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I write for:
- Avengers/MCU
- Criminal Minds
- Harry Potter
- Star Wars
- The Originals
- The 100
- Twilight
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《--¤--¤--》
Being the newest addition to the Avengers has no perks. Everyone knows everyone. Everybody is close. Everybody has a routine, a place. Not you. You come in, stumbling around like a newborn fawn, bumping into everything and everyone, tripping over your own feet.
I know the only reason Tony recruited you was for your powers. Not because he saw something redeemable in you. Not because you're a good person, or because you have some type of oomf that a hero would have.
The only thing you have going for you is your geokinesis. Manipulating rocks, minerals, sand... that's your schtick. When the Maximoff twins failed H.Y.D.R.A., H.Y.D.R.A. came after you. Made you into a weapon. You weren't born with the powers. You were a lab rat meant to kill the Avengers. Only when you managed to infiltrate them, you refused to kill anyone.
You saw yourself in Wanda. In Pietro. In Bucky. In Steve.
You couldn't kill them. You couldn't kill any of them.
So, you surrendered. You told them to kill you if they have to. But they didn't. You believe Tony's exact words were, "why kill a chick who can shake mountains?" Wanda took you under her wing, teaching you control. Five months later, you could control your powers within reason.
"Ready for your first mission, (Y/N)?" Clint asks, getting his arrows ready.
"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply, slipping on your boots. Wanda squeezes your shoulder.
"You've got this. You're ready." You smile softly at Wanda. While you may question whether the rest of the team really cares about you and not just your powers, you know Wanda cares for more. Pietro winks at you and you blush.
Oh, Pietro.
In the short five months you've been here, you've developed a crush on the quick-witted man.
"You're nervous." You snort.
"That obvious?" Pietro helps you with your other glove, leaving his hands on mine for more time than necessary.
"You're going to be fine, (Y/N). We're with you." You look around at the team, all of them moving in a rhythm that they've developed over years of trust and combat. A rhythm you may never be apart of.
"Are you?" you ask, moving away from him. You feel his eyes on you as you walk onto the quinjet.
《--¤--¤--》
"(Y/N), on your left!" Steve shouts. You turn just in time to send a shard of rock into the man's chest.
"Nice aim," Pietro shouts, whizzing past.
"Thanks. Clint helped a bit with my aim," you huff, sending another piece of rock at a man's hand, effectively disarming him.
