#i had the suspicion 2 whole paprikas (and an onion) might be too much but you know what i’ll eat the rest for breakfast

[the-canary]

Sunburst - S.R (3/10)

Summary: After years of solitude, you sought out the color of life – you just didn’t think it would end up like this. (Enhanced!Reader/Steve Rogers). 

Prompt: “I think I just asked out on a date.”

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @captain-ariel-barnes writing challenge. not the best chapter, but we are getting there!

Feedback is always appreciated.

Part 1 | Part 2 

It’s strange at first when you decide to spend the morning --after your first week--  drawing around the Avengers’ Compound . You had tried your hardest to find a place where you could see all the forest area that reminded you of home, but not to far from your room.  You trailed a bit from the central facility and towards the smaller buildings, but never crossing the road. You sat down on the grassy area and began to draw the early morning light. Grays and blacks mixed together as you sketched different areas, slowly you headed to the other side of the building and caught of a glimpse of the river. That’s when you catch it, a blur of blue running down the road, against the dark colored backdrop you can’t help that it catches your attention.

It’s the saturation, the deep deep blue, makes you realize who it is -- Captain Rogers.

You have to wonder briefly what could have happened to America’s Golden Boy for him to have such a color. In your lifetime and in the limited understanding you had of your powers, the deeper the color usually meant there were some deep sadness connected to their central personality it, but that changes depending on their emotions -- pops and flashes of lighter colors would usually indicate this. However, between the moment you had met him and now, there was no change whatsoever.

What the hell could that mean?

“Good morning,” a voice drags you out of your thoughts, as you jump and look up to see him looking at your direction. Still startled but not wanting to be rude, you give him a small wave before picking up your items. He runs, a streak of blue almost as dark as the forest canopy, and you can’t help but frown a light.

“I’m gonna need some water colors now,” you murmur to yourself as you get up and head back inside.

In your annoyance, you try to ignore that details you are remembering --in the details of the area, of his face and stature-- that the artist inside of you now wants to have blooming in front of you.

A beam of blue on a dark day, a light amidst the darkness -- it almost suits Captain Rogers too well.

 Wanda knows it from the moment she sees you sitting across the kitchen countertop. She can feel it in the air and sense it in the way of just how closed your mind is to everything else. As open and friendly the kitchen is designed to look, you still feel like a caged animal with hunched shoulders and a tight grip on  the little book in your hands.

Just like you know her background, Wanda knows that you have been living in the forest of Upstate New York for quite some time, hidden yourself from the world with only your agent being the main contact for you. It echoed loudly enough for everyone that you were hiding something, but Wanda knew the moment she sees you. The moment that you played more attention --for whatever reason-- to the center of her body more than anything else.

“Ms. Maximoff, it good to meet you,” you state while getting up from your seat. She smiles, magenta lightens up into a softer version, but you can’t help but notice there is a blur bright blue at her core, though it quick disappears as it appeared.

“Wanda’s just fine,” she explains as you nod. She states that it is her turn to cook dinner for the rest of team and you wholeheartedly agree to help. It had surprised her that you didn’t want to interview her or have her standing in some strange position while you painted her, instead you had asked her to think of something she enjoyed doing and you could either watch or even join her. She chose cooking dinner for the rest of the team that was here.

“What are we making tonight?” you question, while going over the other side of the kitchen as she takes out a large pot alongside some meat and a variety of vegetables. It all causes you to look at her curiously since you are used to making dinner for one person and even then only a few days of leftovers, not a whole army as Wanda seems prepared to do.    

“Some beef and vegetable stew,” she remarks, as she motions to to start cutting the vegetables while she proceeds to rub more things onto the already marinated meat, as she places the pot onto the stove with some oil and cut onions.  

“Do you all eat this much?” you can’t help but ask with wide eyes, as she laughs -- her red flaring into at the question.

“If we don’t portion it correctly, Steve and James would eat this all on their own,” Wanda explains, as all you do is nod, though still not fully grasping how much Captain America and the former Winter Soldier could eat.  The two of you ease into a steady but tense silence of unspoken questions as you finish cutting all the necessary ingredients as Wanda starts adding things here and there. She is taking a taste of the broth when she turns to look and ask the one thing that breaks everything that you have been avoiding.

“Could you hand me the paprika?” she questions, while pointing to the where all the spices were located. You frown, but do what she asks anyway, until you see nothing but dark leaves and a variety of gray containers.  

“Paprika?” you question, looking at the cabinet in confusion since everything back at home is marked with a label to denote which spice is which.

You turn and see her red is a bit darker than before in suspicion as she finally decides to thread the murky water, “It’s not synesthesia, is it?”

“Sometimes, people don’t see anything but your powers,” you say, not confirming or answering her question, though surprising even yourself at how bitter you sound (how dark the pink in the corner of your eyes pops at the memories) towards the end as you look away, “To be used, forgetting there’s a person underneath for convenience.”

“Not everyone is like that,”  Wanda chides in once more, feeling that this might be the only chance she gets before you completely shut her out, “There is always going to be someone willing to give you a helping hand, for you to trust, though I’ll admit it is a long road.”

“Then, you are a very lucky person,” you state before going back to the spice cabinet and bringing out 3 different containers -none which are the damn paprika- to her, only to have her shake her head. And while you still feel a bit troubled after the conversation, you can’t help but smile just a bit at the reminder of the limitations that you haven’t seen in such a long time.

After all that, the rest of the meal prep time is spent exchanging pleasantries of more comfortable childhood memories that come with the dish you are making, what it means working in your vastly different careers, and most of all music. As she mentions she is trying to learn how to play guitar and you mention that you sort of know you way around the clarinet, though you can’t agree on what was the better decade of music since you were both all over the place.

“This was very lovely, Wanda,” you say tersely, while drying your hands an hour later as the dishes are almost done, unsure of when was the last time you actually cooked a meal with someone, but overall enjoying the experience.  

“The invitation is always open, even if you just want to come and eat with us,” Wanda says like a mother trying to appease their child, as you give her a small nod but decide not to take her advice, it’s too new and raw for now. It’s better to let it dry and crack for awhile.  

“I--Thank you,” is all you manage to say before getting your plate and leaving the kitchen area to go back to hiding in your room, as she shakes her head though she knows by experience that things like this take time. However, if she wants to gain your trust, she knows that she will have to stay quiet about your powers for now, as you grow more accustomed to the other Avengers. So, as they all come bustling in, she stays quiet over the issue, though she does answer curious questions here and there.   

After meeting with Wanda a few more times (even Vision for a moment by accident), you realize that this isn’t going to be a normal art project anymore. You don’t know how this will all end up and while you are apprehensive about how it might connect to your powers, you take a deep breath before taking the next steps. As you get up one night and head to the art room designed for you, the soft lights of the colors welcoming you once more -- the only thing you have ever really needed.

“Let’s get to work,” you murmur as you get one of the easels and place it down on the floor before getting several shades of a certain color, as you paint the rest of the night away.  

Swirls of red, old recipes book pages, a dash of campanulas , a little sage and spice with a flash of blue for loss and a bit of gloss for the potential of something more, of finally being in a place that can finally be called home.

This is Wanda Maximoff to you, though you don’t plan on showing her just yet.

 It starts off simple enough by seeing the artwork placed proudly on display in Pepper’s office, another piece finds it way into Tony’s soon afterwards. There is a small pamphlet of your works laying about that catches his attention and he finds himself looking over it, again and again. He questions what techniques you used, the shading and position of the designs, and he can help but wonder what caused the change between your darker works and this more rustic series.

He’s curious, and then he hears that there is a small expo of your latest sets of work -- the ones you did before the Avengers project came up. He knows you aren’t going to be there -- you never go to these sorts of things and he knows you are back at the Compound, having chosen it over the Tower.   

With his mind made up, Steve goes as discreetly as he possibly can -- only for Nat to give him a small smile as she makes it out of the gym and crosses his path on the way to the elevator.

“Ohh,” she coos, already memorizing the situation and saving it for later, “Where are you going?”

“Art exhibit,” Steve states, knowing it's pretty much useless by now to lie to one of his closest friends, though not really giving her the reason why.

“By our resident artist,” she states more than questions with a grin, like she already knows something that Steve doesn’t -- not yet anyways. However, she decides to keep to herself for now, “Have a good time.”

“Thanks,” Steve says with a confused uptick in his voice, obviously expecting more from the Russian, as she just shrugs and gets out of his way. Green eyes stay locked on his figure until she sees him disappear after entering the elevator.

“Hmm, is he going for the art or the artist,”  she murmurs to herself in question before heading towards a certain birdman’s room to talk about the blond’s non-existent love life.  

Part 4 

#captainarielbarnes4k #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve grant rogers x reader #fabiola trying to write #series: sunburst