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ginnsbaker · 7 months

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Bulletproof (10/10)

Part Summary: After figuring out your feelings for each other, you and Wanda return to the Avengers compound to determine your future.

Chapter word count: 4.1k+ | Tags: Smut (18+ only), Fluff, Steve being Steve, A little reunion with everyone else | Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Author's Note: Another series comes to an end! But wait there're more--the alternative ending which will be posted tomorrow (or the day after tomorrow at the latest!). I had so much fun writing "Bulletproof" and it wouldn't be possible without the anon who initially requested a oneshot. Thank you to all who commented, reblogged, liked and read this mini series. Many of you are unaware that this blog was primarily a fanart blog before I started posting fics here, and I've been thinking about whipping up a short comic strip of a scene from Bulletproof, so watch out for that :)

Series Masterlist

As the morning sunlight filters through the window, Wanda stirs from her slumber. Blinking open her eyes, she's greeted with the sight of you, peacefully sleeping next to her. She can't help but remember the previous time she woke up with you beside her. That morning realization, that she had fallen for you, had sent her into a panic, eventually causing her to slip away to her room before you could wake up.

But this time is different. There's no urge to run, no lingering fear. Instead, there's an overwhelming sense of contentment and a desire to push closer to you. Wanda reaches out, letting her fingertips trace the curve of your nose, moving down to trace your slightly parted lips. A soft smile graces her face, watching as your brows furrow in mild annoyance at being disturbed.

She doesn’t think she’s ever felt this way for anyone. With that conclusion, rather than pulling away, Wanda leans in, her lips brushing against your forehead in a soft, chaste kiss.

When your eyes flutter open, they're met with Wanda's gentle gaze, filled with warmth and adoration. “Good morning,” she giggles happily.

Your lips stretch into a sleepy grin before your eyes travel down her naked form. “Mmm, it certainly is,” you mumble, pulling her closer, nestling her against your chest.

Wanda's eyes glitter with a mischievous spark as her fingers gradually drift down from your waist. The slow, deliberate journey of her fingertips over your abdomen has your heart rate quickening, and her touch alone makes your skin prickle with anticipation. By the time her hand settles between your thighs, cupping you softly, the drowsiness that once weighed down your eyelids is entirely forgotten.

A gasp leaves your lips, your body instinctively pressing into her touch. The sensation of her fingers teasing over the sensitive skin makes warmth pool in your belly, the heat of your arousal becoming impossible to ignore.

Wanda's tongue traces the contours of your ear before playfully nipping at your earlobe. Her breath is warm as she whispers, “Did I wake you?” Her tone is dripping with innocence, but the mischievous glint in her eyes tells a different story.

You swallow hard, finding it difficult to form words with her hand expertly coaxing out your desire. “You... have a unique way of saying 'good morning',” you manage to reply, a lump forming in your throat as her hand continues to move deliberately between your legs.

Wanda's smirk is devilish, full of promise. “I thought you'd appreciate it.”

“I do,” you reply, voice husky, as you shift to sit up against the headboard. Wanda takes the cue, momentarily halting her touch, only to move herself gracefully and straddle your lap. As she does, the sheets cascade from her waist, revealing the tantalizing wetness that's gathered at the juncture of her thighs. Your gaze locks onto the dampened patch of hair above her core, and you can't suppress a smirk, realizing she's been aroused for some time—perhaps the entire duration you’ve been asleep.

Locked in an intense gaze with Wanda, your fingers precariously trace her inner thighs, until they finally meet their intended mark, lightly brushing over her slick entrance. The mutual sensation prompts an audible sigh from both of you: Wanda, overwhelmed by the electrifying touch, and you, awed by the fervent response of her body as she dampens your fingers even further.

She’s so wet and so eager for you. You can’t believe how lucky you are to have her this way.

“Shit, baby, you’re gonna be the death of me…” you trail off before claiming her lips into a heated kiss, while Wanda keens against your mouth at the term of endearment.

With each light, teasing touch, Wanda's breath catches, soft whimpers escaping her as your deliberate pace keeps her on the precipice of desire. For a moment, she seems content with the languid rhythm you've set, a mix of frustration and pleasure playing on her face. But as the minutes tick by, that patience wanes. Her hips begin to grind against your hand, trying to draw you deeper, to elicit more than just a graze. Each time she attempts to capture your fingers within her, you deftly pull away, drawing out the dance and stoking the fire of her desperation.

The room fills with her ragged breathing and soft pleas, a sob catching in her throat as her need grows more pronounced. Recognizing the edge she's on, you decide it's time to give in—but not entirely on her terms.

Guiding her, you position her over your waiting fingers, the slickness making for easy entry. Whispering sultrily into her ear, you urge, “Ride me.”

The command ignites something in her, and Wanda starts moving, her rhythm gaining momentum as she rides your fingers, the sound of wetness and her moans filling the room. You take the opportunity to explore the canvas of her skin with your mouth. You suck, nip, and kiss, marking her pale, porcelain skin with more bruises to add to the collection from last night.

The fervor in Wanda's eyes intensifies, her movements becoming more frantic. You can tell she's on the edge, so close to her climax, and that's when you decide to change the game.

“Stop,” you whisper, and Wanda freezes, her eyes wide and pupils dilated. You carefully slide your fingers out of her, and she whines from the sudden emptiness, her eyes pleading. With a smirk, you bring your wet fingers to your lips, savoring the taste of her.

Wanda's breathing is ragged, her chest heaving as she looks at you, equal parts frustration and desire evident in her gaze. “Why?” she breathes, her voice almost a whimper.

“You'll see,”you reply cryptically, instructing her to lie on her back. Wanda obeys, and then you position yourself over her, placing a leg between hers. Your eyes lock onto each other as you lower yourself, allowing your centers to meet, the sensation immediately sending jolts of pleasure through both of you.

Surprised by the overwhelming feeling of feeling her against you, you wait for the tightening in your stomach to subside before you start to move, grinding your hips against hers. The friction between your sexes is intoxicating, driving both of you wild. Your hands find purchase on Wanda's hips, guiding her to meet your thrusts. Her hands wander up to grip the sheets, her knuckles white as she tries to anchor herself.

Your rhythm builds, each thrust deep and unyielding, fucking Wanda further into the mattress. The intensity of your movement eventually pushes her to find purchase in you, and as you feel Wanda's nails dig into your back, you can't help the low growl that escapes your throat. The blend of pain and intense pleasure from her touch makes your head spin.

“I'm sorry,” she breathes out when she feels the wetness of blood under her fingers.

But you shake your head, urging her on. “It's okay,” you assure her, a wicked grin on your face. “Feels good. Do it again.”

Her fingers once more find their way to your back, and each time she scratches, the sensation of your skin repairing itself serves to heighten the pleasure for both of you. It becomes a dance of sorts—Wanda marking you, you healing, both of you lost in the deliriousness of the exchange.

Her moans become more frantic, her mouth falling open as you drive into her again and again and again. “Don't stop. Please, just like that.”

And you're more than happy to oblige.

In a bold move, you shift your weight, seamlessly flipping Wanda beneath you without breaking contact, the newfound angle allowing you to delve even deeper, each thrust meeting her sweet spot, causing her to gasp and cling to you desperately. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, urging you to go faster, harder.

You can feel the build-up, the familiar pressure that signals an impending climax. “Wanda,” you gasp, your voice heavy with need.

She responds with a keening whimper, her walls pulsating against you, urging you on. The two of you move in a frenzied manner, chasing that peak together, moving as one. The feeling is so intense, so raw, that when you both finally shatter, the pleasure is all-consuming.

As the aftershocks ripple through you both, you collapse onto the bed beside her, both panting heavily.

After a few moments of silence, you turn to her, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “Hey,” you begin, swallowing hard, “I know it might seem too soon, but I can't help how I feel.”

“What are you saying?” Wanda asks, looking up at you, chest still heaving and you think she’s redder than she was just a few seconds ago.

“I’m saying I love you,” you answer with a soft smile.

Tears pool in her eyes, catching the morning light in a shimmering dance. She reaches out, cupping your face, and whispers, “I love you too.”

You might not recall much of your past self, but somehow, you wouldn't change this present for anything.

The two of you are nestled on the couch, mugs of steaming coffee in hand. Every so often, your eyes meet Wanda's, a smile forming on both your lips as the remnants of the morning's escapade play on repeat in your minds.

Soon, however, the serene atmosphere is interrupted by heavy footsteps approaching the front door.

“Were you expecting a visitor?” you ask.

Wanda shakes her head, placing her mug on the coffee table. “No…”

The apprehension in her voice is evident, and the two of you exchange worried glances.

“Hide,” she whispers urgently, her eyes darting to the bedroom door.

“Why? I've got my powers back,” you argue, rising to your feet.

Wanda's lips press into a thin line. “You might not remember how to use them,” she whispers urgently. “You could get hurt.”

You smirk, rolling your eyes. “Pretty sure I can take a bullet or two.”

Wanda looks like she's about to argue further when the front door slams open, the force of it sending it crashing into the adjacent wall. Her reflexes are instantaneous: Scarlet tendrils of magic emanate from her fingers, weaving a defensive barrier between the intruder and the two of you.

However, as the dust settles and the silhouette becomes clear, Wanda's magic falters, her eyes widening in recognition.

“Vision?”

Vision, slightly wary or Wanda's immediate defensive response, raises his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Sorry for barging in unannounced,” he says.

Wanda lowers her hands slowly, the red magic dissipating. “What are you doing here?”

“Steve has ordered both of you to return to the compound immediately.”

Wanda narrows her eyes. “Why?”

“He didn't specify, but it seemed urgent,” Vision replies, his tone indicating that he's as much in the dark as Wanda.

“Is it about the organization that's hunting Y/N down?”

Before Vision can answer, the sound of soft footsteps signals another arrival.

“They've been subdued,” Natasha declares without preamble, her eyes locking onto yours, a recognition in them. “The organization was kidnapping ex-agents who chose to live a normal life. And when your powers resurfaced, Y/N, they were hellbent in wielding you into a weapon.”

Wanda's protective instincts flare up. “Nat, I'll only return to the compound with Y/N if you can guarantee they'll be free. They've been through enough.”

Natasha hesitates, shifting her weight on one foot. “I can't promise freedom, Wanda, but I can promise safety. We need to ensure that no one else poses a threat to Y/N, or to any of us.”

Wanda looks torn, her eyes darting between Natasha and you, weighing the options and the promises. After what feels like an eternity, she exhales deeply. “Alright, but the moment Y/N is in any danger, we're out. Understood?”

Natasha nods. “Understood.”

She then takes a moment to glance around the room, an appreciative smile forming on her lips. “I must admit, you two found quite the hideout,” she comments, observing the tasteful yet cozy decor, the soft lighting, and the clothes thrown carelessly on the couch.

With the bedroom door ajar, Natasha's keen gaze settles on the slightly rumpled bed, a few candles still burning around it, and a teasing grin crosses her face. “Although,” she tilts her head, studying the two of you, “It looks more like a love nest than a hideout.”

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks at her words. Though she doesn't say it outright, the implication is clear, and it's even more embarrassing given how accurate her observation is. You avoid her gaze, feeling slightly guilty as you remember the passionate moments shared with Wanda just the night before and again this morning.

Your face fails to hide anything and Natasha chuckles at you knowingly.

“Aren't there better things to spy on than our personal lives?” Wanda asks, the tips of her ears turning a pink hue.

Natasha laughs lightly, her arms crossed over her chest. “I can’t help it when the evidence is all around,” she teases, while you groan in embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands.

She then pretends to sniff the air, prompting a flustered Wanda to hurriedly nudge her towards the door before she can make any more cheeky remarks.

Steve is not happy.

But he isn't frowning either.

He has that ever-present solemn look on his face, and the only giveaway that something's off is the small patch he missed while shaving his chin earlier. Just as Vision is about to mention it, Natasha silently warns him off with a subtle shake of her head.

Steve leans forward, resting his hands on the table, his knuckles white with tension. “Wanda, seriously? Again? I can't keep covering for you every time you break the rules.” The disappointment in his eyes says more than his words ever could.

Wanda, defiant, steps forward. “If I hadn't been breaking those rules, Y/N would be in some corner of the world right now, being used by those monsters for their wicked games.”

“That doesn't justify your recklessness. We have protocols for a reason.”

Wanda's eyes flash with determination. “And sometimes, those protocols fall short, Steve. Y/N needed protection, and I gave it.”

Steve drags a hand through his hair, attempting to keep his composure, but it's slipping away with each passing second. “It's not just about the safety of one individual, Wanda. It's about the safety of the entire team. If we don't trust each other to follow the rules, then how can we function as a team?”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Steve,” Natasha says sharply from behind them. “Half of these rules are outdated, and you know it. If Tony came up with these, you wouldn't agree to half of them anyway.”

Steve's eyes narrow at Natasha, a silent question in them.

She doesn't flinch. “Wanda did what she thought was right, and she's not the only one bending rules around here. Some rules are meant to be questioned, especially if they compromise the safety of our own.”

“But I’m not one of you right?” you chime in, surprising everyone, but Wanda most of all. Throughout the ride back to the compound, you'd been uncharacteristically silent, leaving Wanda tempted on more than one occasion to delve into your thoughts, seeking answers.

“Y/N,” Wanda mutters, but you raise a hand, stopping her, your eyes trained on Steve.

“I understand the need for rules, for protocols,” you say, your voice steady. “But this entire conversation assumes that I'm just some defenseless outsider. Wanda did what she did to protect me, yes. But she also did it because she knows what I'm capable of and how my abilities, and the knowledge I possess, could've been misused.”

Taking a step forward, Wanda catches a fleeting glimpse of the person you once were in the way you now stand before Steve. “The truth is, I'm not sure where I belong—here or anywhere else. But I do know this,” you say, pausing to look at Wanda and smiling. “I belong with her.”

Wanda meets your smile, her eyes shining in the wake of your confession. If the choice were hers, the two of you would be anywhere but here—maybe in a distant place where you could learn to find happiness, unburdened by duties and weight of the world.

Natasha, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, comments, “Well, this day just got a lot more interesting.”

Steve's shoulders sag, and for a moment, he appears older than his years, the burden of leadership is evident in every line of his face. “Wanda, I understand more than anyone the pull of duty and personal attachment. It's not always about the bigger picture, sometimes it's about the person standing next to you.”

He looks directly at you. “You still don't remember everything, Y/N. And with your powers resurfacing, it complicates matters. You can't just be thrown back into the role of an Avenger. You're essentially starting from scratch. There will be evaluations, both physical and mental. Training. Reacclimation. The compound isn't the ideal place for that.”

He then turns to Wanda, “But Wanda, you belong here with us. You're an Avenger.”

“Perhaps,” Wanda says before standing next to you and interlacing your fingers together. “But I also belong with Y/N. If I have to choose, then—”

“Maybe you don’t have to,” A voice from outside announces. The room's automatic doors slide open, revealing Tony Stark.

Steve regards him with a short nod. “Tony.”

“Interesting conversation we're having here,” he says, glancing at the group. “I think I might have a different approach.”

Everyone looks to him expectantly. But he turns to you and says, “What if we could get your memories back, Y/N?”

Wanda straightens up, her attention immediately drawn to Tony's words. “What do you mean?”

Tony taps a holographic tablet that suddenly appears in his hand. An intricate blueprint springs to life in the air, hovering above it. “While you guys were deep in your heart-to-heart, I've been in touch with T'Challa in Wakanda.”

“Wakanda? What do they have to do with this?” Steve asks.

Tony continues, “They've developed a technology that accesses areas of the brain we've barely touched on. Something that's way ahead of anything we've seen or worked on. If Y/N's memories are locked away somewhere in there,” Tony gestures to your head, “I’m not promising anything, but they might have the key.”

You swallow hard, Tony’s proposition sinking in. The idea of venturing to Wakanda, a place both unfamiliar and undeniably imposing, is overwhelming. But if it brings back your memories…

“I’ll do it,” you tell them.

“I’m coming with you,” Wanda says.

Steve hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wanda, it's not that simple. It's a highly sensitive mission, and with everything that's happened recently…”

“Steve,” Wanda cuts in, “I'm not asking for permission. I'm telling you.”

He lets out a weary sigh. “Tony? What do you think?”

“Why are you even asking me, Cap? You're the captain here. And if I remember correctly,” he adds with a smirk, “I'm not the one who can assign Wanda a 'mission' to formally accompany Y/N to Wakanda.”

Wanda catches onto Tony's implication immediately. “That's right. This can simply be a mission assignment. Y/N's retrieval of their memories is crucial, and who better to assist and protect them than me?”

“She's correct,” Vision interjects. “The restoration of Y/N's memories is of utmost importance. Wanda is uniquely qualified to help and ensure their safety.”

Natasha chuckles from the back, “Looks like you're cornered, Rogers. Majority rules.”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. After a moment, he nods slowly, a hint of a smile appearing at the corners of his lips. “Alright,” he concedes. “Wanda, you'll accompany Y/N to Wakanda. It's a mission.”

Wanda exhales, relief flooding her features. She turns to you, squeezing your hand, “We'll do this together.”

Tony, satisfied, adds, “And just to be clear, I'm always up for a trip to Wakanda. Count me in.”

From the doorway, a grin appears on Bucky’s face. “Great timing,” he comments, sauntering in. “I’ve been meaning to make a trip back to Wakanda. Now I can hitch a ride with you all.”

Natasha, already with a sly smile, says, “I’ll make the sandwiches. Wakandan cuisine is great, but I know how some of you are with new food.”

Sam, who’s been eavesdropping with Bucky, rolls his eyes from behind her. “Speak for yourself. Last time you tried their spicy dish, I thought we'd need to call in a medic.”

Steve looks around at his team, utterly confused. “Why is everyone suddenly so eager to go to Wakanda? This isn't a field trip.”

Bruce, peeking from behind Sam, adds, “Well, I’ve heard they have some impressive labs. Wouldn’t mind taking a look myself.”

Steve throws his hands up in mock surrender. “I give up. I can't control any of you.”

You laugh, nudging Wanda playfully. “Looks like it’s going to be a full house.”

Rather than reply, Wanda tugs you aside for a more private moment. “You do have a place here, you know? With all of us, as family, not just beside me.”

“It doesn’t feel like I’ve earned it,” you admit.

“You have,” Wanda says softly, leaning in to place a tender kiss on your cheek. “You just haven't realized it yet.”

Before you can react further, the door bursts open again and Daisy storms in, her face lighting up when she sees you. In an instant, she's wrapping her arms around you in a tight embrace. You stiffen slightly, taken aback by the sudden gesture from someone you don’t recall knowing. But not wanting to be rude, you return the embrace lightly.

Wanda clears her throat pointedly, and Daisy's eyes widen in realization. She pulls back, a sheepish grin forming. “Sorry, I got carried away. I just missed you,” she chuckles, but the apologetic glance she shoots Wanda suggests she remembers very well whose territory she's treading on.

“Hey, I’m Daisy,” she says with a grin, extending her hand to you. “We’re friends, you know. Actually, you’re my favorite teammate.”

From the corner of your eyes, you catch Wanda's expression, tight and slightly guarded. You smirk inwardly, amused by her obvious display of possessiveness.

Taking her hand, you give it a friendly squeeze. “I’m sorry, Daisy,” you mutter, letting go. “I don’t remember.”

“Don’t worry about it. On the bright side, at least you won’t remember all the embarrassing moments we’ve had together.”

Puzzled, you ask, “What moments?”

Before Daisy can answer, Steve yells over the growing chatter in the room. “Alright, everyone! Thirty minutes to pack. We're headed to Wakanda.”

Before you can process what’s happening, Wanda’s hand wraps around yours, pulling you towards the door. You're yanked forward, stumbling slightly in her rush. Glancing over your shoulder, you manage a quick, “Sorry, Daisy. See you soon?”

Daisy just chuckles, shooting you and Wanda a knowing, amused smile.

The sun dips low over Wakanda, painting the city and its green expanse in rich gold. The past couple of days blur with laughs, music, and dance as everyone celebrates the homecoming of old friends. But as the last aircraft departs, leaving a trail of smoke behind, the compound becomes eerily silent, except for the two of you.

The suite you're given overlooks the heart of Wakanda. From the balcony, the lulling sound of the waterfalls adds to the allure of the den you and Wanda have created within the room. Time seems to lose meaning. You seize every moment, every opportunity, tasting and immersing in each other fully.

The days merge into nights and back into days. You emerge, mostly together, to grab a quick meal. The only other commitment you hold is to work with Shuri, who is eager and hopeful that her technology can unlock your memories.

On one of those ordinary nights, you lie on your back, gazing at the ceiling. For once, your mind is at peace, void of its usual chatter, because you've never experienced contentment quite like this before. Beside you, Wanda lies, her skin bare and glistening, evidence of your ardor still evident between her thighs.

Wanda traces patterns on your arm, her fingers light and feather-soft. “You know,” she begins, her voice husky from recent activities, “This is the best mission I've ever been on. I don't want it to end.”

Turning to face her, you take in her flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Your hand reaches up to tuck a stray lock behind her ear. “It doesn't have to end, Wanda,” you reply, locking your eyes with hers. “With or without my memories, with or without my abilities, I'll always stay by your side.”

She pulls you closer, seeking comfort in your embrace. “Promise?” she murmurs.

You smile, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Promise.”

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