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Mantras
Steve: I'm sorry, but can somebody tell me why Nebula just slapped Thor?
Y/N: That might be my fault.
Steve: ... Explain.
Y/N: I've been teaching her some of our 'earthly sayings' and she found one she quite liked.
*Nebula walking past, muttering to herself*: "A backhand a day keeps the bitches at bay."
Steve: Who says that?
Natasha and Y/N, simultaneously: It's my mantra.
In My Defence
Loki: I have loved Y/N from the moment I met them... well... actually, probably from like the second week. The first week of knowing them, they were kind of a bitch.
Y/N: In my defence, the first week of knowing you, you killed like five people.
Miserable Together
Warnings: angst, mentions of character death, grief, loss
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Bestfriend! reader, mention of Pietro Maximoff x reader
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You gasp as you step through the glittering portal. You’d got in touch with some of Stephen’s sorcerers as soon as you’d heard, and they’d sent you here. Although… you didn’t really know where here was.
You step onto the rock ledge, as of yet still unseen by all those in the scene before you. Stephen’s words on your answer machine are still echoing through your mind: I honestly think you’re her last hope. She might not be able to come back from this. The cold nip of the snowy atmosphere is nowhere near the forefront of your mind as you stare in horror. There stands Wanda, face set in a cold stare, as she stands over the girl. You assume this is America Chavez. She is sprawled across some sort of stone slab looking like a deer caught in the headlights. You’d been briefed enough to know what was about to happen; Wanda was going to try to sap America’s powers so she could travel between multiverses.
:readmore:
Your feet start to take slow steps forward as you continue to try to make sense of the scene before you. You can’t take your eyes off Wanda. She just looks so… different. She looks so unyielding, so cold. This isn’t her. You knew what she’d been struggling with, knew bits and pieces about Westview, and your heart had broken for her. You blamed yourself, partly, for letting it get this bad, for letting it get so bad that she was willing to sacrifice the life of a child. Because that’s what America was; she may be a teenager with immense power, but she was still a child. A child with no parents to save her, and no real control of her abilities; a child who needed help. Your help.
You nearly don’t notice when you were a few metres away from Wanda, but when you do, you stop. It would be safer for everyone to give her some semblance of space. The first time you try to speak, no sound comes out, and you realise that your throat has gone thick from trying to hold back your sobs at seeing your best friend like this.
“Wanda,” you whisper.
Her head snaps towards you and you can practically see her breath hitch in her throat. Now it was she who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes flit, scanning your face, your expression, and she takes a hurried step away from the huge stone slab where America lays prisoner.
“I…” she stammers, “I… What- what are you doing here?”
You take a deep breath, “I’m here to help you.”
Wanda’s eyebrows furrow as she tries to make sense of what you’d said, and her lip begins to quiver; “How could you help… me?” she asks slowly, a hint of venom laced in her words.
“What are you going to gain, Wanda?” you ask, taking a slow step towards her.
“I’ll be able to travel the multiverse,” she replies, still eyeing you questioningly, “I’ll be able to see my boys.”
At the mention of her sons, a fleeting smile crosses her face and her eyes become glassy with unshed tears. You ignore how your heart breaks a little when she says that, opting to continue.
“So you’re willing to sacrifice a child? To kill a child?”
Wanda’s look of mild confusion returns to her face; “Well yes…” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I’ll get to see my boys again, to hold my boys again. For that, I’d do anything.”
Now it’s your turn to look confused.
“But Wanda,” you try, “They won’t be your boys. No matter which multiverse you travel to, they won’t be your boys; their mother will be the Wanda Maximoff from that multiverse.”
Wanda shakes her head quickly, lip still trembling as she tried to shake what you’ve said out of her head. Her chest is rising and falling quicker than before and she takes a deep breath to try to steady herself.
“No matter which multiverse,” she whispers, “They will always be my boys.”
You sigh in despair, and massage the space between your eyebrows.
“Okay, so say, hypothetically, you kill this innocent child and take her powers,” you say, gesturing to America, who is looking at you like you’ve just signed her death warrant, “What will you do with the Wanda of whichever multiverse you end up in? Because there can’t be two of you. The boys can’t have two of you for a mother.”
Wanda huffs and shrugs her shoulders over and over, mouth opening and closing as she tries to think through that stage of her plan. You can see the inner turmoil, how her need to be with her children has overridden her sense of logic, and how put-out she is when she has to think of the situation rationally.
“She’ll just… she’ll have to go,” she shrugs.
“She’ll have to go? So you’d murder again?”
“Y/N, do not make me out to be the villain, here,” she warns lowly.
“Then please don’t become one,” you beg, a familiar burn brewing behind your eyes; “Wanda. You’re my best friend. You’re like a sister to me. I am begging you; talk to me. Just talk to me. We can sort this all out, I promise, but you have to talk to me. Because, at the minute, you’re not the person I know. You’re not the Wanda I’ve been through so much with, and I want her back, but I don’t know to get her back unless you talk to me.”
A tear runs down your cheek, and hers in synchrony.
“It’s not fair,” she whispers, “It’s just not fair.”
“I know-“
“No, you don’t!”
“Then… explain it to me.”
“You know in every other multiverse I have my children?” she smiles sadly, “Every single one of them. We eat ice cream in front of the TV every night after dinner; we play soccer in the yard when they get home from school; we have pyjamas days every Saturday; we make forts, we paint pictures, we go to the movies, roller blading, the library- we do everything together. They are my everything… in every other multiverse,” her face hardens as she continues, “And the only one where I do not have my children is in this one. This one, where I have given the world so much of myself, where I have tried so hard to help and to be a good person; this is the multiverse where I have been denied my entire world, and it’s not fair.”
The tears are streaming down her face at this point, as she speaks through gritted teeth in an attempt to stop herself from breaking down completely. She finished her speech with a sarcastic laugh.
“Tell me, tell me now, Y/N, that you know what I am going through. Tell me that you understand.”
“I do,” you say, quietly.
Wanda is visibly taken aback, looking at you with a mixture of horror and disbelief, as she chokes out a “what?”
“I do understand,” you say, “I understand because I have those kinds of dreams too. I didn’t realise for a while that every time I dream, I’m really living through a different multiverse’s version of myself, just for a moment. And at first, it was bliss, because I was so ignorant to it; I was so ignorant to the fact that could be me, if I didn’t come from this multiverse. When it sank in that I was dreaming of my other lives, the ones that different versions of me get to live while I don’t, I wanted to stop dreaming altogether. I actually tried to not go to sleep at all, because I didn’t want to see what I was being denied by living in this multiverse. I managed to stay awake for around three days before I couldn’t take it anymore. And I’ll be damned if as soon as my head hit that pillow, I wasn’t living through the lens of the happiest version of me the multiverse could come up with; the one who everything had gone right for. And it wasn’t fair. And I hated it. I still hate it, but I live with it. In every other multiverse, you have your children, Wanda. Do you know what I have? In every. Other. Multiverse?”
Wanda shakes her head, mouth and eyes wide as you make your confessions, tears streaming down your face.
“I have Pietro. And I have my kids. Because in every other multiverse, Pietro lives. In every other multiverse, Pietro and I end up together; whether it’s married, engaged, living together, we always end up together. In every single one.”
You’re sobbing now, your voice thick, but you can’t find it in you to stop, having not had a chance to unburden yourself with this.
“And in every single one, we have three kids; two boys, one girl. Andrei, Elena, and Cristian. And do you know what? They’re perfect. Every single one of them. Andrei is obsessed with sports; anything where he can speed around with Pietro. They play football in the house, and drive me insane when they accidentally break things, but it’s perfect. Elena is calmer, and she is the apple of Pietro’s eye, his little princessa; he slows down for her, does all her crafts with her, reads to her, you name it. Cristian is our youngest but most definitely our loudest. He can turn anything into a drum kit- tables, doors, the floor, and he loves it when we all pitch in and sing to his little tunes. They never match, obviously, but that doesn’t matter. We do everything together too; we go on holidays, and to theme parks, and we make snowmen in the winter and igloos that we read stories in, and we have movie nights every Saturday with popcorn and more sugar than is probably fit for child consumption. And he is such a good dad, Wanda. He is such a good dad. And it hurts my heart so much that he never got the chance to be in this multiverse.”
Wanda’s eyes scrunch shut as she listens, trying to hold back her sobs as she realises that you’ve both been struggling with the same thing.
“And you know? I even see you in my dreams. You and Tommy and Billy. You come round to us for every Thanksgiving, and we come to you at Christmas. And the kids are absolutely obsessed with one another; they’re always plotting something, but we wouldn’t have it any other way because it’s usually just the boys convincing Elena to join in with their song about wanting more ice cream.”
Wanda lets out a laugh, a genuine, heartfelt laugh, as you reminisce about the children you don’t have.
You take a deep breath and continue, “So I do know what it’s like. I know exactly what it’s like. And it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that in every other multiverse, we get to be happy while we suffer in this one. It isn’t fair, that this version of ourselves never gets to meet our kids, or spend time with our husbands. It isn’t fair… But I wouldn’t change it.”
Wanda’s eyes snap open as she looks at you incredulously.
“You… wouldn’t change it?” she snarls.
“No. I wouldn’t change a thing. Because if, in every other multiverse, I get to be that happy, and I get to have Pietro, and I get to have my children, then I would gladly take hit after hit after hit in this multiverse so they don’t have to in theirs,” you clutch your aching chest, trying to convince the pain in your heart to subside as you continue, “I just have to try to find comfort in the fact that the multiverse is so fragile, and yet in so many different ones, I am the happiest I could ever be. And who’s to say that if I was happy in this one, then that wouldn’t sap the happiness out of six other multiverses. Who’s to say that if I have Pietro in this one, he doesn’t disappear from five others? He and my children are with me in every other multiverse; we are together, despite everything, and if me being so miserable in this one means that they can be happy, then I’ll bear that cross for them. And no, it isn’t fair, and no it isn’t fair that the same thing has happened to you, but at least here we still have each other. Wanda, you’re like my sister- hell, you were going to be my sister before Ultron happened anyway! So please… let’s just find a way to get through this together. Just you and me.”
Wanda’s sobbing, hand clutching at her on chest as she listens to your words, letting them sink in. You kneel down in front of her, and take her hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. Through her tears, she manages to smile at you, and you offer her one in return.
“So… we’ll be miserable together?” she jokes.
You let out a laugh through your tears, and she joins in.
“Yeah,” you whisper, “Miserable together.”
Yoga
*Wanda, sat cross-legged in the Darkhold Castle*
Wanda: Vis and I always know how to find each other.
Y/N: With yoga?
Go Away
*Stephen knocks on the door and Y/N answers*
Y/N: Wanda's not here.
Stephen: Oh.
Y/N: You're not going away.
Y/N: Why aren't you going away?
In the Way
*Secretary of State calls for the Avengers to disband*
Y/N: Erm... NO!
Steve: Y/N! Apologise!
Y/N: I'm sorry, Mr Secretary. Thank you for making time in your busy life to come in here and get in the way of ours.
Compliments
Loki: *looking at Thanos* Distract him from Thor! Piss him off!
Y/N: I don't know how!
Loki: Y/N, I have faith in you. There is no one you cannot piss off.
Y/N: *beaming* Thank you!!
Fun and Games
*Peter and Y/N playing a board game*
Y/N: Crap. Look at this... Now I'm burdened with a husband and several tiny pink children, and more cash than I can reasonably manage!
Peter: ... That means you're winning.
Y/N: Really?
Tony: *looking up from his phone* Yes. Cash equals good.
Y/N: Oooooh I'm so pleased!
Y/N: Can I trade in the children for more cash?
Sarcasm
Carol: Why are you here? Aside from getting rescued, what is it you do?
Y/N: I provide much needed... sarcasm.
Bucky: I, for one, couldn't contemplate doing a mission without Y/N's sarcasm.
Sam: Seconded.
Why
Y/N: I don't understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I knew him, and then he's- there's just a body, and I don't understand why he can't get back in it and not be dead anymore! It's stupid! It's mortal and stupid! And, and Wanda's crying and not talking, and, and I was having fruit punch, and I thought "well Pietro will never have any more fruit punch, ever... and he'll never have eggs, or yawn, or brush his hair, not ever" and no one will explain to me WHY.
Answers
Clint: So, will you help me?
Y/N: Is it difficult or time consuming?
Y/N: My answer will really depend on your response.
Slaughter
Steve: How are we all this morning?
Y/N: Well I, for one, didn't want to start my day with a slaughter.
Y/N: Which really just goes to show how much I've grown.
Steve: We're all... really... proud of you, Y/N.
Voice Note
Peter: *texting Y/N and sends a voice note*
Y/N: *texts back* I'm a little busy right now; is it urgent?
Peter: *replies* Nah, just listen to it later.
Later...
*Y/N presses play*
Peter's voice note: THERE'S A FIRE-
Confessions
Y/N: I don't know how to tell you this... but I love you.
Stephen: That's great, Y/N... especially considering we've been married for 5 YEARS.
Y/N: *pouts*
Stephen: *sighs* I love you too.
Problem
Tony: We have a problem.
Y/N: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.
Seduction
Daryl: I don't need to go to bed. I'll be fine.
Y/N: But I'll be so lonely without you. Come and let me curl up in your arms so I can feel whole again.
Daryl: ... Are you trying to seduce me into a healthy sleeping pattern?
Y/N: ... Is it working?
Lost
Bucky: *huffs* Why is it that I always lose things as I need them?
Y/N: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them.
Bucky: Okay yeah thanks, Y/N, that's great. But you've been stabbed and you're bleeding out and I CAN'T FIND THE FIRST AID KIT!