Pietro Maximoff Imagines

Admiring From "Afar"

Warning(s): some strong language, ass smacking

Pietro was known for always running around, always fidgeting, always moving. It seemed like the boy could never stay still.

Some were getting annoyed at his constant movement, there was no time when he wasn't on the move. Wherever he went, there was no peace and quiet.

Until one day...

He was doing his thing, running around the tower, seeing what everyone was up to. Not just for fun, he was bored and wanted to see if he could find anything to do, if anyone needed help.

His intentions were good, he was a good guy, lately it just seemed like he always made things worse by trying to make them better. This was one of those times.

He went to see Tony and Bruce. He zoomed into the lab, causing papers fall to the floor by the wind. Tony and Bruce both glared at Pietro and he apologised. In a second he had picked up all the papers and set them on the desk again. "Can I help?"

"Pietro, we're kind of in the middle of something." Tony sighed in annoyance.

"No, I want to help."

Bruce turned to look at Tony and shrugged which caused Tony to sigh. "Fine, you can help."

And he did... For about fifteen minutes. He ended up accidentally pulling out a power cable and all their work was gone. Pietro grimaced as he looked back at the two geniuses. Bruce had covered his face with his hands, sighing heavily and Tony looked to be fuming mad. His face was red, if looks could kill, Pietro would have been dead by then. "That's it!" Tony yelled as he threw the papers he was holding on the table. He pointed towards the door and growled, "Leave."

Pietro looked down at the ground and scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Out!"

Pietro's shoulders slumped and he headed towards the door, apologising one last time before leaving.

"That was a bit harsh," he heard Bruce say behind him. "He just wanted to help."

"That boy does nothing but mess everything up!"
Pietro had never felt worse about himself. He was in no mood to run. He had never walked slower in his whole life.

As he walked through the corridors of the tower, he muttered to himself, cursing in his mother tongue.

He was heading towards his room, not wanting to see anyone for a while. He really needed some time for just himself.

He was just about to walk past the kitchen but then he heard singing. He raised his brow and peeked into the kitchen and saw you at the stove, singing quietly, swaying your hips slightly.

You may not have been the greatest singer in the world but still Pietro enjoyed what he heard, and saw. He found his eyes skimming down your body to your butt, smirking to himself as you continued swaying your hips left and right.

You were just about to turn around but before you could see Pietro standing in the doorway, he was already gone.

Pietro found himself staring at you from time to time while you were reading, singing or dancing while you thought nobody was looking.

He paid attention to all the little things you did, like the way your eyebrows furrowed and how lips moved slightly as you were reading a book, you seemed to be very into the story, or the way you always danced or sang or did both while you were cooking or doing the dishes, he even heard you singing in the shower while he walked past your bedroom, even if the door was closed. You were just that loud.