100 Marvel One Shots✔️

Nothing New >> Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Title: Nothing New

Paring: Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, sad backstory, superpowers, HYDYRA filth.

Request: Requested by Azureman136 

Author's Note: The request for this fic asked it to be based around an advertisement. I'm Australian and never saw the clip before this, but it's pretty darn cute. I've linked to below so y'all can see it. Also, the song I used in this fic is Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko. 

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When the air gets colder, it's the reminder that it's that time of the year. Not that you have anything against the end of October. Or when the autumnal leaves grew crisp toward the looming of December. Whereas you lived for Halloween, it was Christmastime which made you unsure of you and who you were to everyone around you. Luckily for you, you had a whole team to support you on your healing journey, and endless amounts of visits to shrinks and therapy sessions to get over the whole 'abducted as a child and experimented on by HYDRA' thing.

Wanda Maximoff was a great help through it all.

Apart from her being tortured too, lost her brother, and chose to use her almighty gifts for the good of the world, you admired your fellow Avenger for a little more. It didn't kill you to have a crush on your best friend; she was gorgeous, fierce, deadly. Perhaps it would one day – she had her eyes on someone else, you were sure.

But Christmas...

You hardly noticed it was December until you caught Clint Barton re-enacting that scene in Love Actually where Hugh Grant dances all over the place, except he was doing it to that catchy Mariah Carey song. After that, it was a slippery slope, and everyone got a little festive. Scott Lang wired up a massive set of lights (with a little help from Tony Stark), and the whole exterior of the facility practically glowed at night. Thor sent over a customary bell from Asgard. T'Challa sent over a wreath, made of wood so fragrant and flowers so beautiful you almost sat by the door all day to enjoy it.

When the air gets colder, you rescind into your collection of sweaters, opting to take your meals in your bedroom, train away from the team when it's required. Steve Rogers understands, to a point, but really, he was just the lucky version of the scenario you went through. He had one magical ka-blam! and became Captain America. You had more poison in your biology than a pesticide plant, and yet, instead of dying, you could fly, and walk the walls like a bug. They called you The Beetle, but you rarely went out on missions these days.

And naturally, it made you climb back into your proverbial shell. Clint understands, and turns down the music. Scott made sure the lights didn't flash so much around where your room was. Nobody rang the bell around you (besides, it was deafening), nobody made a big show and dance about how it was Christmas.

It was nice. Safe.

Your parents had taken their eyes off you for only five minutes. Your mother to attend to the carollers by the front door, your father to check the boiler in the basement. It was in this time that you had gone to the back porch to see the snowfall when you had been taken.