Imagine If You Assembled the Avengers: Volume 1

Love Really is Blind...or Just Clueless (Pietro Maximoff x reader)

"So, you just run for enjoyment?  With no destination?"  Pietro scoffed, "that sounds boring, (Y/N).  And you're so slow."

Looking up from tying your shoe, your expression changed to one filled with annoyance and finality at the conversation.  This kid had been nothing but a pain since he joined the team, and you always seemed to be the target of his harassment.  "Pietro, not everyone needs to break land speed records.  It's relaxing; you should try a slower pace sometime.  You'd think that finally getting out of your lab rat cage would have you out and running all the time."

"I wasn't in a cage...exactly," he paused, "but what do you know?  Not all of us grew up in the luxury of the Stark name either."

Pietro knew how much you hated being called out on your family ties, having Tony as your cousin. Everyone assumed they knew all about you, now being in the public eye, but there were plenty of things that this guy would never know.  "Listen here, road rash, you don't know the first thing about how I grew up," you snapped, "the name means nothing outside of Tony's life.  Some of us had to work even harder to make something of ourselves, to get out of that shadow."  You threw on your running jacket quickly, pulling the sleeves down with a firm grip and yanking the zipper up so harshly that you thought you broke it.  Popping your earbuds in, you turned to him with one hand on the door and ready to leave.

"But what would you know, Maximoff?  The everything special about you came out of a bottle."

~~~

Central Park wasn't as relaxing as you had hoped, filled with people moving much too slowly and getting in your way far too often.  A handful of them had recognized you and asked to take a picture together, clamoring to get a moment with a real Avenger.  Running around the lake with your music so loud that you were sure passersby heard it, your mind was racing with how badly you felt about the last thing you said to Pietro.  It wasn't true; there were many special things about him, but the jerk was so bothersome that you never had the chance or the desire to tell him so.   

You thought you saw a flash of silver pass by in your peripheral vision, but when you searched for it, there was nothing there.  Shaking it off, you continued on, finally coming to rest at The Met.  You stood next to the fountain, hands on your knees as you bent over to catch your breath, startling slightly when a man's voice called to you by name from one of the food trucks.

"Hey, (Y/N), head's up!" he yelled with a smile, throwing a bottle of water to you.  Maybe recognition wasn't always a bad thing after all.

You caught it easily and thanked him several times as you drank it, feeling energized with each swallow. Pausing for a moment to look at the massive museum building and its ornate decoration, you made a mental note to finally return to see the artwork inside.  It was something you had yet to do since moving to the city at Tony's insistence.

You were torn from your thoughts by a scream from a few feet behind you, spinning on your heel to see a mother yelling for her tiny son as he wandered towards the busy intersection of 82nd and 5th.

"Dammit," you mumbled to yourself, dropping your bottle and breaking into a sprint to catch him.  Two steps into the street was all you needed to reach him and pull him back behind you, throwing him to safety and onto the sidewalk in a tumble.  Two steps into the street was all you needed to be struck down in his place.  That same flash of silver that you had seen before was now dissipating next to you, replaced by Pietro's face near yours and his arms lifting you from the hard and abrasive ground. 

"How was I not fast enough?" he quietly asked himself in disbelief, pulling you to him as he frantically ran you to help.  "I'm sorry I was not fast enough, (Y/N)."