Avengers Preferences and Imagines

Bullet Wounds | Pietro Maximoff

Bullet Wounds: Pietro
This is a "no dialogue challenge". Please tell me if I did well!

Pietro and Wanda are slightly older, like 22-25.

/

The battle had finally ended. Most of the civilians were already on the lifeboats, and all the robots were defeated. The town you had grown up in was now desolate. Although before life was difficult, it was teeming with life and children were giggling within every home. Now it was barren. Stripped of happiness and warmth. It was a ghost town. A final resting place for moving metal.

You were walking around the now deserted city of Sokovia, looking for anyone still on the floating islands. You used your powers of metalbending to move any dead robot parts and any debris that was large enough to trap a person underneath.

You ended up back in the same spot you had started, right in front of the almost completely full lifeboats and looked to the side to see Clint heading for a young boy in the marketplace.

You heard a noise in the sky and in the distance, saw a plane. Immediately recognizing who was inside and what they were aiming for, you ran for Clint. It was an instinctual response, and you couldn't stop, desperate to save the person who saved you and Wanda once.

The guns from the plane went off behind you, but instead of stopping the bullets aimed for you, you focused all your attention on the bullets about to his Clint and the young boy. It took immense concentration to slow down the bullets and you were hit with a wave of exhaustion and pain.

Pietro had rushed in at the last second to sweep a car in front of Clint and the boy as a final shield, stopping the metal pellets that had once been going fast enough to kill.

You felt your hold on the metal slipping away as you stumbled to the ground, cradling your wounded stomach. Multiple bullets had pierced your body and gone straight through. You closed your eyes for a few moments, as the sunlight became too much to bear for your eyes.

You opened your eyes when hands lifted up your body. It was Pietro, his eyes frantic and hair wild enough to match his pace. He wasn't speeding up, as far as you could tell. He was going normal speed. He was dragging things out to spend more time with you.

You focused on his lips instead of the pain and caught your name on them a few times, but your body wasn't able to process any of the words, they all sounded like a distant mumble. He was pointing and yelling and crying all at once but you didn't care. As the warmth slipped away from your fingers, you could feel his warmth surrounding you.

As your body began to shut down, and you felt yourself slipping away, Pietro pressed his lips to your own. A desperate plead, a somber song. A reluctant letting go.

Time to say goodbye.

You closed your eyes, and mumbled his name, holding his hand tightly in yours.

Even after your skin had grown cold, and the color had left your cheeks and lips, Pietro still kept the golden ring around his finger, remembering his vows to you.

/

I cried a gallon of water while writing this.