired of hearing you hurl insults at her and seeing the way you beamed up at Natasha whenever she caught the two of you together. This was poor planning on the Avengers’ part, that’s all. 

Suddenly you feel nauseous, every memory you’ve ever had with Wanda hitting you with full force. You feel like you’ve just gotten a metal bat to the gut and then again to your head. You don’t know what to think. Was this real? Did Wanda plant those in your head? No, that didn’t seem right. This would certainly explain the way certain Avengers acted around you and the way you felt when Wanda was near. You were explaining that away as anxiety, nervousness over being so close to someone to dangerous and vile. You lean into the warmth of Wanda’s touch before you can even think about stopping yourself. She can see the way your mind is racing, how your pupils are blown as you try to piece everything together. Eventually, you look up at her with those doe eyes you used to use on her and she almost tears up. “Wanda?” There you are. 

“Hi, кошечка. You must be so confused, huh? I know it’s a lot, but I promise things will be better now.” Your head spins at her words and her tone, that tone… everything is too much and not enough all at once. Too much information, but at the same time not enough. Why didn’t you remember any of that before? Why were you ever trying to hurt Wanda? Why was she hurting you back? Was she hurting you back? Why had she been doing all of those horrible things? Your Wanda would never do those things. Except, well, this was your Wanda, so surely that makes it excusable, right? But if she was your Wanda, why weren’t you with her? Wanda taps against your cheek to catch your attention again, noticing how unfocused your eyes are as you spiral in your own mind. “Those Avengers were so mean to take you away from me like they did, trying to turn you against me.” 

“I don’t… I don’t understand. Why would they do that? I thought they were supposed to be nice, why would they take me from you? Why would… why?” You’re slowly putting the pieces together while trying to cope with the fact that for the past two years you’ve been treating your… your Wanda like an enemy. Your tough exterior is cracking and crumbling as each second goes by, no longer being kept back by the mental barrier you didn’t even know was there. “Oh, my sweet girl, because they’re not nice. They’ve been keeping you like a caged animal, using you like a weapon and tricking you into trusting them.” Wanda’s voice soothes you if only slightly, but the thought of being used like that has you so angry and overwhelmed with all the emotions clashing in your head that you can’t help but let out a quiet whimper, tears forming in your eyes. Wanda coos, bringing you closer and holding you against her chest. She strokes your hair, humming softly before she speaks again, “It’s okay, mommy’s got you. I’ll make it all better, don’t worry.”

#alice's fics ! #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #wanda maximoff smut #scarlet witch smut

[writing-house-of-m]

Two Months, Too Long

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: SEXUAL CONTENT - Minors DNI! R is AFAB but no pronouns used, swearing, fingering (W receiving), strap on sex (W receiving), hints at oral sex (W receiving), if there are any I have left out please let me know

Word count: 1878

Summary: You and Wanda make up for lost time

A/N: This is just... pure smut... Have fun reading and let me know what you think! If you saw me post this before - no you didn't 👀

T/N: malyshka - baby

Thank you @therunawaykind for the gif! 🖤

SEXUAL CONTENT - Minors DNI!

Wanda all but tackled you when you arrived back at the compound. You barely got to say 'hi' to the others waiting for your group's arrival. She pounced on you after you had barely taken a few steps off the quinjet.

She dragged you through the building with urgency. It had to be some kind of record for you to have made it to your room post-mission.

Before the door had even fully closed she pinned you against it, her lips on yours taking your breath away.

Admittedly this might have been a result of you sending some explicit messages to her during your flight back.

It didn't take long for you to reciprocate the kiss, picking her up and pressing her against the adjoining wall. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't as desperate as Wanda at this moment, two months was a long time to be away from her.

With Wanda's legs wrapped around you, she wastes no time beginning to move her hips against you, your lips never slowing down, her hands in your hair pulling you impossibly close.

Heat was radiating off both of you wanting nothing more to be rid of your clothes. But there was no time for that, you needed to feel her.

Moving one arm further under Wanda to keep her up, the other moves to her front, hand finding the waistline of her shorts.

The warmth and wetness you find makes Wanda sigh and you groan, leaning your forehead against hers. She whimpers as your fingers run along her folds. You skip your usual teasing, and because you feel that she is ready, you push two fingers into her, a loud moan erupting from her throat.

"Oh, fuck," she whines, her warm breath blowing over your face.

You press a kiss to her lips then follow along her jawline to her ear. "You feel so fucking good," you say lowly, biting her ear lobe, never stopping the rhythm of your fingers.

Wanda arches her back when you find that sweet spot inside her. Her head is pressed heavily against the wall leaving her bare neck free for you, like a blank canvas ready to be decorated with different shapes and shades.

It doesn't take long for Wanda to reach her climax, squeezing around your fingers, nails scratching your scalp as she grips on to you, reaching her high.

You slow down your movements but don't ever stop, slowly pumping in and out of her. You pull back a little so you can look at her flushed face, "You got another one for me, baby? I know you do."

Wanda nods her head even though she knows it is a rhetorical question.

…

The two orgasms you got from her against the wall were just the beginning. They were even before either of you had removed any clothing.

Wanda is now under you on the bed, your strap already buried deep inside her.

The whole time since you had landed you haven't been more than a few inches apart, Wanda pulling you closer any time it seemed like you were going to step away from her.

She didn't let you remove your own clothing, she did it for you and was surprised when she found the harness already secured on you when she got to undressing your lower half.

You thought Wanda biting her lip smiling up at you would be the death of you. That was until she wrapped her lips around the toy to get it ready. Like it even needed it.

Your hips rut against her, getting as many sounds from her as you can. You are surprised the whole room isn't shaking with the way the bed is moving, the headboard hitting the wall rhythmically.

Wanda's fingers claw at your back and the nape of your neck as you kiss her, swallowing her whines. You move your lips down to her chest adding more marks to the ones you left there a few moments ago.

"I need more," she said breathlessly. She was close but needed a little nudge to reach her climax.

Wanda watches you with cinched eyebrows as you bring your thumb to your mouth to lubricate it. Her mouth falls agape when you press the digit to her clit, and when you rub tight circles around it she releases a deep moan.

Not stopping there you move your mouth to her breast, letting your tongue play with a hardened bud. It doesn't take long for her to fall over the edge after that.

You slow down but continue your movements to prolong her high and just watch her - eyes closed, mouth open in a silent scream, veins protruding from her neck as her body shakes with her release.

As Wanda's grip loosens, you make a move to pull out but she stops you, wrapping her legs around your waist, "Let me just feel you," she breathes out, still with her eyes closed in bliss.

You place soft kisses around her face - jaw, cheeks, nose and lips, then rest your forehead against hers once you are done. Your eyes focus on the rise and fall of her chest, catching her breath back.

Wanda loosely wraps her arms around your neck to bring you in to kiss you, languidly.

"I missed you so much, malyshka," she says, one hand cupping your cheek, her thumb rubbing your skin.

You hold her hand on your face, all your weight resting on your other arm, and kiss the palm of her hand then her wrist and finally her lips again.

Wanda's hips begin to move once more, making you smile into the kiss, your thrusts start up again to match her slow movements.

You pull away smirking, "And here I thought you were done for the night, princess."

"We have a whole two months to make up for," Wanda remarks, tightening her legs around you, "there is no way we're stopping yet," there it is again, that lip bite and smile.

You capture her lips once more, both of you desperate for the other. It is slow and sensual and leaves you both breathless.

This time when you pull away you move back onto your knees. Wanda misses your closeness instantly but can't question it when you get her to flip over.

Wanda presses back into you automatically, taking in the full length of the toy, wanting nothing more than for you to take her however you want. You hold her waist to still her, keeping her full. But you need to feel more of her against you, so you gather her hair and pull it around a fist, bringing her up so her back is flush against you.

You kiss her neck as you pull out slowly just to push all the way back into her. All Wanda can do is moan at the stretch.

She turns her head to kiss you messily.

With one arm around her waist to keep her upright you remove your hand from her hair to wrap around her body and squeeze a breast. In response she bites your lip hard. Both of you moaning at the sensations you are feeling.

As your hips move faster Wanda loses the rhythm. She can't keep herself upright and you can't hold her up any longer, so she falls forward. Giving you a clear view of the strap getting sucked back in by Wanda every time you pull out.

You bring your both hands to her hips, slamming into her, her mewls are muffled by the mattress. The strap has adjusted with all the movement and is also hitting you in just the right spot. Especially with the way Wanda is pressing herself back into you.

The sounds alone from Wanda could have been enough to make you cum, but now? You know you won't last long so you move one hand to Wanda's clit to bring her closer.

The closer you get the more uncoordinated your thrusts become. You fall forward against Wanda's back and place a kiss between her shoulder blades before resting your forehead there.

You manage to hold off long enough for Wanda to cum before you do. Shortly after, you let out a low grunt, while Wanda moans as your bodies twitch in climax. When the tension releases you fall limp on her.

Once you regain some energy you remove the toy slowly from Wanda, a little gasp escaping her lips. You take it off yourself, dropping it to the floor then move to lay beside Wanda pulling her to rest against your chest as wrap your arms around her.

Strands of hair are stuck to her sweaty forehead, so you brush them away before placing a soft kiss there. Your hand rubs up and down Wanda's back as she listens to your heartbeat slow down.

Wanda looks up at you, pressing a long kiss on your lips. When she pulls away she has a mischievous look in her eye and a smile on her face. "That was pretty good," she jests, slapping your chest twice making you laugh.

She moves over you to run her fingers through your hair making your eyes flutter shut. Her lips meet the underside of your jaw as she rests more comfortably on top of you so she can give you a neck that is covered in patches that matches hers. You let out heavy sighs when she gets to sensitive spots she knows the exact locations of.

When she has completed her masterpiece, she kisses your lips, once, twice and finally a third time before you open your eyes again. Her green eyes shining brighter than any starry night you witnessed in your time away.

"This was too long for you to be away from me. I'm going to talk to Steve and Nat so they make sure I'm with you for long trips or you're not gone longer than a day," Wanda pouts.

"Oh yeah? How are you going to convince them? I'm pretty sure this face only works with me," you say, poking her cheek with your finger.

"I can always bewitch them," Wanda says nonchalantly, smirking.

You laugh and roll Wanda over so you can hover on top of her. She cups your face, your bright grin never leaving, "You. Are going to get us into trouble one day," you say, kissing her.

When you make no effort in slowing down Wanda pushes you away by pressing against your chest, "What are you doing?" She questions.

"Did you really think I was done?" You reply with your own question.

Instead of giving her time to question you, you kiss her again and her hands move to your shoulders.

"Just relax baby," you whisper, as you move your lips lower.

You are always so infatuated by the way she reacts when you handle her - the hitch of her breath, her fingers flexing against your skin, the sighs she lets out into the air above her.

You kiss her neck, between her breasts and down her stomach.

Sure, Wanda missed you. But you missed her more -

"I still have to taste you."

It was going to be a long night - you had two whole months to make up for, after all.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff marvel #wanda maximoff smut #wanda smut #smut #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch fanfic #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch smut #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x y/n #elizabeth olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen imagine #marvel #mcu reader insert #self insert fanfiction #fic #two months too long tag

[tati3001]

*Lizzie lays on the bed, holding her phone and growing stomach*

Lizzie: *Concerned* Baby, did you know that there is a high percentage of parents who don't know anything about their family? They could even forget how many kids they have!

Y/n: *Hums vaguely as an answer while playing a video game*

Lizzie: *Raising an eyebrow* Baby? *Y/n hums* How many kids do we have?

Y/n: Biologically? 2. Legally? 3. Emotionally? An entire fanbase

#wanda maximoff x reader #incorrect quotes #wanda maximoff incorrect quotes #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #marvel #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch imagine

[thewitchandtheassassin]

A Pirate’s Life for Me Part Seven (Wanda M x Reader x Natasha R.)

Summary: Life is never simple

Warnings: Violence, smut

A/N: Howdy.

Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife​ @natasha-danvers​ @aaron-despair​ @username23345 @xjiasx​ @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova​ @summergeezburr @imnotasuperhero @miscmarvelwritings @captain-josslett @onlyafewfindtheway @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @evilcr0ne​ @nightingalexx​@suki-is-a-queen

-X-

Door slamming open as two drunken bodies slammed into it, you giggled wildly as Wanda blindly slapped it closed, her mouth never leaving yours. One hand tangled in your hair, she walked you back towards the rented bed before shoving you onto it with a vigor you hadn’t expected, but surely welcomed. Staring up at the glorious sight, brunette locks cascaded around her face as she yanked off her vest and undershirt and for a moment as they fell away, she stopped being a feared captain of the seas.

Now, she was simply your Wanda.

She was tipsy, the crew having celebrated the latest victory against the empire in some obscure tavern the moment you’d reached a port, but her movements were so fervent and desperate that it only served to sober you. Reminding you that the life you chose was worth it. All the moments of glory meant nothing. All that mattered was her – and this.

She wanted you and by the gods, you wanted her more than you’d ever wanted anything else.

You’d invited Natasha to join you, tempting the other captain with a playful bat of your eyes and crook of your fingers, but she’d waved you off with a knowing grin. She often spent time with you both individually and together but it wasn’t often that you bedded Wanda alone and she knew you needed that time as much as she did.

Besides, she’d bet Yelena far too much gold that she could outdrink the young pirate to back out now.

Tossing your own clothes aside, harsh fingers found purchase on sun-kissed hips as Wanda straddled your waist, her hair a soft curtain around your faces as her lips reunited with yours once more. Swallowing her wanton moan, your grip tightened until you were fairly positive she’d have your finger prints sprawled across her skin long after they were gone. Tasting the liquor on her tongue and the desire on her mouth, you were quick to swap positions, pinning the feared pirate leader to the bed. The fierce warrior on the battlefield was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a desperate woman who needed to be touched – used – like a…

“My, my, aren’t you a pretty whore,” you cooed teasingly, gripping her throat in a confident grip, the pressure firm but comforting. “Humping me like a mongrel in heat. Shameful. I bet you would’ve let me fuck you in front of the entire crew if I’d asked. Bent over the barkeep’s table while Natasha and I took turns unraveling you.”

A choked whine escaped kiss-swollen lips as Wanda’s hips lifted urgently, grinding against nothing.

Smiling mercilessly, you dragged your teeth across her shoulder, her chest, leaving bruises and bites in your wake, before skipping over straining, pert nipples. Tongue tracing over the lines of her stomach, dipping into the divots of her hips.

It felt delicious but you were driving her mad, ignoring the places she wanted you.

Your hands fell to her sides, keeping the squirming pirate’s lower half immobile on the mattress. You took the time to explore, nibbling along prominent hipbones before finally inching your mouth closer to her dripping core. The smell was intoxicating and the memory of her taste left you frantic, drawing you in like a moth to flame.

Like a pirate to gold, you smirked.

At the first flick of your tongue, Wanda nearly bawled in relief as you began to suckle and tease her aching clit. Hot and wet and persistent, she couldn’t tell what was lip or tongue or fingers as you tortured her in the best possible way. It was overwhelming and too much but also not enough? She didn’t know up from down or what day it was but she knew that if you stopped now, she’d cry.

Walls fluttered around your digits as you continued to thrust into the mewling brunette, her need painting your mouth as she grinded into the sensations you were pulling throughout her body. Every nerve was alight, every inch of her glistening in sweat as she chased her release.

One thrust.

“Oh gods, don’t stop.”

Thrust.

“Please, I’m so fucking close.”

Thrust, thrust, suck.

“Please, please, please, please!”

The orgasm crashed into her like a tidal wave. A storm out at sea. She could swear she saw the gods and goddesses above. Everything was light and sound and taste before darkness. Before her bones disappeared and she became nothing more than pleasure within her own skin.

Dropping boneless onto the mattress, her cheeks flushed and heart pounding in her ears, Wanda smiled serenely up at the ceiling, hips jumping with every lick as you cleaned up the nectar you craved. There was something about her – and Natasha – that drove you to the brink of insanity and back, a constant craving sitting in your belly as you wished for a moment alone with them.

-X-

Stumbling down into the bar the next morning, wincing as the sunlight only served to further the pounding in your skull, you signaled the barkeep for breakfast as your head fell upon the sticky, wooden surface of an empty table. You had no idea how long it took for food to arrive, a glass of mead slamming down beside it, but the smell both hungered and disgusted you. Wanting to be ill but starving, hunger won out as you wolfed down the presented meal.

Forcing the last bite, you glanced up to study the dining area. You were the only member of your crew who’d ventured down for breakfast, but other patrons and denizens milled about, some just as hung over as you while others looked refreshed and cheery. What caught your eye though, was a familiar face in an unfamiliar place.

“Rumlow,” you mumbled, shoving your plate away.

He was glaring at you, sunlight glinting off the pistol he had pointed in your direction. It was subtly resting atop the table – like it had always been there – in a way that most would overlook it, but not you. Glancing down, you considered your options. Flipping the table over would only trigger a fight you were ill-equipped for and if you had to wager, there were others in this tavern who were likely working with him.

Outnumbered and outgunned, you sneered internally, cursing yourself for only adorning your dagger this morning.

He nodded towards the door, thumb falling to the hammer of his pistol when you refused to move. You watched his eyes flicker towards another gentleman near the stairs, a silent signal that left a ball of lead tumbling into the pit of your stomach. Natasha and Wanda had been passed out when you’d snuck out of bed, the liquor heavy in their veins. If he found them…

Choking back your rising panic, you stood up from your chair hastily and began walking to the door, thoughts racing. There was no way you could get to them without some measure of resistance and there was no easy, fool-proof way to stop Rumlow that wouldn’t cost a handful of people their lives.

The stale, salty air stung your eyes as you stepped into the daylight, squinting against the harsh sun. It was still early, the lack of travelers evident as you slowly inched away from the door and towards the side of the tavern. It’d be nearly impossible to determine which room had been yours, your memories hazy with lust and liquor, but almost every room had been seized by a member of the crew. Hurriedly grasping a few rocks in your hand, you spun as the door swung open and you came.

“My, my, being a pirate sure has done wonders for you,” Rumlow leered as he took you in, dragging his tongue along his teeth in a way that left you shuddering with revulsion. “Be a good pet and come quietly. There’s no need for bloodshed. You’ve had your fun; now I want my wife.”

Counting his paces silently, you waited until he was only three steps away before spitting in his face with righteous indignation and disgust. He sputtered in surprise, haphazardly wiping the spittle from his flesh - and offering you an opening. Spinning to look at a window, you launched the handful of rocks at the nearest windows, watching with gratitude as the stones smashed through the glass, skittering across the wooden floor of the inn. The patron – or patrons, depending – scuttled about, startled by the sudden intrusion as you heard them scurrying towards the window.

Rough hands gripped your arms, demanding your attention as a fist slammed into your cheek from the opposite direction. Head snapping back, you blearily glanced up at the windows and caught sight of Yelena’s blonde locks and furious eyes staring back at you from the newfound gaps in the glass. The butt of his pistol met your temple, knocking you almost unconscious within his grasp, though you tried squirming from his grip even as numbness began to cloud your mind.

“You will be my wife,” he snarled, another man latching onto your other side as they began dragging you away. “And your whores will pay for what they’ve done. They’ve made enemies of the most powerful men in the world. No shore will have them and the sea will only remember their blood as it washes away.”

“Help… them…” you croaked out, blatantly ignoring Rumlow.

You smiled, blood clinging to your teeth, as understanding flooded Yelena’s eyes and she disappeared from sight.

Twisting your head to glance at Rumlow, you smirked defiantly despite the overwhelming ache in your skull. Blood was trickling from your head, smearing across your cheek, but you didn’t care.

“You will not survive this,” you chuckled wearily, studying the twitch in his jaw and the vein on his forehead. “They will kill you all. Rip your men apart with their bare hands. Their teeth. Leave nothing behind, even for the sharks. And I’ll be the one to raise your head onto a pike when it’s all over. I wouldn’t be your wife even if you were the last viable human to walk the lands. Always such a disgrace.”

He grunted to his men, nodding towards the inn, but you knew it was too late. Everyone and their brother would be awake now.

Yelena had that effect on people.

“No piece of you is worthy of the title human, let alone husband.”

Slumping in his arms, you begrudgingly accepted fate as darkness flickered around your gaze before swallowing you into its cold embrace.

Oh, what a pirate’s life for me.

#reader insert #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #scarletwidow x reader #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarletwidow #avengers imagine #reader imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine

[horeformilfs]

Save me

WandaNat x Fem!Avenger Reader

TW: Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempt, Drowning

Translations:

любимая = Beloved

Дорогой = Darling

Моя любовь = My Love

мой ангел = My Angel

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

The quinjet rumbled as it soared through the evening sky, the aftermath of a mission lingering heavily in the air. Y/N sat in silence, staring out of the window, her thoughts drowning in a tempest of self-doubt and frustration. Despite the mission's success, Steve's reproach echoed in her mind, each word carving deeper into the wounds they'd been hiding.

Wanda Maximoff, sensing the heaviness in the air, slid closer to Y/N, intertwining their fingers. "Hey," she whispered, her voice a soft caress. "You know Steve can be harsh sometimes. Don't let it get to you."

Y/N managed a faint smile, appreciating Wanda's attempt to console her, but the darkness within remained unspoken. Natasha Romanoff, seated across from the two, shot a concerned glance her way. Y/N averted her gaze, unwilling to let anyone see the turmoil within.

As the jet continued its journey back to the compound, Steve, unable to let the matter rest, confronted Y/N again. "This is a team, Y/N! We depend on each other. You can't afford to make reckless decisions like that."

Natasha, always protective, stepped in, "Steve, ease up. We all made it out fine."

Ignoring Natasha's plea, Steve continued his admonishment. Y/N, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, fought to hold back tears. Wanda squeezed her hand, offering silent support, but Y/N abruptly withdrew.

Natasha, observing the sudden change, leaned toward Wanda and asked in a hushed tone, "Is Y/N okay?"

Wanda shook her head subtly, her concern mirroring Natasha's. She glanced at Y/N, who had moved to a different part of the quinjet, staring into the distance. Natasha excused herself and approached Y/N cautiously.

"Hey," Natasha said softly, concern etched in her eyes. "You can't keep everything bottled up. What's going on?"

Y/N hesitated, the weight of her unspoken struggles threatening to spill over. "It's nothing, Nat. Just tired."

Natasha saw through the facade, but before she could press further, Wanda joined them. "Everything alright?" she asked, her eyes flickering between Y/N and Natasha.

Y/N forced a smile, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, just tired."

Wanda, sensing the evasion, decided not to push, but the worry lingered in her gaze. As the quinjet descended towards the Avengers' compound, the unspoken tension within the team remained, a storm waiting to be weathered.

The compound's landing pad greeted the quinjet with a soft hum as it touched down. Y/N, still grappling with the emotional fallout of the mission and Steve's stern words, stepped off the aircraft, leaving the conversation suspended in the air.

Nick Fury, a stern expression etched on his face, awaited Y/N. "Agent Y/L/N, my office. Now."

Y/N exchanged a quick, worried glance with Nat and Wanda before nodding and following Fury. The redheads shared an anxious look, their concern growing as Y/N disappeared from view.

In Fury's office, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. Nick wasted no time in listing every perceived mistake during the mission. Y/N listened in silence, internalizing the criticism, each word adding another layer to the self-doubt she was trying so desperately to conceal. When the reprimand concluded, Fury dismissed Y/N with a curt nod, leaving her alone to grapple with the weight of her perceived failures.

Returning to her shared room, Y/N found Nat and Wanda sitting on the bed, a palpable worry etched across their faces. Without a word, Y/N moved towards the bathroom, needing a moment to collect herself.

Natasha, her gaze following Y/N, sighed, "дорогой, what's going on? You're not fine."

Wanda, leaning against Natasha, added, "Моя любовь, we can see something's bothering you. Talk to us."

Y/N emerged from the bathroom, the facade still intact. "It's nothing, really. Just a rough day."

Natasha frowned, concern deepening. "Don't shut us out, дорогой. We're here for you."

Wanda nodded, her eyes pleading. "Моя любовь, we care about you. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

Y/N hesitated, the weight of her struggles conflicting with the desire to protect the ones she cared about. "It's just... a lot. I'll be okay, I promise."

Natasha and Wanda exchanged glances, unconvinced but respecting Y/N's choice for now. Y/N offered a weak smile, attempting to reassure them. "I just need some time to clear my head. Thanks for understanding."

The aroma of pizza wafted through the Avengers' common room, where the team had gathered for their weekly pizza and game night. Natasha and Wanda, dressed casually for the occasion, approached Y/N, who seemed lost in thought.

"Hey, Y/N, pizza's here. Game night's starting soon. You coming?" Natasha asked with a playful smile.

Y/N looked up, weariness evident in her eyes. "Nah, I think I'll pass tonight. Just really tired and could use some sleep."

Wanda exchanged a concerned glance with Natasha, but they respected Y/N's decision. "Alright, if you need anything, we'll be downstairs. Take care," Wanda said, leaning in to kiss Y/N gently on the cheek. Natasha followed suit, leaving a lingering kiss on Y/N's forehead.

As the hour passed, laughter and the clatter of board game pieces echoed from below. Y/N, lying in bed, couldn't shake the sense of isolation that gripped her. Faint strains of joy reached her ears, intensifying the ache of loneliness within.

Unable to resist the curiosity, Y/N decided to check on the festivities. Slipping out of bed, she quietly descended the stairs and peeked around the corner. The sight of the team sharing laughter and camaraderie only deepened Y/N's sense of alienation.

A heavy sigh escaped Y/N as she turned to leave, footsteps echoing her retreat. Unbeknownst to Y/N, Natasha noticed their departure, nudging Wanda to glance in the direction of Y/N's retreating figure.

"Something's not right," Natasha murmured, concern etching her features.

Wanda nodded, her eyes following Y/N. "Let's check on her."

The two redheads hurriedly excused themselves, making their way to catch up with Y/N. However, by the time they reached the compound's entrance, Y/N was nowhere in sight.

"Y/N!" Wanda called out, but the night swallowed their words.

Natasha scanned the surroundings, worry etched on her face. "She couldn't have gone far. Let's split up and find her."

Unbeknownst to Natasha and Wanda, Y/N, grappling with a storm of emotions, had ventured into the quiet darkness outside the compound, feeling like a solitary star in a vast, lonely sky.

The night enveloped the compound in a somber embrace as Y/N walked the familiar trail to the lake. The water, usually a source of solace, reflected the moon's gentle glow. Y/N's footsteps echoed in the quiet, each step heavy with the burden she carried.

As Y/N reached the lake, dark thoughts clawed at the edges of her mind, whispering lies of inadequacy and isolation. The water's surface mirrored the turmoil within, rippling with each conflicting emotion.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Wanda, attuned to the depths of her thoughts, felt a sudden jolt of concern. She sought out Natasha, urgency etched in her expression. "Nat, something's wrong with Y/N. I can hear her thoughts, and it's not good."

Natasha, instantly alert, nodded. "Let's find her. Fast."

Together, they traversed the compound, their search fueled by a shared determination to reach Y/N before it was too late.

Meanwhile, Y/N, standing at the water's edge, contemplated the dark abyss within and beyond. The weight of her struggles pushed her toward a perilous decision. In the solitude of the night, the lake seemed to beckon, offering an escape from the storm within.

Wanda and Natasha, guided by an unsettling intuition, pressed on. Natasha's voice broke the silence as they moved with purpose. "We have to find Y/N before..."

Wanda finished the thought, her worry evident. "Before it's too late."

As Y/N waded into the water, fully clothed, the coldness biting at her skin, the gravity of her actions began to sink in. Yet, the relentless darkness within urged her forward, drowning out reason and hope.

Wanda's eyes widened as the echoes of Y/N's thoughts intensified. "Nat, we're running out of time."

Natasha quickened her pace, fear gnawing at her. "We have to find her now."

At the water's edge, Y/N ventured further, oblivious to the silent urgency echoing through the night. With each step, the water's embrace grew colder, and the depths seemed to welcome her into a haunting embrace.

The water closed in around Y/N, reaching her neck as fatigue weighed heavily on her limbs. The struggle to stay afloat became a losing battle, and the haunting depths of the lake seemed to embrace her with a chilling finality.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Wanda combed through the woods, searching for any sign of Y/N. Wanda's eyes widened in realization. "I remember. There's a lake Y/N used to go to when things got tough. She has to be there."

Natasha, fueled by a surge of concern, urged Wanda to lead the way. "Let's go. We need to find her."

In the dark waters, Y/N's final reserves of strength gave out. She surrendered to the depths, letting the cold water seep into her lungs. Consciousness waned, and the world faded to a surreal blur.

As Natasha and Wanda reached the lake, the sight of Y/N's abandoned shoes on the edge sent shivers down their spines. Wanda's eyes scanned the water's surface, catching a subtle disruption near the middle of the lake.

"There," she pointed to Natasha, urgency in her voice. Without hesitation, both women plunged into the water, swimming with determined strokes toward the disturbance in the otherwise tranquil lake.

Natasha's voice broke the silence, her concern palpable. "Y/N!"

Wanda echoed the call, her desperation fuelling her movements. "Y/N, where are you?"

The moonlight danced on the water's surface as they searched, driven by the fear of losing their girlfriend. The lake, once a haven for Y/N, now held a silent secret beneath its depths, as Natasha and Wanda raced against time to bring Y/N back from the edge.

Wanda dove beneath the surface, the cold water enveloping her as she searched for any sign of Y/N. Her senses heightened, she felt a faint brush against her, and her heart leaped. She moved swiftly, hand extended, until her fingers closed around something solid. As she pulled it towards her, relief surged through her when she realized it was Y/N's hand.

Breaking through the surface, Wanda clutched Y/N to her chest. Natasha, seeing the distress on Wanda's face, swam over to assist. Wanda struggled to keep Y/N afloat, her arms wrapped protectively around the younger woman.

Natasha's expression mirrored the urgency of the situation. "Wanda, fly Y/N back to the shore. Start CPR. I'll swim back and meet you there."

Wanda nodded, determination in her eyes. With a burst of energy, she levitated herself and Y/N out of the water, flying towards the shore as fast as she could. Natasha propelled herself through the water, a powerful swimmer on a mission.

As Wanda landed on the shore, she cradled Y/N in her arms, laying her gently on the ground. Panic and relief mingled in her eyes as she started CPR, each compression accompanied by whispered words of encouragement.

Natasha emerged from the water, swiftly joining Wanda. " I'll take over."

Wanda, tears streaming down her face, nodded and stepped back. Natasha seamlessly continued the lifesaving efforts, the rhythmic compressions and breaths punctuating the tense silence. The fate of their girlfriend hung in the balance, and as Natasha worked to revive Y/N, the night seemed to hold its breath.

Natasha continued the lifesaving measures, the rhythm of compressions and breaths a desperate cadence against the quiet backdrop of the night. Wanda, her voice steady despite the urgency, dialed Bruce Banner, urgency lacing her words. "Banner, we need the med bay ready. It's Y/N. Hurry."

Y/N, caught between the realms of consciousness and oblivion, finally expelled water from her lungs. Wanda and Natasha, relief etched on their faces, surrounded her, coaxing her back to the present.

Natasha whispered, her voice a gentle reassurance, "Дорогой, stay with us. You're gonna be okay."

Y/N, seeking solace in the familiar, inched closer to Wanda, the redhead's presence a comforting anchor. Wanda, her arms encircling Y/N, whispered sweet nothings, her words a balm to the turmoil within. "Моя любовь, you're safe now. We've got you."

As Wanda lifted Y/N into her arms, carrying her like a precious burden, Natasha draped her jacket over Y/N's shivering form. They embarked on the hurried journey back to the compound, the weight of Y/N's quiet apologies hanging in the air.

Y/N, struggling to stay awake, murmured softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

Wanda tightened her hold, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Shh, любимая, it's okay. We're here for you."

Natasha added, her voice firm yet soothing, "No apologies, мой ангел. We've got you, and we're going to take care of you."

The night held their collective breath as they rushed towards the compound, the echoes of the lake's silent secret gradually giving way to a glimmer of hope.

Upon reaching the compound, Natasha and Wanda hurriedly carried Y/N to the med bay, where Bruce Banner awaited their arrival. The atmosphere in the room shifted, tense yet focused, as the two redheads gently laid Y/N on the examination table.

Bruce, his usual calm demeanor replaced by concern, immediately started assessing Y/N's condition. "What happened?"

Wanda, her voice trembling slightly, explained, "Y/N went to the lake, and we found her in the water. We need to make sure she's okay."

Bruce nodded, directing the medical team to assist. "I'll take it from here. Give us some space, but stay close. We might need you."

Natasha and Wanda exchanged a worried glance before reluctantly stepping back, their eyes never leaving Y/N's unconscious form. As the medical team worked, the room buzzed with tension, each passing moment intensifying the weight of the night's events.

Wanda's fingers interlaced with Natasha's, the silent communication between them reflecting shared concern. Natasha pulled Wanda into a reassuring hug, their unspoken support a lifeline amidst the uncertainty.

After what felt like an eternity, Bruce finally turned towards them. "Y/N will be okay. She expelled most of the water, but we'll keep Her under observation for a while. She need rest."

Relief washed over Natasha and Wanda, the gravity of the situation slowly lifting. They entered the recovery room where Y/N lay, pale yet breathing steadily. Wanda took a seat by Y/N's side, and Natasha joined her, the unspoken bond between them palpable.

As Y/N began to stir, Natasha brushed a strand of hair from her face, whispering, "Hey there, мой ангел. You gave us a scare."

Y/N's eyes met Wanda's, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the weight of her earlier apologies lingering.

Wanda leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead. "No need for apologies, любимая. We're just glad you're back with us."

Natasha and Wanda sat on either side of the bed, their eyes filled with concern and love as Y/N recounted the harrowing events at the lake.

Wanda spoke first, her voice soft yet firm, "Y/N, we care about you. You're not a burden, and your problems are never 'stupid.' We're your girlfriends, and we want to be there for you, no matter what."

Natasha added, her gaze steady, "You don't have to face everything alone. We're a team, remember? Lean on us when you need to."

Y/N looked down, her fingers nervously playing with the sheets. "I just didn't want to bother you. It felt like I was drowning in my own thoughts, and I didn't want to drag you down with me."

Wanda reached for Y/N's hand, squeezing it gently. "Your thoughts and feelings matter to us. You're not a burden, and we want to help carry the weight together."

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. "I understand. Thank you both."

Natasha, always pragmatic, stood up. "Alright, enough serious talk for now. I'm going to get us some coffee and soup. You two stay put."

As Natasha left the room, Wanda shifted to lie next to Y/N. She tenderly ran her fingers through Y/N's hair, placing soft kisses on their forehead. "You're safe now, любимая. We're here for you, always."

Y/N let out a sigh, leaning into Wanda's touch. "Can... can you cuddle with me?"

Wanda smiled, her eyes full of warmth. "Of course, моя любовь."

Natasha returned with a tray, placing it on a nearby table. "Coffee for us, soup for you. Eat something, alright?"

Y/N nodded, and as Wanda curled up with them on the bed, Natasha took a seat nearby. The room was filled with the soothing aroma of coffee, the gentle murmur of their voices, and the unspoken assurance that, in each other's company, they could weather any storm.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximilf #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #black widow x you #black widow imagine #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine

[marveicinematics]

after the nightmares (wanda x reader, smut)

Summary : You know how to make Wanda forget about her nightmares when she wakes up in the middle of the night.

Pairing : Wanda Maximoff x female reader.

Words : 1,275.

TW : Smut. Dirty talk, oral sex, tribbing, squirting.

Note : Happy pride month everyone! My first Wanda smut ever, let me know if you’d like to read more about her.

You clearly remember meeting her, months ago. She was alone at the bar, drinking her third cocktail of the night. She was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Bright red hair, the most beautiful face and lips you’d damn yourself to kiss at least once. You made your way to her, offered her to pay the next drink.

Before you were even tipsy, both of you were in the bar’s bathroom, fingers deep inside the other, holding back screams of pleasure.

“Fuck, I can’t even moan your name, I don’t know it.“

“Wanda,“ she answered with a smirk on her face, before you reached your orgasm, clenching hard against her long expert fingers.

It had been months, but the two of you kept meeting then and there, ending (or beginning) most of your dates with the wildest sex you ever had in your life. In back alleys, on the kitchen counter, in your bed right before she fell asleep in your arms. Months of happiness where you learnt more about Wanda, her story and her bagages. You loved spending time with her nevertheless, accepting each of her flaws, comforting her after each of her nightmares.

Tonight was one of those nights, Wanda had fallen asleep in your arms naked and you were still reading when you felt her squirm and mumble in her sleep. You did what you always did to comfort her, but it didn’t seem to calm her.

“Pietro !“ She screamed when she woke up, hands shaking.

“Shhh, I’m here, it’s over.“

Your hands cupped her face, thumbs rubbing against her skin as you maintained eye contact with her.

“It was a nightmare, it wasn’t real,“ you said with a soft tone and you saw her nodding softly.

“It wasn’t real,“ whispered Wanda.

“It wasn’t real, no. I, on the contrary, am very real.“

And to make sure she believed you, you closed the small gap between your mouths and kissed her as gently as one could, letting your lips taking away her pain and fear. It worked its magic, and you felt Wanda ease in your kiss, deepening it as she slowly forgot about the nightmare that just woke her up.

You felt her tongue lick your lower lip, asking for permission that you gave her right away, opening your mouth for her. Your body leaned closer against hers, your hips pinning hers to the mattress under her. She sighed in the kiss as your knee moved up between her legs, grazing her naked thighs.

“Don’t stop,“ she whispered again.

You smirked in the kiss, moving your knee up higher to press against her still covered cunt.

“D’you like this?“

“More...“ is all you could hear her mumble through her breathing as it was already getting heavier.

You pressed harder, moving your knee up and down her pussy as you started to feel the fabric of her panties getting wet. No doubt she was enjoying it. You rubbed her clit, earning a high-pitched moan from the woman you craved to please.

“Wanda, baby, you’re making a mess of those pretty panties.“

Your smirk didn’t leave your face yet, still rubbing her through the soaked fabric of her underwear. You knew how sensitive Wanda was after waking up. If you kept going, you’d get her to cum like this. 

“It feels amazing!“

Her voice was already louder, and you thanked yourself for getting a soundproof apartment. She was not the type to be quiet in bed. 

“Are you going to come for me, baby?“

Her only answer was another loud moan, and you knew she’d be screaming your name in no time. You moved your knee faster and faster, feeling yourself get aroused by the situation as your own breathing started to be heavier.

Wanda’s moans became high-pitched incoherent screams and her legs started to tremble against the bed. She was getting there. So you stopped without a warning, looking her eyes widen at the loss of her own orgasm.

“What the hell, I was so close!“

“I know, baby.“

Smile on your face, you took your tank top off, revealing your round boobs and hard nipples. The panties came off next, and you straddled her.

“You didn’t think I was going to stay out of the fun, right?“

You moved your own hand down your body and between your legs, brushing two of your fingertips against your cunt to gather some of your arousal. Slowly, you moved your wet fingers to Wanda’s face, and she opened her mouth immediately. She started sucking on your fingers, tasting you as she moaned in pleasure and finally let go of your digits with a loud ‘pop‘.

Wanda laid on her back, grabbing your hips to pull you higher up. Holding onto the headboard, you straddled her face, her tongue finding your wet pussy immediately. One lick, two licks, three licks and the next thing you knew, she was devouring you. You were bucking your hips against her face as she alternated between licking and sucking on your clit and shoving her expert tongue deep inside you, where you needed it the most. One of your hand grabbed her red hair, tilting your head back as you moaned.

“This feels heavenly!“

It only encouraged Wanda to go harder, bringing you close to your peak quickly. You let yourself reach the edge, getting closer and closer to your release before moving your hips up and stopping right before your orgasm.

“Do you plan on getting any of us off tonight?“ asked Wanda with a smirk on her face.

The naughtiest side of her was the one you loved the most. Taking off her top, you immediately started to suck on her breast, tongue playing with her nipple as she moaned softly. She was definitely still aroused.

After taking the pair of panties that she ruined off of her, you spread her legs wide enough and straddled her again, making sure both of your needy cunts were rubbing against the other as you were bucking your hips.

“Oh, god, Wanda…“

Again, it felt like nothing else. Both of you were already close and you had no time to waste. You started to rub yourself on her wet pussy, grabbing her ankles to hold her legs still.

“Oh my god, yes!“ Wanda started screaming almost immediately as she tilted her head back into the pillow.

“That’s it baby, scream for me.“

You moved faster, boobs bouncing in rhythm with your thrust against Wanda’s pussy.

“Fuck me, I’m going to come so fast!“ Wanda screamed again.

You knew she wasn’t lying. Letting go of her legs, you leaned closer so your boobs rubbed against hers, your face so close to hers that you could feel her warm breath on your lips.

“That’s it, fuck. Fucking cum for me, Wanda. I’m so close.“

You grabbed the pillow under her head with both hands, clenching your fists as hard as you could as Wanda’s hands were on your ass, pushing you harder against her. Her screams became euphoric as she neared her orgasm again and you had to close your eyes as the wave of pleasure hit you hard.

“Fuck, ‘m coming…!“ You managed to moan before you started screaming, shaking on top of her. “Wanda! Wanda, baby! F-Fuck!“

She followed you quickly, squirts of her pleasure making an absolute mess of the bed as she screamed like no one else in the whole world existed but the two of you.

You laid down next to her, both of you heavy breathing and sweating, some spasms still making her legs shake against the bed. You moved your head towards her and giggled.

“You’re the best at this,“ you said softly.

“Oh, no. You are.“

#scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch smut #scarlet witch fanfiction #scarlet witch drabble #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff drabble #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda #wanda imagine #wanda smut #wanda fanfiction #wanda drabble #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen smut #elizabeth olser fanfiction #elizabeth olsen drabble #wanda maximommy #wanda maximilf

[wmarximoff]

(she will always be) a broken girl | w. maximoff

summary: life away from home is good, and you're studying at the college of your dreams; however, your new neighbor is loud, irritating and a person who doesn't respect boundaries. and, also, is your ex-girlfriend from high school, Wanda Maximoff.

warnings: lots of cursing, smoking, drinking, very brief mentions of smut, mentions of physical parental abuse, mentions of homophobia, angst, fluff.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 14k

A/N: and I'm back guys! I hope you guys like this, because I certainly enjoyed writing it!

|masterlist|

༺ᱬ༻

There's a thump on the wall behind your head, followed closely by a strident, full-bodied laugh and yet another dry bump, like a deferred hammer blow to a wet rag.

And then an eager conversation that goes back and forth around your head, which turns into lively, intelligible buzzes when muffled by a thin wall, which gives way to another round of drunken giggling like two intoxicated hyenas, as if the competition on the other side of the plaster, pipes and bricks were who could laugh the most without losing their breath first.

You open your eyes, but maybe you just haven't closed them quite yet. Your eyeballs sting as if carpeted by a thin dusty layer of sand that crinkles behind your eyelids, crying out for the sleep that never came, staring up at the white ceiling lit by the bluish luminosity coming from a streetlight outside.

Rolling lethargically to one side in your sheets, half grunting as you do so, your actions are shrouded in a thick veil of torpor; your tired left fingers grope vaguely on the pale wood dresser set beside your bed, and it is after considerable effort all blindly made in the helplessness of your dark room that you finally find the frozen plastic of your phone, that is plugged into the charger socket.

The white glow burns your retinas for half a second when you press the side button with the cheek of your thumb and unlock the screen half a foot away from the tip of your nose. Large digitized thin numbers show the time of 01:19 am. And you wonder who’s the goddamn bastard who would be making so much noise at 1:19 am on a full Monday, as if they were going to demolish the damn wall above your head.

Or a late Tuesday morning, in fact, your drunken brain kind of thinks so. But whatever, nobody cares.

You just know that you need a good night's sleep, and that your muscles are crying out for the much-needed relaxation found in the soft sheets of your bed, something that in the last week has seemed so difficult to achieve even while still inside your own home, your own apartment.

Life was placid, peaceful even, calm in the most acute sense of the word until it found its so fateful epilogue at the beginning of the last week. With the beginning of the college semester came the moving of your new next door neighbor (on the left), from who you don't even know what their face looks like, but who you sure know likes to enjoy life as if every day is the last one. Your healthy sleep has sickened and died on this neighbor's doorstep, so it's likely that each day will indeed be your last as long as your door is next to them.

And it's even odd for you, because your routine has been pretty much the same since you left the bliss of the small Westview, New Jersey (population 6,685), your birthplace and home, to go to college in the big city as soon as you got your high school diploma by shaking the headmistress' hand, three years ago or so.

Your day consists of working in the morning at a coffeeshop that has accepted your meager résumé as a recent high-school graduate and pays just enough to keep you from freezing or starving to death, a handful of classes to pay attention to in the afternoon, and overnight, after a few more hours of work, feed Loki, your grumpy black cat, and study for some upcoming test after having dinner on cereal with milk or instant noodles and drinking a bottle of cheap beer just because you can.

Sleep and repeat, one day after another.

But then it came, as the prelude to the descents of your peacetime; the thunderous beats and the guttural laughs, the intoxicating reek of smoked cigarettes one after the other, and the loud tunes of some distorted heavy guitar in an alternative rock song, engaged in a melodic voice that moans pro-sex and anti-system obscenities (and that actually, you kind of agree with that part).

But that mysterious person behind the wall is like a specter, a ethereal ghost, a foreboding sign that comes to haunt only at night, to torment and keep you from laying your head to rest against your pillow. And you know things aren't quite right with you because yesterday you burned the skin of your own hand by falling asleep propped up on the machine in the process of brewing a big, double espresso for a mean-looking man in a suit.

It's when the sound starts (and gets louder, and gets even louder after that, almost in the form of a rant) that you decide it's enough – the wall swelling with the sounds coming from behind it. Something in you comes undone in a bust, like a pulled thread that snaps in half from the tension at both ends, and the sleepless nights of the last week simply become too much to bear.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me..."

With your right hand you pull your covers to the side, and your bare feet nearly trample a sleeping Loki who's lying beside your bed like a pillow you accidentally dropped, and then you stand up, stretching your legs.

The cat meows in obvious displeasure when being woken up, straining with his front paws, but you just poke him in the side with the tip of your big toe.

“Sorry buddy, but I really need some sleep and this asshole next door isn't helping much.”

Your knees are bare, and your shoulders are tense as you step out of your tiny room into the single hallway, even scrawnier than your own room, and you go to your door, jerk it open, and then, marching like a general, you take about six or seven steps to the left to the side door, where the alternate metal song leaks through its cracks.

You knock once with your bent right fist, moving your wrist joint back and forth, but there is no immediate response and you just want to break down that door like your neighbor wants to break down your wall. Nor is there an eventual answer, when your good manners compel you to expect non-existent cooperation from this noisy stranger.

And you let out a cavernous grunt, plotting a lapse of hot rage inside you, feeling the tips of your ears and the skin of your shoulders smolder like embers.

“C’mon, open the damn door! I know you’re there! You can literally hear the music all the way down the hall, what the hell!”

And annoyance starts bubbling up inside you like magma inside a volcano about to erupt, growing and expanding in size, and then you hit it a second time, and then a third time, and you're barely counting how many times you knock on that damn door until you threaten to knock again (the side of your hand hurts), but then the door opens and your hand hangs in midair, like you're holding the handle of an invisible lantern.

You don't even hesitate to regurgitate, still half asleep and definitely very pissed off, the stress evaporating from inside you.

“Look here,” you begin to wiggle with your chest full of air and your cheeks burning, reciting the speech that has been stuck in your throat for about five or six days, “I know you probably have no idea or don’t care, I don't know which of the two options and honestly I don't give a damn about what you think, but some people around here tend to wake up early–”

And you blink at the figure in the doorway, a young girl with long dark hair who looks to be around your age. And she blinks back at you. And whatever you were going to say next, but the words die and wither behind your tongue, drying up in your throat. And you crease with the flash of skin between your eyebrows, as if you were facing some macabre apparition like in a horror movie.

“Wanda…?” a thoughtless whisper comes out of you that, without an effort, you would never have found actually slipped out of your lips, and not from some other person standing in the hallway that you just didn't see was there.

And it's like an atomic bomb being dropped from the skies on top of a city, because you see her (really see her), gorgeous and tangible, standing in front of you like a memory of your past, and your sleeping, irritated brain beeps and stops when your stomach drops, because your skin tingles as awareness leans over you and you realize that your incognito neighbor is, actually, an old acquaintance from a time you'd rather forget.

A time that you left behind, that you buried six feet from the ground and veiled and moved on after the due period of mourning paid in honor of your adolescence.

And the infectious smile she carries around the contour of her peach lips, with an air of excited laughter referring to a funny story still fresh on her features, fades, withers, and sets to dust when a glint of identification as helpless as yours breaks amidst her emerald irises, adorned by a smoky black eyeliner – the heavy makeup that looks like it was applied a long time ago, hours and hours behind the clock.

The atomic bomb dropped on the city exploded.

“Y/N...” she whispers your name, trying to understand, scrunching up her dark brows, and something in you breaks, “What are you... what are you...?”

“Wanda?” a male voice calls from behind her shoulder, intertwined with the sound of loud rock and the sour scent of cigarette ash, “Who is it? It’s late.”

And such a voice, to your deepest misery, is recognizable to your ears as if it were part of a second nature cloistered within you, of course – you would never forget the light chest, the quiet contentment that carried you during your days of youth, when you were part of the school's literature reading group and the debate club. Her shy smile and his voice carried by his native Eastern European accent.

Your onetime girlfriend, and your former best friend, the immigrant neighbors who moved in next door to you during your freshman year of high school. And you remember kissing her open-mouthed in the backseat of their father's car (by that time she already tasted like cigarettes and tears) and drinking hot beer with him behind the local gas station.

“No fucking way, Y/N!”

Pietro Maximoff is the one who calls out your name, passing his twin sister and almost bumping into Wanda Maximoff's left shoulder, who is motionless like a marble statue, as if her soul has left the shell that is her beautiful, (but) empty body.

And wearing nothing but a plain skinny blouse and sporty shorts that do nothing to cover your bare thighs, you feel suddenly exposed in front of the pair of siblings who should have stayed far away, buried in your past along with all of Westview. You don't want them to see you.

You don't want her to see you.

“Dude, what are the chances of us finding you around here, huh? It's been a long time, what the hell! And we are neighbors again, just like before!” he kind of chuckles to himself at his own line, his accent already faded, “I mean, Wanda is your neighbor again. But hey, are you here for college? I remember you got that approval letter! NYU, right?”

“Yes, I...” you whisper, half babbling, blinking sleep and shock out of your lingering brain, “I... yeah...”

You look at him, who has now grown a beard around his chin and bleached his short hair to a platinum silver tone, once the owner of streaks in a profuse coffee-brown color like the pretty hue that adorns the long beams on her head (he seems to be more of a man's bearing than a boy's per se), and your troubled gaze migrates towards Wanda, who is the only one of the two Maximoff twins who truly comprehends the core of your dazed silence, matched by a remorseful look that she hides behind her hair as she turns her chin appallingly to the side – because she knows, you know, and he doesn't.

He never knew. Nobody ever knew. She made sure no one ever knew.

Just as no one ever knew you ran off with Pietro in the middle of the night to drink cheap beer and eat cheeseburgers behind the gas station, no one ever knew you kissed the taste of red-filtered cigarettes on Wanda's tongue in the back of their father's car.

ᗢ

“And why did she break up with you?”

It's Yelena Belova who asks you the very next morning, your coworker and classmate alike, a friend for life, as her elbows work back and forth with the wooden handle of the wet mop that slides across the linoleum flooring in one fluid, continuous action, because today is her day to mop the floor and only tomorrow is yours, according to the appointment on the calendar adjacent to the staff room wall at the back of the store.

The two of you wear polo shirts on your torsos and similar aprons tied around your waists, the pieces arranged in the same shades of black and green and, behind the glass counter, which in turn has an array of sweet and savory to go with a cup of coffee, you growl lamely, like a grizzly mad dog that doesn't want to let go of the tennis ball in its mouth.

It's still fifteen minutes (and counting) before the store opens to a new wave of morning clients, and you just don't want to talk about your ex-high school sweetheart so early in the morning, even after a long sip of fresh coffee. Not after seeing her before you, (still as stunning, as enchanting, still as detestable as she was almost three years ago), in a dreadful revelation that the noisy, irritating, maddening neighbor, all this time, was just Wanda; an ex-girlfriend behind the door who distanced you from her.

But Yelena looks at you with keen amber eyes that gleam with insistent curiosity, pushing you over the edge, and your cup of coffee with shots of warm milk suddenly looks more interesting than your blonde friend who mops the floor under her feet.

“Homophobic rich dad, 'it's not you, it's me', stuff like that,” you mutter grudgingly from behind your drink, before shrugging your shoulders as if in a bogus performance of indifference.

“I mean, at least that's what she told me. You know, by text message. Three damn days before our senior prom, when everything was ready for us to go together. Just a single text message of four, five lines, whatever.”

And you take another sip of coffee, which even though it's soft against the milk, now feels as bitter as a crumbling lump of earth against the face of your tongue.

“Ouch,” Yelena exclaims in a falsely offended tone that smacks of laughter, “What a bitch.”

“Don't even tell me,” you muss, not being able to mask the wrath still pulsing in your tone, staring at the dark plastic lid that covers your paper coffee cup, “Just one hell of a bitch.”

“But hey, strict rich dad and mean teenage daughter, huh? Such a cliché.” She still mops the floor as she talks.

“Yeah, I guess,” you take a sip of coffee, “Erik Lester, Lehnsherr, any shit like that, whatever. He's a businessman, does something involving magnets, I don't know. All I know is that he has, like, a lot of money.”

Yelena mutters in agreement even though she has no idea who this much-hated father figure is, silently indicating that she is setting the stage for the continuation of your speech.

“She only met him after her mother died when she and Pietro were about ten years old, when they had to leave Sokovia. And like, the guy is a real asshole, I won't deny it, and he and Wanda never had a good relationship from what she told me and from what I've seen and heard, either. Sometimes I could hear his screams through my bedroom window.”

And you remember her crying, so beautiful and so broken at such a young age, the makeup smeared around her eyeballs that glistened in stinging tears, a black thread of eyeliner trail running down her ever so sharp cheekbones her as she crept out in your bedroom window, into the comfort of your arms or into your fogged-up car, searching for cigarette smoke through the desert streets of the small town, during the nights lit by the neon of streetlights and headlights.

And then, in a rather bittersweet mental parallel, you realize that you could never sleep properly while in the presence of Wanda, who is a nocturnal animal, a source of red energy – like a dream that came to torment you, disappearing along with the first cracks of sun to rise in the morning.

“I always thought she did those things – the clothes, the music, the cigarettes – to piss him off. And she did, yeah. He was very pissed off about all these things. The two were always up in arms in that house. But if there was one thing she was afraid of, it was that he would find out she liked girls. She was terrified of coming out to him. So she didn't come out to anyone. She didn't… she never assumed me to anyone.”

You gird your lips in a straight line, ending the sentence in a den of resentment that weighs heavily on the tip of your tongue; both your forearms braced on the clear face of the counter's reinforced glass, the half-full coffee cup placed in the space between your wrists.

“I thought that because we were together for the entire senior year it was going to work out, you know, me and her.”

Yelena looks at you from behind the counter, and there's an air of pity that envelops her facial expression, but that you prefer to just ignore as you focus your gaze on the rings that line the length of your fingers. Wanda wears these too.

“That thing we had, even if it was just between the two of us, it all felt so… right. So natural. Like, we were going to graduate and leave, weren't we? There was no reason to give up like that. It was me and her. Just the two of us. But then... then came the time for the prom.”

You sigh, as in a vicious memory. For a minute your vision threatens to cloud with smothered tears, but you blink them back from your eyelashes.

“And she freaked out and ditched me. Went with that stupid Jarvis Stark guy, an English idiot, son of Erik's business partner or some shit like that. And, well, I left town after that. Moved on. And now here I am, making coffee for rude people who barely look me in the face and having to deal with you bothering me all morning.”

Your voice is teasing, wrapped in a mockery that befits the goofy grin that breaks at the corner of your lips, and the young blonde girl half-laughs at you, swinging her high ponytail to back of her head.

“And now she's your noisy neighbor. Call it romantic.” Yelena reminds you in a voice full of petulant innuendo in an irritating retort, raising her thick, dark brows to the middle of her forehead.

You grunt against the plastic lid of your coffee cup.

“Ugh, please don't remind me of that right now, I don't want to think about it anymore.”

You can almost feel the heavy, dark bags under your droopy eyes, the sleepless nights weighty on the bones of your spine – but the young blonde woman smirks, having stopped mopping the floor for a good few minutes now.

“I'm pretty sure that would make a great plot for a low-budget romcom, if you ask me. One of those twin actresses could play her in the movie. She kinda looks like them, doesn’t she?”

“Yelena!”

“But it's true!” your friend laughs at your earnest displeasure, “But hey, maybe you can sneak into her apartment for the night and make her make it up to you for the prom. Or those sleepless nights, if you know what I mean.”

You blink in lethargic action, looking towards her.

“I swear I'm going to spill coffee on the floor you just cleaned if you don't stop pissing me off, Belova.”

ᗢ

The empty, hard blue plastic laundry basket rests against the right side of your hip bone, slithering against the waistband of your baggy, light jeans as you descend step by step on the concrete stairs that lead toward the laundry room in the building, located on the underground floor of the condominium residence.

The weight of the tiring day of flawed sleep still weighs on the muscles of your back, but you know the neighbors will nag like macaws if your laundry spends another day that takes possession of the washing machine again.

But it's late at night, past ten o'clock, so there's no one to be found in front of the sextet of washing machines that are still side by side against a white wall, like cars parked in a large parking lot. Your sneakers bounce against the black-and-white checkered linoleum floor as your left index finger presses the face of the switch, turning on a half-eerie, icy white light that flashes once and then stops right above your head.

You move without circumlocution, nonchalantly, walking toward the middle machine, and open the circular hatch to take out your now-clean, though damp, clothes.

But along with your clothes, you notice, with a curious and uncertain look, that there seem to be other pants and shirts that don't actually make up your wardrobe – in a way, such pieces don't even match your personal style, and you certainly don't remember putting them there in the first place.

Just take a single pair of tall black cotton socks between your fingers and something catches your eye, like a candle burning in the dark. Your eyebrows crease in the middle of your forehead, like a big question mark.

And, with the tips of your curious left fingers, you make your way to the hollow interior of the large domestic appliance to pull out, from inside, a thin red lace panties like the petals of a rose that is certainly not yours, hovering with the tiny piece in front of your eyes in midair – but you soon know whose it is when you realize that you already know that lingerie, the identification hovers like a crimson fog in front of your brain.

“For fuck’s sake...”

It's a beautiful piece that you bring close to your face to check, a cotton adorned with well-crafted details in the fabric and that, in the past, would be nothing more than purely sexy, which would incite libidinous feelings that would spark into the your chest and between your legs; but something in you inflates, bursts and goes flying, because you know whose alabaster thighs are from which you yourself have already taken those same panties, only to head towards the center wet with liquids of pleasure.

And you squeeze the damn red lace between your fingers, in a fist shape, like you're choking a chicken's skinny neck. A gust of hot air is expelled between your nostrils like steam coming out of a factory chimney.

So you turn on your heels and march toward the stairs, your cheeks burning in a snarling amalgamation of smoldering shame and volcanic rage, and six flights are a blur that burns your calf muscle as you walk hard to the second floor of the building, crossing the empty hallway in evenly spaced footsteps, like a guided missile aimed at the door next to yours on the left.

 The shiny metal of the numerals “1” and “9” attached to the center of the oak wooden door is what most attracts your solicitous attention when your closed fist knocks just above the handle; the round piece, large and gold, like a Christmas ornament the size of an apple or a clenched fist, you still holding the red garment in the palm of your hand placed to the side of your hip encased in the waistband of your jeans.

When footsteps are heard inside and Wanda comes to open the door, this time with her pretty face cleansed back to its natural state, devoid of the characteristic heavy makeup she usually puts on, it doesn't surprise you at all that she has a lit cigarette tucked between the fingers of her right hand, which has fingernails lacquered with a sober black polish that has peeled off the neatly cut and sanded ends.

“Y/N, what do you– do you have any idea what time it is, damn it?! It’s almost midnight!”

“What time is it? What time is it?! Look who's talking, for God's sake!”

When you brandish it with your hand, the underwear wobbles and it's only then that you remember that you still have it in your possession, and that seems to be able to irritate you even more.

“And is this yours by any chance?!” Holding the thin red strap just pressed between the tips of your forefinger and thumb, you lift the panties up to her face.

There's a curiously surprised frown in a flash of white skin between her dark brows, a light of disagreement circling the jade green of Wanda's eyes as they gaze at the underwear presented to her by you.

“What– what do you think you're doing with my panties, you creep?!” The accusatory tone in her voice, curled in thick cigarette smoke, is enough to pop a nerve in your neck.

“Creep?!” you whimper in thunderous rage, “I’m the goddamn creep?! You’re the one who put your underwear to wash with my clothes, you’re the creep in this whole situation! You creep!”

“What–?” Wanda looks at you like you're just insane, going into a snarky defensive pose, “I–I didn't do that!”

“Oh, of course,” your voice drips with angry sarcasm, “Your lingerie just decided to come out of the other washing machine and into the one I'm using. Seriously, Wanda, you've been better at lying before, I swear–”

“Look Y/N, I may have been confused, but I just moved here–”

“I don't,” your voice rises to match hers, ending whatever now-finished excuse that would come out of Wanda's mouth, “I don't wanna fucking know. I don’t care! Just– just take this and please don't bother me anymore!”

And there's barely a window that takes in the time it takes for the young woman with the jade eyes to plan with her brain an answer so her mouth can modulate it to you, because you crumple the red garment against her chest hidden inward the worn material of a loose-fitting band shirt that had faded to a tawny gray (that she had once sworn it was black), before turning around and, without giving her undue satisfaction, you head back toward the stairs that lead to the lower floor.

But you're barely ten or fifteen paces away from her door before Wanda's voice echoes across the hall, reverberating through the walls into your eardrums, through your muscles and your bones.

“Very mature, you asshole! How fucking old are you, five?!”

And you're just done dealing with her shit.

“Fuck you!” you bark like a shot in a game of table tennis and, without looking back, lift your elbow to your ribs, holding up the middle finger of your right hand for Wanda to see and take offense.

A shocked gasp comes from afar, but before she can even respond to you in a burst of rather naughty insults, there's the click of another door that opens at the end of the hall, and a third surly neighbor appears in a guttural rage as he engages in an unseemly bickering with Wanda ("It's late, shut the fuck up!" and "Go mind your own fucking business!" is the least that reaches your ears) while you, in full of silence and without giving much thought to the exchange of sharp curses between the young girl and an old gray-haired man from apartment sixteen, just turns the corner and walks down the stairs, trotting back to the laundry room.

Your right foot in your white sneaker taps arrhythmic to a distressed beat on the checkered linoleum floor, as you wait for the dryer to drying your clothes, your unflinching gaze staring at the silver device as it emits a round hum, your forearms interlaced down your chest, pressed against your rib cage, your shoulders stiffening in a recurring muscular tension from the episode of anger still fresh in your body.

When carefree footsteps echoes down the stairs, you don't stare toward the door of the laundry room because you only know who's approaching when the uncompromising scent of tobacco, smoke and strawberry moisturizer catches your nostrils, prompting a fearless grunt and an avid eye roll on your part.

Wanda carries a red plastic laundry basket with her, and doesn't exchange a word with you as she takes her clean clothes from the washing machine you've just used.

“It was a mistake, you know.”

For a moment, you think she's talking about your relationship. After all, it makes sense to imagine that this assumption is correct; your relationship with her was indeed a mistake, you know and imagine that she thinks so too. But her voice comes in a few seconds within the silence interspersed between the groans of the dryer machine, and she seems even half embarrassed as she doesn’t look directly at you, prickled into an almost intelligible thread.

You remain in terse silence as she gives it another try.

“It was an accident Y/N, that's all.”

But there's not a single answer that comes from you, and you don't even fix your proud gaze on Wanda, even though, with your nerves already chilled and your head clear away from the drowning fog of anger that seemed to have caught you in blind rage, you have realized that you have been quite unnecessarily rude to your new neighbor, your old lover.

“What do you want me to say, huh?” she claims your gaze, staring sideways at your profile, “That I'm sorry? Even by a stupid accident? All right, look, I apologize. I’m sorry. Now can you at least look at me, Y/N?”

But no, you don't look at her. And her shoulders sag in a sure sign of defeat.

When the machine finally dries your clean garments that smell sweetly of a softener pleasing to the senses, you pick them up, fold them, and place them in your blue hamper without uttering a word to make your actions light. And, walking behind Wanda carrying the basket on your hip, nonchalantly as if the girl in the cherry-red denim shorts were just an intangible ghost, you leave the laundry room—her gaze burns into the sore muscles of your back as you do.

ᗢ

Your nights are spent listening to loud music and smelling of toasted tobacco, and it's been a while since you've been able to watch TV anymore because of the loud noise from the neighbor next door. Maybe she's playing a tantrum, maybe she has no idea how life works in an apartment complex. But even Loki is more skittish by the lack of sleep that prompts his already grumpy nature.

The long scratch mark that grows angry red on your right forearm, towards the inside of your elbow, says a lot about how you and your cat have been having a rather toxic relationship on the feline’s part.

The early afternoon is engulfed by a partially warm climate, with a mild temperature, but even so, you chose to grab a sweater from your hanger, just before leaving the house early enough not to run into Wanda in the hallway, as had happened on a few unfortunate occasions since then – once when you went to meet a Thai food delivery boy and she was taking out the trash, and another time when you were leaving for work and she was arriving from whatever she'd spent the night before, looking a little woozy as she tried (and failed) to unlock her apartment door.

Carrying your backpack on your shoulders, your elbows tucked into your ribs and both your hands raised, squeezing the outline of your fingers adorned by a handful of silver rings through the dark straps. You walk in measure with Yelena's footsteps, who treads to your right, dressed in a stylish yellow flannel coat crisscrossed with gray and white stripes, and Kate Bishop, the tall girl with dark hair tied back from the of her head, who comes close to your left shoulder – the three of you heading towards the classroom befitting your third period Wednesday schedule.

“Man, I can't believe Nat actually became a cop,” is what Kate says in an indignant tone, addressed to Yelena.

“I mean, like, she's your sister, you know? And you’re so– so, so politically engaged! Besides, you are Russians, you should know about these things! Isn't your dad like, an anti-cops die-hard communist or something?”

“That literally says absolutely nothing,” Yelena answers her crookedly, wrinkling the skin on her nose, “Your mom is a goddamn CEO and yet you don't see me charging you about all the capitalist shit she does in her office.”

“But is different!” Kate exclaims back, almost offended, “My mom isn't like, that Howard Stark guy or something. She's just—”

“Rich,” spits the blonde girl, “She’s rich. She’s filthy rich. So yeah, she's kinda like him.”

“It’s different!”

“It's no different, Kate, I'm sorry,” you finally say to the girl in the purple blouse and ripped gray jeans, who just grunts in a pained, giving up response.

But it's when you turn the corner of a hallway that Kate turns to you with a certain air of curiosity that hovers over her actions.

“But hey Y/N,” she calls your name, and you turn your head towards her deep-brown eyes, “Is it true?”

“What exactly is true, Kate?” you blink in confusion towards her.

“That a crazy ex of yours moved in next door to you.”

One of your eyebrows rises in dubious ambiguity. You don't remember saying anything to Kate concerning Wanda, nor your disastrous relationship with the said Sokovian girl.

“How...?” but your train of thought soon traces towards Yelena, your confidant who lately is so close to Kate, who is also unnaturally quiet beside you, “Wait, did you tell her, Yelena?!”

“W-what? Sooner or later she would find out about it!” as the blonde girl shrugs her shoulders into the fabric of her yellow coat, you let a disgruntled grunt escape your lips.

Great, you allow yourself to think in an exhausted mindset, that's just great. What you most needed now is for people to know about your intimate life.

Not that the young Bishop heiress isn't a dear friend of yours, but it just so happens that you've only met her a few months ago, and it's not customary for you to open your heart to someone you're not so close to – for example, Yelena herself, who you've known for almost two years only became a close figure of your in the last eight months or so spent in each other’s company.

“I mean, everybody kinda knows that now...”

Kate says in a tiny voice, but it's not low enough to go unnoticed by your hearing or, for that matter, even by Yelena's ears, who scolds the other girl, exasperating a loud “Dude!” that echoes through the entire hall.

Your hands certainly yearn to strangle your friend in the coat who walks close to your right shoulder, to squeeze her neck which is adorned by thin and stylish chains in a good taste for fashion, but your fingers are content to just hold on enfolding the backpack straps that circle your shoulders, as your chin turns toward Yelena.

“Who else did you tell it to, huh?” but when the silence is lasting, your patience that is already running short insists on pressing the girl with the white backpack, “Who else knows about it, Yelena?”

“Well,” she starts, a little embarrassed, a little hesitant.

“Like, first of all, in my defense, it's not my fault you're an antisocial weirdo who doesn't go out to drink with us! But you know how it is, we went out with Natasha and Peter and Kamala this weekend and we went to this Irish pub that I keep saying you'll like, and I may or may not have had a shot or two more than the usual and, well... they started asking about you, well... and shit happens.”

“Shit happens,” you repeat in a half-tired, half-incredulous tone of voice, “Shit happens, sure.”

“Sure,” she repeats, before quickly adding a few more names to the list, “I mean, that Quill guy from the football team showed up with his girlfriend too, and Carol arrived later with Maria and Darcy, and then one of them called Jane and Brunnhilde, and then—”

“Ugh, okay, I get it, please don't continue,” you grunt, squeezing your eyelids together in pain, suddenly feeling several eyes turning to you as you cross the hall on a walk of shame, “Everyone knows.”

“Yeah, kinda everyone knows, yeah,” Yelena's tone is soaked in contrite agreement, and she shrugs her shoulders that carry the straps of her white backpack, “Sorry, dude.”

“No, it's okay,” you force plastic optimism out of your mouth, imagining that if you say it out loud the words will come true, “Everything's perfectly fine.”

Over their shoulders, Kate and Yelena exchange a worried glance.

But a few minutes pass after such a conversation had passed through the halls of the university with the other two girls dressed in the yellow coat and the purple jacket, and you can barely get your brain to focus on the mental activity of understanding the words uttered by Ms. Harkness's mouth, who dramatically cries out to the entire class of thirty or forty students as she gestures in a Shakespearean manner with her hands, waving her thick, long brown hair back and forth as she does – she was always a dramatic type, despite her genuine sympathy for students of her liking.

And even later that day is when you find yourself in the cafeteria's bathroom, rinsing the soap foam that lathers your palms under running tap water, when the door of a booth on your right opens, and you hadn't even realized there was anyone else there but yourself.

And your rib bones feel like they want to rip through the tissue in your lungs as you look up from the sink, only to realize that the figure in the open red sweatshirt and black miniskirt is Wanda, heading for a sink next to the left to the one you use to then squeak the record between her fingers and start the action of washing her own hands of matte black enamel nails.

You just want to blink and realize that it's an illusion, a mirage, a product of your twisted mind that hasn't been sleeping well and that you're certainly thinking too much about her, who is now your neighbor.

But she doesn't go away even as your eyelids open and close, once, twice, three times, and a hot, tangled thread rises from the muscle of your shoulders to the outline of your neck, crisscrossing your cheekbones and the tips of your ears.

The prickly anger that bristles your skin is like a hard, prickly grip around your throat, and a lump of flesh and gall weaves inside your larynx. The tips of your clipped nails scratch the palm of your left hand a little harder than necessary; the girl standing next to you is like a spark, and you are like a haystack.

And the ember burns loudly, almost even emanating smoke from the top of your head, as the melodiously unassuming voice in her usual low pitch echoes through the floor and the tiled walls.

“There's been word out there that your crazy ex moved in next door to you, did you know?” says Wanda, still looking at her wet, soapy hands.

You try to bite the words before they come out, but it's inevitable that you'll respond in the same tone.

“And what are you even doing here to begin with, huh? Have you become a stalker or something? That's kinda sad, even for you.”

And she half-laughs, which causes the blood in your body to leak to your head, but also to other rather unwanted locations in your lower organs.

“People have the right to study at this university. It's not all about you, Y/N,” you rub your hands together harder, “I mean, unless it's about your crazy ex. Then I think it's about you like, for real.”

And your tongue is quicker to rise to the roof of your mouth than your brain is to censor whatever it is you're about to regurgitate in the form of an insult, when the quick response comes in a reactionary backhand to the girl with the jacket of a deep shade of red like wine.

“Well, those rumors aren't even true. Because, you know, to have a crazy ex-girlfriend I would need to have had an official, public relationship, and as far as I can remember, I've never had that with anyone,” your saliva is bitter between your teeth, “So I don't think I need to worry about these rumors. It’s just gossip that everyone will eventually forget, anyways.”

You turn off the faucet on your use and Wanda does the same to hers, but neither of you moves to dry your hands or even head out of the bathroom. She looks at you instead, but you only find your own exhausted eyes in your reflection in front of the mirror placed on the wall in front of you.

“So you didn't have anyone,” Wanda says, her emerald irises fixedly contouring your jawbone, “After me.”

The thread of anger stretches from your stomach to your heart, and you still don't look at her as your curled fingers grip the oval edges of the white porcelain sink. She doesn't deserve satisfaction from you; after all, if you were never officially a couple, if there was never a title before the promise, it's all her fault, it fell on her, it starts and ends with her.

“That's literally none of your business,” you mutter under your breath, but you kind of hesitate a bit as she takes a step toward you in her biker boots that wrap around her ankles clad in a pair of black high tights.

“You didn't have anyone after me. Besides me. Did you, Y/N?”

And you turn your nose towards her, only to find a pair of verdant irises that lie dark as moss, a kind of possession that weaves through the abyssal dark puddles that are her dilated pupils, and the black smoky eyeshadow makes her retinas glow like two gemstones reflected by a beam of light in a darkened room.

Wanda is like a black hole that draws you into a dangerous magnetism, engulfing you like a supernova explosion.

And something primal inside of you kind of likes that, kind of craves for it, for her monopoly over you, for the exclusivity that's been maintained since the last time you two saw each other, three years ago, back in your hometown. Secretly you wonder if she hasn't had anyone else after you either, and you kind of hope the answer is a big fat no.

After all, if you're still hers, she's still yours too.

“Has anyone else ever touched you like I did?”

You swallow hard, the inside of your throat hardening when as close to her as you are, your shoulders deflating a little into your dark sweatshirt as the scent of strawberry moisturizer and toasted tobacco clogs up your nostrils, spilling Wanda's red into your bloodstream. She looks like an animal ready to devour you and you're not sure if you're going to let her do it or not, but you tend to think that yes, you will.

“Has anyone else licked you on the corner of your mouth before actually kissing you, because they know it turns you on?”

You swallow the still air in your throat.

“Did anyone else run their hands down the sides of your neck before holding your hair?”

She takes a step toward you, and you take another step back.

“Has anyone else,” her voice is a low, dangerous whisper, “Bitten the side of your rib before they went down on you? With their tongue slow and soft at first and accelerating as your moans get more desperate when you ask for more?”

You want to kiss her. Your hands tingle to cup the sides of her jaw and pull her face down so your lips meet in midair, and she kisses you the way she knows you like. As you've done before, as she once wanted. But then you remember why you hate her as much as you want to kiss her, and it's like a reality check. And a new gust of angry air ignites inside your chest.

“It's none of your business, Wanda,” you finally say through gritted teeth, steadying the bridge that connects your intense gazes. You are annoyed and turned on, and you just know that she will always be your undoing.

“And I don't owe you any fucking satisfaction. I don't need to remind you that it was you who broke up with me via texts, do I? You're the one who dumped me, not the other way around. I don't owe you shit.”

A guilty hesitation crosses her gaze, which taking slashes of blame, quickly turns away from you to stare at the sink pipe on the right side of your hip; Wanda seems to shrink a little, wilting, squeezing the folds of her ringed fingers through the single strap of the crossbody bag that spills down her torso.

“That’s not true, Y/N, I… I– I didn’t…” she muss, in a low voice soaked in massive regret, stepping back a step, “It’s not like that, you just… you don't… you don’t understand–”

“I don't understand what, huh, Wanda? I don’t understand what?!"

Your voice rises an octave, and something stuck inside you for the past two years, like a bottle of champagne that pops a cork, just starts to flow, pouring out of your chest in a loud, painful confession and just so, so purely angry.

“That you got tired of playing with my feelings and decided to finally be the perfect little girl your father wanted you to be? That you decided to pose as a straight girl for one night, hanging on that jerk Jarvis' arm to be the perfect couple with a bright future after graduation? That all our plans, our confessions, our dreams were nothing but a hobby for you, a toy to play until you got sick of me and threw me away when you just felt like it?”

She looks on the verge of tears, her waterline glistening in crystalline pools of liquid embarrassment and her bottom lip threatening to quiver, and you barely notice when hot strands of bottled up feelings begin to leak down your cheeks, dripping towards the contour of your chin.

“Because if that's what I don't understand, then yeah, I really don't. I don't understand how you had the courage to be so coward to hurt me and break my heart in that mean way, when the only thing I ever did for you was take you in, Wanda! I took care of you! I listened to you, I dedicated myself to you, I gave you my heart, I fucking loved you! And that's how you repaid me, because you're a walking fucking problem and nothing will ever, ever satisfy you!"

And there's a sharp, deafening silence that follows after that, rumbling in your eardrums. And a veil of reality falls both over you and her; after all, whether indirectly or not, at no time had you confessed to Wanda that in a way, even with the immaturity worthy of late adolescence, you loved her as much as was possible at that time.

She looks hurt by your words, her eyes a gloomy, sad green, her hands tightening on the strap of her bag. And even if you've spent three long years believing that you really wanted to harm her, once you've done it, you don't feel the way you should. It's not satisfactory at all, because it hurts you too. It hurts so, so much.

“Y/N...” she whispers, but there's nothing more to say after that, so your name just hangs and dies in the air around her.

You pant, inflating and deflating heavily with your chest as if you've just run the course of a long marathon. And she looks at you like a shy child who's done something stupid, and it only takes one blink for a drop of black makeup to run down her pale, sharp cheekbones, the green of the irises now as bright as the grass in the spring pastures or in Botticellian paintings.

Her tearful face should feel like your masterpiece, not your leading lament.

“Wanda, I…” you whisper, wanting to say something you don't know, wanting to undo what you've already done, “I... I didn't mean..."

She seems to take a gulp of air to part her peachy lips and start a whole new sentence when the bathroom entrance door opens and an agitated group of chatty girls enters, oblivious to the heavy atmosphere established between you and Wanda. You look at her who doesn't look at you.

With the back of your hand, you quickly sweep the tears away from your own cheeks. And, picking up your backpack that is on the floor, placed next to the sink, you brush past Wanda and head towards the door without saying another word to the young lady in the red sweatshirt, who looks just as broken as you do.

All you have to do is turn one corner to the thick tears begin to pour down the warm skin of your face.

ᗢ

The movement of warm-weather morning firstfruits is a little slow, even still, with the occasional businessperson in a suit or tired student stopping by to enter the store before the clock strikes nine in the morning, to resort to the necessary high doses of caffeine and only then can start their day with a temporary and bogus simulation of a burst of energy.

And it's when Yelena says something about needing to use the restroom, when there's no customer to attend to or even a soul sitting at the tables just to use the free WiFi, that you decide that checking a few emails in your phone's inbox will do no harm to your start of the day.

After all, you've already scrubbed the damn mop on the floor so much that the linoleum now looks like a mirror under your feet, and you've changed three times the napkins that didn't really need to be discarded and changed.

And you know well that you did, though, to take your mind away from the memory of the night before; of the loud, heavy music blasting through the dividing wall of your room with Wanda's, in a failed attempt to stifle the sobbing cry of the neighbor apartment, who kept your brain alert throughout the night, until tiredness won over by the fatigue of your muscles (or maybe her muscles first), allowing the both of you, so close and yet so far away, to fall asleep together, at the same time, each thinking of the other as you lost consciousness.

A few minutes pass, however, before the distinctive tinkling of the small bell above the front door engulfs your attention away from your cellphone screen, and your rehearsed speech of welcome comes almost as an involuntary response that fills your mouth, before the most genuine of smiles slip through the pulp of your lips as braided ginger hair comes into your field of view, clasped in a heavy, handsome leather jacket.

“Nat, hi!” you greet her, Yelena's older sister, and she smirks as she walks toward you from across the counter.

You always liked her and she always liked you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Natasha looks around as if scanning the area, before turning her piercing green gaze back to your face, never missing the tiny smile on her full lips, hands shoved in the back pockets of the dark jeans that she wears around her toned legs.

 “Yelena left you here to deal with those grumpy people all alone, huh? That suck. Guess I'm gonna have to rap her knuckles for a change.”

“Nah, it’s okay. She went to the restroom,” you smile, “I guess.”

“You guess, huh?” Natasha raises an orange brow, “Well, it must have been. She was never good at holding her bladder, you know? I mean, seriously, there was this time when we were kids back in Ohio where she was playing on the slide and then my mom—”

“Hey, don't you even dare to start it!” Yelena's voice comes from the back in a protesting exclamation, before the young blonde girl appears, tying her leaf-green apron around her waist.

“And may I know what you're doing here, huh? Don't you have, like, cop stuff to do around, officer? There must be some kitten stuck in a tree in Central Park or some sucker in a manhole in need of help.”

“I think this is a fire department thing,” you comment, and in return Yelena blinks in disbelief in your direction.

And the older sister lets out a lame giggle through her nose, expelling a gust of warm air through her nostrils.

“I was passing by and I decided to come around just to annoy you, 'Lena” says Natasha, half-laughing, prompting a roll of the eyes on the part of the youngest sister, “But I'll take the opportunity to ask Y/N to make me an espresso. You know, her coffee is really good.”

And when Natasha's voluptuous gaze falls on you, the corner of her lips twitching a little, there's a pang that nudges your stomach and makes your lungs inflate and deflate with warm air evaporating off your skin.

Natasha is a few years older than you (and therefore also more experienced), and you are well aware that she is a very stunning woman, who is constantly enveloped in a simple aura of sensuality, which spontaneous flirtation seems to be like a second nature to her. And it feels good, it's really warming to know that someone like her looks at someone like you in such a way. Even if, deep down, your brain is aware that your heart doesn't beat for her, and never will.

“For God's sake Natasha, the coffee is made by a damn machine, literally every time it's the same thing,” Yelena mutters crookedly under her grumpy breath, “Just get a room, damn it, this is a public place.”

“Come on, 'Lena, you don't need to be jealous,” and you know it's now nothing more than a sibling bickering, a healthy petulance that ends up trapping you in the middle of the situation that leans towards comic, “You're the lucky one who has to see Y/N every day, not me.”

And you take it easy, barely able to suppress a round of giggles when Yelena looks like she wants to jump over the counter and kick her sister in the face.

“Listen, get the hell out of here, go away! Go! Go! Go! You're not getting no fucking coffee anymore—!”

But the entrance bell jingles a second time as the glass door opens and someone enters the establishment.

And the second time is worse than the first, because all you need to do is glance over Natasha's left shoulder and a pair of emerald eyes other than the rookie cop's eyes connect with yours, like a knot tied in mid-air, two magnets that attract and repel each other. The soft smile plastered on your lips begins to fade and then disappears into a dry line and a wisp of skin between your brows.

And you just can't believe it's Wanda who's there, like an obsessive spirit or even an obsessed stalker, even though your apartment is just a block away from the coffeeshop, even though there's a cozy bookstore across the street and, if you hadn't paid so much attention to Natasha, you would have noticed the blood-red dress, so delicate against the imposing black jacket; the clothes dressed in the familiar silhouette that had entered the store on the sidewalk opposite your work environment.

“Such a psycho…” Yelena muss for only Natasha to hear, but you do the same and believe Wanda does too, because she looks hesitant as she gazes at your uniformed friend, standing beside you behind the counter.

You blink, and so does Wanda, still standing in the doorway.

The atmosphere that sets in is palpable, and the two sisters, then aware of your unfortunate situation with your neighbor-ex-girlfriend-not-really-a-girlfriend, exchange looks that only two people with a connection like theirs can exchange.

And then, you turn your stiff shoulders toward the coffee machine, stepping away from the compact glass counter, “I–I'll make your espresso, Nat.”

The clatter of the machine seems to be deafening when the silence is thick and even the sound of a penny falling to the floor would echo through the entire store, and the sudden sour smell of coffee sends your stomach into a wave of nausea you don't quite know where it's coming from, but it's here to stay and, in such a way, you feel like you want to cry.

The acerbic regret of harming her still eats you into your muscles and your bones.

Fitting the lid on the tall clear plastic glass, you place the drink across the face of the counter, in front of Natasha, who gives you a complacent look, in a green so different from the green that stares at you from behind her.

“Here it is,” you say in a rather mechanical voice.

Natasha takes her wallet from the back pocket of her tight dark jeans and places a bill that exceeds the stipulated amount next to the glass, holding you back with her hand when you get her the change. Everything is very vague, and the cozy, playful aura that once enveloped the three of you left the store as soon as Wanda opened that door.

“See you later, sis,” Natasha says to Yelena, who stares at Wanda like an angry guard dog, before turning back to you, “And you… take care, honey.”

There's a deliberately deferred squeeze of the red-haired woman's hand by the delineation of your own fingers caged in rings, and even as Natasha turns onto her back, her single long red braid slipping between her shoulder blades hidden inside her leather jacket, pouring along her spine, you know she shoots a hard look at Wanda, who flinches as she passes close to her shoulder – even though the two of them have never touched, it’s as if Natasha has bumped her shoulder against Wanda’s.

The temperature seems to drop, and the Sokovian girl takes a step forward, toward the counter – her dark hair looks beautiful even in a messy bun on top of her head, and you really have to hold back before uttering that compliment out loud. She doesn't seem to be sleeping well, and even layers of dark makeup can't hide the bags under her tired eyes. You thought it would bring you some kind of comfort, but really you just want to hug her.

"Can I help you?" Yelena is the one who takes the initiative, even if her hard tone doesn't at all befit the implications of her rehearsed store clerk phrase.

"I..." Wanda starts, opens her mouth, closes it for a second and then opens it again, "I was going to order an iced tea, but now I... I... Y/N," she then looks at you, “Can I talk to you? Please."

No, you want to say, not at all. I'm ashamed that I said those things to you. But Wanda's gaze is as intense as Yelena's. And you let out a lame sigh, squinting in disbelief towards your own thoughtless actions, before turning to your coworker who is next to your left shoulder.

Fuck it.

“I'm gonna… I'm gonna take a break,” you announce, before returning your gaze to Wanda, who seems to hide gratification beneath the hesitation in her eyes.

Yelena, on the other hand, seems pretty discredited with your words.

“Dude, it's like eight-thirty in the morning,” she reminds you, “And you're going to spend your break time with… this?”

The tone is displeased as she looks at your ex high school sweetheart, who then just looks away. You just shake your head in embarrassment.

“Yelena, please, just… please,” you look nonsensically tired at the young blonde in uniform, “Not now.”

And Yelena looks like she wants to say something, but she stops before she does, because looking from you to Wanda, two restless spirits, two broken bodies, she understands. Something about her understands, even if she doesn't like what she understands. And she shakes her head, following your figure that goes around the counter after untying your apron and, shadowing Wanda closely, just leaves the store behind you.

The bell jingles up from the door.

ᗢ

Leaning against the brick wall of the alley beside the cafeteria, a cigarette smoldering in its blazing tip, breathing in puffs of smoke, Wanda stares silently at her own feet—her faux-leather boots dark, tall, and worn. You, leaning against the damp wall opposite the one she leans in, watch her and look away every time she tries to engage her eyes with yours. It's like a game where whoever speaks first loses, and you and Wanda are just too competitive to let go.

You know there's no need to wonder why Wanda's sudden arrival has upset you so much, still a little remorseful for your explosive outburst in the university restroom as you are; but even as displeased as you claim to be to yourself, you also feel, in a way, happy and exultant, a comfortable lull warming the inside of your chest that you kind of really try to fight against, but it's a losing battle and you know it.

And, as engrossed in your own head as you are, you don't even notice the red specter that, like the devil himself, looks your way as if she might rip your soul out of your chest, the strawberry scent wafting through the alley with cigarettes that only Wanda Maximoff can squander.

With your hands tucked into the back pockets of your dark jeans, you just say nothing towards her.

“Do you... want a cigarette?”

Her voice catches your attention, but for a few seconds, you find yourself bereft of words that are capable of responding to it. When you lift your chin to look at her, though, both of your dark gazes are linked together in a single train of thought, Wanda too hesitant, you too uncertain.

She, with dark makeup, has the nicotine stick between the pulps of her profuse lips, and you watch her through the whole process that unfolds through her smoking the cigarette; you notice when her mouth is parted to receive the smoke, revealing flashes of white, opalescent teeth, and you also notice how a thin bed of glossy gloss ends up smearing the yellow filter, like a midnight kiss exchanged before imminent death.

Wanda blinks playfully at you, still waiting for an answer, her lepidopteran eyelashes fluttering in mascara, before leaning her head toward your gaze. Her sudden proximity shooting lightning bolts to your stomach, because now the alley seems so tight and her soft skin feels so touchable.

You stare at her for a few seconds, pupils dilated in a vortex of darkness, before shaking your head as you move your neck from side to side.

The thick smoke leaves Wanda's peach lips not long after you do. And then you remember doing it with her, cigarette after cigarette, between kisses and touches, the moans engulfed by dawn in the dark corners of Westview, where no prying eye could have realized that you loved Wanda Maximoff.

“No, thanks,” you raise your right hand hesitantly, “I stopped a while ago. I was starting to run out of breath to just walk up the stairs.”

You think she knows that you only started, years ago, because of her, in order to impress her, to be able to approach her the night you visited her house because of Pietro and, not knowing how to properly initiate a conversation with a pretty girl, you asked for a cigarette because you once saw her smoking behind the bleachers; she knows you never liked the taste and that you coughed more than you held the noxious smoke into your lungs and lied that you liked it, prompting an avid wave of laughter from her.

Then she shrugs, resolving to herself that she won't press the point. For a few minutes, present is the silence erected between you like a massive wall. Wanda puff on her cigarette, and after that, you sigh.

“You wouldn't order iced tea,” you say in a neutralized voice, “You've seen me in uniform before, in the hallway. You know I work there.”

And she kind of laughs, unsurprised, through thick cigarette smoke.

"Well, I do. But I really want an iced tea, just so you know,” there's an air of good humor in her speech, even as her icy eyes gaze at the floor between her boots.

The silence descends again for half a second, until it's pierced once more by you.

“I'm sorry, by the way,” is a semi-whisper that crosses the alley, “For the things I said to you in the bathroom that day. Or the things people are saying around about you. It's been a while since all that shit happened and it's not… it's not fair that you're being held accountable for this teenage bullshit. Breakups... breakups happen, I guess. You weren't obligated to stay with me.”

She looks at you, her eyes glowing the color of guilt-ridden jade.

“But I didn't have to break up with you in such a shitty way, also,” and then, a sigh comes in a cage of smoke, “I… I think I deserve some of your treatment. I'm the one who should apologize. It was stupid of me, it wasn’t… it wasn't right what I did to you, Y/N.”

You compress your lips into a line because you know it's true, but you don't want to start a new intrigue right after finishing another one.

“Well, you could have done it any number of ways that would have been better, in fact,” you shrug, “But we were seventeen, Wanda. I was an idiot, you were an idiot. And I understand it was hard for you, you know… with Erik, and stuff.”

The mention of her father's name seems to make her shift uncomfortably in her clothes, the dark jacket that covers the short dress of reddish fabric seeming abruptly cramped and exposed as she seems to shrink in on herself, lifting the walls that have kept you away. And then she smokes, closing her eyes, like she used to when he made her cry.

You see the smoke coming in and out of her pearly mouth, and you feel kind of nostalgic to see her like this, so vulnerable and transparent, feeling everything but saying nothing.

“Yeah, it was really hard,” there's an eerie tone that creeps into her voice, the moss green of her gaze seeming to carry a baleful hue, “But it wasn't fair that I just threw all that shit at your back every time that I was sad. But… that's in the past, right? It's no longer a problem I have to deal with, let alone you."

And she doesn't seem to want to talk about it anymore, so you don't bring it up again. A car passes on the street and a dog barks at a bicycle rider. When the cigarette she smokes finally runs out, she stubs out the butt against the brick wall and lets a limp sigh escape her nose.

“I think I'll go home now… I don't want to take your break time anymore,” and she smiles, albeit minimally, “Your tired face on me is starting to make me feel guilty.”

“Does that mean you're going to stop listening to Deftones all night long? Because that’s kinda depressing,” the air of laughter doesn't escape you, and she shyly lets the smile grow on the contour of her lips.

“Well… at first it wasn't on purpose, but then I just kind of kept doing it to get your attention,” she scrunches with the skin of her nose, “On second thought, it wasn't my best idea. Sorry about that. It was a stupid thing to do.”

“Fine,” you smile small, even if that still won't make your morning tiredness go away entirely, “I'll charge you more for your iced tea and then we'll call it even, Maximoff.”

“Are you still going to get me an iced tea?” Wanda looks in your direction and, a little awkwardly, you nod.

“You want one, don't you?” you look at her, “Still like black tea with lemonade?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “Yeah, I do.”

ᗢ

The taut muscular tension radiating from the top of your spine fades along with the heavy bags of skin under your eyes, and the days gone by become bearable, even pleasant, as the weeks that follow as a result of the conversation and the apologies exchanged between you and Wanda.

In part, of course, you suppose your light mood is related to the fact that there is no longer a sound of drums and guitars that seems to want to breach your bedroom wall, once sleep is invited back to inhabit your bedding, cradling you in a necessary embrace that is only undone again when Loki bites your foot because he's hungry in the middle of the night. As if the recurring spark igniting within your filled chest could even be overlooked, anyway.

You then have the luxury of unconcernedly greeting Wanda with an exchange of affable smiles for the expected times you bump into each other in the hallway of the apartment complex you live in or the campus of the university where you both study, and now and then she goes to the coffeeshop where you work during her free time in the afternoons, carrying with her some excuse to buy an iced black tea with lemonade to sip along a classic book you know she likes to read.

“Hey sucker, you're drooling. Stop looking before I report you for public nuisance.”

Yelena mutters beside you as you find yourself staring at the girl in the black miniskirt sitting so charmingly at the table in front of the cashier, who then looks at you in a splash of emerald-green irises over the top of the hardcover book, allowing herself to hide a slight smile behind the full pages.

The skin on your cheeks and the tips of your ears glows in deep pinks when you tell your co-worker to “shut the fuck up”, because you just know there's no way to look away from Wanda's pale, exposed thighs that are draped over each other down the table – her kneecaps slightly turned toward you, almost as if purposefully put in that position just for you to look at.

One night when you came in from yet another extra shift at work, Wanda was having a hard time getting the key in her door while she had bags slung all over her forearm extensions, and you immediately helped her carry the groceries into her house, being then rewarded with a can of cherry Coke (her preferred drink), and a small peck ghosted on your left cheek that felt like an electrical charge against your epidermis, stirring something up inside you.

You exchanged your phone numbers later when you asked her to feed Loki for another extra shift and gave her your spare apartment key to do so.

Yelena, of course, made fun of you for grinning so kindheartedly when the notification came in for a photo of Wanda holding Loki against her lap like a grumpy little baby, but you just didn't bother to care about your best friend's continuous teasing that went on until late of the night. The following afternoon, Wanda sat with her tray on the table with you, the Belova girl and Kate during your lunch period at the cafeteria.

“Oh yeah, Y/N was part of the debate club when we were in high school,” she says with her cheek resting on her open right palm, prompting a good-natured eye roll on your part, “It was cute.”

“I bet it was, indeed,” Yelena replies, in a voice filled with hints of mockery, her mouth full of chewed apple, “So cute, little Y/N!”

“Dude, just shut up,” you grumble awkwardly from behind your glass of orange juice.

“I bet you guys were a really cute couple though,” but when Kate says that, drinking from the straw of her grape juice box, the atmosphere around the table is a little weird.

You and Wanda look at each other, and it even amazes you when you see that she can't help but express a reserved smile that goes far back, back to her adolescence.

The succeeding weekend, when Pietro came to the big city to visit his sister, he didn't accept less than a drunken company in your presence, which, according to him, would bring back the flame of the good old days; and it was late into the night, when the young boy in the bluish blouse (the brown roots of his hair sampled in the strain of dyed gray locks, cut short) pointed an accusing drunken left finger that trekked from you to Wanda and from Wanda to you.

“You know, it's a shame you two never dated back in high school,” he grumbles, before tucking the neck of his beer bottle between his parched lips, “I always thought you guys were, like, super alike. And Wanda kept saying she thought you were super hot, Y/N, seriously, it was super annoying!”

There's an incredulous grunt on the part of the twin girl with the creased brow and gauchely twisted mouth, who's sitting opposite her brother's, as she spits the cigarette smoke out of her nostrils instead of down to her lungs, tapping the ashes into a hard ruby-color metal ashtray placed in the center of the coffee table in front of you, amidst a heap of several empty beer bottles and leftover bread, hamburger and fries, the junk food now all cold and withered.

“Shut up, Pietro!”

Her voice is loud as the shyness that rises red across her pale cheeks, making her look younger and more innocent behind the dark makeup and lank hair. And you, sitting like a physical barrier founded between the pair of siblings, just take a sip of your own cold beer, sinking your body a little deeper into the dark linen sofa that smells like Wanda.

“Come on, Wanda, you’re always nagging that you're gonna die alone or whatever that emo shit you keep saying, so date Y/N instead! She's a great catch!”

“Pietro, I swear to God that I actually will fucking murder you.”

She looks like she's going to explode. It's almost funny in a certain way, but you don't allow yourself to laugh, so you just drink more and more of your beer.

“Y/N,” he moves to you in a drawl and, in a silence that connects your mouth to the mouth of the bottle, your hooded gaze turns to the boy’s piercing blue eyes, “Date Wanda. C’mon, date her! I know your type, I know you have a taste for edgy girls–”

“Seriously, just shut the fuck up!” thunders the younger sister, who is promptly snubbed by the older brother.

“Don't act like it's not true, Wanda! Back home it was always “oh, but Y/N is so pretty”, “Y/N is so cool”, “Y/N's sneakers are stylish”, “Y/N eyes are so–”

But before Pietro can continue in a monologue about his sister and how much she always noticed you, his speech is interrupted by a pillow of reddish fabric that flies close to the tip of your nose only to then crash into his forehead, causing him to spill beer all over his shorts.

But it's a few days later, maybe another weekend or the start of another Monday, that Wanda's wide television, which flashed on her screen an old black-and-white American sitcom that you know is to her taste (who appreciates classic literature and old series, nostalgic for a time when she never lived, something she says came from her mother) is the only thing that clutters the apartment like some source of light or sound, which meet the two of you, both of you snuggled up on her dark beer-stained couch.

You don't have anything to say to each other, but even so, the atmosphere is comfortable and domestic because Wanda, with a sudden abundance of coziness surging into her bubbling core, has her head exhaling the scents of freshly washed hair reclining on your shoulder, your arm in outline of her body pulling her close to your right side, chuckling along with her in innocent humor when some goofy character trips over a piece of furniture or a banana peel.

On the coffee table are a couple of cans of Cherry Coke and an empty red ashtray. You don't know when you two ended up like this, but there's no complaint on your part, and certainly not hers either.

When an alacrity chuckle escapes through the parted crack of her lips, her scalp approaches the underside of your nose and you feel the sweet aroma of strawberry shampoo, which is enveloped in a full-bodied cigarette smell that causes a wave of nostalgic clamor disperses through your bloodstream.

And she knows you like it, because her fingers curl against the hem of the blouse you're wearing on your hunched body on the couch, nails tinted in a sober black nail polish deferring a continuous, circular caress against your lower belly, close to your belly button, dangerously close to the zip of your pants.

“Y/N,” she calls out to you, in a low voice that comes with a background of laughter from an old-time television audience, “Did you really love me back then?”

You look at Wanda, whose head has slipped to fall to your chest, in the warm embrace in which you have captured her. She looks up, now bare of her makeup, in a modest shade of green that shines in the black-and-white lighting that radiates from the television. And in that bonded midair, with the sting of her gaze burning into your irises, you move your chin up and down, never dissolving the bond that you've built.

“Yes,” is a sigh, “Yes, there was a time when… when I loved you. When I really loved you.”

You say, as if you still don't love her. As if you wouldn't be able to break your own bones only to have her there again, lying in the comfort of your arms that salute so much for the outline of the warmth of her body glistening the red color against your bristling chest.

Wanda, for her part, stops with the deferred caress against your lower stomach, shifting her watchful gaze toward the glowing television screen.

“I loved you too, you know,” her body moves closer to yours, “I really loved you back then.”

"Then… why?" your speech can't help but emulate the reactionary question, which comes like thunder, hitting the back of your throat, "If you loved me, then why...?"

Her muscles, even beneath the rock band shirt she wears and the black miniskirt that adorns her hips, strain against you. She knows it's about the prom night, about the abandonment. Your tone isn't furious, but rather, just infested with a genuine curiosity that turns out to have a background in faded hurt.

“Those people,” she mutters between ragged breaths, “The rumors… he would have known. Erik, he… he would have known.”

“We were going to get out of that town, Wanda,” your voice is low against the top of her ear, “I had nothing else to worry about. I didn't care if any of those bastards were going to judge us—”

“It's not about the judgment, Y/N,” she interrupts you, her voice a whisper, after an empty, unfunny chuckle, “Fuck, I couldn't care less if someone was going to judge us. It's not like no one ever judged me for the trouble I got myself into or the shit I did back then, anyways."

And yes, she has a point. If there was anyone at Westview High who would be regarded as the black sheep, a hopeless cause, it would indeed be a young Wanda Maximoff. And then, your frown creases across your forehead. You don't know where she's going with this information that is nothing short of new to you, but you are willing to listen.

“It's just… I told Erik about you. Well, about you and me. On prom day,” your stomach drops as your grip increases the deferred pressure on her left bicep, through the cotton of her shirt, “And then that idiot hit me.”

Her laughter is not matched by yours. A sudden fury that takes over your bones makes you want to punch Erike Lehnsherr in his damn jaw. Wanda has always been the keeper of a sour humor, drinking from sources of cynicism, but this time you weren't able to escort her into a bittersweet joke.

“And I found out that stupid Pietro opened his big mouth and talked about your acceptance letter from NYU,” your gaze falls to the top of her dark-haired head, “And it turns out he had an influential acquaintance inside there. Do you know Professor Charles Xavier?”

“The bald guy who’s always wearing that ugly suit?” you ask, and Wanda nods, between another chuckle. The barely perceptible flicker falling over it indicates an onset of suppressed crying you've seen before.

“Erik, he,” she sniffles, “He said he was going to end your life. And I always knew, I– you wanted so badly to get out of that town, Y/N. You spent that last year studying so hard, you worked so hard for that damn letter… I couldn't let him get away with it, with everything you've worked so hard to achieve. It was your dream, I couldn't, I—”

She gasps against your shirt, in a greedy wave of painful sobs that feel like they want to shatter the bones in her shoulders. And you hold her when she cries, when she breaks down into tears that seem incessant, just like you did before, in your bed at night or in the cold of dawn inside your archaic old car given to you by your father. Even if you also wanted to burst into a painful cry. Even if you want to apologize for all the harm you've caused her in retaliation produced by the bastard who fathered her.

And you see her as you saw her before; just a broken girl in the world, the daughter of someone who didn't deserve to have her in his life.

“I–I just miss my mom so much,” she cries against your chest, sounding so young, so innocent, and so shattered.

You hold her until she sheds all her tears, when the crying subsides, and she begins to wheeze loudly in weary sleep against your chest. It's only then that you allow yourself to cry silently against her hair which, even after so many cigarettes smoked, still manages to smell so good. And you cry for what you did and what you didn't do either.

The bright sun of the pale of the next dawn comes to shine in the middle of the celestial field, somewhat immodic during that particular warm day, in the middle of a sultry and sunny climate.

The wide-open window causes golden slivers of sunlight to warm the top of your cheek, and when your brain finally wakes up, blinking the sleep out of your eyelashes, you feel along with the morning a look burning on your face. And when your eyelids open, it's to reveal Wanda's slightly puffy face in front of you; her eyes half red and puffy from the crying that had put her to sleep, her chin balanced on your chest.

She's lying on top of you, her legs tucked between yours.

“You woke up,” she whispers, like a little child. You smile, still lethargic from the recent sleep in your system.

“I woke up, indeed.”

“Are you okay?” Her tone is curious, full of meaning. A gust of warm air blows between your nostrils, close to her nose that almost touches yours.

"I am. Yes, I am. Are you? What time is it?”

“Early. And yes, I am,” and then, her gaze drops to the line of your lips, “I'm sorry, but I really want to kiss you right now.”

Something burns inside you.

“I really want to kiss you now too, Wanda.”

 And then Wanda dives toward you, grabbing the sides of your face between her warm hands. And you then reach forward and take her, pressing the commission of your lips against the contoured sleepy-cherry-flavored mouth that could belong to none other than the girl who always had your heart, who moved her body hers against yours. You just wanted to feel her close, all to yourself, comfortable in your grip.

A slow kiss, half snooty and sloppy, dissolves, but you hold the air inside your lungs and search for more of her, the red inside her mouth, armed with a soft red nostalgic familiarity contouring your bodies through your lips, being eagerly reciprocated by an affectionate Wanda. Your lips were moved carefully, following an invisible line that dictated you not so reckless actions like a rehearsed act.

The fervent kiss becomes a pacified kiss, and the pacified kiss becomes little kisses that soon fade into serene peace. You feel a forehead press against yours.

Soon, a sly pink tongue slips back into your mouth in search of what is hers, expert and needy. And then, a robust and powerful touch, palms wide open and pressed to the curve of your jaw, asks you to open your eyes – and Wanda stands before you like a creature out of a dream, Wanda usurps your senses, Wanda pulses inside your veins and on your tongue.

“You're perfect, Wanda,” you whisper hot against the pulp of her swollen lips, “You're just perfect.”

“I love you,” she says in return, and hot tears again adorn her eyeballs, “I fucking love you, Y/N.”

You want to explode, explode in love. Your forehead presses against hers, and she caresses the cheek of her thumb against the top of her cheekbone.

“I love you too Wanda,” you smile, “I love you too.”

She is no longer your noisy neighbor after this.

#wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #wanda reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x you #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #yelena belova #yelena black widow #agnes wandavision #agatha harkness #natasha romanoff #black widow

[maxislvt]

I'll Digest You, One Kiss At A Time

Summary: Wanda loved you, she loved you so much. The softness of your lips, the smell of your perfume, and the energy you brought into the room everywhere you went. Loving you was easy, but getting you was hard. You were just too sweet for your own good. Too trusting to look for your missing items, too oblivious to see the way she looked at you, and too innocent to even consider the fact someone wanted you the way she did.

Warnings: college!au, top!wanda, stalker!wanda, beefy!Wanda for like all of five minutes if you read slow, extreme possessiveness and jealousy, stalking, virgin!reader, unethical means of masturbation, strap-on use, cum strap, breeding kink, biting kink, corruption kink, brief choking

A/N: You have the wonderful @lizziesnosescrunch to thank for this idea and fic as whole! This is easily one of my favorite requested fics so far and I had a lot of fun writing this. Should've been a lot darker but trust this isn't the last you'll see of stalker!Wanda on my page ever!

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Wanda's mother was a woman of many wise words. No matter how strange and nonsensical a situation seemed, Wanda could trust her mother had a few sweet words of affirmation and guidance to help. She didn't understand all of them, but they never went unappreciated. They were most useful when she and Pietro were being sent off to college. Though most were directed at her brother so he'd stay out of trouble and keep his legs closed, Wanda got a couple interesting ones of her own.

"When in Rome, do as the Romans do." That one was something she heard often. Immigrating from Sokovia to America was a huge change. That was a bit easier in high school. The neighborhood they moved in was filled with refugees from their home country. College was much different. Many of the older kids in the neighborhood had told her what American colleges were like. Cheap food, questionable alcoholic creations, and the worst hangovers known to man. Pietro seemed thrilled at the idea, but Wanda didn’t understand it. Sororities sounded like cults and she rarely heard anything about work and studying. However, she realized she’d never live life if she didn’t go with the flow every once in a while.

Then, there was “Never count your chickens.” Certainly one that had more to it, but Wanda’s mother never bothered to learn the rest of the saying. Later, Wanda learned that the proper saying was “Don’t count your chickens before they hatched.” Wanda had big plans for herself and was a very meticulous planner. Though her family thought it was obsessive and would lightly poke fun at her from time to time, it got her very far. Pietro got in on a whim with his track scholarship, but Wanda had more solidified means of getting there. Her grades were amazing, but she needed more. Debate, student government, and a never ending list of internships. Wanda was almost halfway through planning the next four years of her life before her mother pumped the brakes on the whole thing.

Finally, there was her mother’s favorite. “If you must fall in love, do it with your whole heart and nothing else.” Though her mother preached it like it was some common old scripture, it was entirely made up. Also, it was something only Wanda was on the receiving end of. Mainly because Pietro introduced their mother to a new boyfriend and clearly had no issue with using his heart. Wanda’s love life on the other hand was so slow it almost seemed stagnant. It made sense. There was no time for romance when she had her nose buried in a textbook every other day. Her parents never pushed, but were eager to hear anything about a “new friend” or “favorite study partner”. That seemed to be the only one Wanda didn’t use in life. No one piqued her interest. A few short flings here and there, but never a true flame in her heart.

Then one day, that changed.

About two weeks into her freshman year of college, you absolutely ruined her. It was early into the school year so the only friends she had were Pietro and Brunhilde — her roommate who worked just as hard as she did but partied infinitely harder. If anyone asked, Wanda could recite the entire day leading up to the moment she met and the entire night after that. After a rather interesting conversation with her roommate about sororities, fraternities, the absolutely "bonkers" parties they threw, and how to survive them — Brunhilde and Pietro had dragged her to her first real college party.

As she had expected, Pietro abandoned her to chat up the first boy that showed even the vaguest interest in him, but Brunhilde stayed by Wanda's side and introduced her to some friends. First there was Carol, Brunhilde's girlfriend and every bit of a golden retriever as her roommate described her to be. There was Tony and Steve, the most unlikely pair of boyfriends she'd ever laid eyes on. Thor and Bruce, Brunhilde's best friend and her best friend's boyfriend. Yelena and Natasha, sisters who certainly had better things to do but all these friends were there so they were forced into the house. Clint and Kate, Natasha's best friend that brought a bow for some reason and Yelena's best friend who also brought a bow for some reason.

Then, there was you. A beacon of light and breath of fresh air among the chaos that was the backyard of Tony's penthouse. You were at least a little tipsy during the introduction, but Wanda was endeared by your attempts to prove otherwise. The only thing that warmed her heart more than your stumbling words and giddy hellos was the sudden over-protectiveness that jumped out when you had learned she'd never gone to a house party before. Before she knew it, you were chugging water and desperate to sober up just to keep an eye on her. Unfortunately, Tony was a master at getting you sidetracked and had you dining whatever the hell a jello shot was faster you could fill your cup with water. Drunkenness didn't stop your attempts at all. Even with slurred words and half lid eyes, you made an effort to check in on her until Val and Pietro had called it quits for the night.

The next day only added fuel to the fire that was her adoration for you. First thing in the morning, she heard a faint knock at the door. She expected it to be Carol to come swooning over her blackout drunk girlfriend or Pietro to gush about his latest one night stand, but it was you. It was unexpected to say the least. You were almost as drunk as her roommate was last night but still got up bright and early to bake her cookies and chat until your morning classes began. As if an entire batch of cookies wasn't sweet enough, you even offered to drive her to her first class as well.

"You know, I could've taken the bus and been just fine," Wanda said before stuffing her face with the gooey chocolate chip cookies you'd gifted her hours before. Riding in your car was an experience she'd never erase from her memory. The two of you had only really talked for an hour or so, but she could tell it was just so you. The leather seats looked brand new but the photos in the sun visor and the teddy bear on swing hanging from the rear view mirror proved otherwise.

“Oh please, you put up with my drunk rambling, the least I could do was pay you back.” You took a quick break from the road to flash Wanda a smile. Smiles from you went from your bottom lip all the way up to the corners of your eyes. Wanda loved it. She loved the way your fingers tapped against the steering wheel as you waited for a light to turn green. She loved the way you obsessively checked your rear view mirrors when you parallel parked. She even loved your absent minded nods you gave to show you were still listening when you struggled to back up the right way. “Well, this is your stop,” You said with an excited giggle. Not even Wanda’s favorite song couldn’t stand a chance to the sound of your laughter.

Wanda smiled back as she unbuckled her seat belt. “Well, I take the mysterious giggling as a good sign and leave now,” She joked. She got out of the car and swung her backpack over her shoulder. Simply because she wanted to see you blush, she reached back inside and pushed some of your hair back behind your ear. “I hope you have a nice day.” A mission success. The second her fingers grazed the shell of your ear, they burned bright red.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and nodded dumbly. "Uh, yeah. Call me if you need a ride home." Wanda didn't have time to tell you she didn't have your phone number. The second she leaned back from your car, you sped off. Leaving her standing in the middle of the parking lot like an idiot. You were lucky Wanda thought it was cute because anyone else would've easily been ripped to shreds.

Wanda spent the rest of her morning thinking about you. She was thankful for her eidetic memory. It made it easy to think about you. Recounting the freckles of your face and estimating the depths of the dimples on your cheeks had kept her going. The end of the day is somehow so much better.

While on her walk back to her dorm, she noticed that her neighbor had left their door wide open. Being the kind soul that she is, she took a careful peak inside. She did a quick look over and didn't notice any movement. Just before giving up, she knocked on the door a couple times hoping whoever lived there was there and living. To her surprise, you stepped out of one of the bedrooms.

Your brows were furrowed in confusion at first. Then they shot to your hair line in shock. "Oh god, I forgot to lock the door again, didn't I," You grumbled softly. It was a miracle that you didn't see the way Wanda's eyes bored into your soul. With your legs out on display and torso barely covered, anything could've happened to you. "Thank you so much, I was super distracted when I came in." You flashed the sweetest smile and it's almost cute enough for Wanda to feel bad for the impure thoughts she had about you.

Almost. Her eyes shamelessly dragged up your body before she reached your eyes. Just as warm, sweet, and completely oblivious as the first time she'd look into them. "It's really dangerous for someone as cute as you to keep their door wide open this late," She said with a deceptively soft smile. A ludicrous statement, really. The danger was already in your dorm. It was Wanda. The woman you'd innocently given cookies and driven to class mere hours before was suddenly making up a list of all the ways she could ruin you.

You laughed before reaching for the door. "So I've been told, I promise to be extra careful tomorrow if it'll make you happy." You extended your pinkie. "Pinkie promise."

God. You truly didn't have a clue how much power you had over Wanda. Her pinkie wrapped around yours tightly and she grinned. "We have a deal, but I'd prefer you do that every day."

∞

It took almost no time for Wanda's love for you to fester and mold into something much more dangerous. At first, she assumed it was something shallow. Regardless of what her true feelings may have been, you were definitely easy on the eyes. Projecting her sexual fantasies on you was been easy as pie. Who wouldn't want to see you fully exposed begging for them? But that primal urge to make you hers and hers alone was something no one else would understand. She'd make sure of it. The desire to consume you whole was unbearable. Just barely held back by the bits of your life you'd let her into. The more she knew about you, the worse her obsession became. Whatever was enough yesterday wasn't enough for today and today wouldn't be enough for tomorrow. That's why her bed was pushed against the wall your dorms shared and her notes app filled with tiny details about you and your schedule.

Maybe it was the delusions and daydreaming, but you were made for Wanda. Wanda loved art and you liked to draw. She liked sweets and you loved to cook. Wanda needed to be warm at all times and you loved physical affection. Clinginess was definitely Wanda's favorite trait of yours. You looked to anyone for warmth and cuddles, but you seemed to drift towards her more often .

"What exactly are we watching again," She asked as her fingers raked through your hair. There was no need for her to ask. Wanda had remembered every detail down to the time the two of you started watching. However, she'd never pass up a chance to hear you excitedly talk about anything.

Your back pressed further into Wanda's chest. "I need to watch this series and take notes for graphic design," You said while making a couple of quick doodles on your notebook to help with organization. Video essays and Netflix recommendations had piled high, but you were determined to get through them all that night. "You're just here cause I wanted to hang out without you." Wanda would normally tease you for such a statement. The attachment you had to her was growing everyday and nothing could stop it. Almost magically, she knew how you preferred your hot chocolate, all the shows you watched, and even what classes you had. If Wanda wanted to take care of you, who were you to deny that? "I would really like you to stay, but if you think it's boring you can leave…I think you'd like the episode though."

Wanda was quickly to press a kiss on the top of your head. She can't imagine what she's doing to think she'll ever leave you alone. "No, I'm going to stay." The grip she had on your waist tightened and she pulled you impossibly closer to her. She could feel the way you tensed up on top of her. Wanda feared she was going to run out of words to describe how cute you were. For the sake of your note taking, she kept her teasing words to herself.

As the episode plays through and you slowly check off things on your study list. Two forty minute episodes and an hour long video essay later, you needed a break. That's what Wanda decided anyway. The second your last video ended, she snatched the TV remote from your hand and turned it off. You opened your mouth to protest, but one stern look had suppressed any disagreement.

Wanda carefully moved you from your lap onto the empty space next to her. "I need to pee and then I'll make you tea. You stay here and look cute." She elected to ignore your disapproving huff and headed to your bathroom. Though she really did have to go, she found herself a tiny bit side tracked. As expected, your bathroom was just as pretty and organized as your bedroom. With little plastic bins and drawers lined up everywhere, you made the most of the space you'd been given in your tiny dorm room. Yet, that wasn't what kept her attention the longest.

Laid out on the floor were the cutest pair of underwear she'd ever seen. Patterned with tiny bears and a pretty shade of pink. So pure and innocent, a direct contrast to what she'd use them for. She's stolen a couple things from you before. That tiny notebook filled with random thoughts and strange doodles, your favorite perfume bottle she made sure to replace, and a few other small things like pens and photographs she'd snapped when you weren't looking. This however, was easily the most personal of them. The brief glimpses of what she got when sat across from her or stood up too fast would never satisfy her after that night. After that, the only thing that would keep her desire under control was to make you hers.

That would come much later down the road. After she'd filled your head with the filthiest thoughts and made you completely dependent on her. All she could do now was shove your panties in her back pocket and try her best to keep her hands from roaming too far up your shirt. Even that proved to be difficult. It was always hard not to just force herself on to you. You're just sweet and unassuming, it'd just be so easy to sweet talk you into spreading those perfect little legs of yours, but that's not what she wanted. She wanted to see you desperate and begging for her to claim you. With spread legs and that empty warm look in your eyes you got when you were too relaxed to think.

It was a real shame she didn't know just how close she was to that goal.

As her hands mindlessly roamed up and down your torso, Wanda had managed to work you up quite a bit. Your underwear had begun sticking to your core and uncomfortable amount. It seemed no amount of awkward shifting could get them to move. Awful couldn't even begin to describe how you felt. Wanda was so nice to you and always made sure you were okay, but all you could do in return was sit there and take advantage of her kindness. You were ashamed to admit it wasn't the first time either. Anytime she hugged you tighter than normal and pulled you away from what she seemed "dangerous", you'd swoon and suddenly become bothered. "Hey uh, can we cut it short today? I don't feel too good."

Your question snapped Wanda out of her thoughts. "Oh, yeah, that's fine. Just call me if you need any help." She refused to look down at you. Too embarrassed to see if her hands had gone too far. "I'll be in my dorm, so please don't be afraid to ask, alright?" Normally, you'd enthusiastically smile and send her off, but all she got was a quiet nod and a thumbs up. For a moment, she was worried she'd scared you. Fortunately, she'd caught the flushed look on your face just before walking out the door.

For a moment, you stay folded over the table. Hoping you'd merge into it and never have to face your shame. Unfortunately, that one in a billion chance never came and you were forced to face your demons. There was only one real way for you to do that. You forced yourself up on your shaky legs and dragged them to your bedroom. Shame had burned your face beet red at the mere thought of what you were about to do.

You'd be infinitely more embarrassed if you had known the cause of your frustrations was listening to your sinful deeds on the other side of your bedroom wall.

Wanda tried to respect your privacy, she really did. But that's hard when the walls were just so thin and you made the cutest noises. The heat between her legs quickly became insatiable. She should've been ashamed. Ashamed that her ears ruined the privacy of such an intimate moment. Bashful at the way she pressed your panties against her nose and inhaled your scent. Humiliated by how quickly her fingers worked to push herself over the edge. Yet, none of those emotions were present in that moment. Wanda needed to have you this was the closest she was going to get. Pride be damned.

The shared bedroom wall couldn't bear a greater contrast.

On one side, your clumsy, inexperienced fingers tried their hardest to bring you to an edge. An innocence a college would likely never see again. The other side, nibble, trained fingers that brought Wanda to orgasm more times than she'd ever admit. A dark, unwavering possessiveness that no one could match. One ignorantly waiting to be consumed by the other.

"No, please…"

Every little noise you let out was just fuel to the fire that was her lust, but your begging had uncovered something more. She could see you so clearly through the wall. Pussy slick and puffed up from your desperate attempts to get yourself. A growing wet spot between your legs. That absolutely adorable pout you made at the mere thought of being denied.

She needed to have you.

∞

"I want to be your girlfriend."

If you weren't face to face with pure, unfiltered possessiveness, you would've reminded Wanda the proper way to ask someone out. Teased her for being too up front and forgetting that America was a country less up front than Sokovia. But it was hard to do that when she had you pinned down against the bed and looked like she wanted to eat you alive. If your brain would function for a fraction of a second, you could answer her. You looked like a fish out of water. The dryness in your throat made you feel like one too. “What?” It was the only thing you could force out of your mouth at that moment. Far from what you wanted to say, but you were aroused by the reaction you received.

Wanda pushed further into you, her knee parted your legs. She was desperate at this point. “Please, god, I can’t stand the way she looks at you." Natasha was proving to be quite the pain in her ass. Wanda didn't mind you having friends, but Natasha couldn't seem to find her place. Touching you, flirting with you, kissing you. It was unbearable. "I promise I can treat you so much better, just give me a chance." Her eyes kept flickering down to your lips. Adorable, soft, and just as plump as always. Now they were dirty and Wanda was the only one who could clean them. "Just one, please."

Wanda's thigh is practically flush against your crotch and you're trapped against the bed. The way she talked about you was addictive. As if you were nothing more than property to be owned. Your parents had always taught you that people like that were dangerous. But Wanda wasn't just some person. She made you feel good. "That's…that's good, I'd like that." The words fell out of your mouth without an ounce of grace, but you didn't have much time to be embarrassed before Wanda kissed you.

It was overwhelming. You'd been kissed before. Short, sweet, and experimental. Wanda was different. Her hand pushed against the back of your neck, bringing you impossibly closer to her. Any oxygen you managed to get into your lungs was stolen from you only seconds later. It was like she wanted to eat you whole. The kiss made you dizzy. If Wanda wanted to eat you alive, you were dizzy enough to let her do it. The only thing strong enough to remind how unprepared you were for it was the pure terror that ran through your veins when Wanda began unbuttoning your pants. "Wait, wait, wait," You rushed before pushing Wanda back from you. The concerned look on her face almost makes you feel guilty. "I've never.. y'know…" Your words trail off, but Wanda knew exactly what you meant.

Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, punishment for forcing herself onto you so quickly. She cleared her throat and guided her hands to the sides of your thighs. "Hey, that's okay," She said, voice soft and assuring. "I got a little carried away, that's my fault." Her hands shifted higher to the small of your back and pulled you forward. "Can I be your first then? I promise I'll work for it."

You weren't stupid. Promising your virginity was a crazy idea. There was always the chance you'd be nothing more than some twitched fetish and one of a million girls Wanda would bed. Wanda wasn't like that, you were sure of it. You didn't know it, but she was much worse than that. Foolishly, you nodded your head in agreement. "Okay, just be nice to me when you do please," You laughed dryly, too embarrassed to continue the conversation in detail.

The smile Wanda gave you was easily her most deceitful one yet. Nothing about those adorable bunny teeth or endless pools of green could ever prepare you for the insanity she harbored within. She leaned down and pressed her forehead against yours. "I promise I'll take such good care of you."

Wanda was easily the biggest danger on campus. There was nothing to protect you from but her. So of course, something had to be staged. After weeks of showering you with gifts and affection, her plan went into action.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday you went to work. Between the allowance your parents gave you and the ungodly amount Wanda would spend on you, you had just enough to keep your fridge stocked and your tank full. Of course, you liked to have your own money so you got a little part-time job. Though you looked absolutely adorable in your little uniform, Wanda couldn't have her precious baby working themselves to the bone. Killing two birds with one stone. Gaining your trust and scaring you out of that hellish job.

Pietro, always up for whatever evil schemes his sister had, simply had to stalk you. He had his fun with it. Stomping as he walked. Purposely slipping on rocks. Even hiding in alleyways after kicking something around. You were terrified. Yet, you were too stubborn to ever ask for any help. No matter how much you shook or stuttered, you held your ground. Eventually, his patience wore off and you forced his hand.

After your Friday shift, he chased you. Down the street, through every left turn, and even up the stairs of your dorm section.

You were too scared to pay attention to where you were going. Jamming your key into the first lock you came across. Though your heart nearly jumped out of your chest, You were grateful when the door swung open to reveal your beloved girlfriend. You forced your way through the door immediately and clung onto her for dear life. "Please, close the door! I think someone's following me," You sobbed into her chest.

"Shh, hey it's okay. I'm right here, everything is gonna be fine." Wanda spoke softly as she stroked the back of your neck. She swayed you back and forth until you calmed down enough to speak. It wasn't planned that Pietro would scare you that much, but getting the chance to coddle you wouldn't be passed up by her for any reason at all.

Just as she'd hoped, Brunhilde came stumbling out of her bedroom with a bat in hand. "What the hell's going on out there," She asked harshly. Her demeanor softened immediately.

"They said someone was following them," Wanda said, still holding you close to her chest.

It was rare to see you so shaken up by anything. By no means were you a soldier, but you looked absolutely terrified. She glanced up at Wanda, as if waiting for confirmation of sorts. "I'll go check if they're still outside. You two stay here," Brunhilde instructed before slipping on some shoes and speeding outside. It wasn't likely to be a successful search, but maybe she'd find something. A hat, their keys, something to identify that freak.

The thought of letting Brunhilde run out there by herself somehow scared you more than being hurt yourself. You attempted to push away from Wanda but she pulled you back with ease. "Wanda, I can't just let her walk around there by herself."

In any other situation, she would've been endeared by your determination to protect your friends. Right now, she was just frustrated. "Sweetheart, you're shaking. If you don't want Valk out there by herself, I'll help her look but I need you to calm down." She grabbed your wrist and raised it up so you could stop pushing against her. It's firm, but grounded you in a way. Without any effort at all, Wanda guided you to sit on the couch. "Now tell me what happened."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and scouted impossibly closer to your girlfriend. "They —I don't know who — were following and, and I thought if I ignored them that they'd leave me alone! But today they ran after me and I was so scared and I'm sorry I couldn't think of what else to do!" Before you knew it, you were back to sobbing. The only thing that brought you comfort was Wanda. Her smell, her touch, her voice. She was all you needed at that moment. "I should've changed shifts after the first night, I'm sorry."

Wanda froze. Sure, it was just an elaborate scheme, but there was no reason for you to be thinking like that. "Hey, don't say that," She whispered and cupped your chin. "I'll pick you up from work and then we'll figure it out from there." She kissed your forehead and pulled you into your lap. Wanda already had a plan. She'd pick you up from work a few times and then convince you to drop that shitty job and depend on her. It hurt to see you so upset, but how else could you be taught all you needed was her?

Eventually, Brunhilde came back and you settled down. Wanda insisted you spend the night with her. You were a little embarrassed at first, ashamed to seem weak and codependent. But the way Wanda guided you to the bathroom and helped you get ready for bed was addictive. Being coaxed into the land of dreams with her arms tightly wrapped around you and your head buried into her chest was like heaven. You felt safe.

"I want you to take my virginity."

Wanda's eyes nearly popped out of her skull. "Like, right now..?"

"No, I mean if you want to…no, not right now, but when you want to."

You could feel Wanda's eyes boring into your soul. Even in the pitch black darkness you knew exactly how she was looking at you. With those blown out pupils that hid all the jade green in her eyes and them look like endless pools of blood. If you looked close enough, you could even catch the way her breath would become unsteady. She looked like a predator, and you were happy to be her prey.

∞

It had been weeks since you saw that look again and you missed it. You knew Wanda was hiding it from you. Even if you couldn't see her face, you could feel other things. The way her chest rose and fell with such instability. How her hands would grip your waist or venture almost too high. That unmoving bulge in her pants you were sure she was pushing against you on purpose.

For a moment, you considered just throwing yourself at her. Letting Wanda use you anyway she saw fit for as long as she wanted. If that wouldn't work, then you'd beg. Give her those puppy dog eyes she'd never say no to and whine about the ache growing between your legs. Fortunately, someone else pushed Wanda over the edge for you.

You don't know what happened exactly. One moment Natasha and Wanda were having a seemingly normal conversation. Then they just weren't. Silence fell over the entire party and Wanda dragged you out to her car before you could ask any questions. Even on the drive from Tony's house, Wanda stayed dead quiet. The only comfort you received was the possessive hand placed on your upper thigh.

"I had this whole date planned out, but no, your slutty little friend can't keep her hands to herself," Wanda grumbled bitterly as she dragged up to her dorm. "You're mine, I own you, and no one else can fucking have you!" Her grip was gentle despite her irritation. You weren't the problem. Natasha was. That girl had been a thorn in Wanda's side since the day they'd met. Natasha was always in the way. If she weren't your friend, Wanda would've handled her by now. Beaten, stabbed, and dismembered — internally out of the picture, but you cared about her too much.

Wanda swiftly lifted you onto the bed and pulled your ass flush against her hips. "I know I promised we'd be super romantic and I still want to, but I can't wait anymore." Her words sounded desperate and upset, but her eyes revealed true intentions. That look. You missed it so much. "I promise I'll make it up to you, I just need you. Right now."

The way her hands moved over your body was driving you mad. As if you were nothing more than the world's finest porcelain and would break at the slightest jolt. "Yeah, that's okay," You rushed out. Words couldn't describe how good it felt having Wanda's lips on yours. So warm and inviting and absolutely smothering yours. Yet, still somehow gentle. A shiver ran up your body as her hands went lower to unbutton your jeans. Without meaning to, your hips bucked forward. "Oh god, I'm sorry — I didn't mean to!"

A strangled breath made its way through Wanda's nostrils. Controlling herself was near impossible when you made noises like that. "No, no, it's okay. Just do what feels good," She said softly. "This is about what you want, I'm just here to give it to you." Undressing you was easy. She watched you do it yourself every night through cameras you were far too busy to notice. Wanda knew what you liked. How you couldn't get more than one finger inside yourself. The way you tortured yourself with unskilled hands. You could be so cruel to yourself sometimes, but it didn't matter now because she was there to make up for it.

Being naked in front of Wanda was embarrassing enough. It was only made worse by how Wanda had been completely dressed. "Can you take something off, please?" You reached for Wanda's shirt only for your hand to be swatted away.

"I don't need to be naked if I'm taking care of you." Wanda dropped to her knees and spread your legs before you could protest. She couldn't help but moan at the wetness between your legs. Her thumb slowly slid over the wet spot in your under as she littered kisses over your unclaimed thighs. "God, you look so perfect for me." She wanted you, she wanted you and nothing else in the world could make up for it. She wanted to have you collared, bred up, and bitten. That night, she just settled for stretching you out. She teased and praised until you had soaked through your underwear and were desperate for touch. "I think my baby's ready."

Your stomachs fluttered at the sound of her voice. Husky and desperate to have you. "I can take it…I promise." Even with the wetness that soaked Wanda's bed sheets and your thighs, she only gave you one finger. Slow and deep, careful not to break you — but you want to be broken. Your hips rolled forward, but were pinned down this time. A whine escaped your lips. "I thought this was about what I want? You just said I was ready!"

Wanda chuckled darkly at your brattiness. Still smart-mouthed and untrained. "I know what my baby needs, just relax." It felt like an eternity before Wanda graced you with a second of her long fingers. Still just as slow, but closer to what you wanted. They spread apart inside you without warning and Wanda was quick to note your whimpering. "See? It'll hurt if we go too fast. I don't wanna hurt you."

"What if I want it to hurt?"

There it was. That look. Dark, unhinged, and unfiltered. It made your walls clench around your lover's fingers. You hadn't a clue what Wanda was capable of but you wanted to see it so bad.

"Okay, fine." If you wanted rough, she could certainly give it to you. Wanda pulled her fingers out of your cunt and promptly shoved them into your throat. "Go on, suck. Show me the slut you wanna be so bad," She barked out as she began thrusting her soaking digits into your throat. It should've taken a lot more to break her restraint, but she was truly tired of waiting. "Oh, don't cry now. You wanted it rough!"

You gagged and drooled around Wanda's fingers, but you couldn't have been happier. To have Wanda staking her claim over you was a feeling like no other. Even as your lungs burned for oxygen, you focused only on Wanda's approval. You were more than a little disappointed when her fingers left your mouth without any hint of approval. "No, I can do better just- ah!" You flinched when the three of Wanda's spit covered fingers came down harsh against your clit. "Fuck, okay, sorry. I'm sorry."

Three of her fingers slipped into your cunt. All the softness she started with had disappeared and she was fucking you without restraint. "You're making such a mess, do you like it when I claim you? Because I love fucking you like this." Her fingers pushed further into you with every word she spoke. She had you. Your walls fluttered and clenched as she continued to pound into you. "Go ahead, cum. Cum so I can ruin this pussy and make it mine."

You let a near pornographic moan before releasing on to Wanda's hand. You didn't care about the wetness leaking from your cunt and onto Wanda's fingers, nor the fact Brunhilde may have still been in the dorm, not even the risk of being walked in by the RA could've stopped you from wanting Wanda. "More, please just one more. That's all I need…I swear."

Wanda eased her fingers out of you and placed them into her mouth. She made a show licking them clean. Groaning and rolling her eyes back as her tongue lapped up the juices on her fingers and palm. Her eyes made their way down to the sopping mess between your legs. Sensitive, puffy, and just begging to be bred. It wasn't fair, really. She was trying her best to control herself and you just seemed so adamant about destroying that. "I'm gonna put a baby in you."

Normally, you'd freak out. You both were far too young to be parents and even if you weren't — Wanda couldn't put one in you even if she wanted. However, the thought of it alone was enough to get you worked up again. You watched as Wanda got off the bed and dug through her closet. It took you a few moments to realize what she was getting. "Is it big?"

"Bigger than my fingers, that's for sure."

You groaned out in response.

That strap on was the start of a rather addictive problem, but neither of you knew that just yet. What you did know was that being stretched out felt amazing. The heaviness of Wanda's hips pushing the silicone toy deeper and deeper inside of you was heavenly. You knew Wanda was strong, but you never really got to see how much.

Strong enough to lift you up and force you to ride her strap it seemed. You were appreciative of it though. Being wrapped up in her arms and fucked senseless was amazing. The feeling of her muscles tensing and relaxing as they moved you over her dick was enough to send you into climax itself. "Fuck, Wanda!" You could feel your second orgasm coming up again but you weren't ready to end it just yet. Without thinking, you bit down on Wanda's shoulder and dug your fingernails into the side of her forearm.

"Fuck," Wanda moaned out and stopped for a second. Suddenly, the throb between her legs was a bit too much to ignore. "God, you really know how to fuck me up, don't you," She husked out the question and began rutting up into you. Her fingers tangled into your hair and forced you to bite back down on her shoulder. "That feels so good, keep it up."

Your teeth dug into Wanda's skin and enjoyed its salty taste. You fought hard to keep your orgasm at bay. Convinced yourself that if you held off, there'd be some reward for lasting so long. Unfortunately, Wanda had other plans in mind.

"I can't wait anymore sweetheart, I need my babies in you." She whispered so softly, you almost missed it. You didn't even have time to question what she meant before something sticky began coating your walls. The feeling alone was enough to send you flying into your orgasm. "God, look at you. Your tummy is getting so full," She whispered and pushed against the bulge forming in your lower abdomen. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head when you bit into neck to keep yourself grounded.

Your hands clawed at Wanda's back and didn't stop until you came down from your high. All you could do was slouch against your girlfriend and hope she hasn't gone as limp as you did. For a moment, you stayed silent. Incapable of thought and entirely unsure of what to say. "Can I…can we stay like this? I like being full," You confessed with a voice you barely had. The confession made you bashful, but you were desperate to keep Wanda inside you.

Wanda gently rubbed your back. "We can stay here as long as you need." She slowly laid back, careful to move the strap only when she needed to. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips feeling the weight of your body on top of her. Her neck and back burned and would probably burn into the next day, but none of that mattered to her. She had you and that's all she ever needed. Natasha couldn't take you away from her and you'd never leave her. You'd be hers forever.

Whether you wanted to or not.

#pvntherz #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda fanfic #mcu smut #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch smut #stalker!wanda #murder drabble for her coming like a billion years from now #tried editing this #gave up and half assed it #uncommon pluto L

[missmonsters2]

What We Are

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda discovers all the things that Vision's done for her that have made her heart flutter was your idea.

Warnings: it's not angst...but it's not not angst. Also not beta'd.

Note: why do i feel bad for stealing vision's thunder. Also I will fix my mistakes later when I mortifyingly see them later :-)

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

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It was a Tuesday when Wanda dropped by. 

The rain had been pouring relentlessly, and she had magicked herself to your front door, but even so, she was still soaked to the bone. It was late June and just a few minutes past dawn when you heard the hesitant knocks on your door. 

The years of working for Stark have made you paranoid as you check through the peephole carefully to see who could be at your door. Your heart constricts momentarily when your eyes land on familiar red hair and those melancholy green eyes. 

You opened the door, swallowing as you took her in. Drops of rain dripped down her cheek, almost like tears, as you let her in. 

"Wanda," you blinked, the questions building in your mouth but unsure which would come out first. You settled with, "let me get you a towel."

You opened the door wider to allow her to slip through wordlessly before shutting and locking it with a soft click. The rain outside pours relentlessly that it almost feels deafening in the silence. 

She stood in the hallway between the kitchen and your living room. Wanda looked around the quaint home you've built for yourself and felt even more lost. 

You returned with a dark navy towel, sighing as you sling it over her wet head, gently drying her hair. "What's the point of using your magic to get here if you're going to get soaked outside anyway?"

Wanda didn't say anything, just allowing herself to be under your care. 

This is familiar. 

It was a time before Vision and just a little after when Wanda began to see him too. Then, it was Vision's job to take care of Wanda, and all of it went away—you went away. 

"You should take a hot shower," you told her. 

"I don't really catch colds anymore," Wanda mumbles softly. 

"Lucky you, but you're still dripping on my floor and your nose is all cold and red. I can't imagine the rest of you is toasty warm," you smirked at her, and Wanda wanted to tell you that the tip of her ears was hot, but then she'd have to admit she was blushing. 

You guided her upstairs to the bathroom, gave her a towel and a set of comfortable clothing, and told her to use anything she felt like using. Once she finished, she could meet you downstairs, where you'd be making breakfast. 

Before you left, Wanda's quiet voice stopped you. "Thank you." Her voice is hoarse like she's about to cry. But it was sincere, and you gave her a light-hearted smile to put her at ease. 

"It's good to see you, Wanda."

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Wanda's skin feels warm and soft, the bath doing her wonders. She hoped you hadn't been waiting too long, but Wanda couldn't resist taking a soak first. She wiped the bathroom mirror of the fog and looked at her reflection. The bath helped return some color to her skin, but she still looked tired with her dark circles.  

Wanda only towel-dried her hair just enough to ensure it wouldn't drip on your floor. She felt only a little embarrassed to be given clean underwear by you but not a bra. The clothes you give her are soft, comforting, and smell like clean linens and leaves. 

This is crazy, Wanda thought. 

She hadn't seen you in months, and prior to that, it was always sporadic and brief. 

Wanda hadn't known what compelled her to show up at your door, but she knew much of it was due to loneliness. 

Everyone was gone.

But Wanda had hardly slept and hated how Scotland looked suddenly and decided that Portland would be better—Portland—where you've been living for years. 

The smell of bread, honey, and mushroom soup filled the air when she left the bathroom. Her stomach rumbled unabashedly, and she was glad you couldn't hear it. As she entered the kitchen, she found you chopping dill and parsley. 

"Hey," you looked up at her, smiling as she fidgeted with the ends of her sleeve. "Have a nice bath?"

Wanda nodded, giving you an awkward jilt of her lips meant to be a smile. "Thanks. Did you need help with anything?"

You shook your head. "Should be finished any moment now. I wasn't sure how hungry you'd be with it being so early but I thought something warm would be nice. Why don't you take a seat? I left out some bread, butter, and honey for you."

Wanda felt something crawl at the back of her throat as she sat. It was such a traditional breakfast, and it reminded her how Vision once tried to make paprikash for her. 

"I'm sorry," Wanda said suddenly. "For just showing up here."

You were silent. The sound of your chopping paused momentarily before it resumed again. "It's fine," you told her. "I mean, I wish you'd call in case I wasn't home. It would've been awful for you to stand out there alone."

But Wanda didn't know how to explain that your unused phone number was more daunting than just showing up. She didn't know how to explain anything. 

"Are you not often home?" Wanda asked instead.

You hummed. "Not often, but occasionally I do consulting work for some non-profit companies. It gets boring being retired sometimes."

Wanda nodded. 

It was lonely being retired alone. She had looked around your house and found no pictures or indications that you might've been seeing anybody. It brought forth something strange that she didn't know how to identify, so she placed it aside to be forgotten. 

It was quiet again, and Wanda felt restless. There were just so many feelings inside that she couldn't sort them. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream. She was relieved. She was anxious. She was a mess.

"Breathe, Wanda."

The words were unexpected. She sharply looked up to find you not even looking at her as you squeezed lemon juice into the pot. 

Taking a deep breath and releasing it quietly, Wanda was pretty sure she just wanted to cry now. 

"I'm sorry," Wanda repeated. She didn't know what else she could say. "I know it's been a while since we've last seen each other—spoke to each other. And now I'm here, and I've shown up unannounced and taken a bath, and now I'm wearing your clothes—I must seem crazy to you."

You just started to laugh, coughing lightly to cover it up when she gave you a look. "You don't have to explain anything to me," you told her, stirring the pot before grabbing some plates. "I know it's been hard."

There was a pause as if you were hesitating to say it before you decided to. "You miss Vision."

The words instantly hit the back of Wanda's throat and made her eyes water. "Yes," she could barely get a single word out.

"I know," you told her softly as you came over with a bowl of mushroom soup that looked amazing, but all she could smell was her own salty tears. 

Wanda couldn't hold it in then as she placed her elbows on the table, her face in her hands as her shoulders wrack. "I can't believe they're all gone. I keep waking up and expecting to see him. I feel like I can't breathe. It's not fair. It's not fair."

You rubbed her back, and she leaned into you, the familiar feeling of it all like it was just yesterday she was at the compound, alone and confused after losing Pietro. 

Wanda didn't even know what you did for Stark, but you were always around. You showed her to her room, gave her Tony's stream services passwords, and gave her a list of all the shows and movies she was to catch up on. 

Wanda wondered where all of that went, and she could only vaguely remember ending when Vision was beginning. But Vision was different. He had said something so profound that it had given her the courage to keep moving on. 

"I know," you told her, brushing your fingers through her soft, damp hair. "You have a lot of love to give and nowhere for it to go. It's just what grief is, Wanda. And if you're grieving, then you're persevering."

Wanda stiffened in your arms. 

It was so familiar. It was just a rewrite of words she's heard before—words she had never told anyone else. 

"Did Vision tell you that?" Wanda thought wryly as she straightened herself to look at you.

You looked momentarily confused before guilty and awkward. You let her go, but Wanda hung on. 

"Did he tell you?" Wanda pressed on. "Those words—did he tell you that they were the biggest reason I could keep going?"

Wanda looked so angry. The idea of being betrayed by someone she loved sharing something so private had you sighing. 

"No," You reassure her. "Vision didn't tell me."

"Then why—"

"I told Vision that." You cut in, the words leaving your mouth in a tumbled mess that was awkward and clearly made you uncomfortable. 

Wanda sat there with mild shock on her face.

"You...?"

You rubbed at your brow, taking in a tired breath. "Vision was very interested in you, and he came to ask me why you were silently holed up in your room. He knew what grieving was, but he didn't understand it like we do. Not yet, anyway," you muttered.

Wanda looked at you. You looked tense and reluctant to share any of this information, and she didn't understand why.

"I told him because you were grieving, but you also still had love to give. I told him he doesn't understand yet because he's always been alone and is lucky to have never lost anyone. You can't grieve what you've never lost," you had a distant look in your eye, and Wanda wondered if you were reliving this conversation with him.

"I told Vision that you were going to be okay, though," you shook your head as if brushing the memory away. "Grief was just love that had nowhere to go; it is persevering through loss." 

The words rock Wanda much harder than they did years ago. Maybe because the truth behind the words that had given her way when she was lost was actually from you. 

You, who let her show up at your door unannounced. You, who would always let her show up at your door unannounced. 

You have always given her a way to remain still, a way to return, and a way to move forward. 

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" Wanda's voice cracked.

It cracked because perhaps before Vision, she thought there might've been you. It never came close to anything, but Wanda still felt it. And that's why she showed up at your door on a Tuesday in late June just a few minutes past dawn. 

You shrugged. "You seemed interested in Vision too. Curious, at the very least. We...I never really knew what we were. Friends, I think, at that time. Just barely, though."

Wanda remained quiet. The mushroom soup was going to go cold soon, but you didn't seem to mind as you tore a part of a piece of bread into uneaten chunks. 

You seemed thoughtful. "I used to think we were just a case of 'almost'. Almost friends. Almost teammates. Almost something and almost nothing." You turned to her and gave her an unsure smile. "But now you're here on a Tuesday when I had been considering an hour before you arrived that even almost is gone."

Wanda replayed the words in her head and felt the unease she was experiencing the last few months slip away. She's still grieving, but just as you said, it was just her love having no place to go. 

But...

Wanda looked at you as she took hold of the spoon and scooped some of the soup up. She's sure in time, her love will have a place to go again. 

"Did you tell Vision anything else?"

You smiled at her as you also began to eat. 

"I told him you'd appreciate paprikash. I can't take responsibility for him following my instructions wrong, though."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #modern avengers au #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics

[fandomnerd9602]

Scarlet Webs

Wanda Maximoff x Spider-Man!Reader

For @tokufighter

She thought it was the end. Wanda Maximoff was supposed to die on that mountain along with the Scarlet Witch. And yet the next thing that Wanda remembers was falling.

Falling in the open air towards a series of buildings. Was it New York? How did this happen?!

Wanda found herself falling towards the ground faster and faster, her magic rendered useless. And then came a blur of red and blue, zipping into her view.

Suddenly the ground stopped growing near, "don't worry ma'am I got you" you reassured her before landing on top of the Empire State Building.

"You good?" you tried to ask her, calmly reassuring this mysterious and beautiful woman before you.

"Peter? You're here?" Wanda asked you.

"Sorry?" you asked back a little confused. "Who's Peter?"

"Peter Parker? Oh come on" Wanda rolled her eyes at you, "I know you, Spider-Man"

You removed your mask, exposing your face. Wanda gasped, "You're not Peter Parker"

"Sorry. I'm (Y/N), (Y/N) (L/N)" you gave a smile to her. Your smile, something about it seemed familiar.

And then it hit her like a ton of bricks. It was the same smile that haunted her dreams. The smile that graced the faces of her twin boys.

"I've never see someone like you before" you spoke, interrupting her thoughts.

"Ever hear of the Avengers?" she asked you, a small blush making its way across her face.

"Yeah. I'm a proud member" you smiled back.

Could this be it? Could you of all people be the key to the life she had with her boys?

"Since you're not from around here" you gave a nervous shrug, "maybe I could show you around."

You held out your hand to her, a simple little invite but one that held so much more with it. Wanda couldn't help but smile and take your hand.

"I'd like that" she whispered back.

She could see herself already falling in love with you.

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda my beloved #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #multiverse of madness #doctor strange in the multiverse of madness #spider man #spider man reader #male reader #x male reader #wanda maximoff x male reader

[wandasgf]

ANDROMEDA. mdni. 18+.

pairing: wanda maximoff + stepdaughter!reader

summary: all wanda wants is to relax, why does that seem so hard?

warnings: implied cheating, stepcest, no explicit sexual content, mommy kink, age gap, alcohol consumption, implied sexual content

wc: 2.1kish

It didn't start out like this, you swear. You didn't start out wanting to ruin your own father's marriage so that you could be with your new step mother. You used to feel bad about it, really, you did, but it's been about a year now and it's not like your father deserves Wanda anyway. They’d been married for about a year and a half and you swear you’ve never even seen them hold hands. He was always on business trips, you rarely saw him. It used to make you sad, never seeing your father, but distance creates disdain.

That’s pretty much how you found yourself in your best friend, Kate’s, bedroom, laying on the bed with your head hanging off and staring at the, upside down from your point of view, poster of some celebrity Kate was obsessed with. You think her name is Hailee? You don't know, but anyway, you were thinking about how you were going to convince Wanda to stay at home with you while your father was on yet another trip. Usually Wanda wouldn’t go with your father, but apparently he’s going to Milan and she really wants to go shopping there. And aside from the obvious reason you didn’t want Wansa to go, you really did hate being in that big house alone.

“I don’t know, man. Maybe you should just let her go on the trip, the woman never gets to see her husband, she probably misses him.” Kate shrugs, looking away from her phone to see your reaction. “Ughh, I just don’t understand what she sees in him, I’m obviously better and right here.” You sit up from your position on Kate’s bed and turn towards Kate, sitting cross-legged. Kate sighs in response, “Y/N, you know I love you, but I hate to break it to you, as hot of a milf as she is, and she is believe me, you are still her step daughter and she can’t exactly just… divorce your father to be with you. I mean, I totally get where you’re coming from and I am not gonna stop you from fucking her, but you’ve gotta be realistic here.”

She would be all for this relationship if it weren’t for the very simple and very messy fact that Wanda was married to your father. It was either going to end in heartbreak for you or you completely severing ties with your father to be with Wanda. And while the latter wouldn’t be awful, it’s not like your father was the most present, it just kind of counted on you and Wanda staying together which, as much as she wanted to believe it would, Kate was unsure would happen.

And it’s not that Kate didn’t think it was possible for you to have a long lasting relationship, it’s just that she was afraid lust was clouding your judgment and she’s not sure you actually have any sort of emotional connection…. Ah, but that’s enough worrying, it wasn’t exactly Kate’s strong suit and it was unlikely that you would be successful in your mission to woo Wanda… As if you hadn’t already been messing around with each other, but that didn’t really matter right now.

“Maybe you’re right… I don’t know. I just know that she’d be better off here with me. It’s not like she’d even get to see him a lot while they’re there. He’ll be in meetings or whatever.” You roll your eyes, already annoyed at the thought of Wanda thinking she’d get to have a nice trip and it being ruined by your father. You know you could treat Wanda better than him. “And hey,” Kate perks up, her eyes twinkling and a smile sneaking onto her lips, “If they’re both gone you can throw a party.”

—

Wanda was annoyed. Extremely annoyed, actually. Maybe even a little bit angry, but she wasn’t going to dwell on that feeling. This was supposed to be a nice trip for her, a vacation of sorts, but no, of course it wasn’t. Nothing was ever a nice vacation in the presence of Mr. Bigshot CEO Jarvis. It’s her fault, really, falling for his charming little facade and then for some god forsaken reason deciding to marry him. It’s not like she can go back in time to change it though, so she better not think about it too much, and he’s rich so that’s a plus she supposes.

At least he had a cute daughter, but that’s besides the point, she’s letting her mind drift again.

She’d been waiting for him to get back from whatever the hell kind of meeting he was at, she didn’t care, so that they could go get dinner at the restaurant down the street from the condo they were staying at. But as always, he texted her to say he’d be running a little bit late. That text was sent two hours ago and she’s not sure how much waiting she has left in her. She’d give him five more minutes before she got on a plane and left without a word.

She had just finished zipping up her suitcase when she heard the door open, what impeccable timing that stupid man had. Sighing and looking towards the door, Wanda attempted to give a somewhat genuine smile. “Sweetheart!!” Slurred the clearly drunk man as he stumbled into the room, he reeked of alcohol and it almost made Wanda gag. “You’re late. Extremely late. Again.” She crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at him, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, come on. Me and the boys just went out for a few drinks after retro… retrofits!”

He meant retrospectives.

“Yeah, I’m sure you did. Well, you can have a nice time here in Milan, I am going home.” Wanda could put up with a lot of things, but this was just ridiculous. He had never been punctual, but it had usually been because his meetings actually were running late, not whatever this was. “Home? No, it’s called Seta.” He clearly thought she meant the restaurant which she was no longer planning on going to. “No. I am getting on a plane and I am going home. But please, don’t let that stop you from enjoying your time here.” She laughed, mostly at how pathetic she thought it was that she expected this trip to be any different than how it was at home. And with that, she was out the door and walking down to the lobby to try and figure out what the best way to the airport was and if she could just take some sort of personal jet of her husband’s to get home.

—

The party was in full swing, music blasting, drunk 20 somethings everywhere and you were in the center of it. You always did like attention. It took you and Kate about two days to plan and figure out who to invite, but it went about as well as you had expected. Instead of having a somewhat laid back party, Kate decided at the last minute that she would text out an invite to all of their friends and then also let them text their friends about it. So now there were about 100 people in your house and backyard.

Unfortunately, Kate was just about the most social person you have ever met. Somehow, though, nothing has been broken yet, but there are way too many red plastic cups on the ground. Kate is less drunk than you are, but by no means sober and you have… well… had enough alcohol to stop you from drinking for at least the next two weeks. Waking up tomorrow would not be pleasant.

“Hey Y/N!” Kate is practically shouting over the music, “Are we expecting anyone else? A car just pulled up!” She’s pretty sure everyone is here, even Nico had somehow convinced Illyana to take a break from studying (brooding in her room) to come to the party. Which is a miracle in itself. Speaking of those two, she hasn’t seen them in a while, she hopes for your sake they aren’t fucking somewhere in the house. “I don’t think so, but I’ll go greet them anyway!!” You slur, smiling excitedly. “Y/N I don’t think-” Kate doesn’t get to finish her sentence before you’re skipping away towards the front door. “Okay.” Kate nods to herself before walking away to go find wherever Peter was, the last time she saw her she was playing beer pong with the other Peter, Gamora’s boyfriend Peter. Something about battle of the Peters.

You stumble out the front door, squinting to try and see who just pulled up. It was dark out and you weren't wearing your glasses. Oh, and being incredibly drunk didn’t help. You gasp when you see who it is. “Wands!!” Your eyes widen in excitement and you run towards her, tripping over your own feet in the process. You didn’t usually call Wanda by the nickname, but you didn’t really care right now. Wanda is quick to stop you from falling, cursing under her breath when she realizes how drunk you are. You would be a handful in the morning.

And then she finally hears the loud music and the voices and slowly looks around to see all of the clearly drunk people currently on her, well, your father's property. “Y/F/N.” Her voice is stern and it catches you so off guard you almost stumble backwards, your eyes wide. You pout, upset that the first thing Wanda does when she sees you when she gets home is be upset with you. You probably would have fallen if it weren’t for Wanda’s grip on your arms.

“What the hell is this?” She’s not sure why you throwing a party makes her so angry, it usually wouldn’t. Maybe it’s the built up anger from your father bailing on their dinner date to get drunk and the assumption that she’d be able to come home and relax with you. Or maybe it’s the thought of you throwing this big of a party while she’s not even in the country and something bad happening to you. You never did handle alcohol very well, despite drinking like there’s no tomorrow. In any case, she was quite angry.

“It’s a party, silly. Can’t you tell?” You giggle as your sadness melts away, leaning back into Wanda’s hold. “Yes, I know what a party–” Wanda stops herself, sighing, it didn’t matter anyway, You clearly weren't understanding why or that she was upset. She thinks for a couple of seconds and instead she changes tactics, it wouldn’t do any good to make you upset with everyone around and no one would remember any behavior that seemed odd for a step mother and her step daughter, they were all too drunk.

She smiles sweetly, reaching up to stroke your cheek, “Why don’t you go tell everyone to go home, the party is over, okay?” You pout in response, looking up slightly at the older woman, “But I don’t want them to go home.” You practically whine, slumping in Wanda’s arms. Of course this wasn’t going to be easy, you always did love a party. “I know you don’t, but it’s time for everyone to go home, sweetheart. Don't you want to spend some time with me now that I’m home?” Wanda fakes a pout, looking down at you.

Well, you did want to spend time with Wanda…

“But can't you just have fun at the party with me? We can have fun at the party together!!” You beam, no longer upset. Wanda was going to have whiplash with the way alcohol affected your emotions. “Sweet girl, you're so cute, but Mommy wants to spend some time with just the two of us.” She moves her thumb to tug at your bottom lip. “Wouldn't you like that?”

Your cheeks heat up and you feel a familiar heat in your stomach, suddenly feeling a little shy in front of Wanda. She doesn't usually call herself that unless you're alone. “Mhm… I can tell everyone to go home. I’ll get Kate to help and I’ll be so quick, I promise.” Wanda surprises you by leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips. “Be quick, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.”

“So quick!!” And you almost trip over your feet with how quickly you run to go get Kate. Wanda watches fondly, a small smile on her lips. You're so cute, hopefully you won't get all upset in the morning when she makes you clean everything up.

#alice's fics ! #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff smut #scarlet witch smut

[writing-house-of-m]

When the party is over

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: R's gender is not specified. Sexual content (minors DNI) - Oral (face sitting), vaginal penetration, hints of fingering (W receiving).

Word count: 6168

Summary: You have had one thing on your mind all day. It is time to make it a reality when you and Wanda are finally alone

A/N: I've had this for such a long time, before I even posted my first fic. It was because I saw a gif and since then it has been a struggle to finish. I don't like how this has turned out but it's smut so I think all your thirsty asses will like it. Enjoy! And let me know what you think 😊

MINORS DNI

You have been out shopping for what feels like most of the afternoon to get what you need for tonight's party. While your wife is busy getting what is on the list, you can't stop ogling her. 

To you she is the most beautiful person to have ever walked this earth and with the outfit she is wearing you can only be surprised you have made it this far into the day without your hands being all over her. 

The thoughts on your mind can only be described as downright filthy. You have been counting down the minutes to get back home as soon as you left the house an hour and a half ago. 

It isn't your fault, the blue dress she has chosen to wear for a simple grocery trip had your mind reeling. You want to pull the knot tied at the front loose, so you can explore her body. 

At one point Wanda asked you to decide between two types of cheeses. You were too distracted by the sunglasses she had one end in her mouth while she was contemplating in her mind, not realising she had diverted her attention to you. 

You haven't been so envious of an inanimate object before. 

When you finally looked at Wanda she had the sweetest smile on her face. One that you wish you could have kissed away. 

Another thing Wanda was doing which was driving you crazy was, every so often, threading her fingers through her hair to keep it out of her face. It doesn't help that it keeps falling forward whenever she leans closer to a shelf or when reaching for something. On this abnormally warm spring day it wasn't helping you keep your cool. 

Eventually, she used her sunglasses to push all her hair back by placing them on her head like an impromptu headband. The heat of the day was the least of your problems when that action alone was setting you on fire. You made sure to take your time, strolling slowly, through the refrigerator and freezer sections. 

After what felt like the most torturous afternoon you finally make your way back home. 

Once you get all the shopping bags into the house, there is nothing stopping you now. "Do you know how hard it's been keeping my hands off you today?" 

She turns from the shopping bag she is emptying to see you approach with the last bag. She bites her lip while making a fake thinking face. "Oh really? I couldn't tell," Wanda replies sarcastically. Of course she knew, sometimes you think she can read your mind. 

You put the bag you're holding to the side to put your hands on Wanda's waist as she wraps her arms around your neck. You immediately bury your face in her neck to start what has been on your mind all day. 

Wanda smiles as she turns her head to the side, giving you more access while your lips begin their assault slowly moving down. "I thought you were holding onto the shopping cart like your life depended on it because you thought someone was going to steal it from you," the words come out innocently but the smirk you can't see tells a different story. "That or you are really excited for the fruit platter you need to arrange." 

You move away from Wanda's collarbone chuckling then bring your lips to hers in a long awaited kiss. Her soft lips moulding yours with familiarity but just as exciting as the first time you ever kissed her. As it gets deeper, you feel the arousal growing inside of you. 

With Wanda pinned against the counter you push everything on top to the side. Lifting her up from her thighs, you stand between her legs while kissing across her jaw, "Do we have enough time?" You mumble against her, moving your lips down the column of her neck. 

"Yeah, we should," Wanda replies, breathlessly. You finally untie the bow on her dress, the one that has been laughing at you all day, to grant you more access to her chest. You leave a few marks just under her breasts where she will easily be able to hide them later for tonight's gathering. 

Before you can get any further the doorbell rings, making you let out a frustrated groan. Especially when Wanda tries to pull you away wanting to go and see who it is. "No, ignore it, they'll leave," you say, impatiently. 

Wanda tries again with no effort to stop you, "They could be here early for the party, baby." 

You reply, moving back to her mouth. "I guess they'll have to wait," kissing her lips immediately after to stop any kind of rebuttal. When you think Wanda is lost in pleasure again, you move your kisses along her jawline then make your way to the sensitive spot below her ear. "You said we had time and obviously they are way too early," the vibrations of your voice tickling her in the right way because she sighs. 

The doorbell rings again and when you move in to kiss her lips again to stop her from saying anything, Wanda places a finger on your mouth to stop you with a stern look on her face. "Y/n." 

You sigh, dropping your head in defeat but only after you kiss the flat side of the finger still on your lips. You help her off the counter by gripping her waist as she slides down. 

Wanda laughs at your reaction while fixing herself to look more presentable as you lean against the space that was just occupied by her, watching her. How is it possible for someone to look as good as her? 

Before she can leave you grab her hand and pull her back in for a kiss. You take your time, slowly sliding your tongue against hers making Wanda wrap her arms around you before the doorbell rings once again interrupting you. "Y/n, I need to get it," Wanda mumbles against your lips. 

Your voice is low when you speak back into her lips, "They can wait," you finish with three pecks, and pull back with your eyes closed, a tight lipped grin on your face. 

Wanda scoffs at your antics, "Dork," she whispers, her breath fanning over your face. You open your eyes and smile at each other for a moment. That is until the doorbell rings again - you are really beginning to hate the sound. 

As Wanda walks away to see who it is you slap her butt making her giggle. 

You busy yourself by putting away some of the groceries. Out of anyone who is coming tonight you hope it is Natasha and Bucky who are here early. Even if they did ruin your moment with your wife. 

You can hear Wanda talking to whoever has turned up at the door from where you are in the kitchen but it isn't until they get closer that you start to make out the voices. You grimace when you hear Jarvis. Or is it Vision now? Either way he's the same idiot. 

The disgust on your face is enough to let anyone know how much you hate the guy. He has had a crush on Wanda for so long, and even though she is now married to you, he still tries to make a move on Wanda whenever he can. This time he has even brought along his current girlfriend. You don't know much about her except her name, well her social name - Mantis, which is a little weird but she seems nice enough from your few interactions. 

You already know that even with Mantis being here it won't stop him from trying to get some time with Wanda. You feel sorry for the poor girl for being with such a repulsive guy, not understanding how he is able to get anyone with his outdated and cringey pickup lines. Unfortunately for you, you have had to see it first hand in the past. 

The closer they get the more you can understand what they are saying. You hear the woman say they wanted to help with setting up for the party - you'd be grateful for the help if only it wasn't the guy you hated. This on top of them ruining your steamy session with your wife is enough to fuel you into hating them. You know the only reason he is here early is to get more time to try and flirt with Wanda. 

They greet you in the kitchen but you are in no mood to talk to them for disturbing you so you say a quick hello and carry on with your previous task seeming busy and not rude. 

Wanda walks to you placing her hand on your shoulder making you automatically turn your head in her direction. "Y/n, they're here to help so give them something to do while I shower and get ready." Being jealous of inanimate objects seems to be a recurring theme today because now you can't help but feel envious of the shower. 

You nod your head acknowledging her words so she gives you a lingering peck on the cheek. Before Wanda leaves, she whispers in your ear only low enough only for you to hear, "Be nice and we can finish what we started, later." Her voice is husky and has an immediate effect on you as you feel heat rise to your cheeks. With the additional people in the room you hold yourself back from doing anything though. You nod again but this time with a smirk on your face. 

As Wanda walks out she speaks to the couple, saying you will tell them what needs to be done. When the last thing is out of the bag you are emptying you turn to the intruders. "I guess you can start with sorting through these snacks," you say as you move out of the way to get some bowls and cups that will be used for the party. 

…

Having managed to get the house 'party' ready with most of the setting up done in the backyard to keep the mess out there - different tables have been arranged for snacks, games and drinks. You deem the set up a success. 

More so, you feel proud of yourself for not being too sarcastic around Jarvis. Although, you did make him do a few things that were unnecessary. Like, taking out the trash, moving around tables and chairs where they wouldn’t ruin the ‘feng shui'. Just little things to make him work up a bit of sweat. 

You leave the two early birds with the last of the finishing touches, setting up the drinks table, to go get ready yourself. As you walk to the bedroom the door is slightly ajar so you push it open, quietly. 

Wanda is sitting in front of her vanity mirror in her bathrobe distracted by her phone, probably checking in on social media about her party when she should be busy with her makeup. The longer you watch her the more it seems that she hasn't heard you. 

Leaning on the door frame, you take in her fresh face reflected in the mirror in front of her. "You really don't need all of that you know?" She looks up at your relaxed figure through the mirror when you start speaking and you gesture to the make up in front of her as puts down her phone. 

"So you always say," Wanda replies smiling shyly as you push away from the frame to walk over to her. 

"You really don't. You're naturally beautiful, my love. It's unfair to everyone else." You move her hair to one side and kiss her neck, mumbling, "I don't know how I'm expected to not just take you right here. Right now," you finish with a kiss on her shoulder. 

She turns her head to look at you, completely stopping your actions. Wanda holds your face inches from hers with one of her hands to reassure you, "Later Y/n. I promise." She lightly rubs your cheek with her thumb and kisses the tip of your nose. "I need to network tonight, I wan-" 

"I know, I know," you interrupt while standing up straight. She has told you once before and that's enough for you to remember, "this is an opportunity for you to grow your following and make new connections." You recite like she has told you a million times before. 

Wanda turns back to face the mirror while you stay behind her rubbing her shoulders making eye contact for a second before she continues putting on her makeup. 

"Don't worry, I'll behave. I know what this means to you," Wanda smiles sweetly at your understanding. However, she doesn't know that you are not done yet, "But if Jarv-" Wanda raises an eyebrow at you for using the wrong name so you correct yourself, "Vision, or whatever he's calling himself these days, comes anywhere near you I may have to get physical." You finish, crossing your arms over your chest. 

She stops her actions and gives you a 'you're being ridiculous' look. "He's harmless, honey." 

You roll your eyes at her comment. "More like useless," you say under your breath. She gives you another look making you drop your arms to your sides to continue. "Harmless, useless, that's besides the point. I don't care for him at all. And I don't like the way he looks at you." This time you give her a 'it is obvious how he feels about you' look. 

"Y/n," Wanda warns firmly, "he is here with his girlfriend. How many times do I have to tell you you don't need to worry about him? Besides, he's too scared of you to do anything anyway. You always look at him like you're about to kill him." 

"Good, that's how it should be," you say and place a kiss on the top of her head. Shaking your head you continue, "And don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt him..." a mischievous smile takes over your face, "at least not tonight, anyway," you finish then turn to rush out. 

"Y/n!" You both laugh and it's her turn to slap your butt as you walk to the bathroom to take your turn to shower and get ready. 

…

By the time you are dressed and join the party a small number of guests have already arrived. You greet those you pass while looking for Wanda. The few people you speak to say she is outside. 

A few of those people are your mutual friends. You want to catch up with Bucky and Natasha quickly so that you can find Wanda afterwards but then Steve, Peggy, Sam, Sharon, Pietro and Monica join in too. 

After what feels like too long you finally manage to get in the fact you need to find Wanda. You roll your eyes and laugh at the comments they make about the two of you not being able to stay apart for more than a few minutes at a time. 

You find her talking and laughing with some of the more important people she invited tonight who she wants to make connections with. You can't help but stand there and admire her from afar. 

As if Wanda can sense your gaze she makes eye contact with you and smiles brighter when she acknowledges your presence. She waves for you to come over so you nod your head. You gesture if she wants a drink which she responds by nodding her head back to you. 

On your way over you stop by the drinks table and grab her something light so she can stay level headed for her long night of networking. 

Once you reach her, she has that breath-taking smile on her face as she takes the drink you hold out for her. "Thank you," Wanda says, taking a quick sip before she introduces you to the small group she has been talking to. 

You wrap your free arm around her waist as she speaks and leans into your side. "Everyone, this is Y/n." Their eyes are on you in a second as you smile and with a slight nod of your head you greet them with a quick - 'Hi, nice to meet you all.' 

Someone's attention grabs you both when they speak up. "Wanda was just saying how supportive you are of her and how you're 'the light of her life'," you can't help but chuckle shyly along with the group at the term of endearment she's used so many times, it is definitely one of your favourites. 

She has a toothy grin on her face as you glance over to her while she and the group look at you waiting for you to comment. 

You turn your head back to the group. "Well I don't have to do much. Most of the time I just need to stand out of her way and watch her shine from the side. She's the only light around here," Wanda blushes, biting her lip, as you all laugh at your cheesy words. 

"Sounds like you're being modest," someone else speaks up. "She mentioned how you go out of your way to capture the perfect picture for her - lying on the ground if you need to." He gestures with his hand and closes one eye like he's taking a photo. The others hum in agreement. You are not embarrassed, you would do anything for her. 

"Any picture is perfect if she's in it," Wanda's blush deepens as she buries her face into your shoulder slightly. "It's not hard to capture her beauty. I just want to make sure I do it from a good angle." You have seemingly finished until you rush to add, "For aesthetic reasons, of course!" Keeping the crowd happy with your light-heartedness. You then make a thinking face, squinting, "Hmm and also because I'm following her orders." You finish off with a raised eyebrow as another round of laughs emerges from you all. 

Wanda doesn't let the chat end there, glancing at you scrunching her nose a little, then looking back to her new friends, "See, what did I tell you all? Full of corny one liners this one," she says, patting your chest with her empty hand. 

This is how most of the night goes; talking to groups and individuals. Occasionally leaving Wanda's side to deal with matters regarding food, drinks and spillages while she continues making social connections. 

You still have one thing on your mind since you were interrupted in the kitchen earlier and you've been patiently waiting all night. All day when you really think about it. You begin to wonder when this party will end so you can get on with the after party you have been thinking about. 

It doesn't help when you see who Wanda is currently talking to. You trust her completely but you're always weary of other people. In this case, Vision, who makes your blood boil just from seeing his face. 

You are busy with cleaning up a mess someone made when they knocked into one of the tables. Thankfully it won't take long to clean but now you are distracted by how uncomfortably close Vision is standing next to your wife and how he unnecessarily leans in to talk to her. Sure there is music playing and a lot of hubbub around but it's not enough that he needs to get closer so that he is heard. 

The anger in your veins begins to boil as you watch him while you finish your task at hand. You know what this night means to Wanda so you can't lose it. Your anger is strong but not as strong as the love you have for her. 

Although, he seems to be testing those limits when you see him place his hand on her shoulder. You hold yourself together as you finish up, not wanting to act possessive but you can't help yourself. 

You pick up an empty bowl to put to the side with the others that are empty. When you glance back up you see Vision is standing a step closer to Wanda making you clench your jaw and tighten your grip on the object in your hands. You don't realise just how firmly you are holding it until it snaps under the pressure. Your eyes fall to the, now, useless bowl, cursing under your breath effectively stopping your gaze on the two people you feel opposing emotions for. 

Discarding the item, you mumble something about cheap plastic and look back up. It is as if Vision is moving in slow motion. His hand drops from her shoulder down her arm to her back, all the while still leaning in way too close whenever he speaks. 

Chanting to yourself in your head, you try to calm yourself down, "You can't lose it, you can't lose it, you can't lose it..." But then you see red when his hand begins to descend lower and it takes everything in you to not combust. 

You can't stop yourself as you take large strides to rush over to them, the mantra that should be calming you so you don't end this man tonight is just a faint whisper in the back of your mind. 

As you close in you realise you don't know what to say or do. Wanda's eyes widen when sees you and the look in your eye but before she can do anything you push yourself between them effectively breaking his hand away from her as you hold Wanda's waist and kiss her deeply. 

Wanda relaxes into your hold and easily falls into the kiss placing her hands on the back of your neck to pull you closer. Vision takes a step back while looking away awkwardly. Wanda's lips take away your anger but in exchange your libido makes its return. 

When you stop the kiss you open your eyes to see Wanda slowly open hers. Smiling with pursed lips, "Hi," is all you can muster up in a low whisper. 

She smiles, biting her bottom lip and replies with a small, "Hi," giggling shortly after. 

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't hold myself back any longer," you smirk. 

Vision clears his throat to make his presence known. You smile at your wife and peck her lips. While keeping her eye contact you gradually turn, moving your arm to wrap around her waist. 

You look to your nemesis like you forgot he existed, "Oh, hi Vision. Sorry buddy, I didn't see you there. Are you enjoying the party?" 

He is not as amused as you are and gives his short reply through gritted teeth, "Yes, it's been a nice night." As if on cue, the woman he arrived with comes over and says she is tired so wants to leave. You couldn't be happier, the grin on your face is almost like you have won first prize in a contest. Which, in a way, you have. 

After another hour or so you say goodbye to the last of the guests as you walk them to the door. Wanda is latched to your side bubbling with glee because of how well tonight turned out. You listen to the excitement in her voice and can't help the warm feeling you get inside from her contagious happiness. 

Sitting on the couch Wanda puts her legs over your lap while you hold her with one arm and she plays with your other hand in your lap. She is busy going through some of the names of the influencers she was able to meet and connect with tonight deeming the party a success. "Thank you so much honey, you did a lot today," Wanda acknowledges. 

"Don't worry baby, you're dealing with the rest of the cleaning," you remark, looking at the remaining mess. "Everyone's gone now so I don't need to put up the 'perfect partner' act anymore," you smirk cheekily. 

Wanda smiles and nudges you slightly with her shoulder while she looks at you. "Seriously Y/n, they all loved you," she pushes your hair back as she speaks further. "It couldn't have gone any better and I'm glad they got to meet you." She finishes by pressing a long kiss to your cheek, the action making your eyes flutter close. 

She leans her forehead against your temple and lets out a breath whispering, "I love you," that you feel on your cheek. You easily return the sentiment then bask in each other's presence in the calmness of the night. 

After about a minute you open your eyes and she pulls away. You rest your head against the plush cushion of the sofa behind you looking in her direction. You see the expression change on Wanda's face as her finger traces a line along your jaw. "You know, we didn't finish what we started earlier." Obviously affected by thinking back to before you were interrupted after your shopping trip. 

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that," you say sarcastically before moving to press your lips to hers. It starts off slow, full of love and appreciation for the other, it doesn't take long for things to get heated especially when Wanda moves to straddle your lap. You rest your hands on her naked thighs where her dress ends as she leans over you, getting some height to deepen the kiss. 

Your hands creep up Wanda's thighs, resting them under her dress where the waistband of her underwear sits. 

When she grinds down on your lap and feels something hard in your pants, she gasps looking at you seductively, "Mmm, someone's ready," she says, cupping your crotch. 

"Well, I only saw one way this party was going to end, darling," you say with a husky voice and grin at her, "you did promise me after all." 

Wanda kisses you hard and slowly begins to move her hips along your thigh.  

You reverse your positions by quickly laying Wanda down, hovering over her as your hand makes its way up her dress to her breasts. Wanda gasps when you squeeze over the nude colored garment and your thigh presses into her centre. 

Her rings feel cool against your warm cheeks as she holds you in place. She moves her hands, the tips of her fingernails pressing into the back of your head and jaw almost painfully as she kisses you with vigor. 

Your body is heating up too much so you try to remove your jacket but when your hand hits the backrest of the couch your mind is made up to move to your bed. 

After forcefully pulling away you finally remove the piece of clothing, immediately going back to kissing Wanda with her arms locking you in. You pull away the slightest amount against Wanda's strength, "There's not enough room," you mumble against her lips. 

Latching her lips back onto yours Wanda tightens her limbs around your neck and waist as you swiftly lift her and expertly walk to the bedroom. 

When your knees hit the edge of the bed you rest Wanda against the plush covers leaning over her. As Wanda continues to move her hips against your thigh you press it into her to increase the pressure that is building up in her lower stomach. 

"Let me make you feel good," you whisper against her lips. Before you can press kisses down her jaw, Wanda unexpectedly pushes your shoulder so that you are laying on your back.

"Oh, I know you will," Wanda replies as she kneels over you. She smiles, biting her lip as she pulls her lace underwear past the edge of her dress. She slowly drags it down her smooth legs causing your breath to hitch. When you see the garment drop to the floor you finally close your mouth, swallowing your anticipation of what's to come. 

Wanda kisses you feverishly as she positions herself comfortably on top of you pulling away not long after. Your disappointment doesn't last long when she begins to crawl up your body. "Fuck," you breath out when Wanda places her knees either side of your face and you see how wet she is. 

You kiss the inside of her thighs as she gets into position while you look at what you are about to devour, your mouth salivating in anticipation. She then lowers herself on to you, your tongue immediately swiping through her folds. 

Wanda moans at the contact and then moans louder from the vibrations you send through her body when you groan at how warm she is, her flavor coating your tongue. 

You explore her folds knowing the right spots to get those intoxicating sounds from her. Wanda grinds herself on your face with one hand in your hair, her fingers threading your hair almost painfully and the other on the headboard to keep her balance. 

When your tongue ventures lower, entering her and your nose bumps against her bundle of nerves, Wanda throws her head back moaning loudly, the pleasure setting her body on fire. 

Her hips move without abandon so you slow her down placing your hands on Wanda's waist to control her speed. You bunch up her dress behind her so you can see the look of pure ecstasy on her face. 

Wanda grips your head with both hands, eyes clenched shut, too overwhelmed by the pleasure. The closer she gets to reaching her peak the stronger her nails dig into your scalp making you grunt effectively sending shocks through her body. 

Any sounds coming from her are muffled with the way her thighs squeeze around your head. Then, all in one go Wanda gushes over you, her hips slowing down as rides out her high, your hands trying to hold her in place to not let any drop go to waste. 

When her fingers and legs loosen, you try to regulate your breathing, leaving small pecks along Wanda's inner thighs as she recovers. 

Wanda looks down at you smiling as you smile back licking your lips. "I feel like I just drowned you," she giggles, stoking your hair. 

"It's going to take a lot more than that," you chuckle back. 

As Wanda goes to lay beside you, you support her by wrapping your arms around her back. When she is comfortable you kiss her, your tongue automatically meeting hers. She moans at her taste as it invades her mouth. 

You move one hand from Wanda's waist to pull down her dress below her chest. You begin to squeeze and fondle her breast, pinching and rubbing a stiff nipple. Alternating between the two. 

Nimble fingers work on your buttons to get you out of your shirt. While Wanda works on your clothes you unzip and pull her dress over her head. 

With Wanda naked your lips work on her chest, leaving marks on her soft flesh. She sighs, her hand automatically going to the back of your head, when you take her nipple into your mouth sucking and grazing your teeth over the hardened bud. 

She pulls you back up to kiss you which you reciprocate as your hips move against each other. Your moans are swallowed as the friction between you increases. 

Wanda whines a little at the loss of contact when you lift yourself but her fingers are quick to help in trying to undo your buckle. When it is loose you drop your pants on the floor then hastily remove the remainder of your clothing. 

You lean on one hand near Wanda's head as your hips meet. Your other hand grabs the shaft between your legs to coat her wetness along it while her fingers dig into your shoulders. 

In anticipation, both of you hold your breath as you line up to enter her. You grunt at the same time as Wanda gasps, when you push into her, her walls pulling you in. Burying your face in her neck to control yourself, you allow her time to adjust to the intrusion. 

Your hips stay still so you take the opportunity to look at Wanda's blissed out face. "You're so beautiful," you breathe out, kissing her lips which she lazily responds. 

As you slowly kiss her, Wanda's hips begin to thrust so you follow in time with her. When you know she can take more, you take control, pulling her legs up, so you can slam into her deeper. Wanda exclaims your name after a particularly hard stroke. 

You rest your forehead against Wanda's as she holds on to you like her life depends on it. Your mind goes to the sting you will feel when you shower in the morning from the scratches Wanda creates your back. 

The closer she gets the more Wanda's walls pulsate around you. Every movement of your hips, every sound escaping her lips you're not sure how much longer you will last so you are relieved when Wanda says she is about to cum. 

With Wanda's release yours follows shortly after. You pump in and out of her slowly to drag out her high. Carefully you rest your body weight on top of her as you catch your breath, Wanda's breathing warming your ear as she rests her head against yours. 

When you have the energy again you lean on your hands, trying to not move your hips just yet because you know Wanda will still be sensitive. 

Before you can make a move Wanda brings your face to hers, capturing your lips lovingly. With the distraction of the kiss you pull out of her slowly making her gasp when she is empty. 

Rolling over beside her your arm goes around Wanda as she lays on your bare chest. "Was that worth the wait?" She mumbles against you. 

You cup Wanda's cheek to get her to look at you. "For you? Always," you reply with a smile on your face. 

While you lay there you converse about the party again and all the ones you will now have to attend to support the new people Wanda has met as they will do with her. 

When the conversation dwindles Wanda anchors your face with her hands, leaning in to kiss you. It is sweet and calm, just as the night is now that the house is empty. 

After a while she pulls you so you move on top of her again and you know where this is going to go. Your hand travels down the side of Wanda’s body until it gets to its warm destination. 

Wanda gasps as your fingers circle her clit slowly and when you go to remove your hand she holds your wrist in place. You smile into the kiss and press harder making Wanda yelp. 

From there you don't stop until she can't take anymore. 

…

When you wake up in tangled sheets the next morning, one of your arms are draped over Wanda's midsection while you lay on your side, you open your eyes to see Wanda is already working. 

Her face is concentrating on her phone, no doubt checking up on posts and what kind of impression her party left last night. She lets out a slight laugh that turns into a gorgeous smile plastered on her face. 

You finally speak, "I thought I was the only one that could make you smile like that." 

She looks over at you, her smile unwavering, "I guess you're right." She leans over to peck your lips then turns to her side leaning on her elbow and resting her head on her hand passing you her phone. 

You raise an eyebrow as you take it. When you see the post you let out a laugh through your nose just as she did prior, "Yeah, I guess I am." 

You look at her passing her back the phone. You both reposition yourselves - you put one hand behind your head resting on the headboard and she lays on her back, letting her rest her head on your chest giving you both a clear view of her phone. 

Someone captured your kiss from last night and posted it tagging Wanda with the caption: 'I can only hope to find a love like this one day...' 

You laugh, confusing Wanda and making her turn her head to look at you quizzically. You point to Vision on the side in the photo looking over the two of you. "I didn't even notice him." You move your hand back and thread your fingers through your hair. "What a tool," you say, making Wanda shake her head, giggling. 

"You know you didn't have to do that right?" She rolls over and lays on top of you, putting her phone to the side so she can look at you. You lay with your back fully against the bed and place one of your hands on her lower back while the other is busy combing through her messy hair. "You could have just joined in the conversation, he would have moved away." 

"No, there were only two options," you say. 

Wanda looks at you with a crease between her eyebrows wondering where you are going to go with this. What exactly was the other option? 

"I figured this was better than me punching him," you laugh as if you're the funniest person ever. 

She lets out a chuckle from your antics. "You are something else," she says in a low voice then kisses you. 

You have another thought, "Although..." You take your hand away from her hair and put your finger to your chin in a mocking way with your eyebrow raised looking in the air, "that would have definitely gotten you some free publicity." You look back to her, "All publicity is good publicity, right?" She laughs at the expression on your face. 

You break the look when you smile at her reaction. "You're either psychotic or obsessed," she pokes your forehead making you furrow your eyebrows slightly. 

"Can you blame me?" You roll over so that you're on top of Wanda so she takes your face in her hands. "Look at you!" You say excitedly as you both laugh and look at each other lovingly. 

Your voice comes back down to its normal level, "I'd gladly take your labels of psychotic and obsessed if it keeps anyone else from putting their hands on you." 

"The others are right, you really are crazy," Wanda says, pecking your lips. 

"You must know it's because of you, don’t you?" You accuse. 

"Oh no, you can't use me as an excuse for your obsessive craziness," she says while squeezing your cheeks together and pressing another light kiss to your lips. 

"Oh yes I can," you lean in to kiss the smile off her face but fail miserably because you can't stop the smile on yours. 

You can't help it when you're with her. She's the best thing to have ever happened to you and you can only hope she feels the same. 

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[imaginationeuphoria]

Y/n : Where are we going ?

Wanda : I'm taking you home.

Y/n : This is not the way to my fucking house Wanda

Wanda : oh no, not your home. My home.

What she said made Y/n speechless.

Wanda : My home .

{ A/n : Wanda kidnaps y/n enjoy }

#marvel #marvel au #marvel incorrect quotes #wanda fanfic #wanda x y/n #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda mcu #wanda maximoff #incorrect mcu quotes #mcu fanfiction #marvel scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #wanda marvel #elizabeth olsen

[thewitchandtheassassin]

A Pirate’s Life for Me Part Eight (Wanda M x Reader x Natasha R.)

Summary: You've been taken, now he's being hunted.

Warnings: Violence. Lots of violence.

A/N: I haven't died. I swear. I'm... hopefully gonna have more stuff soonish.

Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife​ @natasha-danvers​ @aaron-despair​ @username23345 @xjiasx​ @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova​ @summergeezburr @imnotasuperhero @miscmarvelwritings @captain-josslett @onlyafewfindtheway @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @evilcr0ne​ @nightingalexx​@suki-is-a-queen

Lingering between consciousness and slumber, Natasha’s arm tightened around the lithe waist of the woman tucked against her chest, dragging her closer into the embrace as she breathed in the earthy, addicting scent of Wanda. Her fingers flexed outward in search of the other woman often curled around the brunette’s back but found no warmth to satisfy her quest. She grunted in displeasure, both from the lack of you and the dull sounds of the world waking outside the four walls of their temporary bedroom.

Drifting deeper into the land of dreams, she was almost asleep once until the jarring sound of a sudden, sharp yell sent her upright. Wanda yelped in surprise, nearly toppling off the bed before Natasha’s strong hand caught her upper arm.

“Natasha!” Yelena’s voice was clear among ruckus, the familiar twang of metal meeting filling what should be silence.

On her feet in an instant, she was swift to find her discarded sword before charging out the door with a half-dressed, disoriented Wanda close behind, her own weapon in hand. Rushing at Yelena’s assailant as she barreled out of the room, she jammed her blade through his side with practiced simplicity before shoving his soon-to-be-lifeless body to the floor.

“What the fuck has happened?” she demanded, peering at her crew fighting with familiarly dressed men throughout the hall.

 Maria’s attacker was already on his knees, choking on the crimson gushing from his open mouth. Kate had a man pinned to the wall, her knuckles split from the repeated motion of her knuckles meeting his face as she screamed at him with a ferocity that would have normally made Yelena swoon, if the situation were any different. She was young but fierce, a trait that often left the blonde drooling (much to Natasha’s amusement).

But you were nowhere to be found – and that didn’t sit well with her.

“Rumlow. He’s kidnapped (Y/N),” Yelena grunted, driving her sword through another man as he stumbled past her. “She threw a rock through my window. Woke me before his men began their siege on the inn. She left us enough time to stop a massacre, but I could not stop him from taking her. She was fighting him when I last saw her but I lost her in the attack. I am so sorry, captain.”

For a moment, the world narrowed into a darkened tunnel, blood roaring in her ears. You were taken. You were taken and they hadn’t been able to stop them.

With a furious, guttural scream that could’ve terrified the bravest of people, Natasha stormed over to the man locked in battle with Darci and slammed him into the wall. Startled by the sudden movement, his hand smacked off the wall and his sword skidded across the floor away from him as it tumbled from his grasp. His throat bobbed nervously as the tip of her blade dug in just below his chin, the rage in her eyes chilling him to the bone.

“Where is he taking her?” she snarled, watching emotionlessly as blood trickled onto her blade.

“W-we were told to k-kill you all and meet him at the ship! If we did not return, he will set sail for Cape Cod. To wed Lady (Y/N).”  The man’s cheeks were flush with fear, tears sliding over heated flesh and the front of his breeches darkening pathetically.

Lip curled in disgust, she dispatched the man with a flourish, never breaking eye contact even as his head fell away from his shoulders. Turning as his lifeless body slumped to the floor, she returned to her partner and right-hand with determination in her gait.

“We must dress and see if those on our boat still live. We have to stop Rumlow before he reaches Governor Pierce and Cape Cod, lest we…” she trailed off.

Despite the fire in her gaze, Wanda could see worry and panic peeking through. She was certain there was a similar concern mirrored in hers. If they could not get to you before he made landfall, would you be lost to them forever?

-X-

Fidgeting with the iron cuffs locked uncomfortably around your wrists, you growled as the tension in the chains endured. You’d been unconscious when they’d tossed the metal upon you and there was little means of escaping from them. It didn’t help that were confined in the belly of the ship, tucked in a dark space, with no means of finding a way to extract yourself from them. You’d initially been given a bed in the Captain’s Quarters, but you’d been thrown into the belly so you wouldn’t “cause the captain anymore problems”.

(It wasn’t your fault he was not fast enough to stop your teeth from sinking into the side of his hand after he dared to caress your cheek. Clearly he needed practice in moving quicker.)

The hatch above your head slowly creaked open, a shadowed face peering down at you. Darkness danced along his features, but you could vaguely make out the outline of the man serving as Rumlow’s right-hand, Helmut Zemo.

Truly the epitome of young and dumb.

“Are you alright, miss?” he awkwardly squeaked, his smile curled in an almost unnatural way.

Snorting, you narrowed your eyes into unimpressed slits. “I’m trapped in the belly of this bloody ship after being kidnapped, with no food or water or warmth, in the dark and wearing chains. What do you think?”

His cheeks grew ruddy under the contemptuous venom in your words, eyes flickering over his shoulder for a moment.

"Ah, apologies. That was a stupid question." Smiling uncomfortably, he opened the hatch a little more. "Would some fresh air help? Maybe some rations? It's not much but I don't feel right letting you starve to death down here."

Kidnapping and holding me hostage is fine, killing my family is fine, but letting me starve bothers him?

Resisting the urge to let your eyes roll back into your skull, you forced a meek smile at him. "That would be lovely, sir."

Perking up at your sudden compliance, he slowly ushered you up the rickety ladder before leading you out onto the deck of the ship. Keen eyes were studious and discrete as you looked upon the frothy waters but you saw no sign of your ship. For a split second, you wondered if they would abandon you, leave you to this fate - or worse, if they were icy corpses back in some dingy inn - but you shook away that thought. You were not helpless. If they did not come, you'd save yourself and spend your life searching for answers or revenge.

Whatever may come.

-X-

The first time he allowed you onto the deck, the crew had watched you with wary scrutiny. So you kept your wits, eating and drinking what you could to the best of your abilities. You would keep your cards close to your chest, watching the waters in hopes of seeing the flying colors you’d come to love on the horizon. And after a few days of being let topside, the scrutiny faded. Even Rumlow would hover less, choosing to stare at you from a distance, his face a mixture of disgust and longing. He clearly hated you for the choices you’d made – choosing those harlot pirates over a dignified man like himself - but that boyhood obsession of his still remained, burning in spite of his revulsion.

On your seventh day of being allowed to drink in the fresh air, Zemo carefully unlocked the metal from your wrists, wincing at the raw flesh beneath. "You are expected to wear these in the evening, lest you be tempted to overtake the ship, but Captain Rumlow believes you will not lash out during the day."

Delicate fingers traced over the abused skin. Glancing up at him, you demurely smiled, batting your eyes.

"Thank you. I see there is no point in being a problem, it would serve my best interests to learn more about this ship and its people. If I am expected to marry Brock, I should know you all better."

The lies poured off your tongue with ease, so honey-sweet and gentle that Zemo was oblivious to the dangers lurking beneath the surface. In his line of business, it should have learned to never trust a pretty face and yet, here he was.

To be so dumb and trusting, you mused, forcing away the smirk threatening to overtake the innocent smile.

The sun was high in the sky when you first noticed it. A tiny blip on the churning waters. It was quite a ways back, but the strength of the wind seemed to offer bursts of speed for the somewhat smaller vessel. None of Rumlow's crew seemed to pay any attention to the ship, far too arrogant to acknowledge they might not succeed, but you repeatedly peered over to it as the day crept along...

And you knew what comes next.

-X-

Tucking away the spyglass, an unnerving expression befell the redheaded pirate as she considered what to do. She could see you atop the boat, staring at her ship expectantly. As if you knew they would come.

A small piece of her wondered why you were allowed to trudge about so freely on that repulsive creature’s ship after you’d been taken, but she trusted you. 

She always had.

“Is it them?” Wanda inquired quietly, following Natasha’s eyes.

“Yes,” she murmured, gripping the hand that fell into hers, “I can see her standing on the deck. She knows we are coming.”

Wanda’s brow pinched as her lips turned down. “Do you think -”

“No.” The answer was abrupt and severe, halting wandering insecurities before they ran wild. She wanted to shake herself for ever having such a concern; she didn’t want Wanda to slip down the same path of thought. “She is a brilliant woman. I do not doubt she has played into Rumlow’s ego and pride to give herself an advantage. I believe she is simply waiting for a sign.”

Nodding, a steely resolve refined Wanda’s features. A thirst for blood and war shined treacherously in emerald irises, a sheer contrast to the sweet woman who often graced the boards of their fine ship.

 Back straightening, Natasha was transported back in time, to their early years of pirating. Watching her lover carve through pirates and imperials alike, her grace unfathomable even as she ended lives and bloodlines without a second thought. Remembered her bewitching dance of death, the vicious and beautiful intricacies of what was normally such a brutal act slowly earning her the name of Scarlet Witch, whispered across the seas in fear and awe.

And she could see herself, eyes empty and blade meticulous. Could remember killing her mentor and hearing him whisper the name, “Black Widow,” as blood spilled into her hands and onto her worn boots.

Swallowing down those memories, Natasha’s resolution became tangible and clear.

“Aim for that ship – and ram it.”

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