Discover Top Posts Tagged with #mommys boy

ACCIDENTS, REGRETS AND A LITTLE TROUBLEMAKER

Reader!female x W.Maximoff

The argument starts the way they always do—quiet, tense, the air between you and Wanda vibrating like a pulled wire.

She’s pacing the living room, red energy flickering at her fingertips even though she’s trying to keep it under control. You’re standing your ground, arms crossed, heart pounding, because you’re tired. Tired of being careful. Tired of swallowing your feelings so hers don’t explode.

“You don’t listen to me,” she snaps. “You never listen.”

“I do,” you say, voice shaking despite yourself. “I just don’t agree with you.”

That’s when she stops pacing. Slowly. Her eyes lift to yours, and there’s something dangerous there—not power, not magic, but pain sharpened into a weapon.

“You make everything worse,” she says. “Every time I let you close, something breaks. Sometimes I think… sometimes I think the world would be better if you just—”

She hesitates.

Your chest tightens.

“—if you just didn’t exist.”

The words land like glass.

For a split second, Wanda realizes what she’s said. You can see it on her face—the horror, the regret blooming too late. Her mouth opens.

“I didn’t mean—”

But you’re already turning away.

Your vision blurs as you walk past her, past the photos on the wall, past the life you built together. You hear her call your name, hear the panic crack through her voice, but you don’t stop.

You grab your jacket. Your hands are shaking so badly you fumble the car keys off the hook, metal clattering against the floor before you scoop them up.

“Please,” Wanda says behind you, closer now. “Don’t go like this. Let me explain.”

You can’t look at her. If you do, you’ll break.

The door slams shut.

Outside, the night air is cold and unforgiving. You get into the car, breathing too fast, tears spilling freely now. Her words loop in your head, cruel and relentless, drowning out everything else.

You pull out of the driveway.

You don’t see the other car run the light.

The impact is sudden, violent—a scream of metal, a force that steals the air from your lungs. The world spins, headlights streaking like falling stars, and then—

Silence.

Back in the house, Wanda stands frozen in the entryway, her heart racing for reasons she can’t explain. The apology is still on her lips, trembling and desperate.

Then she feels it.

A sharp, tearing sensation in her chest. A scream rips from her throat as red energy explodes around her, shattering glass, bending walls.

“No,” she whispers, already knowing. “No, no, no…”

She vanishes in a flash of scarlet.

When she arrives at the scene, it’s chaos—sirens, flashing lights, strangers shouting. Her knees nearly give out when she sees your car, twisted and broken beyond recognition.

She pushes past everyone, magic flaring uncontrollably.

Your name falls from her lips like a prayer.

As she reaches the wreckage, tears stream down her face. The last thing she remembers saying to you replays in her mind, over and over, a cruelty she can never take back.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, voice breaking as she reaches for you. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it. Please… please stay.”

But apologies are fragile things.

And sometimes, they come too late.

The hospital smells like antiseptic and fear.

Wanda stands just inside the emergency room, hands trembling, red magic barely contained beneath her skin as doctors rush past her. Your name is being called down the hall, shouted between orders and alarms, and every sound feels like it’s carving something out of her chest.

She doesn’t remember moving—only that suddenly she’s there, pressed against a wall outside a trauma bay, breath coming in shallow, broken pulls.

Two doctors step out.

One is tall, blonde, composed even under pressure. The other has dark hair pulled back, exhaustion etched into her face—but her eyes are kind.

Dr. Addison Montgomery.

Dr. Meredith Grey.

“Are you family?” Meredith asks gently.

Wanda nods immediately. “I’m— I’m her wife.”

Addison exchanges a glance with Meredith before speaking. “She’s alive. She has significant injuries, but she’s stable for now. We’re taking her into surgery.”

Wanda’s knees almost give out in relief. “Can I see her?”

“In a moment,” Addison says softly. Then her expression changes—more careful, heavier. “There’s something else we need to tell you.”

The way she says it makes Wanda’s heart stutter.

Meredith steps forward. “When she came in, we ran standard labs. Bloodwork, imaging. We needed a full picture.”

Addison takes a breath. “She’s four weeks pregnant.”

The world stops.

Wanda stares at them, certain she misheard. “She’s… what?”

“Four weeks,” Addison repeats gently. “Very early. She may not have known yet.”

Wanda’s hands fly to her mouth as a broken sound escapes her. Her knees buckle this time, and she has to grip the back of a chair to stay standing.

Pregnant.

With her child.

Her mind flashes cruelly backward—your laughter that morning, the way you’d looked at her during the argument, the future you never got to tell her about.

The words she said to you echo like a curse.

You shouldn’t exist.

A sob rips through her, raw and animal. Red energy flickers around her feet, responding to the agony she can’t control.

“Oh God,” Wanda whispers. “I didn’t know. I didn’t— I didn’t know.”

Meredith’s voice is soft but steady. “Right now our priority is saving her. The pregnancy makes things more complicated, but we’re doing everything we can.”

Addison places a hand on Wanda’s arm. “You should talk to her when she wakes up. She’ll need you.”

Wanda shakes her head, tears streaming freely now. “I don’t deserve to be near her.”

But when they finally let her into the room—when she sees you lying there, bruised, pale, machines breathing and beeping for you—she breaks completely.

She falls to her knees beside your bed, clutching your hand as if letting go would end everything.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs, pressing her forehead to your knuckles. “I didn’t mean it. I was angry and scared and I said the one thing I can never take back.”

Her voice drops to a whisper, shaking with reverence and terror.

“You were carrying our baby… and I sent you away

She looks at your still form, eyes red and swollen, love and guilt tangled so tightly it hurts to breathe.

“Please,” Wanda begs, magic trembling around her like a wounded heart. “Come back to me. Both of you. I swear—I’ll spend the rest of my life making it right.”

The machines continue their steady rhythm.

And Wanda waits, praying she hasn’t destroyed everything she ever loved.

The beeping of the monitors is soft now, rhythmic, familiar.

You slowly open your eyes, groggy, every muscle aching. Wanda is already there, sitting at your bedside, her hands clasped over yours, tears still streaking her cheeks.

“Hey,” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

Her head snaps up. Relief floods her features like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “You’re awake,” she breathes. “You’re okay. Oh my God… you’re okay.”

You manage a weak smile, squeezing her hand. “I… I thought—”

Her sobs choke her words. “I thought I lost you… I thought I lost us…”

Before either of you can drift back into the emotional spiral, the door opens gently. Dr. Meredith Grey steps in, calm but serious, followed closely by Dr. Addison Montgomery. Both of them carry that practiced, steady energy of people who’ve faced life-and-death situations too many times to be shaken—but this time, there’s a hint of excitement under their professional composure.

“Good news,” Meredith says, her tone carefully measured but warm. “We double-checked everything this morning. The bleeding we saw—it wasn’t as severe as we thought. You’re healing well, and more importantly…” She glances at Wanda. “The pregnancy is fine.”

Wanda freezes, eyes widening. Then slowly, realization dawns.

“The baby…?” she whispers, voice trembling.

Addison steps closer. “Your baby is healthy. Four weeks along, and we saw the heartbeat. Everything looks perfect. What we told you yesterday—it was a false alarm. There’s no loss.”

Wanda’s knees almost give way from relief. She grabs your hand tighter, pressing her forehead to it, tears streaming freely but this time they’re tears of joy. “You’re alive. And our baby… our baby’s okay…”

Meredith smiles softly. “You need to take it slow. Both of you. But… you’re going to be okay.”

Wanda buries her face into your shoulder, sobbing with relief and gratitude. “I thought I’d lost everything,” she whispers. “But you’re here. And our baby… you’re here too. I’ll never forgive myself for what I said, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it right.”

The warmth of Wanda’s hands lingers even after you gently pull yours away. She notices, eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears, but there’s a quiet tension now in the space between you.

Her chest heaves as she struggles to find words, guilt and fear tangled with the relief that you’re still here. Finally, you speak, your voice soft but steady, shaking slightly from the storm of emotions.

“Wanda… I need to ask you something,” you say, keeping your gaze on her. “About the baby… do you… do you want this baby?”

Her eyes go wide, and for a moment she doesn’t answer. The room feels heavy, like it’s holding its breath. Then she swallows hard, lips trembling, her hands fidgeting with yours but not touching.

“Yes,” she whispers finally, voice breaking. “I… I do. I want it more than anything. But I… I’m scared. I said things I shouldn’t have. I almost lost you both. And I…” Her voice catches completely. “I told you you shouldn’t live. I… I don’t deserve this baby. I don’t deserve you.

You take a slow breath, steadying yourself. “You made a mistake,” you say gently. “You were angry, scared, and hurting. But the baby… it’s ours. And we can make it through this, together. We can fix what’s broken.”

Her shoulders shake, and she buries her face in her hands. “I just… I don’t know if I can forgive myself. Or if you’ll ever forgive me.”

You step closer and place a hand softly on her shoulder, but not forcing contact. “I forgive you,” you say, your voice quiet but firm. “And we’ll figure this out together. The baby is a part of us now. Do you want to raise it with me?”

Her eyes lift to yours, glimmering with tears, hope, and fear all at once. “Yes,” she whispers. “I want it. I want to fight for it. I want to fight for us.”

You finally reach out again, letting your fingers gently brush hers, but this time it’s tentative, careful, a rebuilding of trust and connection.

And in that fragile, trembling moment, both of you know that despite the pain, the anger, and the mistakes, there’s still a chance to hold on—to life, to each other, and to the little heartbeat growing inside her.

~9 months pregnant~

The living room is quiet, sunlight spilling across the floor in soft patches. Wanda is sitting on the couch, curled up with a blanket around her shoulders, absently rubbing your belly and murmuring to your baby. You’re just about nine months along, and the little kicks and shifts have become part of your daily rhythm.

You grin at Wanda, who doesn’t notice you slipping into the room. In your arms, a tiny bundle—a soft, blue onesie with little lightning bolts stitched across the chest. A name tag sewn in delicate letters reads: PIETRO.

Wanda?” you say gently, catching her attention.

Her eyes lift, glowing with curiosity and warmth, but her gaze softens into something that makes your chest flutter. “What is it?”

You kneel in front of her, holding the bundle out so she can see. “I thought… maybe we should meet him a little early.”

Her hands fly to her mouth, eyes widening. “Oh… my God,” she whispers, her voice breaking. She leans forward, and the tiny figure in your arms becomes the center of the universe in that moment. “Is… is this…?”

You nod, smiling softly. “His name is Pietro,” you say. “I wanted you to be the first to know. I thought… I thought you’d like it.”

Wanda reaches out, trembling, brushing the soft fabric of the onesie. “Pietro…” she repeats, as if saying it aloud makes it real. Her fingers trace the letters of the name, and a tear slides down her cheek. “He’s… he’s perfect. He’s ours.”

You nod, your own eyes misting as Wanda gently leans against your belly, talking softly to the little life growing inside you. “Can you feel it, Wanda?” you whisper. “He’s moving. I think he likes meeting you too.”

Her hands tremble over your stomach, and you both giggle softly as a strong kick answers her. Wanda gasps, eyes wide. “He’s saying hello!” she whispers. “Our Pietro… he’s saying hello!”

Then suddenly, a warm, rushing feeling surprises you—you clutch your stomach as your water breaks, the unmistakable rush hitting you. Wanda’s eyes widen in shock, but there’s no fear, only love and awe.

“You… you’re going to meet him now,” Wanda says, her voice breaking as she grabs your hands. “Pietro… we’re really going to meet you.”

You laugh softly, leaning into her embrace. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Our little miracle… and his mom’s been amazing the whole way.”

Wanda presses her forehead to yours, tears running freely now. “I love you both so much,” she says, voice choked. “So much.”

And in that quiet, golden moment at home, surrounded by anticipation, love, and the tiny blue bundle, the three of you feel the full weight of hope, joy, and family—ready to face the world together.

TIME SKIP

The afternoon sun streams through the living room, painting everything gold. Wanda finally leans in, her green eyes soft and filled with that familiar, aching love she always feels for you. Her lips are just inches from yours, and for a heartbeat, it feels like time slows.

But Pietro notices.

His little face scrunches up in fury, and before Wanda can reach you, his tiny hands grip your cheeks, turning your head toward him. He plants a determined, sloppy toddler kiss on your cheek, giggling and squealing with triumphant insistence.

Mine!” he yells, shaking his tiny fists at Wanda. “Mine! Mommy’s only mine!”

Wanda freezes, blinking, mouth slightly open. “Pietro…!” she starts, a mixture of shock and amusement in her voice.

Pietro climbs onto your lap with a dramatic huff, pressing his forehead against yours. “No! Only mine! My Mommy!” he declares, his little voice adamant and full of toddler authority.

You can’t help but laugh, wrapping an arm around him to steady him. “Whoa, bud… okay, okay, I get it. You’re very protective,” you say, trying not to laugh too hard. Pietro beams at your agreement, proud that he’s won the first battle.

Wanda bites her lip, green eyes darkening slightly—but not in anger. In challenge. She leans in again, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh really, Pietro?” she murmurs softly.

Before Pietro can react, Wanda suddenly presses her lips gently to yours. It’s soft, quick—a fleeting kiss—but it’s there. Pietro’s eyes widen in horror.

“NO! Mommy’s only MINE!” he screams, tiny fists pounding your chest, still holding you close. “You can’t! Only mine!”

You laugh, holding him carefully so he can’t fall over, but you’re also overwhelmed by the sweetness of the moment. Wanda pulls back slightly, smiling, her own laughter bubbling through her panic. “I’m not taking her from you, Pietro,” she says gently. “ I love Mommy too.”

Pietro pouts, lips trembling, arms still wrapped around you possessively. “No! Mine!” he protests, squirming a little in your lap.

You press a kiss to his hair, trying to calm him. “You’ll always be my baby,” you whisper. “But mama and I… love each other too. You can’t be the only one with Mommy’s kisses.”

Wanda kneels beside you, grinning despite herself. “See, Pietro?” she says softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Mommy loves you and me. There’s room for all of us.”

Pietro glares for a moment, then, after a dramatic pause, lets out a long, huffing sigh and slumps against you. You can feel him thinking, processing, still determined—but slightly more tolerant.

You look at Wanda, still smiling mischievously. “See? He’s a little jealous, but he’s warming up.”

Wanda sighs, brushing her lips softly against your temple. “He’s very stubborn,” she murmurs. “But so am I.”

You laugh, holding both of them close. The room is full of warmth, love, and chaos—messy, hilarious, and perfect.

You’re sitting on the couch, holding Pietro in your lap, and Wanda kneels in front of you, green eyes sparkling with playful mischief. She leans in, ready to claim her kiss, and—before you can react—she gently lifts Pietro off your lap and sets him down on the carpet.

“Stay right here, little troublemaker,” Wanda murmurs, turning back to you with a mischievous grin. She leans forward, lips aiming for yours.

But Pietro is not having it.

He immediately slaps Wanda’s leg with his tiny hand. “Nooo! You can’t!” he yells dramatically, rolling his green eyes exaggeratedly. Then he huffs, crossing his arms and looking at her with mock disdain, as if he’s been personally wronged.

Wanda freezes mid-lean, lips almost brushing yours, eyes wide in disbelief. “What… what are you doing?” she stammers, her voice a mix of shock and amusement.

Pietro sits down on the carpet, placing his little hands on his hips, and continues rolling his eyes at her, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh like a tiny, theatrical adult. “Nooo… you can’t! Mommy’s only mine!”

Wanda blinks at him, stunned, her mouth slightly open. “He… he’s mocking me,” she whispers, disbelief lacing her voice. She takes a cautious step closer. “He’s actually mocking me.”

You laugh, still holding onto your little bundle of stubbornness. “He’s… very expressive,” you say, shaking your head with a grin. Pietro glares up at Wanda, then sighs again, dramatically throwing himself back on the carpet with a little thump, clearly continuing his protest.

“You think this is funny, huh?” she murmurs softly, smiling despite herself. Pietro rolls his eyes once more, throwing her a look that could kill, clearly enjoying the chaos he’s causing.

You giggle, running a hand through his soft golden-brown hair. “He’s determined, Wanda,” you say. “You’ve got some serious competition for kisses.”

Wanda shakes her head, still staring at him in mock shock. “I can’t… I can’t believe he’s actually rolling his eyes at me. My own child.”

Toys are scattered across the carpet, but Pietro is finally asleep in his little crib, chest rising and falling with gentle, rhythmic breaths. His golden-brown hair is tousled, and even in slumber, his green eyes are hidden beneath his lashes, peaceful for the first time all day.

You sink onto the couch, exhausted but smiling softly, feeling the day’s chaos melt away. Wanda stands nearby, watching Pietro through the doorway, a mixture of relief and lingering amusement on her face. Her green eyes flick to you, softening with an intensity that makes your chest ache.

She kneels in front of you, resting her hands gently on your knees. “Finally,” she whispers, her voice low and tender, “he’s asleep… and now I get you all to myself.”

You laugh softly, brushing a hand over hers. “It took hours of dramatic eye rolls and slaps to get here,” you tease, smiling at the memory.

Wanda leans in, her forehead resting against yours for a brief, intimate pause. “I know… I know. But I don’t care. I’ve waited long enough.”

Her lips meet yours softly at first, a gentle, careful brush, as if savoring the moment after all the chaos of the day. You respond instinctively, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Her hands move to cradle your face, thumb brushing over your cheek, and the kiss deepens, slow and lingering, filled with all the love and longing she had been holding back.

You feel her breath hitch slightly, green eyes fluttering open as she pulls back just enough to look at you. “I missed you,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “And I missed this… missing you.”

You smile, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I missed you too. Every little second.”

She leans in again, kissing you more boldly now, letting herself fully be present in the quiet, knowing that Pietro is asleep and they finally have this moment. The room is filled with warmth, soft sighs, and the quiet comfort of finally being together without interruption.

Finally, she rests her forehead against yours again, green eyes shining. “I love you… both of you,” she whispers, a soft tear slipping down her cheek. “And I’ll never let you forget it.”

You brush it away gently, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “We know,” you say. “And we love you too.”

Wanda finding out the name of our son💙

Wanda after pietro starts mocking her and not letting her kiss us

Wanda after she made sure pietro was asleep

#chaos #baby #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #mommys boy #i have regrets #happy ending #jealousy #car crash