“(y/n)? Are you awake?”
“Hmm?” you groan, burrowing out your head from underneath the blankets. Blearily, you sit up, and turn the light on with fumbling hands.
You blink your eyes to chase away any traces of sleep, and the first thing they see is Pietro Maximoff bundled in a blanket burrito outside your doorway.
You rub at your eyes furiously. It was probably just Wanda teasing you around with dreams. She’s never stopped ever since you’ve told her your growing affection for her brother.
But when the world grows clear again, the figure of the elder Maximoff remains standing.
He edges a step forward, unsure whether to enter or not.
“May I come in?”
You run a hand through your hair, knowing that it didn’t see a brush in the last few hours. The last shadowy purple remnants of sleeplessness line underneath your eyelids, and you want nothing more than to crash back down to dreamland again.
“Be my guest.”
The Sokovian shuffles forward slowly, dragging the bedsheets behind him. “I couldn’t find a decent place to sleep.”
Despite your weariness, you chuckle, watching his usually agile feet slide this way and that, confused on which direction to move.
“Why not Wanda’s room?”
“She’s not here. Again.” Pietro grumbles, flopping down to sit on your mattress. “That Vision, or whatever he is, he’s making her lose self-control. This isn’t the first time she has snuck out.”
“Mm, you sound like an overbearing mother.” You prop yourself up against the headboard to shake your head at him.
“I’m the eldest!”
“By what, not even a quarter of an hour?”
“Still the oldest.”
“And I’m sure you learned so much more about the meaning of life in that delivery room until Wanda popped out.”
Pietro tries to give you a half-hearted hair flick, but his hands turn back to stifle a yawn.
“Go to sleep.” You order him immediately, bundling the blankets around him tighter.
You sigh, sliding over to the cooler side of the bed to allow Pietro to slip in.
And yet, the kid has the gall to refuse.
“No, no. I’d take too much space, I could kick you when I wake up because I usually don’t…”
You push him down unceremoniously in the space next to you, ignoring his protests. When he runs out of arguments, you fluff his silver-blonde hair and gently place it on your pillow.
He gazes up at you tiredly. “This won’t happen again.”
You cut the apology off with a swift peck on the lips, which effectively shuts him up. Just as quickly, you draw away, hand reaching out to the bedside light.
“Good night, Pietro.”
Crashland Protocol - Part X [Pietro x Reader]Crashland Protocol - Part X [Pietro x Reader] by katnisseverdeen4life
“Bună dimineața, frumoaso."
You sleepily smack at Pietro's chest. "I told you not to call me that.”
“You told me not to call you darling.” He whispers. “So, I did not.”
“Loophole-finding bastard.” you mumble, burrowing your face into his neck.
The moment you do so, you hear a series of thumping footfalls, increasing in speed and noise with every step.
"Brother, I have exciting…”
The voice dies away.
You and Pietro both look up to see Wanda in the doorway of the room, eyes practically bulging.
Too late, you realize that Pietro’s arms are still wound around your waist, and you’re practically snuggled into his shoulders.
Wanda’s face doesn’t move an inch, but her lips thin and what little color she has in her cheeks disappear.
Pietro finally disentangles himself from you, staring up at her sheepishly. “Wanda…”
She lifts her chin at him, co
Crashland Protocol - Part IX [Pietro x Reader]Crashland Protocol - Part IX [Pietro x Reader] by katnisseverdeen4life
It’s strange, lying on the ground without restraints. The temptation to paw at your wrists for rope marks itches at you constantly.
Thoughts rumble around your head with the noise of the blizzard. The reactions of the Maximoff twins were almost comical, Pietro opening and closing his mouth, Wanda with a startled look on her face.
Of course, that didn’t make them immediately trust you.
A howling wind shudders the glass of the nearest window, while the timbers of the rooftop creak and moan from the snowstorm swaying them. You roll over to the side, groaning.
It’s no use. If the snowstorm’s going to be this loud, it’s going to be a restless night.
Shaking the sleep from your eyelids, you blearily sit up and stagger over to the notes you’ve scribbled on the twins from the sessions, picking up Wanda’s first.
Excessive paranoia. Suffers from PTSD. Severe schizophrenia (hearing voices in head) suspected.
The last comment’s only a h
Crashland Protocol - Part VIII [Pietro x Reader]Crashland Protocol - Part VIII [Pietro x Reader] by katnisseverdeen4life
WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR AGE OF ULTRON
“I’m surprised you would even have pen and paper in a place like this.”
“It was no trouble. Pietro stole the papers, I retrieved the pens from the nearest shops.” Wanda says, relaxing herself onto the nearest chair. “I apologize for not collecting our files back at the base. It is crawling with SHIELD agents, and they have most definitely have them by now.”
You shuffle through the pages, relishing the warmth of your new, drafty-and-shackle-free room. Being an ally did give you some extra advantages.
“I expected that. But we'll worry about SHIELD later. Tell me about what haunts you.”
Wanda closes her eyes, shuddering as she takes a deep breath. A sharp sensation of pain floods your mind, and disturbing images start to form.
So much for hoping that the first therapy session would be painless.
The younger Maximoff’s breathing seems more labored now, which you pretend not to hear.
Steve x Reader - Independant SurpriseSteve x Reader - Independant Surprise by katnisseverdeen4life
It never fails. Every time some major event comes up in the calendar, it’s officially time for the Avengers to compete for who contributes the most in celebration.
Of course, this event’s a bit different than the others; who would have thought that a holiday and a birthday would collide as one?
“Nothing like a good birthday to cheer things up a bit.” you say, hanging the last of the streamers on the rafters. “We all need a little party for our spirits.”
Natasha stands guard under the ladder you’re on, holding it steady. “I don’t know, (y/n), the last bash we threw ended up in the near slaughter of humanity.”
“Eh, fine print doesn’t count. Pass up a flag, will you?”
The Stars and Stripes are passed up to you like a changing of the guard. “You’ve got to be pretty optimistic to revive Cap from his old man’s slump.”
“No need to be snippy about it, he’s got to come out and celeb
|Enjoy the randomosity of my mind.|