Avengers x Reader One Shots

I'm Sorry ✨ Wanda (TW: R*PE)

Wanda's POV:
Wanda sighed blissfully as the quintet landed. She barely waited for it to do so before bounding out, ready to see you.

She had been on a three month mission, and was finally home. The one thing that had gotten her through, was the hope of seeing you again. She was excited as well, because she had gotten you two presents and was excited to give you them—one of which being a ring, should you accept it.

Unfortunately, the sight to meet her eyes when she walked in ruined the anticipation of her surprise.

Your POV:
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"Pietro, please," you begged. He just smiled, running his hand along your cheek and causing an involuntary shudder.

"You know you want this, mi princesa," he growled, causing hairs to raise on your arms. He had tied you up and removed your clothes, and was now pressing you into the chair in which he had tied you.

Unfortunately, you had no powers, and it's a little hard to defend yourself when you can't even tell where your attacker is. So, you just took the abuse like a woman.

What made this even worse, was that it had happened multiple times. You and Pietro had been friendly, and so he had come over weekly, eventually daily, to see how you were doing. That turned into more, more that you didn't want. But you didn't know when he'd be coming, so you couldn't stop him. 

Being an Avenger yourself, you also couldn't go to work, seeing as that was where Pietro lived—much less could you move there. He'd be around. But the others could help you. But they'd think I'm weak and kick me off the team. Not even Tony or Steve could really stop Pietro, they wouldn't blame you. It's all your fault. You didn't choose this.

Wanda's POV:
I gasped when I saw Pietro on top of my girlfriend, her tied to a chair and fear covering her features.

"What the hell, Pietro?!" I shouted, red swirling around me in my anger. He glared at me, zooming out of the apartment before I hit him with my powers.

I walked to where (y/n) sat, quickly untying her. As soon as I did that, she covered herself, moving to get dressed. I gave her space.

After about a half-hour, she came out of our room, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, but no longer crying. She hugged me slowly. "I- I'm sorry, Wanda. I promise, I didn't want to."

"Shh, I know you didn't," I reassured her soothingly.

"And now, I've ruined you coming home. I wanted to make it a happy thing, but I just messed it up."

"You didn't mess up anything, baby."

"Yes I did. I messed up this, I messed up you coming home, I messed up us, I messed up our whole relationship, and now you're going to want to break up with me." Sobs came again as (y/n) spoke.

My fists hardened behind her back. I'm going to kill Pietro. No matter that he was my brother—he had thrown any familial loyalty away with his recent actions. "You didn't mess anything up. I love you."

"I- I love you too," she sniffles. I kiss her forehead, rubbing her back.

That night, we order pizza and watch movies. At some points, she cuddles, and at some points she moves away. I try to accommodate her, enjoying the cuddles but knowing that she might not be able to handle them. Throughout the following months and our whole relationship, I give her space if she needs it, never taking a moment for granted again. (For the most part)