Only you - Wanda Maximoff

by NinaSalvatore

Summary:

I wasn't supposed to get involved.
I wasn't supposed to save her.
And I definitely wasn't expected to fall for her.

When a mission goes wrong, Natasha calls me for help - it's a simple job, nothing complicated. Help the Avengers, then leave, like I always do. But then there is Wanda.
She's quiet, a little awkward, and far too powerful for her lack of confidence. And the moment I got her out of danger, I realized I was screwed.
Because in my world, vampires do not simply fall in love.
When something happens... It lasts forever.
Now I'm caught between a war I don't believe in, people I don't trust, and a girl I wasn't supposed to care about.

But that's her.
It has always been her.

Notes:

I don't own any of the characters except Anastasia

WARNING- strong language, smut, violence, slightly dark romance

(Chapters with smut will be marked with an '*')

 

[18+]
[wanda x fem!oc][pre-civil war]

Chapter 1: Introduction

💌 𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒:

 So... This had been lying in my drafts for a long time, and I eventually caved. This is entirely fiction, written for pleasure.

Updates? When my mind feels like it.
Plot holes? Probably.
Unhealthy dealing with imaginary characters? Always.

Thank you for being here. You are wonderful for clicking on this. Now, let's get a little crazy together. 🖤

(Also, please shout out to my lovely bestie, who finally forced me to start writing again @rebusiikkk)

 

⚠️ 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈:

Hey besties — quick heads up:
🩸 Blood
💀 Violence & death
🖤 Dark aesthetic vibes
🔥 Eventual smut
😵‍💫 Morally questionable characters

And probably way too much tension for my own good. Also AGE-GAP.

To make things clear, this story doesn't follow the exact MCU timeline. I'll keep some events and interactions between characters while changing others to match the vibes I would like. Call it loosely inspired by movies, but with my own messy, chaotic twist.

Also, yeah, this is a Resident Evil Village crossover. I'll explain more as the story continues.

If you're not comfortable with this, please do not read.

 

📌𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒟𝒾𝓈𝒸𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓇:

I don't own Marvel, Resident Evil, or any of these characters -  just Anastasia.

 

 

Feel free to scream, simp, or threaten me in the comments; I enjoy hearing your reactions, crazy theories, and favorite moments. Thank you for clicking on this. Seriously. It means a lot to be here. I hope you appreciate this chaotic, dark, and wild little world I'm about to throw you into.

With love,

Author ❤️

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

0.1 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼

 

Name: Anastasia Dimitrescu

Age: Appears 20 | Actual Age: 102

"I wasn't made to save people. But for her? I would burn this world down. "

Fun Fact:  She remembers every word Wanda has ever said to her. Every conversation. Every stray comment. Every whisper. When she is alone, she thinks about them over and over.

 

Name: Wanda Maximoff

Age: 26

"I'll follow you into the dark, Anastasia. Even if it destroys me."

Fun Fact: When Wanda has nightmares, Anastasia's scent is the one thing that calms her. She once stole a scarf Ana left behind and sleeps with it under her pillow.

 

All Marvel characters remain the same

Also, the Dimiterscu family remains the same

 

 

0.2 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

 

1. "Love Story" — Taylor Swift

Lyric: "I got tired of waiting / Wondering if you were ever coming around."

2. "Young and Beautiful" — Lana Del Rey

Lyric: "Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?"

3. "Voyage" — ZOE

Lyric: "I'm drifting through the dark, searching for a light to guide me."

4."Middle of the Night" — The Vamps & Martin Jensen

Lyric: "In the middle of the night / I call your name."

5. "No Time To Die" — Billie Eilish

Lyric: "Fools like me / Who cross the line / And lead to nothing but regret."

 

6. "Control" — Halsey

Lyric: "I'm bigger than my body / I'm colder than this home."

7. "All Too Well (10 Minute Version)" — Taylor Swift

Lyric: "Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much."

8. "Video Games" — Lana Del Rey

Lyric: "It's you, it's you, it's all for you / Everything I do."

9. "Haunted" — Beyoncé

Lyric:   "I can't shake this feeling / I'm haunted."

10. "Delicate" — Taylor Swift

Lyric: "Isn't it, isn't it, isn't it delicate?"

11. "Summertime Sadness" — Lana Del Rey

Lyric: "I got that summertime, summertime sadness / Sipping on purer passion."

12. "RunRunRun" — Dutch Melrose

Lyric: "Run, baby, run, run for your life / I'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine"

13. "Dangerous Woman" — Ariana Grande

Lyric: "Somethin' 'bout you makes me feel like a dangerous woman."

14. "Disease" — Lady Gaga

Lyric: " Screamin' for me baby"

15. "Sailor Song" — Gigi Perez

Lyric:  "I sleep so I can see you 'cause I hate to wait so long."

 

 

 

Here is the link for you <3

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6LbbCyiDpbBNZ8rPgE7ovN?si=72f895dbfe664f48&pt=6332e4a260ea5af8cc9050710edd8068

 

 

 

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

 

The battlefield was chaos, with explosions shaking the ground and gunshots everywhere. The Avengers were split thin and struggled to maintain control. Wanda was cut off and trapped somewhere behind enemy lines.

"Steve, we can't hold this," Tony said, his voice tight and frustrated. 

"They've got the numbers."

Steve remained calm. "We hold the line. No matter what.
Throwing bodies at them isn't a strategy," Tony replied.

"Enough," Natasha screamed, shutting off the fight.

"We're losing people," she murmured gently, analyzing all the chaos. "Wanda is isolated. If we don't act quickly, this is over."

Steve's breath clenched. "Then we push harder."

Natasha paused for a moment. "I've got an idea. It is risky. Probably not good. But it's all we have."

"Who?" Tony asked sharply.
Natasha's voice went down. "I'm not even sure if she's in any state to help. But she's our only hope."

Natasha quickly took out her phone.

The line clicked. A cold, deadly voice responded.

"𝓘'𝓶 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓓𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝔂 𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓮."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2: 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

Notes:

Pairing(s): Pre Civil War Wanda Maximoff x Female vampire! reader

Word count: 4.1K

tags: l content/warnings: wanda maximoff x oc, resident evil x marvel, sapphic fanfic, soft x dangerous, 18+,Violence, re8crossover, blood,

𝟣. 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

 

Anastasia

I ended the call before Natasha could say anything else.

The phone dropped on the table, the screen still displaying her name. My untouched cup of black coffee heated quietly next to it, providing the only heat in this cold, endless night.

A new message appeared across the screen:

Location: 41.44589° N, 2.23598° E.

No names. No explanations. Typical.

I sighed with a low sound that was more like a warning than a sigh.

"Really, Nat? Now? I was beginning to enjoy my coffee."

Annoyance wrapped in my chest, but I knew I shouldn't dispute. Natasha Romanoff only calls me after the shadows have consumed everything else.

I stood and pulled on my black leather coat. It stuck to me like a second skin, providing ideal protection for the hunt.

There are no weapons. There are no tricks. It's just me.

Because when you're a monster of the night, the killing starts from within. I walked without hesitation, sliding through dark alleys until I found what I was looking for: a sleek black car that was parked and unlocked. There is no one around to ask questions.

Good.

I slid into the driver's seat, my fingers touching the chilly leather. The engine burst to life beneath my touch. The locations flashed on my phone screen again. "You're only lucky I'm not far away from you, Romanoff," I mumbled, my gaze narrowing as the city blurred by the windows.

The road ahead twisted like a snake. But the smell of fighting remained in the air—iron, fire, and blood, even from kilometers away. Natasha's GPS brought me to the edge of a field, deserted but for the sound of distant violence. I parked behind the tree and allowed the engine to die in silence.

There was screaming in the distance, muffled by the wind. Metals crashed. Something exploded. A gunshot snapped like a whip.

 

Meanwhile...

Steve raised his shield just in time to avoid a barrage of bullets that bounced off the vibranium like sparks. Natasha jumped behind a half-collapsed brick barricade, her breath sharp and quick in the comms.
"We're pinned," she mumbled, analyzing the angles.  "Two snipers on high ground. There are three ground levels. Perhaps more in the north tunnel."

"I can take the flank," Steve said firmly, pushing off the wall and sprinting into the wide space. He was hit in the side, not sharply, but enough to cause him to stumble.

"Steve!" Natasha yelled, leaping up and firing two fast shots into the shadows. One went down. The others just pushed harder.

Bullets came down from all directions, causing her to crouch as something burst near her foot. She could barely see, and Steve was losing pace; he was caught in the open with his shield.

"Too many!" she screamed into the team's comms. "Where the hell is ..."

A sudden gust of wind rushed past her shoulder.

She blinked.

One of the soldiers who had been firing fell to the ground, throat slashed and eyes open in frozen shock.

The others turned, confused, with their guns raised.

 

Anastasia

The shooting was louder now.

I could hear the alarming pulse of boots crashing onto stone, gunshots ripping into the air, and people falling like puppets with their strings ripped. A heartbeat at a time.

The smell of panic was obvious.

It tasted delicious.

I turned the last corner and there they were: Natasha, crouching low behind a rusting box, dual pistols blazing. Steve has blood on his arm and no shield in sight.

The enemies had them boxed in. Five, six, no-eight armed guys are closing in. Tactical and trained.

They didn't hear me coming.

The first man shouted before collapsing to the ground, his neck ripped so quickly that he didn't realize he had died. The second turned and tried to start a fire; I twisted behind him, snapped his neck clean.

The hallway was lit up with gunfire and blood.

"Bloody hell!" one of them yelled.

A little laugh escaped my lips as I dragged one screaming man into the shadows, his blood splattering the wall in an extended direction and his weapon crashing to the floor.

There are two left.

They ran. Cowards.

"Tsk," I sighed, wiping a tiny drop of blood from my lips. "That was almost boring."

I stepped completely into the light.

Steve raised his head, placing one hand on his injured arm. "What the hell..."

"Oh, don't get sentimental," I replied casually while stepping over a dead body. "You would've lasted another minute. Two, if Natalia had not been babysitting you."

She offered me a dry smirk, breathless. "You're late."

I checked my nails, which were covered and glossy with blood. "Fashionably."

Steve stumbled to his feet, still looking at what a mess I'd made. "They were leaving."

"No, my love. They were regrouping," I clarified. "They had you pinned and were about to rip through your final line. You are welcome, by the way."

The west wing was packed with soldiers, more than expected. When we turned the corner, a shower of bullets met us like confetti at a very unwanted parade.

"Down!" Steve shouted.

As if I would listen.

While they were ducking, I pushed forward. Blades slipped out from under my coat. The first soldier did not even utter a sound.

The walls were painted with blood in an abstract art style.

Steve threw his shield. I caught it in midair, looked at it for a second, then tossed it harder than he probably ever had. It crashed off two helmets, burst through another chest, and fell at his feet.

"Cute toy but very impractical," I muttered.

A voice buzzed in the comms system.

"Can you tell me why you're just standing there, and who on earth is the woman who just brutally killed everyone?"

"This is our plan," Natasha exclaimed as she shot down another soldier. "Very sharp teeth, worse attitude."

"And I can hear you," I added coldly, glancing up at the camera drone hanging overhead.

Tony remained silent for a second. "...Noted."

More boots. How lovely. It's food time.

I dashed toward them with incredible speed, my laughter deep and evil, ringing through the corridor like a whispered curse. I took out six in under fifteen seconds. One, I simply crashed against the wall, allowing him to slide down in a pool of blood. Another cried for his mother before I shut him permanently.

Natasha walked up to me as I was drinking his blood. "This is why I don't call you unless I have to."

I looked at her unaffected. "And yet here we are."

Steve looked both scared and impressed.

Before the second wave hit, I leaned close to Natasha and asked her.

„Zachem ty vse eshchë s etimi idiotami?"
( "Why are you still with these idiots?" )

She smirked. "Because someone has to keep them alive."

I tilted my head, blood dripping down my glove as I rolled my eyes. "You're wasting your talents."

My blade twisted through a soldier's gut as I leaned in, trapping his stifled cry against his throat. "Shhh...you're just awful at your job," I muttered, letting him drop at my feet.

Another person rushed. I dodged lazily, grabbed his wrist, and bit. His scream was satisfying. Warm blood dripped over my tongue, sweetened by adrenaline and panic. I drained him halfway and tossed him away like a soiled napkin.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my glove. "Ugh. Tastes of processed beef
Is this America's finest?"

My eyes shifted to the north corridor. Someone was fighting back with a different type of chaos.

I came to a stop as I turned the corner.

A woman with a dark cloak flowing, hands flashing red, was surrounded. Soldiers closed in with their rifles raised. She was panting and barely fighting them off. Her power flashed and flared like a dying flame.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Oh for fuck's sake," I grumbled.

One of the enemies was carrying something heavy.

I scanned the hall. Steve's shield was stuck into the wall where he had last used it. Without thinking, I moved forward and ripped it out with one arm.

I threw myself in front of her right as bullets flew through the air. They smashed against the vibranium. Her breath caught behind me.

I stood tall, shielding her, blood streaming from my coat, looking cool and uncaring. Several soldiers hesitated.

"Pathetic," I said carelessly. "If this is your idea of a threat, I suggest retiring early."

They were not given a chance to answer. In three quick movements, I murdered the last of them with beautiful, elegant violence. I turned.

She was still standing, but barely. Her emerald eyes looked at me, searching, confused, tired, and curious.

She was gorgeous.

But then I felt the most delicious smell of blood I've ever smelled. It was so addictive that if I hadn't learned to control it centuries ago, I would drink it in a second.

"You're hurt," I whispered, lowering the shield as I stepped closer.

She blinked. "I didn't realize..."

"You would not. Adrenaline hides it." I moved closer. She flinched. I softened my tone. "That's easy, my dear. I am not here to bite."

I crouched carefully, her wound clearly visible.

"May I?" My fingers were hovering just over her knee.

She hesitated before giving a small nod.

The wound wasn't fatal. But it could have been. One lucky shot, just enough to knock her off balance.

I took a deep breath, trying not to focus too much on the scent of her blood – delicious, alive in a way that set every nerve in me on fire. It called to me and sang for me.

I slowly removed my glove and softly brushed a claw across my palm, just enough to open the skin and bring warm blood to the surface. I pressed it gently to the wound on her leg.

She gasped when I pressed my hand against her wound. My blood seeped into her skin, and the wound began to heal itself beneath my fingertips. Her body clenched.

"What...what is that?" she muttered.

"A gift. From me to you." I grinned up at her, but it wasn't a smirk. "Though I do accept thank-you kisses." Wanda flushed, caught off guard.

BOOM.

A powerful explosion ripped through the distance, rocking the ground beneath us. Smoke burst in the far east corner of the building, with bright orange flames burning the sky.

I returned to her, hesitantly. She tried to stand up again, shaking her arms.

"You shouldn't move yet," I said, my gaze drawn to the deep cut on her thigh, which had only just closed. My blood had worked its magic, but not completely.

"I'm fine," she mumbled. "I can handle it." She said in her accent.

"Of course you can," I answered with a nod and stepped back. Her accent is so cute.

I softly grabbed her hand again, put it to my lips, and kissed her palm. "Goodbye, my lady," I said against her skin, my British accent stronger and taunting.

I jumped through the smashed glass without hesitation. Boots hit broken concrete with a force that caused dust to spread.

"Ah," I mumbled to myself, dusting glass off my coat. "Showtime."

To my right, a Tall blond man was swinging a hammer like a meteor, lighting up the sky. It must be the god of something I already forgot. On the other side, Natasha and Golden Boy were trapped behind an overturned truck, dodging fire. A grenade bounced toward them.

I moved before it touched the ground.

I kicked the grenade in midair, and it flew back into its original location with a satisfying bang, taking three soldiers with it. A soldier turned to me, pistol lifted and finger twitching on the trigger.

Too late.

I appeared behind him in a whisper of silk and blood, grabbing his jaw and twisting. The crack echoed. I did not even flinch.

Another tried to stab me. Cute. I grabbed the blade with two fingers and dragged it forward, burying it in his thigh instead.

"You'll have to try harder than that."

From the other side, I heard Tony's voice over the comms:
"Uh... can someone tell me who the gothic Dracula model is? And why is she making it look easy?"

Finally, there were no more soldiers, and silence fell around.

I stood on a broken piece of trash, my heel cutting into the stone while the wind played with the ends of my clothes. Blood still stuck to my knuckles, like rings.

 

Across the ruins, Steve Rogers was performing his usual post-battle routine, stoic and bleeding, his shirt clinging to him like a cheap romance novel cover. He wiped his shield and clinched his teeth, as if he could force the entire universe to behave.

I cocked my head and mumbled to Natasha beside me in Russian, just loud enough for her to hear.

"On vyrval rubashku, kak budto eto sobesedovanie na pozitsiyu striptizera."
(He ripped his shirt as if it were an audition for a stripper)

 

Natasha smirked without looking at me as she tied a new bandage over her wrist. "Da," she said calmly. "I vse eshche tak ser'yozen, kak budto moral' - eto forma iskusstva."
(And still so serious, as if morality were an art form.)

Iron Man was staring at us from the side. He frowned as if he were watching a suspicious animal about to do something mad. "Okay... I don't speak Bond-villain Russian, but I understand you're referring to us."

I crouched gracefully and didn't bother answering him. One of the soldiers' bodies lay next to my boot, still warm. Poor thing. He has almost no brain cells.

"Durachok," I muttered. Fool.

"By the beard of Odin... what in the Nine Realms is she doing?" There was a loud voice.

Ah. The blonde one. Thor. He looked at me as if I had grown a second head.

Which, to be honest, was hardly the craziest thing he had seen this week.

"I'm hydrating," I explained casually, lifting my chin up, blood still on my lips.

Thor's expression did not change.

"With a body?" he asked, half terrified and half fascinated. He leaned on his hammer, as if it might explain things to him.

"Technically, from a body," I explained calmly. "He will not miss it. He's done missing stuff."

Natasha sighed and came up beside him, "Okay, okay, before someone tries to throw a lightning bolt—Thor, meet Anastasia."

I lifted my hand, mockingly waving. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Thor blinked, then stared at Nat. "Is she... one of us?"

Natasha gently folded her arms and whispered, "She's a very old...friend."

I grinned. "A wonderful review. Tell them about my skincare next."

Natasha ignored me. "She's the one I called in when everything started going to hell."

"And she drinks the blood of fallen enemies," Thor stated bluntly.

I had just dropped the second body, which was less tasty than the first, when I caught Tony staring at me as if I were some exotic lab rat.

He drew closer, arms folded, brow raised.

"So, just to clarify," he began, voice full of skepticism, "you're a vampire?".

I paused mid-wipe of my bloodstained glove, tilting my head in mock surprise.

"Oh? We're doing labels now?" I replied, amused. "Because if so, I have a list."

Tony pointed his finger. "Don't get poetic with me. Just vampire. Like, fangs, blood, darkness, are you allergic to church bells?"

I giggled softly

"Yes, Stark. I am a vampire," I replied slowly and carefully, meeting his gaze. "But please, do us both a favor and erase every glittering, shirtless teenage fantasy from your brain right now."

He blinked. "Twilight?"

"Yes. That," I muttered, " I don't sparkle."

"I mean... You do not sleep in a coffin, correct?"

"No. My bed is really comfortable, with black silk sheets. I am dramatic, not undead."

"And garlic?"

"I prefer it roasted. On Lamb."

He paused. "Stake to the heart?"

"Only if you do it right," I murmured, savoring his gradual mental breakdown.

Tony blinked,

"Right. Okay. Vampire, but in a designer version."

I grinned. "Dramatic, deadly, and emotionally unstable"

Thor leaned over to Steve. "What is Twilight?"

"Don't," Steve replied. "Just... don't."

Tony, however, was still processing.

"So you're immortal."

"Unfortunately."

"And you drink blood."

"Yes"

"And you can walk in daylight."

I looked at the smoke-darkened sky, then back to him.

"Obviously?"

He opened and closed his mouth before finally saying, "You terrify me."

"That's wise," I responded, smiling. "I like you more already."

The sarcasm was thick in the air as I lounged on the edge of a broken table, while the others slowly gained strength. Tony was half-distracted, typing away at his suit's wrist panel, while Thor poked at a burnt drone with some confusion.

"Honestly," I said to Natasha in Russian, "how do you travel with this chaotic group? I've seen greater coordination during a toddler's tea party."

Natasha snorted and wiped blood from her cheek. "You grow used to them. Eventually."

I opened my mouth to continue the roast, but a woman's voice blasted through Stark's suit's comms.

"Warning. There is an unknown object incoming. Estimated time of impact: 2 minutes"

Silence.

Everyone froze.

"Wait—what?" Tony's head snapped up, and the suit lit up. "Where the hell is it coming from?"

"The coordinates indicate a direct flight from the eastern sector. It's locked at this location."

Steve swore under his breath before grabbing his shield.

"Move! Everyone, move now!" He shouted.

Panic changed the air as the team scrambled. Thor held Nat swinging his hammer, Tony was ready to fly off in his suit, and I turned toward the exit.

Until I noticed. Where is she?

My eyes looked around, and I couldn't even hear or smell anything.

"Where the hell is she?" I snapped so sharply that Natasha flinched.

" OH Wanda- she went inside," Steve murmured, "east wing - she said she needed air, or to be alone, I don't - damn it"

They glanced at each other. Nobody moved.

Of course.

"Idiots,"

And with that, I turned on my heel and ran straight into the building.

I turned the corner, jumped over a fallen structure, and eventually found her, trapped beneath the collapsed brick of a support column, her body twisted awkwardly, attempting to force it off, her magic flickering weakly at her fingertips.

Wanda's eyes met mine in a haze of confusion and pain.

"Don't move," I said, and before she could answer, I was beside her.

I put my arms beneath the rubble and lifted, the stone shattering under the weight of my might, power pulsating in my blood. She gasped and struggled to sit up as it rolled off her legs.

"No," I murmured softly, putting one arm under her back, another beneath her legs, and raising her as if she weighed nothing. "You're not dying on me, little witch."

She tensed for a second, perhaps surprised, before sliding her arms up and curling tightly around my neck.

I felt her hot, uneven breath against my collarbone.

And that is when it happened.

My heart stutters.

My energy spread like wildfire beneath my skin.

The entire worldwide tilted.

Oh. Oh no.

No, no.

That is not possible.

That was the Bond. The one that happened once in a lifetime. To me.

The smell of fire, but I blocked it all out. I focused just on the delicate pulse against my neck. Her pulse.

Wanda's arms were still wrapped about me, her breathing shallow, her head snuggled against my shoulder.

I tightened my hold and dashed down the hallway.

The bomb was close. Too close.

Behind me, a metallic groan echoed as another support beam snapped. I jumped over it, pounding my boots against the broken tile.

"What's going on?" Wanda's voice sounded hoarse and muddled.

"There's a bomb, love," I said with tight teeth. "A very huge, quite uncomfortable one. Someone sent it as a small gift for us."

Her body tightened in my arms. "A bomb?!"

"Yes," I answered bluntly, kicking open a partially melted steel door.

"Hold on to me," I muttered.

"As if I have a choice," she muttered faintly.

"You always have a choice," I whispered, snuggling her further against my chest. "But for now... I am not giving you one."

With that, I blasted through the final door, into the open, broken night, where the rest of the Avengers had already hurried for cover.

My coat swirled around my legs, my boots skidding over the fractured roads, and I smashed my palm against the car door, which chirped open without delay.

My elegant black car. Thank goodness I had parked her just far enough to avoid the chaos.

With a scowl, I opened the passenger side door and gently dropped Wanda onto the seat, cradling her like a precious piece of glass. Her eyes were wide, her breathing was irregular, and her fingers remained curled around the lapel of my coat, refusing to let go.

"You're fine," I muttered, removing a lock of hair off her face. "We're alright."

Wanda blinked slowly, bewildered. "You ran all that way... with me?"

I laughed softly, sharply, breathlessly, and completely unlike myself.

Then I locked the door and staggered over to the driver's side.

When I sank into the seat, I dropped my head back into the rest, my eyes fluttering shut as I took a deep, nervous breath.

"Bloody hell," I mumbled, pressing one hand to my chest. "I haven't run like that since... ever."

Take another breath. Not calming. Not even close.

"I am a vampire. I do not do cardio. I'm too old for this."

I glanced across at her. She was observing me with her chest slowly rising and falling, and her lips apart. Her knees were bent toward the door,

My breathing finally slowed.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, my voice gentler than it had any right to be. "Anywhere—broken bones? Bleeding?"

Wanda shook her head faintly. "No. No, I'm okay. Just... really tired."

I looked at her for a moment, checking the bruises on her arms and the little shaking in her fingers. She was lying—not about being uninjured but about how close she had been to breaking.

Several minutes passed in silence.

Then, softly and hesitantly

"Thank you... for saving me."

Her voice cracked slightly. As if speaking those words required more strength than raising her powers.

I turned to face her, brows lifted and lips curling slightly. "You are welcome."

"What's your name?"

That surprised me.

I tilted my head, looking at her as if she were something I couldn't figure out.

Then I smiled – "I jump into fire, throw myself through falling buildings, and save a mysterious girl from a bomb. And now you ask?"

Wanda glanced, obviously unsure if I was serious.

I leaned in slightly, my voice softer than silk. "Anastasia."

Her lips parted at the name, as if it weighed heavily on her tongue.

I paused for a time before softly saying, "Anastasia Dimitrescu."

"My name is Wanda," she said softly.

The silence between us lasted a time before I asked, "Why weren't you with the others after the fight? You were left alone in the chaos."

She swallowed, and her gaze fell to the road beneath us.
"I'm new to the team," she explained quietly. "I don't feel like I belong yet. I feel like I'm here, but not truly... a part of them."

The things she said stung more than I expected. It was difficult to picture someone as powerful as her being so alone.

"So they just left you there?" My voice tightened, and anger bubbled beneath the surface. "Just let you fight for yourself, while they moved on like you didn't matter?"

Wanda flinched at my tone, but did not argue.
"They were busy," she mumbled. "There were so many of us to manage. I guess I didn't cut... yet."

I felt a burst of frustration coupled with protectiveness. This girl, my girl, should not have been treated like that.

"No one gets left behind," I stated firmly, my voice quiet but serious. "Not when bullets are flying, not when the building is falling apart around you. That's not how it works. Not for me, not for them."

She looked up, meeting my gaze for the first time in what seemed like forever. There was a glimmer of hope, perhaps even relief, in those exhausted eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered, "For saving me."

"Well, you're coming with me," I said,  already grabbing for the car keys. "You need to rest, and you will not go anywhere alone. I'm driving you back to the Avengers Tower."

Her forehead twisted in confusion, mixed with anxious trust.
"I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not,"

She breathed softly, as if letting go of something she had been hanging onto for a long time.
"Okay," she replied gently. "Thank you, Anastasia."

I gave her a modest nod and offered to help her up.

 

It took us around two hours to get to Avengers Tower, with city lights blurring past the windows as I drove into the night.

In the calm hum of the car, my mind raced faster than the wheels under me. How did I find her? Not just another wandering soul, but her-mate, tied to me by a bond older and deeper than anything I'd ever known. The blood on her leg drew me in, and as she wrapped her hands around mine, I knew.

I felt angry, furious at those so-called friends who had abandoned her to fend for herself. It was careless, even cruel.  No one should be abandoned to rot in the chaos. Not when we're supposed to be a team

Yet here she was, asleep beside me, exhaustion finally catching up to her.

Her brow relaxed in a rare moment of tranquility as she maintained a steady pace.

I stole a glance and, for once, allowed a small, almost tender smile to form on my lips. Her vulnerability and humanity were fascinating to me.

Whatever storm she had been through, whatever fights remained ahead, I'd be her shadow.

I tightened my grip on the wheel, already planning what would happen next.

Because it was only the beginning.

Notes:

AN: HEYYYYY GUYSSS, I'm back! Bringing a completely new series! I hope you've enjoyed reading this far. Please remember to vote and leave a comment!

PS: All parts in Russian are from the translator/AI, so please excuse any mistakes.

<3

Chapter 3: 𝐻𝒶𝓁𝒻 𝒶 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓅 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓇

Anastasia

Manhattan sparkled ahead of me, all steel and stormlight.

I downshifted as I drove off the main road and entered the quiet turn leading to Avengers Tower's private garage. The streets were almost dead. There was no one to be seen. Good. The fewer people there, the lower the chance of another delay.

Wanda had still not moved.

She curled up on the passenger side, covered in a blanket I had thrown over her earlier. Her breathing was normal, though a little shallow, and her fingers twitched sometimes, as if she were battling against unknown nightmares.

As I approached, a clean, surprisingly polite voice cut through the speaker set beside the console:

"An unregistered car was detected. Explain your identity and purpose."

I exhaled out through my nose and leaned slightly forward. "I'm Lady Anastasia Dimitrescu. Romanoff wanted me to help. I've come to deliver one of your Avengers. She is a little sleepy."

There was a pause—then a refined and frighteningly calm response:

"Thank you, Lady Dimitrescu. You have now been cleared for entry. I'm FRIDAY, Avenger's Tower's AI."

I raised an eyebrow.

"A talking computer. Brilliant," I muttered, easing the car forward as the massive garage doors opened. "Go on, Friday. Notify your merry little gang of heroes. I don't want them to miss the bit where I finished their work for them."

"Very well," FRIDAY replied, with a hint of attitude in her tone. "I'll notify the team."
As I drove into the modern, softly lit garage, the gate closed behind me. Under the overhead lights, lines of luxury cars glittered. I parked in the distant corner and turned off the engine, letting the silence settle in.

Wanda hadn't moved.

I sat for a moment, staring at her out of the corner of my eye.

My fingertips tapped the driving wheel slowly. I was not used to this part—waiting. The watching. The quality of caring. Whatever was scratching at my ribs, I didn't like the way it felt in my chest. It was not a weakness.

Human.

I reached over and lightly brushed my fingers over her shoulder. "Wanda," I muttered softly. "We're here."

Nothing.

"Come on, sleeping beauty, don't make me carry you in front of your teammates. We don't want to start a rumor, would we?"

Still nothing. Of course.

I sighed, shook my head, and exited the car. Moving around to the passenger side, I carefully opened her door and crouched next to her. Her eyebrows twitched slightly with the cool air, but she did not awaken.

"Fine," I murmured, half amused and half frustrated.

I put my arms beneath her without effort and carried her out, her body weightless in my arms. Her head relaxed slightly against my shoulder, and I paused—only briefly—as I caught her scent again. Her sweet blood and wild magic.

For god's sake, Anastasia, stop looking at her like some creep, I told myself.

"Elevator 2 will take you to the residential floors," FRIDAY's voice repeated. "Her room is on level 21, second from the left. Should I unlock the door for you?"

I stepped into the elevator, holding Wanda gently in my arms. "Obviously"

A soft chime sounded as the doors closed.

As we stood up, I looked down at the sleeping witch curled against me, her lips slightly parted in dream-heavy breath.

Gods, she was beautiful.

Her jaw was covered with blood, which I believe belonged to someone else. Dirt streaked across her temples. Her suit had been singed twice, and her hands were burned from the casting. However, she looked angelic. Almost holy.

I hated how my chest tightened when I looked at her.

No.

No, I didn't do feelings. This... this wasn't supposed to happen.

What the hell was wrong with me?

"Don't be ridiculous," I whispered beneath my breath.

She moved softly in my arms, her fingertips brushing across my coat, and I froze, as if she had cast a spell on my spine.

Be careful now.

I've drunk blood as hot as fire. I have danced with death and made it beg. I have never stayed long enough to feel anything.

So, why the hell is this girl making my ribs ache?

The elevator doors slid open.

"Room is ready," FRIDAY said. "Third door on your right."

"Cheers," I said under my breath, tightening my grip on Wanda as I stepped outside.

My boots barely made a sound on the perfect flooring. This part of the tower was extremely quiet. I could still smell smoke and metal on my clothing, but everything here seemed clean and natural.

As I came closer, the door automatically opened.

Her room was comfortable. Muted light streamed in through high windows. The bed sheets were fresh, and the air had a slight aroma of lavender and old books. Nothing about it suggested Avengers. It felt safe.

Carefully, I lowered her onto the bed.

I brushed her hair back, gentler this time, and sat on the edge of the bed, as if I had been asked. Like I belonged here.

"Sweet dreams, little witch," I said quietly.

I moved to the door, pausing for a little minute at the entrance.

I looked back at her, curled into warm blankets, the slightest rise and fall of her chest drawing me in deeper than I'd ever imagined.

"Gods help me," I mumbled.

And then I exited the room, the door closing behind me with a final hiss.

The conference room was too bright.

I did not knock when I entered. Just pushed the doors open as if I owned the place.

"Miss Dimitrescu," Steve said, always the polite soldier.

I lifted a brow, unimpressed. "Captain."

They were all there: Stark leaning back in a chair with his arms crossed, Thor with that confused golden retriever expression, and Natasha sitting quietly, a palm on her chin, as if she was waiting to see who would draw first blood.

I smiled, sharp and chilly. "Let me paint the scene because your memories are foggy. A bomb is on its way. Everyone is running away like scared animals. And you all - all of you-forget your TEAMMATE is still buried beneath a breaking building."

Steve opened his mouth. I did not let him speak.

"I found her." My voice fell. "She was stuck. Bleeding. Exhausted. About to be crushed by the very walls she tried to protect you from. And none of you noticed."

Tony's self-importance showed for the first time. "We were trying to"

"Cut the bullshit, trying isn't enough," I laughed. "Do you want to play soldier, billionaire, god, or monster? Fine. But don't claim to be a team when you can't even count your own members."

Thor stepped forward, brow furrowed. "We did not mean."

"No," I hissed. "You didn't. That is the problem."

A long silence took place.

Finally, FRIDAY's voice broke through, too polite for the tension in the air.
"Miss Dimitrescu, the team would like to formally discuss."

"Not today," I replied, cutting her off. I turned on my foot. "You don't get my patience and my mercy on the same day."

Tony muttered, "So dramatic."

I paused briefly at the entryway, looking over my shoulder. "Say one more thing and I'll cut your throat."

"Oh, one more thing," I said, my eyes glowing slightly red in the light. "Next time you forget her, there won't be anyone left to save."

Later...

I sat on the edge of a building whose name I did not care to look up. It wasn't important. All that mattered was the wind, the silence, and how the sky above me changed from ink to gray.

Far below, cars whispered across the streets like worn ghosts. The chaos from earlier felt like a distant shadow.

My boots dangled off the ledge as I sat with my diary open on my lap, the only sound being a gentle scratch from my pencil.

Her eyes. I couldn't get them right.

Her voice. The way she showed thankfulness. As if no one ever tried to save her before.

Her name.

Wanda.

My sketchbook page was already half full, with flowing lines, subtle shadows, a tilt of her jaw, and weight beneath her eyes. I didn't often draw people. Only things I wanted to forget or couldn't stop remembering.

It was the second one. I stopped. My fingers tightened slightly around the pencil.

"I'm new to the team," she remarked, her voice soft. "I don't really feel... welcomed."

"I'm not ready for this," I whispered to the sky, allowing my British accent to stretch each word like velvet-wrapped refusal.

I finished my sketch, leaving out all of the bruises so I could visualize her beautiful face.

 

A few weeks later....

 

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍᴇʟʟ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ. ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ. ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ. ᴍʏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ. ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴄʀᴇᴀᴍɪɴɢ. ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇꜱ ɪ ʀᴇᴄᴏɢɴɪᴢᴇᴅ. ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ. ᴛʜᴇɴ ʜᴇʀ.

 

ɪ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ Qᴜɪᴄᴋʟʏ, ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ɴᴇʀᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ꜱᴄʀᴇᴀᴍɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɴ.

ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ.

ꜱʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏᴏᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀᴏꜱ - ʀᴜɪɴꜱ, ʙᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ, ꜰɪʀᴇ, ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴛ ɪɴ ʀᴇᴅ ʟɪɢʜᴛ. ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ꜱᴘᴀʀᴋʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ ᴀꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ. ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟᴇᴅ. ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴅʀɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴇꜱ. ɪ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ᴀꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴀᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ.

ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ..  "ɴᴏ," ɪ ꜱᴀɪᴅ Qᴜɪᴇᴛʟʏ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ʟᴏᴜᴅᴇʀ, "ɴᴏ. ɴᴏ"

ɪ ʀᴀɴ. ᴍʏ ʟᴇɢꜱ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ꜰᴀꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ɪ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇᴅ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ. ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʙʟᴜʀʀʏ.

ᴀ ꜱᴛᴇᴇʟ ʙᴇᴀᴍ ꜱɴᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀᴜᴍʙʟᴇᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ. ʜᴇʀ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ꜰʟɪᴄᴋᴇʀᴇᴅ. ꜱʜᴇ ᴄʀɪᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇʟʟ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴇ. "ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ!"

ɪ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ʜᴀɴᴅ, ᴀɴxɪᴏᴜꜱ, ᴀɴɢʀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀꜰʀᴀɪᴅ, ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʟᴏᴏʀ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀʟʟ.

ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ. ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ. ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ᴠᴀɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ.

"ᴡᴀɴᴅꜱ!"

 

I woke up with a gasp, my lungs sucking in air as if I had drowned. My hand flew to my chest. Sweat stuck to my skin, like mist. The room was dark and still. My sheets tangled about me.

A nightmare. Just a nightmare. However, it didn't feel like one.

My gaze jumped to the nightstand. I grabbed my phone and tapped the screen.
04:12 AM.

It's too early.

My hands were still shaking. She died. She died, and I couldn't... I pushed off the sheets and sat on the side of the bed, staring at the floor, my heart beating.

"Bloody hell," I murmured, my voice cracking and low. "What the fuck was that?"

My thoughts were still flooded with her screams. With the way her body vanished into flames. I looked down at my hands, as though they had failed her. Again. Somehow. 

It has been weeks. It's been weeks since I last saw her.

But I dream about her every night. It's frustrating.

Some nights, I see her dying again, trapped under fire and metal, screaming for help that I cannot handle to give her. I wake up in a shivering sweat, clawing at the covers, her scream ringing in my ears like a death sentence.

Other nights are worse.
Not painful, but cruelly lovely.

She's in my arms. She laughed quietly, her voice soft on my chest. Sometimes we sit by light from candles, her fingers brushing against mine like a secret. Sometimes her hands are in my hair, her lips on my throat, murmuring things that make me feel in ways no one has touched in ages.

Sometimes it's pure fire. Her mouth is on mine, her body is close, and the world blurs around us as if we are the only two people left. A century of loneliness swept away at her touch. I wake up trembling, heat curling between my legs, angry at my own weakness.

Because I do not even know her. 

Every dream only makes it deeper. I hate it. I want to see her. I want to know if she remembers me. And I don't want her anywhere near me again. Because I'm not built for this. I am not meant for beautiful girls with gentle voices and suffering hearts. I'm not even sure if she's into girls.

Not when I'm already fantasizing about biting her neck and kissing her fingers in the same breath. God. I need a drink. Of blood. Or vodka. Maybe both.

I sat cross-legged on the old leather chaise in my apartment, staring at the unfinished glass of red in my hand. It was warm now, if barely warm, but that didn't bother me.
I found myself thinking about her again. I can't focus on anything else but her.

Her face flashed behind my eyes, uninvited. Her tangled hair and the way it curled around her cheeks while she slept. When she told me her name, she spoke in hushed tones. The weight of her arms around my neck, trusting me without speaking.

She hasn't even tried to find me. Of course, she has not. Why should she?

She is an Avenger. She has friends, battles to fight, and knows what it means to be special.

And me?

I drink blood and use sarcasm as perfume.

What would I even tell her?

"Good morning. I have been dreaming about you every night for the past three weeks. I believe fate wants to rip my heart open and insert your name in there. Also, I might bite you by accident. Do not take it personally."

I scoffed and raised the glass to my lips.

If Donna were there, she would know what to say.

She always did. Aunt Donna had a sleepy voice and fog-like eyes—soft, quiet, and always watching. When I was a child, she never raised her voice. But gods, she saw me. 

"Your heart," she used to say, "will always know before your mind does. Don't be foolish enough to run away from it."

At the time, I rolled my eyes. Now I would do everything to hear it again. Maybe I could move back to Romania to see them again; I haven't seen my grandma or Aunt Donna in about 30 years.

I stared across the room at the old cracked leather book on the shelf. It still smelled like her—rosewater and the dirt. Her handwriting was messy. She had written deeply about connection, flowers, and fate.

About bonds.

And I knew deep down that if she were here today, she'd smile at me with that knowing tilt of her head and say, "So. Will you let your self-pity keep you away from her?"

I gave a long, annoyed sigh.

"I'm not going because of her," I said out loud, to no one in particular. "I'm going because they want to talk. The team. The mission. That is all."

It was an unconvincing lie.

Even I didn't buy it.

"Besides," I mumbled to myself as I headed to my bedroom to change my clothes to something darker.  "If I happen to see her again... well. That is just unfortunate timing, isn't it?"

 

 

The glass doors to Avengers Tower slid open, and I stepped inside, my heels bouncing on the smooth stone floor. Friday allowed me in, of course, but she didn't say anything. No greetings. There is no smug quip. No; "the team's in the common room, Miss Dimitrescu."

There's just silence.

"Right," I said, straining my gaze to the ceiling. "That's not weird at all."

I waited a few seconds, arms folded, looking around in case something jumped out. Nothing happened. Fine.

I made my way to the elevator, pressing the slick silver button with more force than was necessary. The doors opened instantly, and I stepped inside, staring at the glowing floor panel. I didn't know where anyone was. I could've phoned. I could have asked. But no, that would be way too practical for me, wouldn't it?

With a groan, I selected one of the top floors at random.

The doors closed. Soft music was played. I scowled.

When they opened again, I was faced by glaring lights, padding mats, and punching bags—the training floor.

The training floor was very sweaty.

A grunt rang across the room, harsh and strong, but far too... male for this hour.

I immediately cringed.

"Ugh. Men," I mumbled, scrunching my nose as another loud exhale came. "Of course, I ended up here. Testosterone and protein shakes."

Without fully getting in, I turned back to the elevator and hit the button again. Nothing happened. I smacked it harder. Still nothing.

The doors refused to close.

"Oh, don't you dare," I growled. "Don't you bloody dare."

The panel blinked. The elevator hummed but didn't respond. I pressed the button again - twice. "You're a multibillion-dollar tower. Move."

The elevator stood defiantly still.

"Fantastic," I growled in Romanian, launching into a bunch of colorful words that my aunt would have chastised me for."Rahatul dracului de lift. Nici măcar o vrăjitoare oarbă n-ar proiecta așa ceva—" (Damn elevator shit. Not even a blind witch would design something like that.)

"You know," a calm accent voice said behind me, "you curse beautifully when you're angry."

I carefully turned my head, trying to keep a neutral expression even though my brain was trying to reset itself.

There she was.

Wanda Maximoff. Post-training. Hair was pulled back in a messy braid, with a few strands sticking to her hot cheeks. A plain black tank top clung to her figure, and her hands were wrapped in red training tape, with dried blood smudges on her knuckles.

I swallowed.

Gay panic is activated.

Her eyes met mine, and for a short second, I swear she seemed as surprised as I was. Then she grinned. That gentle, delicate smile, curved at the edges as if it held a secret. My knees nearly buckled.

"You look like you're trying to curse the elevator into working," she noted, going past me casually, as if she hadn't just stepped out of my dreams and into this hallway.

"Only mildly," I rapidly said, straightening up, and if I hadn't been slamming buttons like a crazy person. "It is possessed. Obviously."

She hummed in amusement as she brushed her fingers on the elevator panel. The doors slid shut promptly.

Of course. For her, it worked.

She cocked her head slightly, giving me a look over her shoulder. "You coming?"

I blinked. "What?"

Her smile got bigger just slightly. "I knew you would want to go upstairs. The team is probably in the common area. Unless you plan to live in the elevator?"

Smooth. Be cool.

"I do not live in elevators. Yet." I cleared my throat and went in next to her. "Though it is more peaceful than most rooms in this tower."

We stood side by side. I could feel warmth flowing from her body. Her perfume, which included sweat, magic, and something flowery, hung in the air like seduction. I focused extremely hard on the opposite wall.

The doors closed.

"You weren't here last time," she said suddenly, "When I awoke. I remember you carrying me."

I was shocked she'd brought it up. "Yeah. You were asleep. It felt rude to simply leave you in the car seat."

Her lips curve slightly. "Still. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," I said. "I wasn't about to let them blow you up."

That gave me a gentle laugh. It was quiet, like everything about her, but it warmed something inside of me. The elevator dinged.

She stopped before stepping out into the hallway. I followed her, our footsteps ringing together. She slowed, as if she wasn't in a hurry to get where we were going.

"I can walk you there," she added unexpectedly, gazing sideways but not meeting my gaze. "If you want. - I mean, only if you want."

Her voice was calm, but I could tell it took her some courage to offer.

"Sure," I replied, offering her a nicer grin than usual. "If you're not too busy hiding from the rest of them."

Her lips twitched again, and she looked down, a shy smile peeking through. "Maybe I am. But you seem quieter than I thought."

I raised an eyebrow. "Do I? Most people describe me as the loudest nightmare they've ever met."

"I didn't say it out loud," she said. "I said it quietly. Inside."

Before I could think of anything clever to say, she turned towards the hallway.

"This way," she murmured, keeping her gaze forward. And I followed....

 

 

 

AN: DAMNNN SECOND CHAPTER OUTTTT!!!! So guys, please forgive me for every mistake. Also, NO HATE TO MEN. Anastasia is openly lesbian. Also, to be clear with everything, I used AI for the Wandas painting because I am not able to draw hahhahah. Also, I used a translator for Romanian language and Friday AI phrases.

PS: PLS DONT FORGET TO COMMENT OR VOTEEEE

<3

Notes:

AN: DAMNNN SECOND CHAPTER OUTTTT!!!! So guys, please forgive me for every mistake. Also, NO HATE TO MEN. Anastasia is openly lesbian. Also, to be clear with everything, I used AI for the Wandas painting because I am not able to draw hahhahah. Also, I used a translator for Romanian language and Friday AI phrases.

PS: PLS DONT FORGET TO COMMENT OR VOTEEEE

<3

Chapter 4: 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇

 

Anastasia

The doors slid open with a smooth robotic hiss, and the entire room became silent. The early morning light seeped through the windows.

Steve stood slowly from the edge of the table, his eyes narrowing. Natasha, who was already leaning against the far wall, raised an eyebrow as she uncrossed her arms. Tony, of course, spilled a little coffee on his shirt.

"Okay... What is going on?" Tony asked, his gaze jumping between Wanda and me as if we had just strolled in with a bomb.

I bent one brow, brushing a strand of windblown hair away from my face. "You wanted to talk with me," I said quietly. "So. Talk."

Tony leaned forward, pointing to a folder that had just been brought in. "It's more of a curiosity thing. We found something during a mission that we don't completely understand. "We thought you might have some insight." He paused. "Or at least a sarcastic insult."

"Both," I said, carefully walking toward the table, "But let's start with the file."

Wanda stayed behind me, quieter than usual. I could feel her presence like a warm candlelight behind my back. She did not speak, but I knew she was watching everything.

I flipped open the folder and was instantly silent.

A symbol looked back at me, written in black on the top corner of an old page. A sun cut in half. A long sword cuts through the center. The ink seemed to have been blended with something darker.

Something I recognize.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, my voice clear as glass.

"Under an old Hydra vault," Steve replied, watching my response. "We suspected it might be mysterious in nature. It did not match any of their usual marks."

"No, it wouldn't," I said, closing the file a little too lightly. "Because it doesn't belong to Hydra."

Tony frowned. "Alright. So, who owns this sticker collection?"

"Human brotherhood," I stated bluntly. "A historic cult. Vampire Hunters. The kind that used silver dipped in holy water and an exorcism bible carved into their bullets."

"They were wiped out centuries ago," I said, my voice tightening. "Or so we thought. If Hydra had access to this, it implies someone survived."

Steve leaned forward. "If that's the case, what do we have here? Is there a secret war going on? Something we didn't know existed?"

I tapped the table, anxiously. "Not just a secret, Steve. Deadly. Hydra's obsession with control means that it." Pause. "will not be satisfied with simple tests. They'd weaponize anything they could get their hands on, including reviving historic horrors."

Tony pulled his hand through his hair, annoyed. "Historic horrors, huh? This sounds like my worst nightmare after a long day in the lab."

Natasha folded her arms. "So, what? They found remains of these hunters. Or worse, have they been lurking in the shadows all along?"

"They were not meant to be found. However, the data reveals a covert network that is hidden and well-trained. People who wouldn't blink at destroying entire towns to eliminate one bloodline of us."

"I don't like this," Steve grumbled. "If Hydra's playing with powers like this, it's a threat beyond anything we've faced."

I stared at each of them, the weight setting in. "If they start producing soldiers with that kind of power, immortal, brutal-you'll be fighting more than Hydra."

Tony nodded grimly. "So, what should we do? How can we stop this?"

"I've seen it before," I said softly. "And trust me - you don't want to be caught unprepared."

Then Steve broke it. "Alright. We will do what we can. But we'll need your help."

I gave a dry laugh and crossed my arms. "Look, I'm not exactly excited about playing house with you guys. Trust issues aren't even close to covering everything."

Tony lifted his eyebrow. "You're really not a team player, huh?"

"Don't mistake my manners for weakness," I remarked sternly. "But this..." I tapped the file again." This must stop. Whether I like it or not, that means working with you."

Several weeks later...

Weeks passed faster than I cared to admit. The difficulty working with the Avengers became less difficult. Not that I'd ever call it friendship, but the ongoing presence of their odd behaviors and chaos was settling into a bizarre rhythm that I was beginning to accept.

I found myself standing shoulder to shoulder with them more often than I preferred, especially Wanda. We didn't say much, but our eyes could carry entire conversations, and those few moments of understanding were enough.

Then there was Vision, an odd one. Not quite human, not quite robotic, and completely honest. He produced a calming atmosphere. Despite being a product of logic and computer programs, Vision was truly friendly. More importantly, he treated me with respect, never pressing but always there like a silent guardian of our small group.

"You're adapting better than I expected," Vision had said.

I had smirked. "Don't get used to it."

This night, the tower was incredibly silent. I sat alone in the dark shared area, spinning a glass of something strong in my palm, attempting to drown the weight of frustration in golden liquid. The kind of peace I rarely gave myself.

Then, a soft knock at the door - barely audible. I didn't have to look to know who it was. I could smell her.

Wanda walked inside, her eyes wide and weaker, as if she had fled from shadows I couldn't see. The moonlight showed the dark lines under her eyes and the slight shake in her hands.

"Are you awake?" she whispered.

"Couldn't sleep. Nightmare?"

After a moment of hesitation, she moved a little closer. "I... I see him all the time. Pietro. My brother. How he died. It haunts me."

At first, I stayed silent, allowing her words to pass between us.

"I can't always control my powers. It makes me feel very alone. I feel like I'm on a path that wasn't meant for me," she said, her voice breaking.

As I looked at her, this girl haunted by loss and fear, I felt a stirring inside of me that was caring and protective.

I finally said, "You're not alone," and I was surprised by how soft my voice was. "I am all too familiar with the burden of loss. However, Wanda, you are strong. More than you think."

She raised her head, looking into my eyes as if searching for safety.

I gestured to the empty seat next to me. "Take a seat. Tell me about him. Pietro."

Wanda's voice became quieter. "To me, Pietro was everything. Quick, bold, and constantly watching out for me. When he was gone, I felt as though a piece of me had been broken."

After a short moment of doubt, I reached out and brushed a stray hair behind her ear. "You carry his memory. It's what supports you. But you don't have to bear it by yourself."

She whispered, "Why are you so... kind to me?"

"Maybe because I see pieces of myself in you. The loneliness. The fight. I don't want you to face it alone." 

Gosh, and all I want is to keep you safe and worship the ground you walk on...

Then, almost shyly, she reached out and took my hand, her fingers curling around mine."It's strange," she murmured, "but I feel like I can trust you."

"Don't think that's a good choice, m'lady."

Wanda shifted slightly, her body still half-leaning toward mine. Her attention went downward, and I followed it to the crumpled pile of papers lying around my legs.

"What's all that?" she asked softly, her voice lighter now, the anxiety melting from her shoulders. "It looks like homework."

I half-laughed. "God, don't curse me like that."

She smirked. "Then what is it?"

I glanced at the crumpled papers on my lap, their edges curled with age, fingerprints, and secrets that no one was allowed to know. 

"They're little pieces from a file Vision gave me earlier this week," I said quietly, smoothing one of the pages with my fingertips. "We recovered pieces from a Hydra facility we destroyed a month ago. Burned, as if someone attempted to destroy them in a hurry."

She leaned in.

"The file has the title Project A. There isn't much context, but it's from 1914. The year I was born."

"You were- wait... seriously?"

I smirked slightly. "Surprised I don't carry a cane?" I flipped to the following page, which revealed a list of subjects, no full names, just code numbers and ages, with the youngest being literally newborn.

"I'm not exactly sure what that was supposed to be. But based on what I've read so far, it wasn't about creating weapons. It was about children...."

...

...

...

The light in the room was dark now, hours after anyone normal should have gone to bed. But Wanda remained snuggled behind me, legs tucked up, her fingers brushing across the edge of the papers laid across my lap.

She was close enough that I could feel her heat, smell the delicate perfume of vanilla. The feel of her shoulder on mine had become a constant. It's a comfort.

"Are you even reading that?" she asked unexpectedly, her voice quiet but tinged with that soft Sokovian accent.

"No," I confessed. "Not really."

She gave me a knowing look. "Because you've been staring at the same line for ten minutes."

"Maybe the sentence is just very profound," I replied, allowing the corners of my mouth to rise. "Or maybe I'm just distracted by someone next to me who's staring at me."

Wanda rolled her eyes, but I noticed a flush rise to her cheeks. "You're annoying."

"I've been called worse," I admitted, " By priests. Hunters. A Frenchman once referred to me as 'la tentation du diable.'That one was fun." (The temptation of the devil.)

Her laughter was gentle and surprising. It's a small thing.

"Do you really believe all of this is connected to you?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes. I'm not sure how, but yes."

"And that doesn't scare you?"

"Terrifies me," I admitted truthfully. "But I've lived too long not to continue walking toward the fire. It is the only way to learn and survive."

Wanda was quiet for a minute. Then, gently, "You're brave."

I left the words hanging between us. No one had said that to me in years.

"You're the first person who's ever said that without trying to kill me after," I joked.

She leaned a little further towards me. "So... what do we do with this now?"

"We keep reading," I whispered. "It's the only way to figure out what they're after. And then tell your team about this."

Wanda nodded. Her fingers delicately traced one of the cleaner pages, taking care not to smudge the ink. "Then I'll help you. Is that okay?"

"Of course, it's okay," I replied. "I'd trust you with my bones, Draga mea."

"You always say things like that."

"Like what?"

"...Like poetry."

I blinked in surprise. "Do I?"

She smiled slightly.  "Yes. All of your words feel lived in. As if you pulled them out of a tragic book."

I cocked my head. "Is that a compliment or a diagnosis?"

"Maybe both."

Her response made me giggle softly and warmly.

"I suppose it's because I used to read a lot when I was really young. Books were the only thing that made sense to me back then."

"What kind of books?"

"Old ones. History. and a lot of green stuff." My smile became wistful. "Donna used to read to me every night. Her voice was very soft. Even though the stories were dark, she made them sound peaceful."

Wanda's eyebrows raised slightly. "Donna?"

"My aunt," I replied. "Not by blood. But...in all that mattered."

There was a pause.

"She seemed odd. Distant at times. But not with me. Her home was always quiet. Filled with porcelain dolls,  she taught me to listen before speaking. How to translate what people say. And also my grandma... but that's a talk for another day."

Wanda's breathing beside me had slowed.

She was falling asleep.

"Wanda," I said softly, my voice low. "You don't need to stay up with me; you should rest."

Her eyes blinked awake slowly, as if it took her entire soul to bring them toward mine. "M'fine," she said softly, hardly audible. "It's nice here... It's warm."

I tilted my head, a smile forming on the corner of my lips. "I didn't realize I'd become your personal fireplace."

Her lips curved faintly, indicating the start of a smirk. But she did not move. If anything, she tucked closer, her temple brushing against my shoulder.

She murmured, her words heavy with tiredness. "Don't want to go.". There it was again, that calm, yearning softness she gave me without even knowing. And I? I was too far gone to reject it.

A few minutes passed in silence. I believed she'd fallen asleep, and maybe she had - when her hand twitched.

No, tightened.

The red sparkle of magic flickered slightly around our hands, passing through her fingers like shimmering veins. My wrist remained steady in her grip, the warmth pulsing as if her power was asleep but still protecting me.

My eyes rolled down.

"Wanda..." I whispered. "Are you-"

The answer came in the form of a dreamy sigh, and her hand tightened even more, softly drawing mine back against her chest, trapping me.

Fully. Completely.In a hug. I looked at her as if she had cursed me.

"Not fair," I murmured, brushing my free hand across my face.

My heart was pounding in my chest as if I had just run through war, and all I was doing was lying still. With her.

I shifted slightly, hoping not to disturb her. Her hold stayed strong, though.

"Alright, alright."

I breathed out slowly, allowing my body to relax while carefully curling myself just enough not to wake her. She sighed in her sleep, as if she sensed my resignation.

But, of course, my senses failed me. Her scent surrounded me. And I could feel it, a low thrum in my gut, an undesirable hunger.

I closed my eyes and tried to act properly. I tried not to look at her neck, which curved beautifully beneath her collarbone.

Only one taste. Just one taste.

No.
No, stop. Control yourself, Anastasia.

I tilted my head slightly and, almost without thinking, pressed a small kiss to the spot just below her jaw - not enough to wake her, but enough for me. Enough to calm whatever madness was stirring within me.

I pressed my forehead against her shoulder and whimpered softly into the fabric of her shirt.

"I'm going to die."

But she didn't move and I fell asleep in her arms....

.....

.....

.....

The sun had barely set above the city's skyline, warm light spilling through the corners of the curtains like golden strings. I wasn't fully awake yet - somewhere between dream and awareness.

Wanda's body was cuddled up against mine, her forehead buried beneath my chin, her legs attached lazily with mine, and one arm thrown around my waist as if I were hers. And I? I wasn't even pretending that I wasn't wrapped around her as tightly.

I could have sat there for hours if not for the obvious sound of a phone camera clicking.

Click.

Click.

"...You get the angle with the hand on the waist?" Natasha's voice is dry and amused.

Tony replied: "Of course. What are you taking me for? An amateur?"

My eyes sprang up,

I blinked and jumped up, nearly throwing Wanda off of me, causing a sleepy groan from her as she mumbled something unclear.

Natasha and Tony stood smugly by the door, like two absolute gremlins. Natasha had clearly taken at least three photos. Possibly more.

Tony was enjoying his coffee. He seemed far too proud of himself.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he replied happily. "Or should I say beauties?"

I glared. "How long have you two been standing there?"

"Long enough," Natasha smirked. She raised her phone and wiggled it towards me. "You make a very charming little spoon."

"I will burn this place down," I said, lifting the blanket a little higher over Wanda's shoulder for protection. "Delete it."

"No," Natasha replied sweetly.

"Absolutely not," Tony said. "This is going in the Stark Archives."

I grumbled and dragged a palm down my face. "Why are you like this?"

Tony sipped his coffee calmly. "Because when we wake up and see you wrapped up in our tower, cuddling with Wanda like a lesbian fairytale, we deserve answers. And maybe a wedding invitation."

"I will bite you," 

He winked. "Kinky."

Natasha leaned against the doorway with her arms folded and a harsh grin. "You two looked cozy. Does she always drool on you, or are you just her favorite pillow?"

My cheeks burned. "She did not! Delete it," I whispered quietly so I wouldn't wake her.

Natasha grinned. "Oh, come on. This is the cutest thing I've seen since Steve tried texting using voice dictation."

Tony raises his cup. "Your girl has such a death hold, huh? Have you tried to slip away yet?"

"I would, but I cannot. She refuses to let go. Like a magical octopus."

Tony squinted. "That's romantic."

"It's terrifying," I mumbled. "She locked me down with her damn magic while she slept. When I move, her hand tightens like a bear trap."

"Sounds consensual to me," Natasha said casually, taking another photo.

"Romanoff, I swear-"

Tony lifted an eyebrow. "So... when's the wedding?"

"Out," I growled and pointed toward the door.

Natasha turned, giggling as she walked away. "Send me the guest list!"

"I will haunt your dreams."

And suddenly they were gone, with the door hissing shut behind them.

I sighed harshly, gently tugging on Wanda's arm.

"Wanda..." I whispered. "Hey...I need you to wake up."

No reaction.

Her fingers curled and tightened, her nose resting on my neck with a dreamy moan.

I bit back with a sigh. "You're killing me."

After a few more mild attempts, I could feel her begin to move.

She blinked against my shoulder, her eyes unfocused, before pulling back an inch to glance up at me, her cheeks blushing.

"Oh," she muttered. "Oh, my God. Did I fall asleep on you?"

"You did," I murmured softly. "And trapped me here with magic, I might add."

Her eyes widened. "I did not mean to, I just.. I did not think—"

"Wanda," I said quietly, "it's okay."

She was really near. Her blush grew. She looked away, seeming to be embarrassed.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," she said quietly.

"You didn't,"

 "Wait - what do you mean I trapped you with magic?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Every time I tried to get up, your spell strengthened its grip on me. Like a sleepy and adorable koala"

Wanda made a humiliated little sigh and buried her face in my shoulder.

"Oh my god, kill me now."

I stretched my arm out groggily, half-blind from sleep. Wanda had just let go of her magical death hold, and I had slid out of her arms and walked to my room.

My phone flashed with an overload of notifications. I slowly went through the lockscreen, paused.

1 NEW MESSAGE: Tony Stark (Yesterday, 11:42 PM)

"Oh no," I said as I opened it.

Party. Tomorrow night. 7 PM. Wear something that will not terrify anyone. Xoxo, Tony 🎉

 PS: If you ignore this, I will make FRIDAY to control your every step here <3

I'd absolutely missed it. When I heard a light knock on the doorframe, I looked up and saw Wanda.

Wearing a soft hoodie, hair loosely braided down one shoulder.

"Hey," she whispered softly, "Did you... Get Tony's message?"

"Yeah, but he texts like he's already partying" was my answer.

She grinned and hugged herself softly. "He does tend to text like a caffeine-fueled toddler."

"I believe I was threatened with emotional blackmail."

"Well..." Wanda looked down, then back at me, slightly hesitantly. "Are you going?"

"I wasn't planning to," I admitted honestly. "Loud music, forced socializing, and champagne that tastes of sadness. This is not my standard scenario."

She nodded and then paused. "But... I think it would be nice. If you come."

I groaned deeply and sank back onto the bed.

"I can't believe I'm being peer-pressured by a girl who's sleeping like a big koala." I saw that something had changed on her face, but I could not identify what.

"But fine," I said while raising my hand as if I were being generous.

"Great, so uh see you later...." And then she just disappeared...

Notes:

AN: So guys, please forgive me for every mistake... also, this chapter was really calming, I think. Soooooo prepare for the next one hahahhahahah.

<3

Chapter 5: 𝒯𝑜𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉'𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎

Anastasia

The tower was especially noisy today. Even from my floor, I could hear the distant bounce of boots in the hallway, laughing bouncing off metal walls, and someone- most likely Sam - playing music way too early in the day.

I should have gotten used to the chaos by now. I don't stay in the tower often, but Tony gave me my floor for now while I'm here.

I looked at the mess on my desk: open folders, scratched notes, and red ink running in old Hydra documents and newspaper clippings. The project's timeline kept returning to the same year, 1914.

I gathered all of the papers and carried them into the briefing room. I set the files out on the table while keeping a steady voice. I told them that Hydra had grabbed their hands in 1914, the same year I was born.

Steve seemed disturbed. Natasha brought sharp questions. Tony looked intrigued in his typical way, which made me want to roll my eyes. Thor and Sam were confused, while Vision analyzed every file.

But Wanda... Wanda did not even look at me.

She entered the room halfway through the meeting, pausing by the doorframe.

Our eyes met. It was a short moment, just a second, before she turned and went away. She didn't say anything.

I tried to brush it off. I told myself it was just a matter of timing, or maybe she had something else to attend to. Perhaps she didn't want to be there. Maybe it had nothing to do with me.

But then the hallway meetings started.

I saw her twice near the kitchen. Both times, she pretended not to notice me. She pretended she needed water or that she was suddenly obsessed with the labels on cereal boxes. Then she'd leave before I could speak.

When I passed her on the common room couch, I noticed her thumb pause on her book as she saw me. I opened my lips to say something, anything, but she stood up and went before I began talking.

After all of those meetings, I am finally in my tower room. Tony Stark's parties were the kind of events that people would sell their souls to attend.

Me? I'd rather sell my soul than not be on the guest list.

I threw the phone away and buried my face in the pillow for about 10 minutes before dragging myself up. And now? Now I was three hours into preparing for a party I wasn't sure I wanted to attend. Correction: I did not want to go.

I just needed to see her. She has been avoiding me, and it's frustrating. I stood in front of the mirror, fingers twitching at the material around my waist. I chose different clothing than usual. A dramatic slit ran up one thigh.

I wasn't sure what I had done wrong. Had I crossed the line last night? Did I spend too much time in her space? Did the way she fell asleep on me imply nothing?

I brushed my hands across my face and sighed.

"This is so stupid," I said to no one.

I fixed my lipstick. I changed my boots. I slipped Donna's silver ring on my finger for detail, protection, and memories. I had plenty of time before the party started, so I went to get some fresh air....

...

...

...

So.

I was late.

No, I'm not talking about being extremely late for an appearance. More like I passed out in my makeup and woke up with eyelash glue glued to my forehead kind of late.

I had no idea when I actually fell asleep; I just wanted to lie down on the roof floor, and then I woke up.

10:02 PM
Okay, that's like not that bad. This is classic me.

I panicked for a solid thirty seconds, re-fixed everything at vampire speed, thank the goddess I didn't strip it off in my sleep. As the elevator doors opened to the main floor of the party, the sound of bass-heavy music rushed over me. People were already tipsy, sparkling under the golden lights.

When I got off the elevator, my eyes instantly began searching the crowd. I scanned the entire room, looking for deep red hair, sharp cheekbones, or something - someone.

No, Wanda.

My chest squeezed slightly, but I shook it off and moved through the crowd, the slit in my dress attracting more attention than I wanted. My gaze finally settled on Natasha's familiar shape, leaning against the bar as if she owned this place. Her hair was curled up. She was dressed to kill as usual, but tonight she seemed more relaxed, swirling something yellow in a glass.

"Fancy seeing you here," I said, sliding onto the stool beside her.

She smiled at me, "Stasia," she murmured effortlessly, raising an imitation toast to her glass. "You're late."

"I was thinking about throwing myself off the roof for a dramatic entrance, then I fell asleep."

Natasha laughed warmly and quietly. "That sounds on brand."

We clinked glasses - hers with something strong, mine with something I couldn't recognize before grasping.

"So," she asked, drawing out the word, "trouble in paradise?"

I blinked too quickly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Nat tilted her head, and the corner of her mouth quirked upward. "Mmhm. You keep looking at the doorways, as if you're expecting someone to float in."

"I'm just... on alert," I said. "You know, instincts. Trauma. All that fun stuff."

"Sure," she said, sipping.

"Did you spike the drinks again?"

She raised her eyebrows without looking at me. "Please. I have standards now."

"Since when?"

She smiled and finally turned to bring me another drink. "Since Fury caught me doing it at New Year's and made me scrub the whole gym with a toothbrush."

I snorted. "Sounds like a very Fury punishment."

"You know it." She took a sip from her drink and poked me with her elbow. "You look nice tonight. Different. Trying to impress someone?"

I rolled my eyes. "Trying to tolerate someone, maybe."

"Mm." She gave me a sideways glance. "Tolerating people in slits that high up the leg? Impressive commitment."

I let out a genuine laugh, releasing some of the tension from my shoulders. "You haven't changed."

"I have," Nat replied, and for a moment her tone was too honest. "But the sarcasm? That's here to stay."

We sat in comfortable silence for a bit, watching the sparkling party unfold in front of us.

She stirred the ice in her glass. "So, what are you doing with yourself these days? When you're not avoiding rooftop naps and sorting through Hydra paperwork."

"Trying not to start fires I can't put out," I mumbled before shrugging. "Mostly reading, research, trying to keep Tony from stealing my ideas."

"Good luck with that." She smirked. "He tried to name a coffee machine after himself once."

"Of course he did."

I shook my head, allowing the lightness of the talk to settle into a warm spot in my chest. I looked up reflexively, searching the party. And there she was.

In the center of the room, quietly laughing with someone I didn't recognize. Her hair fell in waves over her shoulder. I froze for a split second, as something in me always does when I'm around her. Then she looked up.

Directly at me. It was only a second, yet our eyes met. Her eyes opened quite a bit, as if she had not expected me to be there.

And then she looked away shyly.

Nat's gaze stayed on my face for longer than I wanted. I knew that look: calm observation wrapped in sarcasm.

"You okay?" she inquired, her tone casual, but I sensed a thread of real worry beneath it.

"I'm fine." I raised my glass to my lips and took a longer sip than necessary.

Nat leaned in, supporting her chin with her hand. "Is that your 'fine' face now? You've become worse at lying."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't start."

She smiled, her eyes gleaming. "No. I am going to do something much worse."

"Oh no."

Nat stood and extended her hand, her black suit shining faintly under the party lights. "Come dance with me."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She lifted her eyebrow. "You're sulking at a Stark party wearing a dress that could kill a man. The least you can do is pretend to enjoy it."

"I don't dance."

"You do with me." Her scowl melted into something softer. "Come on. Just for a song."

I glanced at her hand for a moment. Then, sighing dramatically, I slipped my hand into hers and let her pull me to the floor.

"I hate you,"

"No, you don't," she replied. "You just hate that I'm right."

The music evolved into something slower, soulful, warm, and just shy of romantic. Nat's hand reached my waist, and mine rested lightly on her shoulder as we settled into a surprisingly easy pace.

"You remember when we had to fake dance in Paris during that arms deal?" I asked.

"Oh god," she moaned. "When your heel got stuck in my jacket?"

"And you told the buyer I was your clumsy wife?"

"Hey, that worked. He trusted us."

"I wanted to stab you."

"You stabbed me. In the arm."

"You lived."

She laughed, as did I. It felt nice. It felt normal. It's been years since I felt this way; perhaps I've separated myself too much from people. We kept dancing, or rather, Nat did. She moved as she always did: confident, a little smug, and entirely careless about how some of the people were watching us. But I wasn't watching them.

Because the second I whirled, my gaze swept across the room and rested directly on her.

She stood on the far end of the party, half-listening to a tall brunette who was talking too quickly while holding a drink. Wanda's gaze, however, was not focused on the topic. They were on me.

Even from across the room, I could feel the tightness in her shoulders, as her fingers grabbed the edge of her wine glass a little too tightly.

She looked away the moment our eyes met. Without saying anything to the woman she was standing with, she turned and walked away. Towards the balcony.

I did not say anything. I just gave Nat a light squeeze on the arm.

"Be right back," I said.

Nat's gaze flickered to the balcony and then back to me. "Go get your girl."

"She's not my girl."

She smirked and let me go.

The music faded behind me as I went out into the fresh night air. Wanda was leaning against the stone railing, her hands wrapped tightly around it as if she were trying to calm herself. She didn't look at me as I stepped outside.

When she noticed me, she turned.  "I was just leaving."

"No, you weren't," I said, going to block her way. "You have avoided me. We won't do that again." Her eyes met mine, and her attitude shifted between defensive and guilty.

"I didn't mean to avoid you," she explained. "I just thought it was better."

"Better for who?"

She exhaled, frustration creeping into her voice.. "For you."

I blinked. "For me?"

Wanda slid a hand through her hair, gazing aside. "I thought I made you uncomfortable."

"When?"

"Last night," she said, barely audible over the city atmosphere. "I fell asleep, and. did not let you go."

My eyebrow wrinkled. "You think that made me uncomfortable?"

She shrugged, feeling shy. "And I knew I could have crossed a line. I didn't mean to make you feel like I-"

"You didn't," I said,

"I thought I was being respectful."

I tilted my head. "By pretending I didn't exist every time I entered a room?"

"I wasn’t sure how to fix it. So I stayed away." I let that sink in for a moment, the tension between us sudden but eventually cracked open.

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," I said. "But - this avoidance? It is getting old."

Wanda gave a slight nod. "Noted."

The silence lasted a beat longer, just long enough for me to notice the smallest shift in sound through the balcony doors. It was slower now, with less bass but more soul. Tony most likely chose a classic track to impress someone or prove his taste. He never did anything without some flair.

I turned back to Wanda, tilting my head. "Come dance with me."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "You want me to…?"

"Yes, unless you're going to sprint off into the night again."

She gave a soft huff, almost a laugh, but her eyes stayed on mine.
"I won't bite," I said. That brought a smile. Barely there, but real.

She nodded silently, and I reached out my hand.

We walked back inside, running through the crowd, her hand still gently curled around mine. The tune had changed again, this time to a smooth and rhythmic retro R&B song. The lights were low and golden, and they caught in Wanda's hair like small flames.

We moved closer. Her fingers touched my waist, and I placed my hand lightly on her shoulder.

We danced.

Neither of us spoke much. There didn't seem to be a need. The music did the work for us.

A couple of songs went by like that. Then more. The tempo shifted—funky, playful, and slow again. Nat caught my attention from across the room and raised her brow, giving me the most annoying wink. I bit back a smile.

Wanda did not notice. She concentrated on where our fingers connected, as if even that small contact needed all of her focus.

The music changed again.

This time, it was unmistakable, sweeping strings, a slow tempo similar to a ballroom. Something old.

I blinked and pulled back slightly. "Okay. He did it on purpose."

Wanda looked about in confusion. "What?"

"This song." I motioned toward the ceiling, as if Tony was hovering up there with a DJ controller. "It's from around 1800-something. "I swear.

She tilted her head with curiosity. "Were you even alive in the 1800s?"

I glanced at her. "Wow. Rude. No, I was not. As you may know already. But my Grandma was. She taught me a few things when I was younger."

Wanda's eyes twinkled as she pictured it.

I took a step back and made a little curtsy, one brow arched. "Care to dance, m'lady?"

Wanda let out a little cry of laughter, hiding her smile with her palm. "You're ridiculous."

"I am charming. Come on." I grabbed for her hand again.

She let me guide her this time. I softly placed one hand on the small of her back and lifted the other between us. She readily followed my lead, unsure of the steps, but listening. Her gaze remained on mine as we turned.

Time passed like fog over water - slowly, easily, and almost unnoticed.

The crowd diminished. The music faded into the background hum. Now, only a few people stayed. Steve leaned back in one of Tony's fancy armchairs, legs crossed and a drink in hand. Sam lay upside-down on the floor, his head bent back, gazing at the ceiling as if it held secrets. Natasha sat alongside him, her boots off, sipping something deep red wine. Tony was across from her, seated on the back of the couch, holding court with the last drop of energy he hadn't used hours before.

I can't say that I didn't feel like I was in seventh heaven during those moments.

She sat comfortably by my side on the far couch, our knees barely touching. I wasn't sure if it was planned or if she hadn't noticed, but I had no plans to move. Her body flowed with a gentle heat. Her elbow brushed my once or twice. She did not seem to mind.

Tony gestured lazily toward Steve. "Okay, come on, Cap. Give us one of the better ones. I know you've got a lost-hero-war-story buried in that pure mind."

Steve sighed. "I don't think - "

Natasha interrupted, smirking. "He means the one with the motorcycle and the frozen lake."

Steve shot her a harsh glance. "That's not exactly a party story."

Tony lifted a glass. "It is now."

Steve breathed out and smiled faintly. "Alright. You asked for it."

"It was 1945. We were a few miles away from the German line. I have a stolen motorcycle, don't ask where. A Hydra base held a town hostage. Bucky and I decided that it would be faster to go in alone, break it from the inside, and let the soldiers catch up later."

"You went in alone?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve gave an embarrassed shrug. "The bike had a flamethrower. It seemed like a great idea at the time."

I giggled quietly and rested my chin on my hand. "You never do anything small, do you?"

His grin grew wider.

The story went on, describing how they slid across the ice and how the frozen lake cracked beneath them as they fled. I looked over and saw Wanda attentively watching Steve, nodding along as if she knew what was going to happen. Her fingertips touched mine. Only a little.

Tony, who never allowed a tender moment to go too long, tipped his glass toward me.

"Alright, now it's your turn."

I blinked. "What?"

"What?" I asked Tony, despite the fact that I had properly understood him.

He leaned forward with his characteristic Stark curiosity. "How did you become a vampire?" No offense, but you don't exactly scream Dracula."

The others had become quiet.

I lay back on the couch and tilted my head, admiring the gentle ceiling lighting. "I didn't 'become' a vampire the way you're probably thinking, I was born one. Technically."

"Technically?" Sam lifted an eyebrow.

"I was born in 1914. In Romania. My mother was a human. My father was not in the picture. She left with me when I was a baby and returned to her distant relatives' house. A very old castle outside a village in the mountains."

"That castle belonged to the Dimitrescu family. My grandma, Alcina, was already a century old by then. Not your typical bloodsucker, though. Dimitrescu's line is... uncommon.  Less bound by customary rules. Sunlight is frustrating, but it won't kill us. Stakes are more symbolic than anything."

Tony whistled quietly. "So you were raised in a vampire coven?"

"More or less. My grandmother looked at me - this loud, dirty little thing crawling around her halls, and said I was meant to continue the bloodline. I guess something about me screamed next vampire."

"And your mother?" Steve asked.

I paused, my eyes flashing. My mother never adapted. She was difficult at times. Cold. She did not treat me as a child. More of a burden. Alcina kept her there for me."

I did not go into detail. I wouldn't tell them how tense it had been - how pressing. But I continued: "Eventually, the rest of the family made a decision. They viewed my mother as a threat to me. As someone who does not belong. The Dimitrescu sisters took care of it. Actually, I can say they loved me, and one word was enough for them to kill her."

Vision said gently, "And you don't mourn her."

I shake my head. "No. She hurt me. In ways that I don't talk about. The only real family I had was those who most people would refer to as monsters. But to me, they were kind. Protective. My aunt Donna lives in a mist-drenched house full of handcrafted dolls, molds, and delusions, but she used to sing me lullabies every night. And my uncle Karl Heisenberg taught me to weld and curse in four languages."

Sam blinked. "Sounds like a horror movie."

"Yeah," I smirked. "But it was mine."

Tony leaned his elbow on the back of the sofa. "So when did you become a full vampire?"

"When I was eighteen, I chose it. You know, not everyone can be a vampire; that's why even vampires can have kids. Alcina described it as a ceremony of power. My blood already contained it, but it needed to be sealed. Following that, I left. Moved to London. Then... decades later, I ended up with you guys."

The silence that followed my final sentence was not uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like a collective exhale - as if the room had been holding its breath alongside me.

I removed a strand of hair from my face before crossing one knee over the other.

"I didn't stay long in London at first," I explained. "The 1930s were not kind to women on their own, especially ladies who, like me and did not age. I moved between cities, names, and identities. Paris, Berlin, and Prague. But London always drew me back."

"Because it rains all the time and you get dramatic vampire vibes?" Natasha teased.

I smirked. "Exactly. Also, I could cover up in plain sight. War was coming. People were too focused on the skies to notice someone like me. I worked in archives, owned a pub for a few years, and even posed as a nurse during the Blitz. I stayed hidden. I liked it that way."

Wanda was watching me again. Her gaze had moved from passive to focused.
Tony, understandably, leaned forward again. "So, how much power are you working with? Strength, speed, or changing into a bat? Hypnotizing people?"

I rolled my eyes. "There are no bats. That is theatrical nonsense. And yes, I can manipulate your mind." That caused a laugh. Even Steve gave a smile.

"I'm extremely fast. Strong too. My bloodline makes me more powerful than the average vampire. The Dimitrescu... let's just say we were designed for power. I can detect life, warmth, and blood... particularly blood. Every heartbeat in this room sounds like music in my head."

Sam scowled. "You're not gonna feed off any of us, right?"

"Please. That would be rude." I tilted my head. "But never say never, right?"

The warmth in the room disappeared into something gentle and slow. Stories faded into stillness, drinks ran out, and the joyful mood faded into memory.

I stood up. "Well," I said, smiling slightly, "this has been a lot of fun. But I have somewhere I need to be."

A few groans of protest were heard halfheartedly. Sam furrowed his brow, Tony mumbled something about vampires usually making theatrical exits, and Nat simply gave me that knowing smile.

Finally, I turned to Wanda. She hadn't said much since we sat down, but her gaze was fixed on me. I took a step closer, softly reaching for her hand.

Her hand slipped softly into mine, and without losing eye contact, I raised her knuckles to my lips.

"Goodnight, m'lady," I spoke softly against her skin, just loud enough for her alone.

Wanda did not say anything. But I could hear her heartbeat rise up. And with that, I turned and left the room at my speed....

 

 

Notes:

So here it is: I've finally finished this part! I hope you like it, and I hope everyone got the connection to re8, since I did my best to write it.
Don't forget to like, vote, or comment.
I love you alllllll <3

Chapter 6: 𝑀𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓈.

Blood was dripping down my wrist, under the jacket's border, and soaking the inner lining. The roar of the night air hit harder than it should have at this pace, and my motorcycle's front wheel shook just a little too violently when I made a fast turn.

"Shit," I whispered between gritted teeth, my fingers tightening over the pedal. "Come on, just a little longer."

I wasn't sure which was more painful: the cut along my ribs or the sharp dagger cut through my chest. Maybe that was all adrenaline. Perhaps I was finally dying.

How did I get into this situation?

A few hours earlier, I was laughing with Natasha, dancing with Wanda, and sipping expensive cocktails.

Now? Now I was bleeding into my boots and hoping not to pass out before reaching Avengers Tower.

It began after the party, which ended shortly after midnight. I could not sleep. Surprise. So I did what any emotionally unavailable immortal would do when haunted by past ghosts: I started hunting for answers.

There had been clues: deep Hydra discussion escaping via the internet. Clues related to never-destroyed leftovers files. Tony and Steve never approved the mission, and no one else had followed up on the lead. But I understood the signs.

I arrived early in the morning. The building had been hollowed out like a dead tree, eaten from the inside. No birds went to perch on the roof. It didn't take me long to uncover it: a staircase leading underground, hidden behind a rusty panel. My fingers still smelled like old iron and decay.

I picked the lock using muscle memory. I could have just kicked the door open, but I didn't want to wake any ghosts that were sleeping here.

There were no bodyguards. No traps. Just long-forgotten dust and a few yellowed lightbulbs flickering with old electricity.

I followed the corridor down to a locked archive room. The first file I opened was from 1914, and then my name.

Subject: Anastasia D. - Bloodline Protocol.

I flipped the pages.

There were photographs. I'm just a few weeks old. I was staring blankly at a camera I had forgotten about.

"The subject had genetic features but an incomplete mutation. Further contact with vampires is required. Maternal sensitivity is a danger."

Another photograph. My mother is confined to a chair. Another page. A map of Castle Dimitrescu. Family tree. Bloodlines are shown in red. My name is circled three times.

And one word scrawled over the last sheet in big black ink:

"AWAKENING."

I didn't hear them until the first one smacked me against the wall. A grunt escaped my lips before instinct took over. My elbow crashed into his throat, causing him to fall back, but two other silhouettes rushed.

Hydra.

They were obviously aware of my visit. Of course, they left the files out as a trap.

One slammed a shock baton into my ribcage, sending white fire down my side. I collapsed forward, spewing blood on my boots, before twisting just enough to swing my leg around and dropping him.

Another knife sliced across my shoulder. My vision blurred. I felt warmth seep down my back. I fought harder.

My fangs raised, and the air filled with the sound of bone against stone. I dropped one, then another, but the final one - taller and heavier - caught me right in the gut with the hilt of his blade. I staggered and gasped. He swings again. I barely escaped.

I pressed my fingers into his chest, fire blazing on my hand. He shouted and collapsed. But by then, the harm had been done. Blood drenched my clothing. I took the files and ran.

By the time I got to the bike,half-blind and bleeding in several places. My head throbbed. My hands were wet against the grips. The world whirled more than once, and I bit my tongue to stay awake.

By the time I got to the borders of Manhattan, dawn had begun to paint the sky with faint orange.

I didn't even stop at the Tower's main entrance. I drove into the underground garage, nearly clipping the wall before parking with a scream that resonated through the metal.

Then I limped - no, stumbled- into the elevator, slamming my palm against the screen. Medbay.

It took too long. When the doors swung open, I ran into the clean hallway. But it was empty. Not one goddamn person. The med corridor was silent, with mild blue lighting. There are no nurses. No bots. No FRIDAY greeting me with attitude. I was shaking, one hand pressed firmly over the wound in my chest.

"Come on," I mumbled, pulling open drawers and cold storage. No blood packets. There are no donations on file this early. I put my hand against my side again, groaning.

"Dammit!" Then I saw it.

One last small chilled drawer with a handwritten label reads: Donor - Type O Neg. - Emergency Only. I didn't care.

With shaky fingers, I cracked it open and removed the silver purse. My fangs ached as I glanced at the blood in the bag. I dropped to the floor against the wall, fangs digging in, a metallic taste pouring to the back of my throat like relief and thunder.

My heartbeat slowed. My vision cleared somewhat. But the pain was still strong.

Relief washed over me in slow-paced waves, lowering the screaming pain. I closed my eyes for a bit and focused on breathing. One hand remained pressed tightly to the cut on my ribs. The other trembled, still holding the half-empty blood pack.

"Would you like me to alert medical staff?" FRIDAY's voice rang out softly from the ceiling.

I blinked up, my eyes narrowing.

"Oh, wow," I replied bluntly, sarcasm thick on my mouth. "Early riser, aren't we?" Silence followed. I chuckled once - dry, humorless - and threw the drained pack in the trash. Missed.

"I am fine. There's no need to set off the alarms. Just your friendly vampire, bleeding out in the hallway."

I forced myself to get up. Each muscle screamed. My head swirled again, but I grabbed the counter for balance before pulling open another cabinet.

Sterile cotton. Antiseptic, stitches, and tools.

The medical bay always had everything I needed - whatever anyone needed. However, the disorientation in my limbs remained, as did the wet warmth collecting beneath my shirt.

That man-whatever he was-hit the right place. Just above the ribs. Left side. Clean strike, too.The single spot where a vampire could die if given the correct pressure, weapon, and motivation. I'd been lucky. But not enough.

I grumbled between my teeth as I peeled up the fabric to reveal the wound. It was ugly. Dark, ripped, and slowly bleeding. I pressed a pad against it and wrapped a roll of gauze tightly.

I needed to rest. I needed blood.

"Should I call someone now?" FRIDAY asked again, more insistently this time.

I scoffed. "No."

"Anastasia"

"I said no."

I paused, breathing lightly, one hand braced against the edge of the counter.

"Do you want Natalia to walk in here and see me looking like death warmed over?" I mumbled, my voice harsh and dry. "Do you have any clue what kind of arrogant lecture I'd get? No, thanks. I'd rather dig my own grave."

I tried to take another step and felt the ground change beneath me. My kneecaps buckled. I almost fell. The room shook again.

"FRIDAY," I warned with clenched teeth.

But she remained mute. She didn't listen. Of course, she did not.

Because FRIDAY was designed to accomplish one thing better than anything else: detect when someone was lying. And I was definitely lying. I sank into the nearest chair, bloodied and frustrated. "You'd better not have called Nat," I mumbled. No response.

But then footsteps...

One pair. I remained still. But I could feel it's not Nat.

Wanda.

"Great," I muttered under my breath. "Just great."

She paused at the doorway, refusing to move immediately. Her magic seemed to disturb the air like static, making it anxious and tight. My palm was still securely wrapped around the blood bag I'd barely managed to find, pressing against my ribs as if it could keep me standing.

I did not turn to face her.

"Anastasia?"

Her voice was quiet. Scared.

"Don't freak out," I rasped, still tasting copper on my tongue. "It looks worse than it is."

That was a lie. It was exactly as bad as it looked—maybe worse. My side was on fire, my head was banging like a hammer within my brain, and the blood bag wasn't doing much to calm the shaking in my hands.

I heard her walking in gently, her boots softly tapping on the flooring. The sweet scent of her perfume reached me - jasmine with something darker and harsher beneath. She didn't say anything else until she was right in front of me, close enough that I could feel her blood.

"What the hell happened?" she asked, her voice tight.

"Got into a small... situation."

"By yourself?" Her eyes narrowed. "You left without informing anyone. Without support. And now you're sitting in here, bleeding out like a goddamn idiot."

I winced, but not because of the wound.

"I had to check something," I mumbled. "It was personal."

"You almost died."

I eventually looked up at her. Her fists were clenched, and the edges of her magic pulsated weakly around her fingertips - uncontrolled.

I tried to distract. "You should see the other guys."

She did not smile. "You're not funny."

"I am charming. Sometimes it overlaps."

Her jaw clenched. "You really think now is the time to make jokes?"

"I didn't expect it to go wrong."

Wanda moved closer. She crouched in front of me gently, hands resting on her thighs, her gaze fixed on mine.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" She whispered.

I looked away. "I thought I could handle it."

"You're not invincible."

I scoffed. "That's debatable."

"I'm serious, Ana. You could've been killed," she murmured softly now. "And no one would have known how to find you. We would've woken up to find a blood trail, if anything at all."

"I'm not used to people looking for me," I muttered, hardly catching my breath.

She looked at me for a second. Her face softened. Then she stood up, went to the cabinet, and returned with gauze, alcohol, and medical tape.

"Let me help."

"I've got it."

"Stop."

Wanda's gaze kept shifting to the blood soaking through my side, her jaw clenched. She seemed to be analyzing something - most likely me - to figure out how much longer I had before passing out again.

"You need to take it off," she added, her voice low.

I blinked. "I beg you pardon?"

"Your shirt. I need to see the wound before I can help you."

Despite the pounding pain in my ribs, I gave her a crooked smile. "M'lady, I expect you to take me to dinner before getting me half-naked."

Her brows narrowed slightly, but I noticed a little blush on her cheeks. She didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at me, seemed to decide whether to argue or strangle me.

"This isn't funny," she said, her voice softer.

"It's not meant to be funny," I said, smirking despite my discomfort. "It's called flirting. Don't pretend you're not used to it."

Wanda sighed, "You're literally bleeding out, Anastasia."

"And yet I still have excellent taste," I said, noticing the corners of her lips twitch slightly.

She reached for my shirt but halted before touching it, her fingertips hovering near the hem.

"May I?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. Go ahead."

 She washed the wound in quiet, the strong smell of antiseptic stinging more than the wound itself. Her hands were steady, but I could feel the tightness in her shoulders and how her breath caught whenever I flinched.

She wrapped the bandage tightly.

After a long pause, she looked up at me, her face unreadable. "You said it was personal. What did you find?"

I reached behind me and carefully removed the blood-smeared folder from where I had tucked it against my spine. "Files. From Hydra. About Me. About children. Experiments."

Her eyes moved over the folder, but she did not take it from me. "And you went alone?"

I sighed. "I didn't want to drag anyone into my mess."

"You are not a mess."

I blinked at her.

"Stop acting like you're some lonely wolf from a tragic gothic novel," she said,

I wasn't sure what to say. She rose up, wiped her palms, and gazed down at me, as if she were weighing something.

"You're not staying here," she finally said.

"I can't stand..."

Before I could finish the sentence, she rushed quickly and confidently, pulling me up into her arms.

I let out a breath. "Wanda, seriously."

"No. You had your say. Now it's mine."

I did not fight her. My body was too heavy. The pain was darker now, settling deeper into my bones.

She carried me along the corridor as if I weighed nothing. Her grip was firm, her arms wrapped snugly about me. As we walked through the doorway to the common room, I said quietly, "You didn't have to help me."

She didn’t answer at first. Just walked over to the couch and slowly placed myself down, getting a blanket and wrapping it around me with such care that my throat tightened.

Wanda stayed after helping me settle into the couch. In fact, she only moved a few steps away. I expected her to say something like "Rest now," or "Don't bleed on Tony's furniture," and then vanish away into her own world. 

Instead, she returned a minute later, going carefully across the floor, holding a bag of blood in one hand and a glass in the other. "It's not fresh," she explained as she placed it on the coffee table, "but it'll keep you from passing out again."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're still here?"

"I'm still here,"

I whispered a faint "thanks," then leaned forward, my hands shaking slightly as I poured the blood into the glass. The smell alone made my fangs ache. I sipped it gently, allowing it to calm the heat in my chest. Although the ache had not gone away, it seemed less intense. Her presence seems to soften the edges.

She then did something surprising.

She took the remote from the table, turned on the TV, and started browsing the streaming apps. I had never seen her that relaxed before. Finally, she turned on a television and lay back on the couch next to me - near but not too close.

"... Bewitched?" I asked, blinking at the black and white screen.

"I like the older seasons," she muttered.

I turned my head slightly, the soft light from the television flickering across her face. "What are you doing?"

Her gaze did not leave the screen. "Watching TV."

"No, I mean - why are you still here?" I asked, my voice lowering as I grew sleepy. "You do not have to babysit me, you understand. I am not dying anymore."

She eventually looked at me, "You were bleeding and about to pass out.  You can't pretend you're alright." She tilted her head. "And maybe I want to stay."

She returned her attention to the TV, her voice becoming lower. "When I was a kid, my father would bring home old sitcoms, Cassettes, DVDs, anything he could find. We didn't have much, but Pietro and I would sit on the floor in front of this tiny little TV with him and my mother, laughing like we had it all."

She put her head back against the pillow and said softly, "After Pietro died, I didn't watch anything for months. Couldn't. But I eventually started again. Because it helped me feel closer to them."

I stared at her quietly, my heart beating somewhat slower. Her voice had a rough yet controlled tone to it.
"I just… thought maybe it would calm you down, too," she added, staring over at me. "If you wanted."

I first looked at her and then at the television. Samantha twitched her nose and sent a broom floating across the room.

"Okay," I whispered. "We can watch Bewitched."

She nodded softly and simply. There was no huge reaction. Just stayed there - warm alongside me, arms crossed under her chest, eyes flickering between TV and me.

I had no idea how comfy I had become until I felt my body sink deeper into the couch. The ache in my side was still pulsating, but the blood was soothing. I rested my head softly against the side of the pillow near her shoulder, but not quite touching. My eyes grew tired with each old jingle, laugh track, and flash of light on the screen.

The last thing I heard was Wanda's voice, low and near, saying something I couldn't quite understand.

 

A few hours later...

I awoke as faraway noises came from the sprays of sleep, quiet at first, then louder. It's too loud. I opened my eyes just in time to hear the elevator doors slide open and heavy footsteps stomp toward the common area.

"Are you kidding me, Anastasia?!" Natasha's voice rang through the tower, like a slap.

I winced and sat up too quickly, only to regret it instantly. My ribs twinged, a dull but persistent reminder that I was not yet healed. I rubbed my hand across my face as Nat screamed into view.

She seemed angry. Like a full red-alert Romanoff pissed.

"You went there? Alone?" She snapped, raising her hands in the air. "We have literally red-highlighted it. Missions were refused there. There are too many missing bodies. Too many damn traps. And you!" she pointed at me, " - just walk in there on your own like it's Tuesday and you're going out for coffee?"

I blinked, trying to sit up straighter and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "Well, I did almost grab a coffee on the way..."

"Don't you dare joke right now!"

Wanda appeared close behind her, arms crossed tightly, eyes fixated on me with the same hard gaze.

"How did you know where I was?"

"Friday, set a monitoring device on your motorcycle in case of an emergency, and when I found out you were hurt, I wanted to know where you went."

"Are you fucking kidding? Stalkers."

Tony, for his part, trailed behind them both, holding a tablet and wearing a severely bored grimace. "Wow, so this is the chaos I missed while having a totally peaceful nap." He sipped from a freshly brewed cup of coffee. "Who knew blood-covered, half-dead vampire drama would interrupt my morning caffeine?"

"Guys, relax," I replied, slowly waving my hand."I am fine. See?" I lifted the edge of my shirt up slightly, displaying the area on my ribcage where the wound had already healed. The skin was still faintly red, but there was no blood or visible injuries. "Healing benefits. One of the few advantages of immortality."

Natasha narrowed her gaze. "Then show us all the wounds."

I paused.

Wanda moved forward, her voice calm yet cold. "Lie down. Now."

I opened my lips to argue, but she tilted her head, and my resolve crumbled like tissue paper.

"Yes, ma'am," I mumbled before sliding back onto the couch with a groan. Wanda didn't appear smug about her victory, but there was something satisfying about the way she grabbed the med kit from the side table and opened it without asking.

Tony perched himself dramatically on the armrest of a nearby chair. "I knew one of you was going to snap and become the boss. I just did not expect it to be Maximoff."

"Shut up, Stark," Wanda and I said together. That made me snort.

Natasha sighed slowly before folding her arms and sitting on the coffee table edge in front of me. "What were you even looking for?"

I slumped back and groaned as Wanda gently examined the mending wound on my chest. Despite her anxious demeanor, her fingers were remarkably stable.

I pointed to the black folder still resting on the couch near us. "That."

Tony reached for it and flicked it open, frowning. "Is this your school scrapbook?"

"Funny," I said. "No. It's files. Hydra used to function from a building before splitting. I tracked some activity after the party and went alone, assuming it would be quiet. Found them in a locked drawer. They are about me."

"Wait - you ?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah. Like me, as a child. Medical scanning and bloodline analysis. Experiments to induce vampiric genetics in children. Hydra had been trying to create vampires. Or... something near them."

Wanda paused, her hands still by my side.

Tony furrowed his face as he flipped over the pages. "Well, that is not weird at all. It appears they were employing gene-splicing technology that before everything we thought they had. Wait, this is outdated."

"1914," I completed for him. "Which means they've been keeping tabs on me- or my family"

Wanda's voice was tight when she said, "So you went alone. Into a known Hydra trap zone. Because you thought it could be connected to you?"

"Yes, also I was bored," I replied plainly.

"And nearly died,"

I gazed at her. Really stared at her. "But I didn't."

Natasha groaned and brushed her hands across her face. "You're unbelievable."

"I told you, I'm fine," I whispered.

Natasha collected the files and approached Tony. "Can you run diagnostics?"

"Already scanning them," he continued, his expression serious as he scanned the weird symbols in the margins. "But this isn't just about you. If they were experimenting with bloodlines, this could be related to more than just vampires."

I nodded slowly. "It's everything connected. I am just the beginning."

I let the silence last for a few more seconds before sitting up straighter. "Alright," I murmured, moving a strand of hair away from my face, "what are we waiting for? Let us go catch them."

"No," Natasha and Wanda answered instantly.

I blinked. "What do you mean, no?"

Natasha gave me a harsh stare that could have ripped out my other lung. "You are half-alive, Anastasia. You almost bled all over the floors this morning."

"I did not - " I started, but Wanda raised her hand.

"You are not moving," she continued, her tone low, calm, and forceful. "You're going to sit here, drink something, rest till your injuries are healed."

I opened my mouth. I closed it. I opened it again. "Okay, first of all, rude."

"Second of all?" Natasha asked.

I leaned back, letting out a big sigh. "Whatever. You two are very controlling."

Wanda arched her brow. "You say that like it's a problem."

I grinned, my lips curved slightly. "Friday, can I have some new blood? Preferably not expired?"

"Already delivering, Miss Dimitrescu," the AI said gently. 

"Oh, cannot believe she can be kind," I said with a laugh.

Natasha gave me one more long gaze, as if she were trying to set me on fire with her thoughts, before heading down the corridor. "I am going to find Steve and Sam. He'll want to look at those files, too."

"Tell him to bring coffee," Tony said as she went.

I shifted carefully, watching her leave. When she was out of sight, I turned to Wanda. She had not moved. She just remained there, arms held loosely across her chest, peering down at me as if I'd try to run again.

"What?" I asked quietly.

She did not respond right away. Then, "You scared me."

That hit harder than I thought. I turned aside to the coffee table and the empty glass from earlier. "Wasn't my goal."

"I don't care," she said gently. "You still did."

"You know I'm not used to people worrying."

I let out a big sigh and fell back against the couch, resting my head. She did not speak.

The TV was still on, showing some blurry black-and-white sitcom I couldn't name, with the laugh track crackling like static.

"What's that?" I asked.

She blinked. "What?"

"The show." This is older than Bewitched, I believe; I don't recognize it."

Wanda looked down, flustered. "This is the only season of The Dick Van Dyke Show that I could find."

She paused. Then, with a sad smile, "Some of them are difficult to find now. The originals, I mean. And I haven't really - " she shrugged, her eyes flicking away, " - I haven't asked anyone for help. I don't like bothering others. Or ask for money."

"You wanna watch some with me?"

She blinked in disbelief. "You want to?"

I shrugged. "It's either this or I go fight someone again, which would get me even more into trouble.

She let out a soft laugh before reaching for the remote. "Okay."

"Deal,"

 

Notes:

AN:  So here it is!!! Sorry for the delay guyss, but I am dealing with some things in my life, so I hope you are gonna like ittt

<3

Chapter 7: 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶 𝓃𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓁 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈

𝓣𝔀𝓸 𝓓𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓛𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻...

 

I was getting crazy.

Okay, maybe not so feral, but near enough.

Two days of sitting around, "resting," watching old sitcoms, and being treated as if I were made of broken glass was wearing me down. Wanda had barely left my side the first day - not that I was complaining - and now, even if she was doing her own thing, I was still in house imprisonment. Technically speaking, this is a couch arrest.

The common area was quiet, except for the hum of the TVs and the distant sound of someone dropping a barbell in the gym downstairs. I shuffled on the couch, my legs dangling over the side like a bored child.

I was about to begin counting ceiling tiles for the fourth time when a voice broke the silence.

"Oh, well. If it isn't the Queen of Drama herself."

I rolled my eyes before seeing. "Hello, Bird boy."

He walked in, towel over his shoulder, sweat-soaked hair. "You know," he added, taking a bottle of water from the table, "some people fake injuries to skip workouts, but you really committed to the bit."

"Ha. Ha." I tilted my head. "Jealous, I get to lie here while you suffer?"

He snorted. "Nah, you look miserable."

I opened my mouth, ready with another caustic comment, but he beat me to it.

"So, what is the plan? Heal, disappear into smoke, and then disappear again?" His tone was light and playful.

I blinked. "What?"

"You know," Sam replied, shrugging as he leaned against the couch arm. "Leave us behind. Can't wait to be done with everything and never see us again, right?"

I feigned a laugh. "Wow, you really know how to lift someone's spirits."

But the joke didn't fully work. Because, for a split second, it came too close. The tower, the people here, everything... it wasn't meant to last. I did not intend to stay here long enough to care.

And yet.

"I'm only saying," Sam said, sensing my pause, "if you're so tired of being worthless, come join me in the training room. I don't expect you to keep up or anything."

I sat up somewhat straighter. "Oh? Is that a challenge, human?"

"Not at all," he replied, smirking. "I just think you'll collapse halfway through warm-up and I'll get to carry your dramatic ass back up here again."

"A tempting offer. But I think I should do something before I lose my head."
With that, I followed him to the training room...

 

The training room rang with the steady thud of Sam's hands on the mat beside mine.

"Come on," I encouraged with a grin, lowering myself for another push-up. "You wanted this."

Sam, lying on his stomach, groaned like an old man. "I did not want this."

"Yes, you did," I said, lifting again with ease. "You said - and I quote - 'let's warm up a little.' I warned you."

"It's not warming up. This is death."

We were eighty push-ups in, and I had barely begun to sweat. My ribs twinged slightly, but it just added fuel to the fire. I felt more like myself as I kept going. Meanwhile, Sam seemed to be set to enter the afterlife.

"You're not even human," he mumbled.

I winked. "You're finally catching on."

The doors slid open with a slight hiss.

"I swear," Natasha said, serious as usual, "if you actually killed him, we're gonna have to explain it to the press."

I looked up, still mid-push-up. Steve was standing next to her, arms folded and fighting back a smile. Natasha took in the scene: Sam was half-collapsed on the floor, making quiet dying moans, and I was doing push-ups like I was at a spa.

"Is he breathing?" Steve asked.

"Define breathing," I murmured casually, finishing my set and settling back into my shoes. "He is wheezing. That counts."

"I hate her," Sam muttered into the mat. "She is not real. She is a CGI monster."

Natasha walked over and poked him with her boot. "Hello, birdman. Tap out?" He groaned loudly.

"She smoked me in everything," he said, sliding onto his back. "Push-ups, squats, and sprints."

Steve tilted his head as Sam rolled away, as if he were crawling to retirement. "You know," he replied. "I've been meaning to ask - wanna spar?"

I blinked and then smirked. "Are you sure? I mean, you just saw me end Sam's career."

He laughed gently. "I'll go gently. Promise. I will not even hit you."

I lifted my brow, stepped forward, and stretched one arm across my chest. "That's very sweet, golden boy... but I'd appreciate it if you fought properly."

His smile twitched at the term. "Yes, ma'am."

We proceeded to the center of the mat, a quiet tension rising in the air as we squared up. Steve took a soft, controlled stance. Classic soldier.

I circled him, allowing him to test the water with a few punches that I easily avoided. He was strong, but I was faster than anybody imagined. Even super-soldiers were confused by how swift he was.

"Don't be shy, Cap," I joked, slipping beneath a hook. "You're not gonna hurt me."

He replied with a broad sweep towards my legs. I blocked it with a quick stride and countered with a high kick that he barely blocked in time. The smirk on his face indicated that he was impressed. Maybe a little eager to learn.

We kept going, fists and feet flying with more purpose now. He ceased holding back. I stopped acting cute.

Steve grunted as I landed a hit on his side, and before he could recover, I dove low, kicked out his legs, and pinned him to the mat with my knee against his chest.

"Oops," I said, puffing gently. "Did I win?"

Steve looked up at me, half smiling and partly confused. "I think... yes. I believe you did."

"Don't worry," I said, extending my hand. "I'll let you win next time."

He accepted it with a grin and pulled himself up. That's when I heard the soft hum of the doors behind me opening again. I turned, pushing a few strands of hair away from my face, and..

"Oh, hey, Wands!" I said, beaming broadly despite the sweat on my brow. "And Vis!"

Wanda stood just inside the doorway, Vision beside her, her arms crossed, staring at me with an expression that ranged from surprise, worry. Vision, as usual, appeared quietly curious, his head bent slightly to the side as if he was attempting to process everything he had just seen.

Wanda's gaze was still focused on me from across the room. Sharp. Focused. I offered her a mischievous look as I extended my arms.

"Oh, come on, Maximoff," I joked. "Do not stare at me like that. You're not mad that I beat your team leader, are you?

She blinked, obviously trying not to smile. "I'm not mad."

"Then what's with the laser eyes?"

"Just... didn't expect to walk in on you tossing Captain America across the mat like a rag doll."

"He's heavy," I exclaimed dramatically. "Also, I finally get my power back!"

Sam sighed from the floor, still lying flat on his back, and whispered, "Yeah, yeah... we understand. You're scary."

Steve laughed and wiped sweat from his brow. "She is good. Strong. Precise."

"She's a menace," Sam added. "A polite one, but still."

Wanda walked deeper inside, her gaze shifting between us. Vision lingered behind her, silently observing.

"Hey," I replied softly, approaching her. "You okay?"

She tilted her head, looking at mine for a second. "I am fine. You just... recover quickly."

"Yes, well, it took long enough to heal, to be honest."

We stood there for a second, and the silence was just long enough to vibrate with something unspoken. I wasn't sure what she was thinking, but I noticed something moving behind her eyes.

"I was actually coming down here to train," she explained, her brows narrowing slightly. "Alone. But maybe... You want to help?"

I blinked. "You want me to help you train?"

She nodded. "It's difficult to use powers on humans. And, really, Vision just floats and never lets me pitch him."

"Gentleman," I mumbled.

"I figured... You can handle it now."

"Are you trying to throw me across the room, Maximoff?"

She smirked, the corner of her lips twitching. "Maybe."

I tilted my head. "Alright. Let's dance."

Wanda guided us to the other side of the training room, where the mats were sprawled out and untouched. The others saw us take our positions.

I rolled my shoulders. "So how are we doing this?"

She gently lifted her hands, her fingertips sparking with the familiar swirling red energy. "You stand there. Try to stop me from moving you."

"Oh, so we're doing that kind of training," I replied, taking a stance.

Her eyes glinted when they met mine. "Scared?"

"No," I replied, smirking. "But I usually expect dinner before being manhandled."

That caused her to pause for a half-second, just long enough to blush before glaring at me. "Focus."

The red magic rushed toward me, like smoke and fire. I braced myself, using my own strength, and dug my shoes into the floor. I could feel it—her magic wrapped around me like strands, pressing on my chest and attempting to move me.

I pushed back.

Her eyes widened just slightly. "You're resisting."

"You told me to."

She narrowed her gaze and pressed harder. The impact lifted my feet a few inches off the floor, but I turned, flipped in the air, and landed in a crouch, beaming.

"Is that all you've got, Wands?"

"Cocky," she mumbled as she stepped forward. "Let's try again."

We switched back and forth, her magic tossing, pulling, and winding around my arms and legs while I ducked, avoided, and replied. Every time she gained the upper hand, I'd break free and go close enough to touch her. She was graceful and attentive. I could see the fire in her - it was contained but still burning furiously.

She lifted both hands again and threw me harder. I landed on the floor and rolled with the momentum, coming to a stop exactly next to her boots.

"Okay, that was impressive," I exclaimed.

Wanda knelt beside me, her face flushed, "I'm not holding back anymore," she stated gently.

I caught her stare, heartbeat pounding in my ears. "Good. Neither am I."

She helped me get to my feet, and we circled each other again, breathing heavily. The tension shifted momentarily.

"You're fun to fight with," she remarked quietly.

"You're entertaining to watch," I said, before I could stop myself.

"You're dangerous."

"You like dangerous."

Silence.

Then she raised her hand again, and I let her throw me once again, this time laughing as I landed flat on my back.

 

After the training, I went out to get something.

Of course, I didn't tell anyone. This would have led to a complete security lockdown and a three-hour lecture from Natasha or Wanda, possibly both. But I needed air. I needed to do something for her.

Wanda came up to me two days earlier, making a quiet confession about the sitcoms she used to watch with her family in Sokovia. She spoke of them warmly, but with a bittersweet ache, as if she had convinced herself that those memories were out of reach.

Well. I don't like people feeling unreachable. Especially not her.

So I found them. Of course, it was not cheap, but for me, everything is cheap.

I spent an hour looking for a collector with a bigger ego and a borderline scary nostalgia addiction, and by the end, I had walked away with a remastered collection of The Dick Van Dyke Show, Bewitched, I Love Lucy, and others. All original recordings. Digitally restored. It was neatly packed in a small black box, like a present from the past.

I also set up a covert bank account and a customized card in Wanda's name. The account was officially mine, but she'd have complete control, with only me able to see the balance and quietly top it out as necessary. Nobody else. It's just her.

She had no need to ask anyone for anything anymore. Not even me.

When I returned to the Tower, the elevator doors opened to the aroma of garlic, roasted veggies, and something pleasantly comforting. Laughter came from the kitchen. 

"Anastasia!" Sam gestured me over to the table, as if I were late for roll call. "Move your vampire ass over here. Wanda cooked dinner!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Did she hex the oven into cooking for her?"

"Nope," Clint replied. "She actually used it. Using her hands."

I took one careful step toward the table and then froze.

It smelled like paradise.

Wanda was in the kitchen, apron tied around her waist and sleeves rolled up. She was plating something that appeared far too beautiful for a random Thursday meal, her hair tied back and a few strands falling across her forehead.

"What is that?" I asked suspiciously.

She turned around lazily. "Food."

"That is not food. That is a religious experience."

"Sit," she instructed, pointing to an empty chair as if I were a misbehaving pet. "Before it gets cold."

I sat. I did not even hesitate.

I picked up my fork and carefully pierced one of the cooked potatoes. One bite. Only one...

And I saw God.

I dropped the fork. "What the actual..." I blinked. "Did you curse this?"

Wanda crossed her arms. "Excuse me?"

"It is too fantastic. What did you do?"

"Cooked. Like a normal person."

"You are lying. This is witchcraft. Actual black magic."

"Thank you," she murmured smugly, going to get her own dish.

The conversation continued from there. Bickering. Teasing. Sam is relating a story about nearly dropping a civilian because she vomited on his wings. Natasha is fake-gagging. Tony was discussing the chemical composition of the sauce Wanda made as everyone urged him to stop.

Wanda sat across from me, laughing quietly and totally relaxed.

And me?

I was actually in danger.

Not the "someone's trying to stab me" kind. No. The emotional sort. Of the "I might accidentally get used to this chaotic dinner table and fall in love with the woman who cooked for me" kind.

Which was far more terrifying.

 

𝓛𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽...

 

I stood in front of Wanda's door, holding the familiar black package under my arm.

I knocked gently. Three fast taps.

It took a few seconds before I heard her quiet voice from inside.
"Yeah?"

I cracked open the door and glanced inside. "Hey. I hope I'm not interrupting your evening of witchy night."

She looked up from the small chair beside her desk, face furrowed yet delighted. She was back in her pajamas, wearing the same oversized hoodie and soft leggings. 

"You never disturb me," she said, standing and gesturing me in. "Come in."

I stepped inside carefully and closed the door behind me. The room smelled slightly of candle wax and lavender, and the TV screen in the distance was showing another of those grainy old sitcoms.

She gestured toward the bed. "Make yourself comfortable."

I nodded and moved closer, resting gently on the edge. She sat next to me, close enough that our knees almost touched.

I pointed to the television. "Still watching that same episode?"

She smiled, her gaze fixed on the screen. "It calmed me down. Even if I already know every line."

I paused. Then I cleared my throat. "I actually... came to give you something."

Wanda turned to look at me. I reached behind me, took out the black package, and held it between us. Her eyes dropped to the package in my hands.

I paid close attention to her thumb, which delicately trailed over the edge of the wrapper.

"It's not cursed," I joked, trying to lift the mood in the room. "Promise."

She looked up at me, that small, amused smile tugging at her lips.

She carefully unwrapped the box. The black paper crinkled between us, then fell away, showing the DVDs packed inside. Old and worn titles. Some are barely visible. A few have handwritten labels.

Her breath caught.

"All the old shows," I replied softly, my hands folded in my lap. "I tried to locate the ones you mentioned. Shows such as Dick Van Dyke, I Love Lucy, and The Andy Griffith Show, as well as some forgotten ones, were new to me. I wasn't sure which versions you meant, so I grabbed anything I could."

She did not laugh. She did not even smile. Not yet. Her eyes were fixed on the DVDs, blinking rapidly.

"And," I added, a little hesitantly, "They're all adapted to work on the tower's system. Friday was helpful. Sort of. She was passive-aggressive about my 'old taste in media' but... yes. They should work."

Still nothing. I shifted, nervous. "If they aren't the proper ones, I can look again."

Wanda dropped her hands to her lap and gripped the DVDs securely. When she did look at me, her eyes were glassy. Shimmering. Tears pool softly without dropping.

"Wanda…?" I leaned nearer, my chest tightening with concern. "Did I get something wrong? I can fix it..."

She shook her head swiftly and set the DVD package next to her on the bed. And then, without saying anything, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around me.

Her body crushed into mine, and her face buried in my shoulder. And I froze for a second, as if I couldn't handle the warmth. Then I relaxed and softly put my hands around her waist.

"Thank you," she muttered. Her voice crackled, barely audible against my throat. "No one's… ever done something like this for me."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "It's just… It's nothing, really."

"It's not nothing," she said, drawing back slightly to gaze at me again, her eyes red-rimmed and sparkling. "You remember. You cared about me."

I opened my mouth. Then he closed it again. So, what could I say to that?

So I nodded and offered her a tiny smile. "You deserve it."

She looked down and smiled warmly through her tears. Then she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and laughed - just a little.

"I feel ridiculous crying over television shows."

"You're not crying over shows," I said calmly. "You are crying over memories."

That caused her to pause. She stared at me for a long time, and I could hear her heartbeat. Then she grabbed the DVDs again and clasped them to her chest. "Could you please stay for a bit? Will you watch one with me?"

My lips twitched forward. "M'lady, you just hugged me in the most dramatic way possible. Of course, I will stay."

Finally, she let out a low laugh and rose up, strolling to the television. She switched the input with practiced ease, inserted one of the DVDs, and pressed the play button.

Wanda pulled her knees under her and nestled gently into the pillows behind her, as the grainy black-and-white image flickered on screen. I could feel her warmth alongside me, and the air between us was gentle and filled with unspoken words. But I wasn't quite finished.

"I've got one more thing for you," I added, gently breaking the silence.

Wanda averted her gaze from the TV, her eyes twitching with curiosity. "Another DVD?"

"Nope."

I handed her the envelope. She accepted it with a confused face and cautiously put her finger behind the flap. She took out a single black card, sleek and gleaming, with her name printed across it in little silver letters: Wanda Maximoff.

She blinked. "What is this?"

I lay on my side and propped my head on my palm, watching her reaction. "This is yours, your own card. And account. You can buy everything you desire. It's technically unlimited, so you don't have to worry about balance."

Wanda stared at it. Then at me. Then back to the card.

"…You're joking."

I tilted my head. "Absolutely no."

"But--" she sat up straighter, grasping the card as if it would explode. "Why would you --? Anastasia, this is! I can't—"

"You can," I said quietly. "And you will."

Her brows pushed together. "You don't understand--"

"I do," I said, my voice lowered. "I know exactly how it feels to rely on everyone else. Feeling as if you're allowed only to take the crumbs because you're too terrified to ask for more makes you feel burdened. You are not a burden, dragul meu."

Her lips parted as if she wanted to fight, pushing the card back into my hands and telling me I was being stupid. However, she didn't.

I whispered, "I know you don't like asking for help. But this isn't charity. It's simply freedom. The freedom to buy yourself something nice. To not feel like a stranger in your own life. You deserve that."

Wanda took a deep breath. She clasped her fingers around the card after glancing down at it. "But this is too much."

"It's not enough,"

Her eyes glistened, but her lips flicked into a crooked smile. "Really, you went all this way for me?"

Even though her voice made me feel something deep in my chest, I tried to play it off with a gentle shrug. "Obviously. You have a right to buy the things that bring you joy. even if you would never ask for them."

Wanda brushed her fingers over her name as she glanced down at the card once again.

"They're the correct ones," she murmured quietly. "The sitcoms. They are exactly those. Before everything, we watched the same ones in Sokovia."

I took a small step back to give her room. "I hoped so."

After a moment of silence, she muttered, "Thank you. Really."

And that was more than enough.

After a while, she put her head softly on my shoulder without asking, simply doing it. I closed my eyes and allowed the moment's calm to wrap us both like a blanket.

 

 

 

𝚨𝚴: 𝐒𝛐 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬!!! 𝚳𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝛐𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐟

<3

Notes:

AN:  So here it is!!! My heart literally could handle all the flufff

<3

Chapter 8: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃

Even with the tall windows letting in morning sunlight.

I leaned back in my chair and watched Natasha scroll through pictures on the screen next to Steve, who was standing at the head of the table, looking like the ideal golden poster boy.

An old, hazy image of a declining concrete building, partially obscured by overgrown trees, was the first slide to flicker onto the screen.

"This is one of Hydra's oldest labs. It was closed and abandoned in the late 1980s, according to official documents. Actually? Off the grid, that is. Up until recently, there has been no official movement until now."

The image she swiped to showed l scans in brilliant blues and reds.

"Two days ago, we detected low energy readings in the area. At first, we thought it was nothing, but then..." Natasha passed a tiny folder across the table towards me, "Anastasia brought these back."

"They match Hydra's oldest asset records," Natasha explained. "It's the same documentation style. And, according to them, this was the first place where trials like this were made."

I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table. "So, we go there."

Steve gave me that calm yet furious Captain America stare. "It isn't so straightforward. We don't know the defenses or whether the area is staged. We need observation. We need a plan."

I tilted my head. "Sounds like a very long way to say let's go find out."

Natasha's lips quirked forward, not quite a smile, but more like the face you make when urging someone not to push you.
"This time, no one goes in alone."

I smirked. "You make it sound like I don't follow the rules."

"You don't," Wanda said.
I turned my head just in time to see Tony pointing at me as if he were conducting the choir.

"Statistically speaking," he added, "you've been here less than a month and you've already had two unofficial trips, one of which resulted in you bleeding out in our medical bay. Which, by the way, is a really costly carpet to clean."

"Not my fault, your cleaning budget is low," I grumbled.

Steve looked between us. "The point is about teams. We pair up and watch each other's backs. For the next hours, we will discuss the complete plan and all rules to follow."

Sam grinned and leaned back in his chair. "So... who's gonna be stuck with the blood sucker?"

Wanda interrupted before I could respond, still staring at me. "Me."

Tony made a false gag sound.

Natasha ignored him and tapped the screen to shut it off.

"Alright, see everybody in an hour in the hangar."

 

Hangar; a few hours later

The hangar was alive with noise - the hum of engines warming up, mechanics moving between toolboxes, and the faint echo of Sam fighting with a tech about the "calibration" of his wings.

I walked in holding a little black suitcase in one hand, the handle cool on my palm. Everyone crowded around the Quinjet, checking gear. Steve was the one who noticed me first.

"What's inside the bag?" he asked, nodding toward it.

"Surprise."

Natasha arched her brow. "Is it the kind of surprise that's going to explode?"

"yes....no....maybe?" 

Steve furrowed his brow as if I had just spoken in another language. "Right... Well, bag aside, we have a mission to do."

He tapped his wrist console, and a pale blue holographic map of the intended location appeared in midair. The map slowly rotated, with pixelated outlines of walls and collapsed roofs flashing in the light.

"This is the facility," Steve started, his voice taking on a commanding tone that I couldn't quite mock.

Natasha crossed her arms, her intense stare never leaving the hologram. "Recently, there has been movement. Security cameras nearby captured shadows. If Hydra's moved back in..."

"So they're protecting something," Steve continued.
Sam motioned to the map. "So, what's the game plan, Cap?"

Steve pointed to the outer border. "Unit One includes Sam, Natasha, and Vision. You scan around the area, eliminating any outside defenses and keeping an eye out for movement. Do not fight unless absolutely necessary."

Natasha offered a slight nod. "Clean and quiet."

"Unit Two - me, Wanda, and Anastasia," Steve said. "Once the wall is clear, we will attack. We protect any physical data and information, then sweep inside. If we discover signs of activity—persons, experiments, or anything else—we react. We got what we came for, and we're done."

"Translation," Sam warned, "don't touch anything strange. Last time someone touched something strange..."

Natasha stopped him with a look. "We're all aware of what happened last time."

I raised my hand, keeping a deadly serious attitude. "Question - what if I get hungry in there?"

Sam grumbled. Natasha squeezed the bridge of her nose. Steve, being the golden boy, responded without hesitation. "That is why you are with me. I can keep an eye on you."

For about a half-second, I stared at him. Then I burst out laughing so hard that my ribs ached. I smirked at Natasha and said in Russian, "Он такой смешной... и такой глyпый."
(He's both funny and dumb.)

Natasha didn't even bother to hide her smirk, but she tilted her head as if she wasn't encouraging me.

Steve cast a wary glance between us. "I feel like I don't want to know what you just said."

"You don't," Natasha responded calmly.

I smiled wider. "Oh, trust me, you really want."

Steve groaned and walked on, knowing that he couldn't win this conversation. "We move at 0500. Prepare, check your comms, and be ready. This is not a "run and gun" situation. We keep sharp. We stay together."

Sam pointed to me as if he had been saving it. "That means no wandering off, no 'oops, I tripped and fell into a restricted hallway,' okay?"

I gave him my best innocent look. "Can't promise anything."

Natasha smirked slightly. "She's definitely going to wander off."

Steve took a long breath and looked between us.
"Ah, I can't wait until she leaves, Alright people..." He straightened, his words cutting through the noise of the hangar. "...suit up."

The ramp of the Quinjet hissed open, releasing the smell of jet fuel and cold metal into the hangar air. I walked inside ahead of most of them, my luggage in hand, because it was finally time for the best reveal ever.

The case popped open with a nice crack, and I slowly lifted the lid—mostly for dramatic effect. Inside was my new fighting armor, folded in exact lines of matte-black fabric and decorated with subtle but sharp red details. The material seemed to have been spilled over armor – sleek, flexible, and definitely strong enough to resist a punch.

When I slid into it, the suit hugged every line of my body as if it had been custom-made for me, which it had. The reaction was instant.

Sam blinked. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Natasha tilted her head, openly enjoying. "That's... new."

Steve's gaze flew between my suit and my face, as if he wasn't sure whether this was a mission-ready or a catwalk outfit. "That doesn't look standard stuff."

"Of course not," I answered, brushing down the gloves as if I was in no hurry to explain myself. "I haven't had a serious fight in years. I decided if I was going to get back into it, I'd better look like it. A friend of mine in Romania is a designer. She specializes in military gear and has a unique personality."

"Personality?" Sam repeated. "That thing's basically a warning sign for trouble."

"That's the point," I responded with a smirk.

I looked around, counting heads. "Where's Thor, by the way?"

"Back in Asgard," Steve replied, scanning his wrist console again.

Tony shrugged. "Probably some god-level drama."

I rolled my eyes. "Figures. He always misses the fun stuff."

The inside of the Quinjet hummed as the engines began up. Most of the team took their seats, buckled in, checked their weapons, and connected their comms. Wanda was in the corner, sitting quietly with her hands on her lap and her focus fixed totally on me.

She said nothing. She didn't even try to look away when I noticed her staring. Her eyes were unreadable.

I smirked slightly. "You're awfully quiet, Wands."

She blinked gently and added, "I'm...observing."

I tilted my head, sitting back in my seat, trying not to notice her attention as I tightened the final strap on my boot. The Quinjet took off, the hangar vanishing under us, and I could still feel her gaze on me.

The Quinjet ride had been unusually silent. Even on the more serious missions, there was usually some amount of humor  - Tony making jokes to Steve, Sam teasing me about my accent, and Natasha quietly criticizing everyone under her breath. What about this time? Only the continual low hum of the motors and the occasional click from someone tightening gears.

I sat in the back, half watching Wanda from across the cabin. She was curled into the corner seat, one leg raised up, and stared absently out the small window. Her eyes would occasionally dart to me, fleeting and unreadable, before she turned away again.

The landing was too smooth. We'd barely touched the ground when I saw how still everything was outside.

There were no sounds or footsteps, not even the breeze blowing on the quinjet. When the back door opened, a wall of cool, stale air rushed in, smelling hazily of dust and rusty metal.

The Hydra facility was in the center of an overgrown clearing. Tall grass swayed about it, covering most of the lower windows. Despite appearing abandoned for decades, something seemed off about the place.

"Alright," Steve said, draping his shield around his arm. "We explore the surrounding area before we enter.

I fell in step with him, the gravel crunching quietly beneath our feet. The air felt thicker as we got closer.

Behind us, I heard the others leaving in pairs. Sam and Natasha moved to the left side of the structure, while Tony hovered lazily overhead in his suit, scanners already activated. Vision remained near Wanda, but she appeared to be more concerned with the rocky terrain than the job itself.

It happened quickly - one moment she was walking, the next her boot snagged on a chunk of broken cement. Her balance shifted, and her hands flinched toward the earth.

In quicker than a blink, I was alongside her, catching her elbow and stabilizing her before she touched the ground.

"Careful, draga," I murmured with a small smirk.

Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she muttered, "Thanks..." like the word was both gratitude and an attempt to hide her embarrassment. She pulled her arm back gently, and I let her go, pretending I hadn't noticed the way her gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary.

"Don't mention it," I said casually,

Tony's voice broke the silence, sizzling across comms, "This is weird. There are no power readings or heat signs. It's like the place is dead."

Natasha's voice followed, calm yet guarded. "Dead doesn't mean empty."

Steve examined the walls and nodded. "Then we're not splitting up. We go in together and keep within sight of each other."

"Yes, captain!" I saluted him cynically.

The huge metal doors creaked as they were pulled open, showing a long, poorly lit corridor stretching into the darkness. Walls lined the tunnel, cracked and scarred from years of abandonment, while flickering overhead lights created uneven pools of drab yellow.

Vision glided forward softly, his synthetic voice breaking through the silence. "The form of this facility is consistent with early Hydra outposts built in the mid-twentieth century. The materials and design focus on longevity and stealth over beauty. Fascinatingly, the design implies several hidden rooms, possibly for experimental containment."

Steve nodded and raised his shield as he led the group warily. "Keep your eyes open. There's no telling what we'll find in here."

I fell in step with Wanda, legs stiff and senses alert. The silence felt terrible, as if the entire building was holding its breath.

Then, barely aware, I heard it - a dizzy, repetitive tick-tack echoing from somewhere deeper inside the hall ahead.

"Stop." I walked forward and raised my hand, signaling the others to stop.

Everyone froze, their gaze racing to the source of the problem. The path ahead was empty, but I knew better. "That sound," I said, voice low, "is a trap. Something is waiting for us just ahead."

Without hesitation, I examined the fractured wall beside me and grabbed a small boulder-sized chunk of broken stone. I grabbed it tightly and flung it into the hallway.

The heavy stone struck the floor with a sharp boom, followed by the distinct clatter of gears and metal turning. Then, from above the ceiling, part of the wall swung inward, revealing a nest of mechanical spikes ready to fire down.

"Everyone back!" I yelled, stepping firmly in front of Wanda and Steve.

Vision's eyes glowed slightly as he studied the mechanism. "A defensive system - hydraulically activated by motion or sound. These automated traps are intended to kill attackers fast and clearly."

Steven's jaw stiffened. "Nice catch, Anastasia. That could have gone poorly."

Vision's calm voice was still ringing down the corridor, analysing sensors and quality of structure, when I had had enough. "Steve," I said, barely holding back a smirk, "can you stop talking like a robot for once? This is not an official meeting. It is a mission. Maybe relax up a little."

Steve opened his mouth to respond - probably to argue or clarify - but I had already moved. I quickly turned away from the group, my dagger sliding easily. Without hesitation, I flicked my wrist, sending it flying along the dim corridor ahead.

The blade slashed through the darkness, striking a hidden figure hiding in the shadows. The soldier hardly had time to respond before slumping silently to the ground.

I returned their gaze, an intense grin forming on my lips. "Ladies and gentlemen," I stated, my voice low and amused, "the show's begun."

Soldiers charged forward from every direction, heavily armed, shouting commands and firing.

I felt the typical rush of adrenaline, power, and focus. This is where I belonged.
Bullets flew by like angry hornets, yet I moved with a predator's grace. I ducked, rolled, and twisted, just avoiding damage.

My dagger flashed as it struck flesh, blade striking flesh with a horrific crunch.

One man lunged with a big rifle butt, but I turned and threw him against a wall with a satisfying crack.

I hissed, "Not today."

Steve and Natasha worked in combination, Natasha's attacks precise and fatal, and Steve's shield taking heavy knocks while he responded with well-placed punches.

But really? I was having the most fun. Each moment reminded me of the strength I still had - and the desire for more.

A grunt to my right drew my attention - a big soldier charging with his crowbar up high. I dodged beneath his swing and pressed my knee hard into his stomach. He doubled over and gasped for air. I stabbed my dagger into his shoulder without hesitation.

"Come on, come on!" I urged the others. "Keep pushing!"

Wanda stood behind me, a brilliant light of power, her hands weaving lovely but lethal shapes in the air. With a flick of her fingers, men were thrown against the walls or trapped down, powerless.

I caught her eye briefly - she, too, had a fire in her eyes. "Anastasia, watch your left!" Natasha's strong voice broke through the background noise.

I turned just in time to avoid a surprise stab from a soldier who had come up behind me. The dagger scratched on my forearm; the sting was real, but nothing I couldn't take.

The fight went on with relentless intensity. At one point, I felt the tide of history turning against me. Too many soldiers had focused their fire and attacks on me, and my movements, while quick, began to slow under the pressure.

Just when I was ready to be overwhelmed, a burst of pure strength crackled through the air, resulting in a flash of deep red magic all around me.

With a flick of her wrist, she threw multiple soldiers backward, their bodies slamming into the walls with bone-shattering impact. Another wave of her magic created a shimmering shield around me that deflected bullets and knives alike.

"Got your back," she whispered, her eyes finding mine with calm confidence.

Steve laid out the plan. "This place is bigger than we expected. We need to split up to cover more ground."

Natasha nodded. "Anastasia, take the top floors. We'll go through the lower levels. And Tony tries to scan everything."

I nodded quickly, "Got it."

As I climbed the stairs, the air became cooler and the shadows darker. The flickering lights barely lit the broken walls.

Finally, I got to a big steel door fixed into the wall. But this wasn't a regular door; it had a sleek digital lock shining quietly in blue and a keypad waiting for a code.

I crouched in front of the smooth metal panel, the keypad shining dimly in the low light of the hallway. My fingers paused over the buttons, my thoughts racing with every potential code that may open the door. I began putting in random numbers, combinations I'd found related to papers or made up on the spot.

Nothing.
Not a single beep or click.

I pressed the keypad again, this time harder. "Seriously? Come on..." I mumbled, frustration swelling like a hurricane within me.

I leaned back and rubbed my temples. I realized this was a high-tech lock, possibly military-grade. Maybe my strength could help - after all,

I closed my eyes and focused. I started to push the door, but nothing moved at all.

The keypad blinked briefly. A faint vibration echoed through the lock - and then nothing. There was no buzzer, click, or sign that the door was being unlocked.

I sighed and lowered my hand.

I paced for a time before crouching again, eyes fixed on the keypad. Perhaps there was a pattern, a clue I was missing. I tried typing in the Hydra experiment protocol I'd read about, as well as the code names and numbers related to the files I discovered.

Still nothing.

My patience was running low.

With a fast gasp, I punched the keypad again before whispering to myself, "Okay, Anastasia, think."

And then, almost on a whim, I typed in 1914. At first, nothing. I glanced at the bright numbers, my heart sinking. Then there was a sharp, crisp beep.

The lock clicked. The steel door slid open with a slow, mechanical sigh.

I leaned back and blinked. "What... the fuck?" I let out a weak laugh, half in surprise and half in relief. "Of all things, my birth year. Seriously?"

I looked down at my hands, still trembling slightly from the excitement.

I stepped through the door into a huge room that used the tiny light from the corridor behind me.

Panels and rows of glass containers lined the walls, many cracked or shattered, others deeply kept, filled with dark liquids. Medical equipment lay strewn and dusty, the remains of long-abandoned experiments.

The more I examined, the more I realized one terrifying truth: these were the blueprints for me- and others like me. They hadn't simply been experimenting with vampires; they were attempting to produce them from birth. It was horrible.

Infant DNA is changed in sterile rooms to modify a baby's vital essence - to transform them into vampires the moment they take their first breath. The experiments, failures, and sacrifices.

I crouched next to a smashed display, fingers quivering as I picked up a yellowed file. Inside were medical data and tests of pregnant women. I swallowed hard, resisting the sickness that rose up my throat.

Then, a small sound cut through the silence: the distinct rasp of breathing behind me. I slowly turned around.

A man appeared from the shadows. His face was wrinkled with age, but obviously familiar.

"I can't believe I've finally seen you," he said gently.

My heart pounded in my chest as doubt and disbelief fought within me. "Who… who are you?" I mumbled, taking a cautious step back.

His stare did not move. "Don't you remember me? I believed you'd never do that."

Then he walked out of the shadows, revealing his whole face, and I saw a man I thought I'd never see again.

"Father?"

 

Notes:

𝚨𝚴:  𝐒𝛐 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬!!! 𝚨𝐥𝐬𝛐 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝛐𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐤𝐤𝐤 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢'𝐦 𝐠𝛐𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝛐𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢v𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐚v𝐞 𝐬𝛐 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝛐 𝐝𝛐 𝐬𝛐𝛐 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐞𝐞𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝛐𝐫𝐠𝐢v𝐞 𝐦𝐞.

<3

Chapter 9: 𝒜𝓌𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔

He stood there. Silent.
His eyes fixed on me with such intensity that my chest tightened as if he were studying me. I did not move. My boots felt fixed to the cold floor, and my breath was trapped in my throat.

What is happening?

He stepped forward. Heavy. Another. And another. His feet grew across the laboratory's empty hall, bouncing off steel and glass.

I could have pulled my dagger. I could have put him down before he got to me. But I did not. My body was not listening. My instincts were screaming at me to act, but my heart whispered something else.

"Anastasia..." His voice was low and harsh, "After all this time... you're really here."

He closed the gap till he stood directly in front of me. My heartbeat was like a drum in my ears, loud and unpredictable. His hand lifted carefully and slowly, as if he was scared I'd vanish if he moved too quickly.

Fingers brushed against my cheeks. Cold. Unexpectedly soft. I flinched but did not take a step back. It was stupid and irresponsible.

For a brief moment, it felt like I was about to receive a hug. He seemed to try to pull me in. Maybe, just maybe, all of this crazy was worthwhile - because it got me here.

But then, click.
Something moved. His hand glided down with surprising precision. He removed the comm from my ear in one swift stroke. I didn't notice it was gone until I heard the tiny metallic crack as it slid into his pocket.

I took a half-step back, blinking in disbelief.

I was still stuck and staring at him. My brain couldn't put the pieces together—his face, his voice, his touch, the stolen communication. None of it made sense.

"Father?" I breathed in, the word tasted weird and unfamiliar, as if it didn't belong to me.

His smile grew, and for a horrifying moment.

"You have no idea," he mumbled. His palm hovered near my jaw, steady and seemingly gentle—until I felt a stinging pain against my skin.

My eyes expanded. "Wha---"

Something burnt. Cold fire spread beneath my skin, pulsing through my veins like liquid ice. I stumbled backward, grasping at my side, but his grip on my arm tightened, holding me firmly, almost mockingly.

"You don't need to fight it," he said quietly.

I tried. God, I tried to fight it. My strength surged for a brief moment, sparks in my veins ready to lash out - but the cold took it completely, dimming everything within me.

My eyesight shifted, colors blending together, steel and shadow blending into a smudge. His face was the last thing I saw before the darkness overtook me. And suddenly, nothing.

My eyes opened to white lights. For a few seconds, I believed I was still dreaming- but the pain in my wrists jolted me awake.

I was tied down. Thick leather straps cut into my skin and pinned me to a cold metal bed. My throat was dry, and my head pounded like a drum.
And he was there. Standing a few steps away, he observed me with the same annoying calm.

"It took you a minute," he replied, seemingly amused, as if I had simply overslept rather than being drugged.

Adrenaline rushed. I tugged hard on the straps, then tried the other way, my pulse beating as I summoned my speed. But nothing arrived. There's no heat in my veins. There is no strength rushing my limbs. Nothing except nothingness.

Panic smacked the edge of my chest. No, this is not possible.

"What... did you do to me?" I screamed, my voice raspy.

He tilted his head and put his hands behind his back, as if it were just another day at work. "Your vampirism...is extraordinary. A gift I gave you." His smile grew nasty. "However, it was broken. Incomplete. You always felt that made you powerful and unstoppable.

"You're lying."

"You can feel it already, can't you?" He moved closer, his voice low and keen as a scalpel. "Your veins are empty. The speed, strength, and healing are all gone because I infected you with something I'd been developing for years. A virus that is specifically designed for you. It reduces your blood's appetite. Makes you mortal."

I pulled harder against the chains, wrath bubbling beneath my skin, but nothing. My body would not obey me.

"Bastard." My voice broke as I cut myself short, breathing heavily.
His face softened for a fraction of a second, which nearly hurt more than anything. "Unfortunately, it doesn't last forever, for now."

I blinked hard, trying to clear the fuzz in my thoughts.
"How... how are you alive?"

A little sneer pulled at his lips. "Alive? Oh, my little Anastasia... I was not supposed to die."

"Myths have interested me since I was a child. Vampires were monsters that could live forever, stronger, quicker, and untouchable. I studied them, seeking every legend and piece of history. And then I met your mother."

I froze. 

"I fooled her easily. She was lovely and sweet, and she trusted me when I promised her love. However, I just wanted to do an experiment. I imagined that if I had a kid with her and her blood included traces of the stories I researched, that child would be born already changed. Already perfect."

"And then you were born." His voice was dark, "You were a human. Useless. A failure."

He straightened and paced slowly, hands clasped behind his back like a professor giving a lecture.

"But Hydra gave me purpose. They offered me resources. They extend my life beyond the years that my body should have had. And with their assistance, I learnt. I experimented. I created what nature refused to give me. Eventually, you became precisely what I desired. My masterpiece."

I shook my head, shock and rage filling me at once.
"You're insane."

He began preparing something on a nearby steel tray, using syringes, vials, and metal implements that clinked together like torture instruments. The strong chemical odor reached my nose, making my stomach lurch.

"What are you doing? What do you want from me?"

He did not glance at me right away. He put a syringe up to the light, flicked it with his finger, and saw the liquid dance within. His peace made my skin crawl.

"I've been watching you for years, Anastasia." He spoke quietly, as if he were admitting a secret. "At first, I believed you had died. After everything in Romania, I feared I had missed my chance. But then..." He eventually turned, his eyes gleaming in the little light. "Then I saw you. Strong. Alive. More than living, you became all I hoped for."

"You've been stalking me?"

"Following," he said effortlessly. "Observing. Waiting for the right moment. You survived without me. You got stronger without me. But that simply made me realize something: I hadn't finished. There is more to learn. There is more to create."

He carefully placed the syringe on the plate,
"I need you. You are the key to everything."

I gave a short, bitter laugh. "What? Do you think I'll help you? After all you've done?" I yanked hard on the chains, my wrists throbbing. "I would rather die."

His expression did not even change. If anything, his lips formed a faint, frightening smile.
"Death does not fear me, Anastasia. And soon, it won't scare you."

He picked up a small container, the glass catching the dim light, and a thick red drop clung to the inside.

"I need your blood," he said, almost lovingly. "Your vampiric DNA is combined with a strain I created. Hydra granted me access to things most people cannot imagine, such as mutant serums and alien samples. I've spent decades perfecting it. With you and your blood, I can end it."

I spit at the ground between us, my eyes burning holes in him. "I will never give it to you."

He grinned, but it was not pleasant. It was patient. Calculated.

"Well....let's see..."

The old television in the lab's corner started up with a dull hum. Electricity swirled across the screen before the image became sharper.

The Avengers.

The television channel was live, and I could see Steve's shield bounce off walls, Natasha throwing soldiers to the ground with deadly precision, and Sam flying through smoke. He then pressed a button, causing the image to change.

Wanda.

The camera focused on her through some exterior tracking, her red magic flowing as she slammed Hydra soldiers against walls. Her expression was pinched yet aggressive, and strands of her hair fell loose as she fought.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" My father mumbled. His voice was gentle and admiring. "I knew who she was to you as I saw how you were looking at her. The one who keeps you human."

Every nerve in my body became electric. "Touch her," I hissed, "and I'll kill you. Not fast. Not clean."I will rip you apart in ways you can't even imagine."

He laughed.

"Such fire," he said, smiling as if I had just confirmed something for him. "That's how I knew. You see, Anastasia, she is your weakness. And I don’t need to lay a finger on her… unless you make me."

He moved closer to the screen, pointing with a gloved finger. "This entire building," he added, tapping the metal walls, "is full of bombs."

He pressed a little device in his hand, and the screen divided into graphs, with the entire base lighted up in red from foundation to ceiling. Each pulse is marked with bombs.

"…and they all die."

The camera focused back on Wanda.

"You're lying," I said softly, but my tone betrayed me.

He inclined his head, almost sympathetically. "Am I? Anastasia, look at the monitors. Feel the shaking on the floor. Hydra does not play pretend."

"What do you want?" I murmured,

"I want everything you are," he interrupted me, edging closer again, his voice fierce. "Your blood. Your DNA. I want it all. And in return..." He returned his attention to Wanda after making a gesture to the screen. "I let them live. I let her live."

For a long time, I just stared at the screen—at Wanda's face, at the red pulsing graphic of the bombs.

There was no choice. There was no choice: it was either them or me.

"Fine," I responded, coldly and calmly. "Take it."

But before he could smirk proudly, I leaned forward as far as the handcuffs allowed and spat directly into his face.

He froze. He slowly wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, a sneer twisting up. "Still my daughter," he said bitterly. "Still with bite."

Then he turned away and prepared his tools. Metal clinked on the glass.

I clinched my fists, every muscle begging to be free, but the virus he'd injected into me earlier had weakened my flexibility, chaining my body as efficiently as the restraints.

The needle slipped into my arm. As he drew my blood, cold fire spread throughout my veins. I clinched my teeth and refused to give him the satisfaction of a scream.

But then - a flicker.
The yearning grew deep within. My vampirism is slow, weak, but moving.

He does not know.

I forced myself to breathe slowly, as if nothing was happening. Allow him to take what he wanted, and let him believe I was breaking down. As he filled each vial, my vision glazed and my body weakened. However, I could feel the infection burning away. Expiring. My strength is slowly returning.

Time. I only needed time.

He leaned up close, his breath ghosting across my ear as the final drop filled the tube. "My sweet child," he whispered softly, "you are such a fool. Did you actually believe you were able to survive this? When you are free, you will try to kill me. That is who you are. And I..."

He held up the detonator. He put his thumb against the trigger.

"can’t allow that."

The red lights on the monitor flared brighter. The countdown began.

Something inside of me broke. A wave of rage, hunger, and grief shattered the weakness.

"Motherfucker,"

With an angry scream, I ripped at the chains. Metal shrieked and bolts snapped. My bones broke under the force, but they healed just as swiftly. One arm is free, followed by the other. My legs relaxed, and before he knew it, I was on him.

I slammed him to the floor. The needle smashed against the tiles. My fists hit his face repeatedly, spraying warm blood across my skin.

He attempted to fight back and reach the detonator, but I dug my fangs deep into his throat. He shouted once, short and harsh, before gurgling as I ripped away.

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

Hands exploded into his chest, fingers wrapping around the throbbing organ. I ripped his heart out in a spray of blood, clutching it violently in my fist as his body fell limp.

For a brief period, there was silence. Only my raspy breaths. The alarms are still shrieking, and the bombs are still ticking.

I collapsed on my knees. My eyesight blurred, and blood dripped down my chin. My body was recovering, but inexplicably slowly. Too weak.

I slipped across the floor, clawed into his pocket, and pulled out the stolen comms. My fingers shook when I pressed the button.

Static hissed. Then - voices.

"Anastasia?!" Natasha's voice is shrill and desperate. "Where the hell are you?!"

A weak smile pulled on my bloody lips. Even now, she sounded ready to kick my ass. "Natasha, listen. There is no time. The building is bomb-rigged. You all need to go out. Now."

Her voice broke. "Net! Do not do this. Tell me where you are. Gde ty?"

I gasped, choking on copper, but pressed on. "Nat. Spasibo. For everything. For making me feel like I mattered. I felt like more than just a monster. Ya, budu skuchat'... I will miss you guys."

"Pozhaluysta! Do not say goodbye!" She yelled, and I could hear tears in her voice. "You're not finished, do you hear me? We will find you. Just hang on!"

Steve's voice cut in, "Listen to me, Anastasia. Stay awake. Keep talking. We are going to find you. Simply tell us what you see. Give me anything."

My head fell to the side. My eyesight blurred, the room spun, and alarms sounded in the distance. "Captain… always so… serious…" I let out a thin laugh, half choking. "You are too late. He had planned everything. Everything I did was just his game. And now...it's checkmate."

"Don't you dare give up," Steve said, his voice becoming more urgent. "You are one of us. We do not leave anyone behind - do you understand?"

My chest ached. My body was weakening.

Then Wanda's voice broke through the comms.

"Anastasia?"

The world stood still for me. Even in the midst of chaos, her voice held me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it.

"I'm here," I whispered.

"Don't you leave me," she cried, her Sokovian accent laden with pain. "Just tell me where you are and we'll come. Please, I swear, we will arrive. Do not leave me like this."

"Then don't let it end," she said softly, breaking. "Stay with me."

I pushed my forehead on the cold floor, her speech breaking my heart. "I wish I had more time. with you."

Natasha's voice returned, fierce across the phone, switching to Russian, "Derzhis! Ty sil’naya! Ty vse smozhesh’!" (Hold on! You’re strong! You can do anything!)

Steve is now shouting. "Tell us your location, dammit!"

I laughed softly, a cracked sound. "Always a soldier... You have 10 minutes, get out now!"

My vision's edges got black. My hand slipped on the comm, and my strength was nearly gone. I knew this was it. My final words.

My voice cracked softly but slowly in Romanian. "…Te iubesc, Wanda....." (I love you, Wanda.)

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

Darkness.

At first, that was all there was. A heavy, choking black pressed on my eyes, wrapped around my chest, and drew me deeper and deeper.

I thought this was it. That I was gone. That my final words had already been spoken, transported via a broken comms to silence. However, there is a sense of warmth.

Magic,

It curled about me, delving into the breaks of my broken body and bringing me out of the cold. My eyelashes fluttered, but all I could see were fragments - blurry streaks of red light, glimmers of things bending, warping, and collapsing on themselves.

A muffled voice. A sob.

Then - arms. Stronger than I imagined, hugging me against a chest trembling with fear and rage. My head tilted just enough, and in the blur, I caught a glimpse of emerald eyes soaked with tears.

Wanda.

I wanted to reach for her. Tell her again. But my body didn't listen, and my voice was gone.

Then the world went black again...

 

Notes:

𝚳𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬! 𝚨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝛐𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝛐 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫! 𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝛐𝐥𝛐𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝛐𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐕𝐢𝛐𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐕𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐕𝐞 𝛐𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝛐 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐈'𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝛐 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝛐 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝛐𝐫𝐦 𝐲𝛐𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝛐𝛐𝐥 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝛐𝐬𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝛐𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐬, 𝛐𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤, 𝐩𝛐𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝛐𝐫𝐞... 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝛐𝐟 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝛐𝐫
𝐃𝛐𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝛐𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝛐 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐕𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝛐𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐕𝛐𝐭𝐞, 𝛐𝐫 𝐤𝐮𝐝𝛐𝐬.
𝐋𝛐𝐕𝐞 𝐮𝐮𝐮
𝐘𝛐𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝛐𝐫. ♥

Chapter 10: 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒

When my senses eventually came back, it felt like I was dragging myself through water. My eyes were heavy, my chest ached with each short breath, and for a few seconds, I wondered if I was still alive. The room seemed too silent, too clean, with only the faint beeping of monitors connecting me to reality.

I shifted slightly, trembling as the stinging pain surged through my ribs. That's when I realized it.

A warm feeling.

I blinked, turned my head slowly, and there she was. Wanda.

She sank sideways in the uncomfortable-looking chair near my bed, her cheek pressing into our joined hands. My hand. Her fingers were so securely wrapped around mine that it was almost as if she was frightened of letting go and losing me. Strands of her hair fell across her face, and dark circles formed around her eyes. She looked tired. But she was here.

"...Wanda,"

Her eyelashes swung, then her eyes sprang open, and she just stared at me, disbelief, hope, and fear all clashing in her face.

"Anastasia?"

I tried to smile, but it came out weak and shaky. "Hey... Wands."

The chair crashed to the floor as she stood up. She held both of my hands now, as if she were making sure that I was real. Her breath held, and I watched tears rise up in her eyes before spilling over.

"You-you stopped answering, you - we thought..." Her voice cracked. She bowed her head and pressed her face on the back of my hand, her shoulders trembling.

My throat clenched terribly. I hated seeing her like this. I despised being the reason. "I'm...still here. Guess it's gonna take more than that... to get rid of me."

She let out a half-laugh, half-sob, wiping her cheeks with the bottom of her palm while refusing to let me go. "You can't make a joke about this. You scared me. You scared all of us. But mostly...me."

The silence between us was deep but not uncomfortable. I glanced at her, at the way her lips trembled and how she held me as if I were her only support.

"I apologize," I muttered. "Sorry for scaring you. For everything."

"Don't. Don't you dare apologize for surviving."

She was staring at me, as if she didn't know whether to grin or cry. Finally, in a voice that almost broke, she whispered:

"You can never do that again. Do you hear me?"

I turned my head toward her and forced a tiny smirk. "What, nearly die?"

Her jaw clenched, and before I could respond with another poor joke, she drew closer, her emerald eyes hitting mine with a passion that made my chest hurt more than my wounds.

"No. You don't understand," she responded, "Promise me that you'll never leave me. Not like that. Not without saying goodbye."

"Wanda..." My voice cracked, and I hated how weak it sounded. But staring at her, all I could do was nod. "I promise. As long as I have the choice, I will stay. I am not leaving you."

Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes for a while, pulling our hands closer together as if she wished to fuse them. "Good,"

The moment was interrupted as the door slid open.

The sudden explosion of light and voices caused me to shiver. Wanda straightened immediately but did not let go of me. A rush of footsteps and chatter flooded in, with Natasha, Steve, Tony, Sam, and even Vision stooping slightly to clear the picture.
"FRIDAY told us," Tony stated, his usual bluster tempered by relief. "Sleeping Beauty finally decided to wake up."

"Thought we'd lost you," Sam said with his grin way too big to be casual.

Natasha didn't say anything at first; she strolled over to the opposite side of my bed, arms crossed, her eyes gentle in a way that only I could recognize. She bent down, whispering in Russian, "Слaва Богу, ты жива" (Thank God, you're alive).

I wanted to laugh, cry, and pass out at the same time.

Steve came closer, smiling weakly. "You gave us quite the scare, Anastasia."

When I opened my mouth, the first words that came out were not what they expected. "Have you found the body? Next to me?"

"I..." I swallowed the words lingering on my tongue. "There is something I need to tell you. About him. About..."

But Tony raised his hand, extraordinarily gently. "You don't have to. We know."

I blinked, confused. "How...?"

Natasha lowered her gaze and spoke softly. "Your comms never went off. We heard everything."

My breath caught. "Everything?"

Tony nodded. "Every. Single. Word. We couldn't cut the signal, so FRIDAY taped everything. We were listening while we tried to reach you." His typical cynicism was gone, and his eyes were dead serious. "So, yes. We know exactly what he did. This is what he wanted."

"So I suppose I'm not the only one with a slightly insane family, right?"

Steve took a step closer to the bed, putting his arms across his chest.

"Anastasia... After everything you've done and risked for us, we'd like you to join us."

For a time, I just blinked at him. Then I couldn't stop myself from laughing. It was hoarse and cracking, but it was honest. "Wait. What? Is this Captain Robot's attempt at a joke? Because-"

"I'm not joking," he said firmly, his blue eyes fixed on me. "We meant it. You have proven yourself more than once, and-"

I flung my head back against the pillow and groaned. "Oh, come on. Me? A superhero? I don't fit in with your flashy outfits and lectures about freedom. I don't even work out in the morning without swearing in at least three languages."

Sam chuckled in the corner. "That's exactly why we need you. You would make it interesting."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could launch another snarky complaint, I attracted Wanda's attention. She hadn't said anything yet, but her eyes were shining, gentle and eager, cutting through every explanation I could come up with.

The room suddenly felt smaller and quieter, as if it were just the two of us.

I let out a deep sigh and shifted uncomfortably in my hospital sheets. "Look, I am not an Avenger. I don't want my face on every news station, and I don't want some kid asking for an autograph when I can't even hold my cool at Starbucks."

Natasha smirked slightly. "You'd hate it less than you think."

"Yes, well, maybe. But!" I paused, staring at Wanda again. She was still watching me, her lips pushed together as if she were afraid to speak or push me.

Oh, I can't say no to that pretty face.

"Fine," I mumbled, shaking my head. "I'll help. Missions, issues, whatever trouble you can get yourself into. I will be there. But don't call me the Avenger. I do not wear logos."

Wanda's lips twisted into a tiny smile, and I think I felt her squeeze my palm closer.

Steve gave me a nod, looking serious yet supportive. "That is plenty for us. Welcome aboard."

I scoffed and leaned back into my pillow. "Great. Exactly what I needed. A team of maniacs to babysit me."

Tony clapped his hands once. "Perfect, she already has the sarcasm down. She will fit right in."

 

 

Six Months Later...

Half a year.

That's how long it has been since Natasha dragged me back into her chaotic family.

It's ridiculous. I don't belong in a glass skyscraper full of superheroes. Not here, where Stark blasts AC/DC at 4 a.m. because "inspiration struck," and Rogers insists I "fight fair." Fair. As if wars were ever fair.

Life here follows a weird pace. Training with Steve and mocking his talks. Natasha is eyeing me as if she knows what I'm thinking, which she most likely does. Thor once offered me wine after a mission, and a vision... Vision has unexpectedly become my friend. He treats me like myself. We play chess at 2 a.m., and he tells me things no one else would dare to. I like how I smile more when Wanda is around. I advised him to mind his own business. He smiled anyhow.

Then there's her.

Wanda Maximoff.

The witch's hands flame like fire, and her eyes ruin me every time they find mine. She's softer now, but stronger too. After six months of missions and late nights, she sat next to me on the couch with tea and complained about sitcom reruns. And I'm crushed. She has no idea what she does to me when she falls asleep on my shoulder, when she laughs at something I say, or when her hand brushes mine for just a second too long.

The pencil had slid over the paper before I realized I was drawing her again.

Her hair came loose in this one, wild and messy. Her mouth tilted almost too precisely, with lips parted just enough to make me think of things I shouldn't. My fingers paused, lingering at the contour of her throat, as if the mere memory of her pulse could set me on fire.

Pathetic.

After a century of violence and struggle, the thought of a girl's smile breaks my heart. By the way she says my name.

As I pressed harder, the colored pencil smudged, coloring the hollow of her collarbone, just as her shirt dropped too low, showing more than she realized. I swallowed, annoyed with myself. This was not meant to be a daydream. It was only a sketch.

"Fascinating," a gentle voice said behind me.

I startled, closing the book so quickly that the pencil snapped in my palm. "Bloody hell - Vision!" I turned around, scowling. "Do you knock, or do you just float creepily through walls?"

He tilted his head, looked totally neutral, but I swear I saw a glint of pleasure in his eye. "I was passing through. You seemed focused."

"Focused?  I was sketching. That is all."

"Sketching Wanda," he corrected softly.

"You didn't see anything."

His lips curled only slightly. "For the record, I saw a lot. Your attention to detail is outstanding."

"Vision," I growled, reaching my hand toward him. "One more word and I'll feed you to Stark's coffee machine."

He floated closer anyhow, unperturbed. "You hide your emotions very well, but you spend hours drawing her in pencil. Curious."

I grumbled and dragged a palm down my face. "Gods, you sound like a therapist."

"Possibly," he responded calmly, "but a good one. Anastasia, do you really feel you can keep this hidden forever? From her?"

"It's just a drawing," I explained.

But Vision looked at me and began recording all the things that made it seem as if I was madly in love with her.

"OKAY? "Stop, I know enough."

I grumbled and ran my hand through my hair while still holding the sketchbook. Vision tilted his head slightly and stood near the edge of my bed.

"You're unusually distracted today," he said calmly as always, though I think there was a tinge of laughter disguised in his perfect monotone.

"I am not distracted," I snapped, waving my sketchbook lazily. "I am... fully... observing involved in... uh, life drawing studies."

"Life drawing studies of Wanda, yes," he stated bluntly, moving closer.

I scowled at him before theatrically falling back into bed. "Vision, if you breathe one more word about her, I will-"

"You will feed me to the coffee machine," he finished for me, patiently. "I recall."

I narrowed my eyes. "Vision, you have been officially banned from my sight."

"Understood," he murmured, raising a single brow and moving aside with measured grace. "I shall leave."

"Good," I mumbled, pushing him toward the door with a bit too much force. "Stay out! Don't peek, don't hover, don't - ugh, whatever you're doing!"

The door snapped shut, and I walked toward my closet, already picturing the comfort of that hoodie wrapped around me. But the image that faced me made my stomach sink.

It was not there.

My fingers ripped through clothes, jackets, and everything in sight. My favorite hoodie has disappeared.

"No, No, no, no, no!" I yelled, flinging clothes to the floor. "This is ridiculous! Where is it?! I swear to god, WHERE IS IT?!?"

I cracked open drawers, searched the bottom of my bed, rifled through the laundry basket, and even pushed aside Tony's experimental gadgets in frustration.

The panic grew, turning into anger. And, frankly, I didn't care that I was hardly dressed - my bra and some old sweatpants were the only things keeping things from being entirely crazy. My hair was messed up, my face flushed.

I stormed out of my room like a tornado and entered the living room.

"THIS IS RIDICULOUS!" I yelled, throwing my arms wide in complete frustration. "I CANNOT FIND MY HOODIE!"

The team froze in the middle of an activity. Thor's hammer clattered to the floor, Sam nearly choked on his coffee, and Tony blinked in surprise at the Hulk-sized fury of a half-dressed woman in the living room. Natasha leaned casually against the wall, but her smirk belied her amusement completely.

And then my sight shifted to Wanda.

She was curled up on the couch, knees drawn up to her chest, hands fumbling uncomfortably in her lap. Her cheeks were the brightest shade of pink I'd ever seen on her, and she dodged my stare like a laser.

"I have tolerated your little pranks," I said, pointing my finger at the team one by one, "the disappearing scarf, the vanishing t-shirt... but this?" I shook my head, my hair falling in my face. "It's personal. This is war!"

Wanda's blush deepened. Her fingers twisted together in her lap, as if she were attempting to squeeze into the couch pillows. She would not even look at me.

"I mean, truly, we are adults here - or at least some of us are. You can't simply steal stuff from me like this. This is my clothes, my comfort, my - my hoodie, people!"

Tony raises his hands innocently. "Okay, so we weren't involved in this one. Promise."

"Oh, really?" I grumbled and narrowed my eyes. "And I'm expected to believe that, right? No, no. I won't fall for this again."

Natasha hid a giggle behind her palm, as if she was trying to avoid saying something that would make the situation worse. Sam smiled broadly, but Thor appeared confused.

And Wanda? She was a mixture of shame and cuteness. Her whole body shouted, "I didn't do it, but if you think I did, I am dying inside."

I breathed sharply, looking around the room. "Do you know what? Forget it. I am done with all of you. This is ridiculous!" I twisted on my heel and stomped back to my room, leaving a path of confusion and nerves frayed behind me.

 

Meanwhile... (3.POV)

Silence fell awkwardly before Natasha's lips curled into a knowing smile.

"So.." she said slowly, her tone low and thoughtful, "When are you planning to give it back to her? " Natasha tilted her head.

Wanda tensed instantly, her face a revealing shade of red. She brought her knees closer together, as if trying to protect herself. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," she answered hastily, her Sokovian accent harder under the weight of anxiety.

But Natasha simply smirked and moved closer to the couch, her boots whispering on the floor like a hunter surrounding prey. "Don't you?"

Wanda's emerald eyes fluttered up. Her fingers twitched in her lap, and a little spark of red crackled at her fingertips before she tightened her fists to put it out.

"I did nothing," Wanda mumbled, shaking her head. "I have not taken anything. I have not-"

Natasha crouched alongside her, her voice down to a near whisper. "Then why, дoрогая моя (my dear), do you blush as if you have been caught red-handed?"

"I don't-"

The spy's smile widened, but her eyes softened. "Of course," Natasha said easily, rising to her full height, her shadow lengthy on the pale floor. "But you know, I'm pretty sure that if you asked her, she would give them to you right away."

Wanda turned quickly. "I said-I do not know what you mean."

"Fine. Forget it. Let's talk about the mission instead."

She fixed her jacket, her tone shifting from playful sarcasm to bitter precision. "The briefing is in an hour."

With that, she hurried away, her footsteps fading into the distance, leaving Wanda blushing and flushed in the privacy of her own thoughts.

 

Notes:

𝑯𝒆𝒚𝒚𝒚𝒚, 𝒔𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓! 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒕, 𝑰 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔, 𝒘𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕?
𝑨𝒍𝒔𝒐, 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒘𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝑾𝒂𝒓 𝒆𝒓𝒂, 𝒔𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 :)
𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝑰'𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒅𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒆 ♥

Chapter 11: 𝐿𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓈 & 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈

Bucharest Romania

The smoke in the club flowed like wild thoughts. Romania had always smelt the same to me: wet ground, cold stone, and a subtle tang of blood if you knew where to look for it. It wrapped about me as I sat in the corner booth.

My glass stayed untouched, its red substance sparkled in the faint light. Wine, not blood - I wasn't in the mood to scare humans tonight. My fingertips touched the edge lazily as the music pumped, a modern beat that clashed with the older rhythms deep in my bones. I was waiting.

She arrived late, of course. Always late.

"Anastasia?"

I lifted my head, and there she was: Roxanna. Tall, dark hair fell over her shoulders. My "niece" stood in front of me. She was not raised in a castle, nor was she a vampire like me.

"You took your time," I said quietly as she sank into the seat across from me. My lips trembled, forming a ghostly smile. "Punctuality, Roxanna, is a lost art."

She giggled quietly and shook her head. "You sound exactly like an old book."

"Be careful," I said, "Some would take that as an insult."

Her grin only became wider.

Even though years had passed, we spoke as if we were old friends. I asked her about her studies, the place she now lived in, and the petty pleasures she collected as if they were rare gems - books, late-night cafes, art. She leaned in, hands moving animatedly as she told me stories.

With one arm resting over the top as though she owned the place. That's how she was always. Out of her bag, a sketchbook with torn edges from too many nights of streaking ink on paper was visible.

She replied quickly, "I've seen that look before. You want something."

I raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"

"Absolutely. That face, the one that says I'll pretend to be mysterious, but really I'm about to ask you for a favor face." She tapped her fingernails on the table with a sly smile. "All right? Old bat, shoot."

I looked at her for a long time without being impressed, but a tiny gesture in the corner of my mouth told me otherwise. "Fine. I need you to design a dress."

"For you?"

I gave a headshake. "No. For... someone else."

The lit candle between me almost fell as Roxanna leaned forward so quickly. "Eeeyyy, this is interesting now. Finally, my grumpy old aunt is considering someone besides herself. Please let me know if she is tall, short, or anything. Will I be able to meet her?"

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "You're insufferable."

Sing-song, she shot back, "And you are blushing."

"I'm not."

"You are." She cocked her head, looking at me, "God, it's time, Anastasia. You've been this sad poem wandering the world for ages, and now you're telling me that you've found someone? That's... beautiful."

I looked down at my unfinished wine and let out a slow exhale. "Indeed, at least one of us succeeded in this."

Knowingly, she curled her lips. "Who said you were the only one?"

I paused at that. My eyes jerked up, and I spoke loudly. "WHAT?"

Her smile was proud and gentle. "I'm in a relationship. His name is James, and we first met last year. Kind but a little awkward. In his own way."

I couldn't think of anything to say for the first time in a long time. I felt a wave of shock, which was soon followed by pride. There was a tightness in my chest that nearly felt like warmth but little disappointment.

"But he's a man?!?" I critiqued the small crack in my voice. "And you're in love."

Her cheeks flushed faintly.  "I think so."

After a few moments of silence, I leaned back.  "Fine, I'll have to meet JaMeS, and if he turns out to be an ass..."

She joked, "You will kill him?"

My lips curled into a wicked smile. "Exactly."

Roxanna swirled the last of her drink. "Maybe one day, you'll meet him."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why do I hear a but hidden in your tone?"

She flashed me a faint, crooked smile. "Because...it is complicated."

I bent my head, observing her with that old instinct that never let me down. "Roxanna, don't tell me he's a criminal."

"I'm not lying," she swiftly said, shaking her head. "I'm just protecting him."

"Oh my god..."

"So, you're the terrible person with fangs and a history of tearing guys apart. Maybe it's better that he hasn't met you yet."

I laughed dryly. "A pathetic excuse. But it's fine. I will let your man live another day in anonymity."

"By the way..." she laughed. "Can you explain why you were spotted with the Avengers of all people? Do you know how many images there are online of you gazing in the background like a gothic bodyguard?"

I froze in the middle of a sip, the wine burning down my throat. "...You saw it?"

Her laughter was uncontrolled and evil. "Did you see it? Anastasia, you are nearly an icon! One of you is standing behind Captain America, looking like you're about to rip out his throat."

"Oh lord."

Roxanna grinned wider and leaned forward. "Is it true, then? You really live with them? Train with them? Do you share a bathroom with Iron Man now?"

"Enough." I quickly cut her off, although my tone revealed the slightest hint of embarrassment. "I tolerate them. Barely. That is all."

"Sure," she joked.

Roxanna had been drawing casually in the empty space of her sketchbook when she looked up with a wicked grin. "So... tell me about her."

I blinked. "About who?"

She rolled her eyes. "Do not play dumb with me. Your woman. The person you want this beautiful dress for."

"She is not my woman," I answered directly despite how cruel the words felt on my lips. "We are not even... dating, as you call it."

Roxanna's grimace became kinder. "But?"

I took a deep, steady breath before allowing myself to speak. "But she's my soulmate. My soul knew hers as if it had waited a century only to be destroyed the moment I laid eyes on her. When she looks at me, I forget about the world. When she speaks, I remember everything. Each word. Even when she's not around, she haunts me in my dreams, thoughts."

Roxanna's lips parted, and her mocking turned to amazement. "God, you're such a lesbian."

I shook my head, "I'd like to ask her properly, like to go on a date with me, I can't just ask her to date me. I thought about buying her a dress because she deserves to look beautiful. Something deserving of her. Something that tells her what I am unable to express openly. Not yet, I guess."

The pub became silent.

A heavy, unexpected silence rippled through the air, leaving only the quiet drone of the television over the bar. My eyes widened in sync with the rest of the audience.

On screen, smoke and flames overtook the streets of Lagos. Screams. The camera shook as soldiers pulled survivors past blood ground.

And then - her. Wanda. Her face was pale, shivering, and filled with terror as the news reporters said the word responsible.

Roxanna mumbled, "What the hell..." beside me. However, her words were drowned out by the angry muttering.

I was already moving. The chair creaked back, and my fingers reached inside my coat for bills. I tossed the pieces of paper on the table without counting. "Roxanna." My voice was low and urgent. "Be safe. I'll call you..."

"Ana, wait a minute."

But I was gone before her hand could reach for mine, the cold night air tearing across my face as I rushed from the club and vanished into the streets...

 

 

By the time New York's skyscrapers appeared on the horizon, night had taken over the city.

The Tower stood tall above me, cold and dazzling, a towering structure of glass and steel. I ripped through its doors like a storm. The hallways were silent and dark. My boots hit the floor of the medbay before I could think.

The smell of blood and antiseptic hit me first, followed by Natasha, who was half-seated on one of the beds with her arm tied in fresh bandages.

"Anastasia,"

"What happened?"

Natasha breathed, the lines of tiredness cutting deep into her cheeks. "Lagos. The mission went badly. Rumlow detonated himself. Wanda tried to control the explosion." Her gaze sank, and her voice was low. "She saved Steve. But..."

I did not need her to finish. The image of the explosion from the news was still imprinted on my mind.

"She blames herself." Steve's voice came from the corner, softer than I had ever heard it. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and the shadows covered much of his features. "She does not want to speak to anyone. Not me or Natasha. Not even vision."

"She shouldn't be alone," I murmured.

Steve's blue gaze shifted to mine, steady but grim. "She will not allow anyone in right now. She...locked herself away."

My jaw had set. My blood's thirst called to me, and the evil one in me clawed at every barrier between us. But I swallowed it and forced a cool tone. "Then I will wait outside her door until she does."

Natasha gave me a tired, knowing look with one corner of her mouth twitching despite the weight in the air. "Try to avoid the news."

The corridor outside of her room was silent, except for the gentle hum of the Tower's electronics. I stood before her door, and the steel barrier between us felt as heavy as stone.

Then I raised my hand to knock. Once. Twice.

Nothing.

I waited while straining my ears. The silence wasn't empty. Beneath that, I noticed the fragile rhythm of breath. Then came a faint sob.

"Wanda," I whispered quietly, "It's me. Anastasia. Open the door, Draga Mea."

Still, she did not respond. Fine. If she didn't open it herself, I'd do what was necessary.

"FRIDAY," I yelled loudly in the quiet hall. "Unlock this door."

The AI paused, "Ms. Dimitrescu, Ms. Maximoff specifically requested to-"

"That was a request made in sadness," I said harshly. "Do it. Now." Lord, I hate this AI.

A pause, followed by the slight click of machinery as the lock was unlocked. I pushed open the door.

The room was in chaos, with curtains ripped from their strings, glass sparkling on the floor, and furniture thrown as if ripped apart.

Wanda sat in the center of the collapse.

She was curled on the side of the bed, her eyes red, and her hands trembling as she held the remote. The television across from her played the news, her name and face replayed over and over beneath the poison of headlines. "Witch of Sokovia. Terrorist. Murderer."

The screen's light showered her in cold blue, making her appear like a ghost in her own tragedy. "Oh, Wanda..."

Her gaze shifted to me as soon as I crossed the doorway. Scarlet's red eyes sparkled, and her fingers twitched.

"Anastasia! No - get away," Wanda shouted. She switched to Sokovian, the words spilling like venom: "Odiđi! Ostavite me na miru!" (Leave me alone.)

I didn't move. She stood suddenly from the bed, her hands shaking as she attempted to gather the strength to push me back. A wave of red broke through the air, breaking another light bulb and spreading pieces across the floor.

Her breath came quickly and awkwardly. "Don't you understand? I killed them! I killed all of them," Her voice broke. "I can't - I can't stop it! I can't control myself!"

The power crashed into my chest, like a storm. However, I refused to give in. My feet became solidly attached to the ground. I stood still, the wall she needed me to be, allowing the power to wash over me until it broke.

"Go!" she yelled again, her fists weakly slapping me. "Why won't you just go?!"

I softly grabbed her wrists and lowered them without force, "Because I am not leaving you."

Her body trembled as the battle spilled out of her. Her fists, previously balled up in anger, relaxed till her palms pushed against mine, and then she broke.

A raw, loud sob burst through her chest, and she sank against me. Her face buried into my shoulder, as if she might hide from the world there. Her body shook strongly with each cry, as if the pain was tearing her apart from within.

I threw my arms around her, holding her closer, allowing her to shake and break. My fingers touched the back of her head. "It's okay, let it all out," I muttered softly into her ear. "You didn't kill them. You tried to save them. You cannot save all of them."

Her cries felt muted against my skin. "They hate me. Everyone hates me."

"No, that's not true," I said strongly. "You are a hero."

Her fingers grasped my shirt. "I'm so tired, Ana..."

"I know." I pushed my lips to her temple, "Then rest. Take comfort in me. I'll hold you."

I gently pushed her back to the bed, where she remained pressed against me. She tucked into my side, her tears soaking into my shirt.

At last, her sobbing stopped. The trembling disappeared, and her breath settled into a gentle rhythm on my chest. Her eyelids flickered with tiredness before eventually closing. She slept.

I didn't.

I stayed still as stone, the warmth of her pressing against me, my hand resting on the curve of her back. The hours passed in silence.

Dawn looked pale through the window. The first light reached her cheek, and I carefully pulled a strand of hair away from her face. She did not move. Only then do I get up.

I placed her down on the sheets quietly, pulling the cover over her shoulders. She sighed gently in her sleep and curled up into its warmth. The room was a disaster, with glass, wood, and shattered objects covering the floor. I couldn't leave it this way.

I slowly brought order back to the planet. The drapes were repaired, the broken pieces were cleaned away, and the fallen table was put back together. I moved softly, allowing her to rest, until the room was no longer chaos, but rather a haven.

When everything was finished, I left the room and made my way to the kitchen.

The aroma of coffee hit me first, followed by the subtle hum of technology. Natasha was already there, leaning against the counter with her mug in hand, one eyebrow raised as I walked in.

Tony sat beside her, leaning over the table, his hair a mess and glasses perched low on his nose, scrolling through data on a tablet.

With a groan, Tony laid the iPad down and rubbed his eyes. The wrinkles on his face were deeper this morning.

"It's not good," he said finally, "We have politicians breathing down our necks. Ross is already flying here. There will be a meeting."

Even I found the name cruel. "Ross. A man who believes that hiding his authority behind paper and pens prepares him for the king."

Tony laughed without humor. "You have his number. But he has the public's support right now. Public opinion is aggressive. They want someone to blame, and Wanda's face appears on every TV in the country."

Natasha pushed off the counter and set her empty mug aside. "It will not end with her. Ross wants more than simply someone to blame - he wants control. Of us. Of everything we do."

"And you would let him?"

"No. But it isn't that simple. If we reject, he will turn against us. And the people will believe him."

I leaned on the counter and folded my arms. "We may not need to reject the chain, but rather define how long it should be. If Ross requests terms, we will demand our own."

Natasha's lips curled slightly, "Now you're talking like one of us. Conference room. 9 a.m. Do not be late. Steve wants us all there before noon, when Ross arrives."

I tilted my head. "Noted!"

My steps brought me lightly through the Tower until I found myself again in the kitchen. The cabinets here were clean and full. I took down the ingredients one by one: eggs, bread, a piece of cheese, and a few vegetables.

My hands knew actions from centuries before. I cracked the eggs into a bowl, whisked them until smooth, then mixed in the cheese with a touch of salt and pepper. I touched the cooking surface and it hissed into fire.

Toast came next, dusted with a little honey I found hiding in the corner of a shelf. A few berries from the fridge, neatly put along the side of the plate like diamonds.

I pushed the door open with my shoulder while carefully balancing the plate in my hands. But the sound I heard was not silence.

The screen flickered in the room, with voices saying, "Uncontrolled, dangerous, and innocent lives lost." The same phrases are repeated like knives.

And there she was. Wanda sat cross-legged on the bed, her arms curled over herself, as if to keep the pieces of her together.

"No," I muttered.

Her head lifted in surprise at the sound of my voice, but before she could protest. With a loud crack, the screen went black. Silence returned to the room.

Wanda blinked at the unexpected silence. "Ana--"

I crossed the floor, placed the tray on the nightstand, and then slipped into the bed next to her. My hand met hers.

"You will not let their poison be the first thing you taste this morning," I told her gently.

For a short moment, she focused just on me. Then, slowly, she sighed, her shoulders dropping. "Thank you. Thank you for staying the last night. For this." Her eyes shifted to the plate, where the golden omelet, bread, and berries sparkled like drops of wine. "No one's ever... done that for me."

I let myself have a slight smile. "You deserve far more than this."

Her palm tightened over mine, giving a short sensation of warmth before she pulled away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You make it sound so easy."

"Because it is," I murmured.

"There is something you must know. Today, at nine, we meet with Secretary Ross. He will demand answers... perhaps control over avengers."

Wanda didn't speak at first. She simply nodded, pulling her eyelashes down as if the act of seeing my gaze was too much. Instead, she reached for the plate I'd laid next to her.

She took a hesitant bite of the omelet, and to my surprise, her lips parted just slightly, as if taken away by the flavor.

"It's good," she said.

The corner of my lips twisted up. "I would hope so. I've had a century to perfect it."

She took another bite, then reached for a berry, rolling it between her fingers and placing it against her lips.

I didn't pressure her to eat more, nor did I fill her silence with unnecessary words. I simply stayed with her. When her plate was nearly empty, I stood up to give her water, saying, "Maybe you want to watch some sitcoms?"

 

[Later - 9 a.m., Avengers Conference Room]

Ross stood at the head of the table. He pressed the remote, and the TV behind him lit to life: New York. Washington, D.C. Sokovia. Lagos. City after city, destruction and fire, deaths displayed as trial cases.

"New York. Washington. Sokovia. Lagos." His voice was raspy and prepared. "Four incidents during the last few years. And those are just the highlights."

He described the Avengers as disasters rather than humans.

Ross continued, his gaze never leaving us. "People are afraid. The world is changing, and not everyone loves how. The UN created the Sokovia Accords. The pact says that the Avengers will only step in when a panel of nations deems it necessary. Effective immediately."

Steve leaned forward. "That's not an oversight. That is surrender."

Ross barely blinks. "That's accountability."

Sam snorted from the far side of the table, sitting back in his chair. "Accountability to whom? To politicians who don't get what we do? That is not safer. That is slower."

Tony wiped a hand down his face, already tired. "Look, it's not the Wild West anymore. We can't just go into countries and do what we believe is right. There are consequences. We caused them."

Natasha's arms were crossed. "We saved lives in Lagos."

"The world recognizes heroes who believe they can act across borders. That type of authority makes people nervous. Especially after this."

Vision finally spoke, "Our very strength welcomes a challenge. Conflict creates destruction. Control is not only helpful, but it may be necessary."

Steve looked at him in confusion. "So we give ourselves up? Let someone else tell us when it's 'acceptable' to save lives."

Sam nodded, supporting him. "What happens if they send us somewhere we shouldn't be? Or worse, prevent us from going where we're needed?"

Ross' voice cut across them. "That is the cost of playing by the rules. The alternative is a vigilante free-for-all. And the world's patience is running out."

I eventually let my voice come through, "You dress it up with rules and signs, Secretary, but what you want is submission. You do not want cooperation; you want control."

Ross's eyes greeted mine. "Spare me from drama. You may have lived for centuries, Ms. Dimitrescu, but you are currently sitting at my table. Either sign or stand away."

Steve leaned back with his jaw tight. "We don't trade freedom for security."

Tony slammed the folder shut. "Tell that to the people in the rubble."

The damage was already visible. I could see it Natasha watches and calculates. Sam is angry, and Steve is stubborn. Vision is caught between logic and loyalty. Tony clings to guilt like a lifeline. Wanda stayed silent.

Ross had left them alone with a large packet carrying the Accords, his warning breaking through the silence: "You have till Vienna. Decide which side you are on."

For a moment, no one spoke.

Sam was the first to break the silence. "We cannot sign this. It's not legislation; it's a chain. They will tell us when and where to move. And when we don't? They'll simply lock us down."

Steve nodded, leaning forward. "The safest hands remain our own. We made mistakes, yeah, but we are not giving up our right to pick who we save."

Tony laughed sharply, bitterly. "Don't you see it? We need them to keep us alive. Because the truth is, we don't always know what's best. I do not. Not anymore." He cast a glance at Wanda.

Her shoulders stiffened, but she did not glance up. I could feel her heartbeat fluttering like a bird in a cage.

I finally broke my silence by folding my hands on the table. "Tony is correct about one thing. The world already fears you. If the Accords offer oversight - even a portion of it - they may protect people who would be made villains. And it may buy us some time."

Sam gave me a glance. "So you'd let them chain us up just to look less scary?"

"I've seen what happens when fear has no support. I'd rather bend slightly than see Wanda - or any of us - become the world's monster."

Steven's jaw stiffened. "It's still giving them the keys to decide who deserves saving."

Vision spoke, "Perhaps Anastasia is right. In the search for balance, compromise may not imply surrender. It may be survival."

"Survival," Steve repeated, his voice harsh. "Until they send us someplace to kill. Or ban us from saving any lives at all."

The argument grew heated with Sam bristling, Tony firing back, Natasha watching with her arms crossed, and the peacemaker with steel in her eyes.

Finally, Natasha spoke up, "Enough. We're not resolving this at the table." She stared at me. "The signing is in Vienna. I am the ideal person to negotiate with. And apparently, you."

Several pairs of eyes turned to me. I raised an eyebrow. "Why are you surprised? I studied international law in Paris before many of you were born. I understand the tricks these politicians play - and how their words may bind more tightly than chains."

Sam raised his hands. "Great, now we have a lawyer vampire. Fantastic."

Natasha smirked slightly but didn't argue. Steve moved abruptly from his chair, leaving the folder behind. His look had changed - not wrath or resistance, but grief. "I have to go."

"Steve - " Natasha started.

Nobody stopped him as he walked out. I shot a glance at Wanda. She had not spoken a word. Her eyes were glazed, still focused on the files of sokovian accords.

And I knew, whatever decision we chose in Vienna...It will be difficult times for everyone.

 

 

Notes:

𝑺𝒐, 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔: 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝑾𝒂𝒓 𝒆𝒓𝒂. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓.
𝑨𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒍 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒆, 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑾𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂'𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑺𝒐𝒌𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒂𝒏, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒏, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝑰 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓.

𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒊𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆, 𝒌𝒖𝒅𝒐𝒔 , 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓.
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 ♥

Chapter 12: 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝒻𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒

Vienna

Vienna's streets have always had an old-world elegance, with sidewalks polished by centuries of footsteps and towers standing against a pale sky. Today, however, the city felt tension. Barriers surrounded the square in front of the United Nations building, with cameras and microphones pushed forward like guns. Reporters screamed questions in German, English, and French, resulting in a confused chorus.

Every camera flash burned like sparks in my eyes. People called it progress. To me, it was just a thousand different ways to watch each other burn.

Natasha walked as if the chaos did not exist. She dressed in black with clean lines and quiet elegance, and her sunglasses reflected the crowd of journalists without allowing them in. I moved beside her as a silent shadow, the collar of my coat whispering against the stone stairs.

Under their polite talk, I could hear their hearts beating like battle drums. We paused at the top of the stairs, with security escorting us past. That's when I noticed him.

King T'Chaka. As he greeted delegates, he was charming and controlled, his voice carrying easily. The prince stood alongside him.

Natasha leaned gently toward me, not moving her head. "Careful. That is royalty."

"I know royalty when I see it," I replied, my lips hardly moving. "The kind that wears crowns… and the kind that wears claws."

She hid a smirk and continued walking.

The room smelled like ink, old wood. Flags from every corner of the world hung limp above us, their colors faded in the white light. Reporters had been shut outside, and just power remained in the room.

Natasha and I were sitting among the delegates - representatives from every country that had suffered beneath falling towers and alien invasions. Their eyes met ours the instant we walked in.

King T'Chaka's voice filled the room first, calm yet forceful, thanking the assembly and honoring the dead.

But when his speech came to an end, the debate began.

A delegate from Germany stood up.

"After New York, after Washington, after Sokovia, and now Lagos - how many more cities must suffer before your friends are held accountable?" Her eyes settled like daggers on Natasha before sliding to me.

Natasha leaned closer.
"The Avengers saved millions. There were mistakes made, undoubtedly. But every life we didn't save would have turned to ash if not for us."

A man from France interrupted, raising his hand sharply. "And who decides the balance? You? Stark? Rogers? A group of enhanced individuals acting as gods?"

I turned my head, allowing the silence to last long enough to be uncomfortable.

"People have always feared their gods. They create monuments to them, but then blame them for the fire caused by their torches. The Avengers aren't gods. They're humans; humans make mistakes.

Murmurs spread around the room. An American delegation pressed on.

"The Sokovia Accords are not only an offer. They are necessary. You will operate under United Nations oversight, or not at all. No more selfish actions."

Natasha's expression did not change. "What happens when the United Nations cannot reach an agreement? When lives are on the line as you vote. Should we wait? Do we stand by while the earth burns just because the signs are not right?"

"That is democracy," the German woman snapped.

I let out a cold smile.
"Democracy," I said slowly, "How pathetic."

The room became quiet. Natasha gave me a warning look mixed with amusement, but she didn't interrupt.

"If you are to chain gods and soldiers equally, then at least make the chains comfortable. What you're asking is obedience. But obedience without confidence cracks faster than bone."

The German lady narrowed her eyes. "And what do you propose, Frau Dimitrescu?"

I folded my hands behind my back.

"Conditions," I explained clearly. "Terms that will protect not only the world… but those you now command."

They did not expect me to negotiate. I had them wait a little longer before speaking again.

"The most important thing is transparency. If the Avengers are to be sent by the United Nations, they must be fully aware of the mission's scope - no secrets or half-truths. You can't wield a weapon and hide where it falls."

The French members frowned. "That is not how intelligence works."

"Then it is not how we work," I said calmly.

"Second, safeguards. Should any mission risk the lives of civilians needlessly, my people..." I corrected, looking at Natasha with the slightest smirk. "Our people will have the right to refuse. You cannot expect unquestioning loyalty while ignoring the lives that you promise to protect."

Murmurs have now grown into actual disagreements. Some agreed, but others grumbled. The American delegates shook their heads.

"This isn't a negotiation. You accept the accords or -"

"It is always a negotiation," I interrupted quietly.

King T'Chaka raised his hand. "These requests are not without reason. Perhaps a compromise can be reached."

I made a respectful gesture toward him. He understood.

And third," I said finally, my eyes flicking around the room, pausing where I knew Wanda's name carried heavily on their tongues despite her absence, "any complaints against Avengers members will require evidence. Not a rumor. Not blame based on grief or politics. Evidence. Without that, this pact is just a hook."

The hall was filled with discussion. Some shouted while others scribbled notes. Natasha sat back in her chair, her lips twitching into the smallest of smirks.

"You really know what you're doing," she mumbled.

The room had quieted down. The hum of politics, the endless negotiating, the clash of egos - all became silent as Wakanda's King T'Chaka stood up to speak. The cameras shifted, and the world's eyes were locked on him.

"When stolen vibranium from my country was used to make a weapon of mass destruction," he started calmly, 

T'Chaka continued...

"Those men and women killed in Nigeria were part of a goodwill mission from a country too long in the shadows. We will not, however, let misfortune drive us back. We will fight to improve the world we wish to join. I am grateful to the Avengers for supporting this initiative. Wakanda is proud to extend its hand in peace."

I noticed T'Challa standing nearby, waiting and motionless, his eyes looking out of the window.

Something sharp whispered over my senses, like metal scratching against stone far away, but it broke the silence anyway. Before most could hear T'Challa's voice burst out:

"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!"

The room exploded with a violent, echoing boom. Glass exploded above, sending broken pieces into chaos. Fire rushed into limbs, tearing through fabric and flesh. Reflex guided me then, faster than thought.

I moved without thinking. One arm grabbed Natasha, drawing her into me, and my body curled around her like a shield. The blast slammed into my back, leaving pieces that sliced deep.

Natasha gasped, crushed to the floor. Screams filled the room.

My arms didn't relax until the worst of the noise had passed. Natasha moved slowly, holding herself with one hand, her hair knotted and her face coated with dirt. Her gaze focused on me.

And then my gaze fell upon the smoke.

T'Challa.

He was kneeling, holding his father's body. King T'Chaka's clothes were torn, his chest quiet, and his face marked with the dreadful silence of death.

"No… Baba…!" The cry broke from T'Challa's throat. His hands shook as he grabbed his father's lifeless body, and his voice cracked as he shouted out, "Baba!"

"Natasha!" My voice sliced through the din as I drew myself up. She sat on a collapsed bench, her breath ragged and her fingers gripping her ankle.

"I'm fine-" she said, but her sudden grimace betrayed her.

I swiftly knelt. My fingertips traced the swelling that had already formed around her joint. "Sprained. You cannot walk on this."

Before she had a chance to protest, I put one arm beneath her legs and another around her back, raising her with ease. She let out a shocked cry, half disapproval, half resignation, as I dragged her through the chaos.

Her arm wrapped around my neck for balance, and her face brushed against mine as bodies hurried for the exit. We're too focused on what's happening all around us. 

We rushed out into Vienna's streets, where helicopters shrieked and cops rushed. Fire licked from the smashed windows of the United Nations building.

Reporters rushed forward, cameras flashing, as police attempted to manage the situation. Then the words blasted over every screen.

"Authorities believe the bombing suspect to be James Buchanan Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier."

The blurred still image of Bucky's visage dominated the headlines. Gasps echoed throughout the crowd.

T'Challa rose slowly next to us, his jaw tense and his fists trembling with controlled violence. His voice, when it came, was low but full of terrible promise.
"The bomb killed my father. And I'm going to kill the one who is responsible."

"You didn't have to carry me," she murmured.

"You can't walk," I replied simply.

Her lips twitched. "You make it sound romantic."

I glanced at her, but before I could respond, she leaned in just enough for her smooth, wicked voice to brush against my ear.

"You know Wanda's not going to like this."

I froze in mid-step. "Excuse me?"

"She's going to kill you. Dragging me out of an exploding United Nations building, hugging me all tight like a knight in a horrible fantasy. Very scandalous."

"She will… understand. Also, she's not my girlfriend, so why should she care?" My voice sounded sharper than I intended.

"Oh, sure," she replied, chuckling. "She'll totally understand why I'm leaving lipstick marks on your neck."

My head snapped toward her. "What?"

She only inclined her chin, haughty as ever, while I noticed, too late, that her lips had brushed against my throat during the explosion.

Natasha touched my shoulder, as if to secure her win. "Relax, Ana. I am confident Wanda will believe you when you tell her I just fell on your neck."

Despite the smoke, the confusion, and the sirens howling outside, I felt my composure slipping. "You are insufferable."

The Quinjet landed well later that day, with Vienna still burning in my veins. Natasha leaned on my shoulder more than she would confess, her ankle shackled but not yet healed. I gave her some of my blood so it will heal quickly. By the time we entered the Avengers Compound, the air was filled with angry voices.

Steve's voice sliced through the air like steel.
"It is not him. Bucky would not do this."

Tony snapped back,
"You don't realize that! People have died. The world thinks your friend pulled the trigger and you're just standing there!"

I didn't have to side with either of them. Steve's loyalty was admirable, but foolish. Tony's pragmatism, while brutal, was the shield I needed.

"And let's not forget," Tony said, turning to face Wanda. "She isn't even a US citizen. And they don't like it!"

Steve's anger flared.
"She's just a kid!"

"The kid who put people in the ground in Lagos," Tony said. "Steve, facts matter. We're already in over our heads; now this."

Natasha leaned back, calm but dangerous, her words cutting through the tumult.
"Steve, I understand you trust him, but we cannot ignore the consequences of our actions. We have to protect the people, or the world will decide for us. I am with Tony."

"Control is the only shield left to us," I continued.

Steve clinched his jaw."If you want to play politics when an innocent man is being chased, that's on you. I'm not going to stand by."

And with that, he turned and left, with Sam following. Their footsteps receded down the corridor.

Wanda's chair creaked as she rose. Her eyes flashed passed me, refusing to meet mine, but I could sense the heat of her anger.

"I…I need air," she mumbled.

I took an automatic step closer, my fingers twitching toward her, longing for the connection.

"Wanda..." I began to talk, but she just shouted at me.

"Leave me alone!" cutting me off in mid-sentence.

I opened my mouth again and closed it once again.

"You two," Tony said suddenly, pointing to Vision and me. His eyes were keen and anxious. "Wanda stayed here. Don't leave her alone. She does not leave the tower. Understood?"

"Understood," Vision said calmly, but carefully tilting his head as if looking at the factors in every potential possibility.

"I have to talk to her," I muttered quietly.

Natasha, leaning against the side wall with her arms crossed, gave me a warning look. "Be careful, Anastasia. Let her come to you. She is vulnerable, and she needs to feel in charge right now. Do not push."

I nodded, forcing myself to calm down.

"Wanda..." I said as I was waiting outside her door.

Silence.

Not even the elevators replied. Only the quiet, muffled noise of the tower

Minutes passed - or perhaps seconds - and time began to curve around the borders of my patience. Finally, I heard it: a light shuffle, a delicate step, tentative and uncertain. My body tightened, alert, and every feeling flared.

"I know you're there," I said softly.

The door creaked open. Wanda stood in front of me. I felt the intensity of her anger before I even saw her face.

"Wanda?" I asked carefully, "What is going on?"

"Don't come any closer!" She snapped, her voice shaking but sharp, "Stay away from me!"

I froze and took a short step back. "Calm down, Wands. Talk to me." I tried, but my words hardly reached her.

She pushed herself forward slightly, pointing a shaky finger toward me. "So… you're sleeping with her, huh?!" Her voice crackled with frustration.

"What?!" I hissed and stepped forward, "What are you talking about?"

"You! With Natasha! That is why you are backing him." Her words flew across the room.

I stepped closer, hands clenched. "Wanda, I-"

"Stop! Just stop! You don't understand it! You're playing with me! Pretending to care, pretending to care about me, and fucking other girls behind my back!"

Zašto uvijek biraš nju?! Zar ne vidiš da ja mogu biti bolja?! Ja… ja sam trebala biti jedina! Trebala sam biti tvoja, samo tvoja! Zašto se igraš sa mnom i dopuštaš joj da bude tu? Ja sam trebala biti ta koju voliš, razumiješ li ti to?! Jesam li ti ikada bila dovoljna?! Ja sam trebala biti tvoja, a ti… ti je biraš dok ja stojim ovdje i patim!

( " Why do you always choose her?! Can’t you see that I can be better?! I… I was supposed to be the only one! I was supposed to be yours, only yours! Why are you playing with me and letting her be here? I was supposed to be the one you loved, do you understand that?! Have I ever been enough for you?! I was supposed to be yours, and you… You choose her while I stand here suffering!")

"Wow. And now you're swearing at me in Sokovian? When I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Her chest tightened, and she let out a little, broken sob. "You-you don't understand!"

I ran my hand through my hair, "Exactly!? Ah, Wanda… I do not know what is wrong with you. Why do you even care if I slept with her? Even if I did, which I didn't, how would it affect my opinion of the accords?"

She flinched, her head drooping slightly, as if my words had impacted her harder than she expected

I softened my tone somewhat, trying not to lose my cool. "I'm sorry," I replied, but it seemed hollow to her anger. "It is too much. I had a tough day. I am overwhelmed by everything, including the tower, explosions, and this bullshit. I'm done for tonight. And I'm done with you and this fight before I say something I will regret."

Her hands tapped on the doorframe, she turned her face to the wall, and refused to look at me.

"You do not care! You don't see it! You just... leave me like everyone else!"

I shook my head, my voice lower now, almost bitter. "I am leaving. We'll talk later, when things aren't as sensitive."

With one last glare, I walked away...

 

Notes:

𝑴𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓, 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒕𝒕...... 𝑰 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝑰 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉. 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒏, 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓.
𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒊𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆, 𝒌𝒖𝒅𝒐𝒔 , 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓.
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 ♥

Chapter 13: 𝒜𝒾𝓇𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉

The night was awful.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard her voice.

I couldn't bear the silence of my own room. It crushed down, crushing me, so I surrendered to the darkness. The city was noisy. I moved through it like a shadow. Men who thought they were untouchable. I killed them quickly. Their blood was hot, bitter, and meaningless. No matter how many lives I took, I couldn't stop her scream in my head.

Her voice remains. Wanda. Always Wanda.

When dawn arrived, I was still awake. As I sat at my desk, gripping a pencil between my fingers. I should've slept. Instead, I drew her face multiple times. Disappointed, her lips parted. Her eyes were wide with emotion. I ripped the page to fragments, just to start over like a woman possessed. The bits scattered across the floor like ash.

I knew what I needed to do. An apology spoken would never be enough.

So I did something I hadn't done in decades. I stepped into a florist's shop.
Despite the fact that my thoughts were in confusion, I moved with purpose. I had made a decision. Roses.

As I passed, the city streets hummed, with people's talk mixing into a meaningless murmur. But then I stopped. A small newspaper stand stood at the corner, and I noticed the headline.

"Captain America and Winter Soldier Wanted After Vienna Bombing."

Steve.

The photo taken was blurry yet distinct. Rogers is in handcuffs. Alongside him is Bucky Barnes.

I purchased the newspaper with a few bills. I took off my coat, and the seller was hardly looking at me. As I went, I opened it and read swiftly.

Held in Bucharest.
A bombing is suspected in Vienna.
Dozens have died, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka.

I paused on the sidewalk, the sound of cars swirling around me. My lips squeezed together in a narrow line.

I folded the paper under my arm, finally pushed myself on, until I entered the flower shop.

The smell was overwhelmingly fresh and overly sweet. I almost disliked it. Then I saw them. Roses as deep as blood. I bought them without hesitation, barely hearing the shopkeeper's pleasant conversation.

 

Avengers Tower 

"FRIDAY," I said, looking at the empty space. "Where are Wanda and Vis?"

The AI's tone was oddly calm. "Miss Maximoff and Vision are currently in the kitchen."

The roses felt heavier with each floor the elevator rose. I'd turned them over in my fingers so many times that the silk ribbon began to tear.

I pushed open the kitchen door and froze.

Vision hung still in the middle of the room, his body hard and blazing, wrapped in strands of blue energy that sparked and snapped against him. His face twisted from the tension.

"Vision - " I let out the roses slipping out of my grasp. They fell silently on the kitchen unit.

I stepped forward. "Wanda. What is happening here?"

I didn't know this man. Standing beside her, his bow hanging carelessly at his side, his hand brushing against her shoulder as if calming her.

The sound of Vision groaning from the strain. I got closer, my voice sharper now. "Let him go."

The man eventually turned to face me, his tone infuriatingly casual.
"We don't have time for this."

The man kept an intense stare at me. "I'm Clint," he said clearly. "I'm here because Wanda needs to come with me. Captain needs us."

Before I could respond, Vision broke out.

The bonds around him exploded once, twice - before breaking with a crack that shook the floor.

Red light burst, striking into Vision's chest. His flight stopped then buckled, and in an instant, she tossed him down.. The entire floor collapsed beneath him, and Vision vanished into the level below with the sound of a bomb detonating.

Dirt lingered in the air. For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then I did.

I was across the room before Clint could notch his arrow. My boot shattered into his bow, causing it to clang against the counter. He quickly recovered, grabbing another arrow from his quiver and spinning it up.

The arrow hissed past me, brushing my sleeve before lodging in the wall with a flash. I stopped it with my hand, staring at it before returning my gaze to him.

My lips curved into a strong grin. "Are you fucking Legolas or something?"

I smashed my heel into his chest. He staggered backward, crashing into his fridge and gasping for air. I followed, fangs bared, one hand already lifted to deliver a punch that would have left him broken on the ground.

And then

"Stop!"

Wanda's voice cut into me like a dagger. Her power erupted between us, forming a shimmering shield that melted on my skin. Her eyes were fixed on me now, begging, angry, and desperate.

I froze, my palm still in the air, Clint breathing just behind her power shield.

"Anastasia, that's enough," she said quietly, her hands trembling with power. "Let him go. I am leaving."

Her words cut like knives. I slowly turned to face her, my eyes narrowing.

"You know I can't let you."

Her jaw tightened, but her eyes urged me to understand.

"You don't understand," she stated softly. "I can't stay here, caged up like a prisoner. Steve needs me."

I took a step toward her, ignoring Clint as he groaned and tried to get up. "Then don't make me your jailer," I shouted. "Stay because you decide to. You know it's the best option."

Wanda's lips parted, as if the weight of the words had broken her will. She took another step, so close that I could feel the pulse of her chaotic magic caressing my skin and hear her heartbeat grow.

Behind me, Clint moved, grabbing for another arrow. My hand pulled out, sending a hard punch that sent him falling again. His bow clattered uselessly on the ground.

But I hardly saw him anymore.

Wanda stood in front of me, her power waning and her hands quivering as they lifted and held my face. Her palms were warm, and her fingers felt light against my jaw. The anger in my chest flickered and faded under that single touch.

"Wanda..."

Her eyes sparkled, caught between pain and desire. "I'm sorry."

And then she brushed her lips against mine.

The world paused for a heartbeat. The kiss was not gentle; it was chaotic and passionate. My hands trembled halfway to her waist.

But then, fire poured through me. A weird, drowsy feeling entered my veins, thick and attractive. My limbs weakened as I tried to cling to her and keep her there.

My last conscious thought was the taste of her kiss, the whisper of her breath against mine, before her power rushed through me like a lullaby, drawing me down into sleep.

The last thing I saw was her face above me, her eyes filled with sadness.

"I'm sorry, ljubav," she muttered again, just as the darkness overtook me...

 

 

The world showed up in shards of sound and light.

At first, I thought I had been buried alive again. Then a voice. Calm and irritatingly patient.

"Anastasia, wake up."

My eyelids drew open, and Vision's face showed up above me like a metal-carved holy saint.

"Oh, wonderful," I said, my throat dry as ash. "I died, and the afterlife looks like a toaster."

He blinked and tilted his head. "I will choose to ignore that."

I moaned and sat up slowly. Wanda's power was still clinging to my skin like frost. I remember her hands on my face, her lips on mine, and then nothing but darkness.

"Hours," Vision murmured, as if reading my mind. "You have been unconscious for about four hours. I feared you had suffered - "

" - a bruised ego?" I interrupted, rubbing my temples. "Actually, yes."

He did not grin, but his eyes softened, which was the closest he got. "I saw what happened after I dug myself back here; they probably stole the Quinjett, too."

"Fuck." I snarled, bitterness seeping through before I could control it.- "She kissed me, Vision. And then she wiped me out as if I were just a candle."

Silence. He did not respond since there was nothing to say

Vision straightened "Mr. Stark needs us in Berlin. Immediately. There have been changes."

"Berlin?" My voice was gravelly. "And how, exactly, do you advise we get to Berlin when our Quinjet has apparently vanished into thin air?"

"There is a second Quinjet in another compound. We can get there quickly if we fly."

I froze. "We?"

"Yes. I can carry you. Safely."

The hush lasted long enough that I considered murder. Finally, I got to my feet and stared him down. "Absolutely not."

His head tilted. "Why not?"

"Because," I muttered, "there is no universe in which I allow you to hold me in the sky. I will drive."

"But that's a slower option," he inquired bluntly.

"Yes!"

"Flying is easier."

"Still preferable."

He sighed, the closest he'd ever come to annoyance. "You are being irrational."

"And you," I shot back, tapping his chestplate with my finger, "are not throwing me around the clouds like luggage."

Ten minutes later, I was clinging to him like luggage.

The air blasted against my face, chilly enough to pinch. And my nails dug into the plating on his shoulder.

I murmured, "I hate you," into the wind.

"I am aware," he responded calmly.

By the time Vision lowered me to the earth, my legs were like water. I staggered as soon as my feet touched the asphalt, cursing beneath my breath.

"Never again," I murmured, staring up at him. "You ever try to carry me like that again, vis, and I'll rip your wires out and wear them as a necklace."

"Noted," he murmured calmly, though I think his mouth twitched.

The Quinjet appeared in the dark compound, Stark's failsafes activating as Vision's palm went over the scanner. The engines hummed to life, producing a low growl in the silence. I followed him up the ramp, throwing myself onto a seat as if it had personally offended me.

The anger in me was hotter than the jet's core. Wanda's emerald eyes and warm palms across my cheeks stuck with me. And then the cold betrayal of magic searing through me as she whispered I'm sorry.

I dug my nails into my palms and felt the skin split. It was easier than facing the truth: she had used me. A distraction. Dumb vampire who was too caught up in her emotions to understand what was about to happen. Or maybe what if she feels the same? 

"Stop glaring at the floor," Vision murmured gently from the pilot's seat. "You'll burn a hole through it."

"Don't," I mumbled. My voice came out harsh.

"You are not angry at me."

"Bloody observant, aren't you?"

The jet's faint hum was the only sound that broke the silence. My chest ached. My mind whispered. She kissed you. Then leave you. And yet, you'd forgive her in a heartbeat.

I despised myself for it.

Vision adjusted the buttons, and his voice was calm and even. "You should know what happened when you were... unconscious. Captain Rogers decided to act on his own. He believed Barnes was innocent, but instead of trusting the process, he escaped with him."

I snapped my head up. 

"They are now wanted. Mr. Stark has been directed to step in before the incident goes further."

"And us?" I asked.

Vision's gaze shifted back to me. "We plan to meet in Berlin. Stark believes they will pass through the airport. Our role is control."

Control.

I slumped back in my seat and pressed my fists to my eyes. My chest ached, stinging and hollow. Our Steve was ripping the family apart with his bare hands.

"This is a nightmare," I mumbled.

Vision eventually turned in his seat and studied me with strange peace.

"You know she didn't mean to hurt you."

I laughed without humor. "Is that what you got from watching from the ground? Because, from where I was standing, it seemed pretty damn intended."

"She needed to leave. You were how do they call it? - an obstacle."

I glared at him. "Thanks. That makes me feel so much better."

He leaned forward, folding his hands neatly as if we were having afternoon tea rather than heading toward a battle.

"Anastasia, I know Wanda. She had felt uncomfortable since Lagos. She worries about herself and what others think of her. And now the world is blaming her."

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

"But she does not fear you."

I had to look away, blinking quickly before something dumb like tears exposed me. "You don't know that," I mumbled.

"Yes," he simply said, as if it were written in the sky. "I do."

I swallowed hard and gripped the edge of my seat till my knuckles turned white. I wanted to dispute and tear the argument apart, but all I could say was:

"Then why does it feel like she ripped my heart out? She could have just stayed with us, and we wouldn't need to fight right now."

 "You're way too wise for a guy who doesn't even eat."

" Perhaps," Vision said. "But someone must remind you that you are not as alone as you believe."

 

Berlin

The airfield stretched before us.. I followed close behind Vision. Steve entered first, shield strapped to his arm and jaw set like stone.

I flinched at the sound, my gaze leaping skyward just as Iron Man and War Machine dropped with jets buzzing. Typical Stark entrance.

"Wow," Tony murmured via the mask, his tone arrogant. "It's so weird how you run into people at the airport. Don't you think that's weird?"

Rhodey's voice followed. "Definitely weird."

Steve paused, "Hear me out, Tony. That doctor, the psychiatrist, he's behind all of this."

Before Tony could respond, a figure jumped gracefully over a nearby truck—T'Challa.

"Captain."

Steve gave a courteous nod. "Your highness."

Tony sighed. "Anyway, Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in. That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?"

"You're after the wrong guy."

Tony's mask angled towards him. "Your judgment is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday."

"There are five more super soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can't."

"Steve..." I spoke. He tilted his head slightly toward me but did not give me a complete glance. "You keep talking about what you cannot let happen. But what about what has already happened? People have died. People keep dying. And every time we try to clean things up, you're three steps ahead, saying no because you know better."

Tony looked at me sideways, almost astonished, as if he hadn't expected me to back him up like this.

Steven's jaw stiffened. "It's not that simple, Anastasia."

Natasha's voice sliced through the tension, "Steve... you know what's about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?"

But Tony's sigh indicated otherwise. He raised his hand, impatience flowing from him. "All right, I've run out of patience. Underoos!"

I blinked in confusion until a red blur flashed before my eyes. Webs tightened around Steve's shield, wrenching it from his hold before his wrists were tied in a tangle of silk.

My lips separated. "What in the - "

Then I saw him. A kid. He stood there in a goofy red-and-blue suit as if it were Comic-Con rather than a fight.

Tony smiled smugly. "Nice job, kid."

"Thanks," the boy said, his voice slightly muffled by his mask. "Well, I could have landed a little better. It's just a new suit. Well, Mr. Stark, it is nothing. It's perfect. Thank you."

I stared at him. "Are you out of your mind, Tony? How the fuck old is this kid?"

The boy froze, staring at me like a deer in headlights. "Uh - I'm... old enough?"

Tony threw me a stern, warning look. Do not destroy this for me.

"Yeah, we don't really need to start a conversation," Tony swiftly said.

"Okay." The child nodded, eager as a puppy. "Cap-Captain. Big fan, I'm Spider-Man."

Oh, God. He also had a name. "Yeah, we'll talk about it later," Tony mumbled. "Just..." He waved him off. "Good job."

"Hey, everyone," Spider-Kid laughed and gave the most awful little wave I had ever seen. I squeezed the bridge of my nose. A literal child.

Steve scowled at Tony, his hands still tangled in the webbing. "You've been busy."

Tony replied sharply. "And you've been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint. 'Rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place. I'm trying to keep... I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart."

Steve's answer hit like a hammer: "You did that when you signed."

"All right, we're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us. NOW! Because it's us - or a squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction about being impolite. Come on."

Steve's jaw set, but his eyes flickered to the side

And then - his earpiece crackled. Sam's voice... "We found it. Their Quinjets's in hangar five, north runway."

"They're running," I muttered, low enough for only Vision to hear. My lips curled back slightly over my teeth, old instincts flaring.

He didn't respond. Of course, he did not. Instead, he raised his shackled hands. "All right, Lang."

Something stirred behind us. An odd, hesitant voice says, "Hey, guys, something - "
Rhodes let out a startled curse. "Whoa. What the hell was that?"

And then, of all things, a man the size of an ant—and then not suddenly growing - tumbled forward, clutching Steve's shield.

He held it out with a silly little grin. "I believe this is yours, Captain America."

I looked at the sight with surprise.

"Unbelievable," I mumbled. "You guys are acting like idiots in a schoolyard brawl."

The field exploded into chaos. Voices jumbled in my ears, orders clashing as metal slammed against stone.

Tony's voice cut through the comms, "Oh, great. All right, there are two on the parking deck. One of them's Maximoff, I'm gonna grab her. Rhodey, you want to take Cap?"

Rhodey's response was all soldier: "Got two in the terminal, Wilson and Barnes."

"Barnes is mine!" T'Challa's growl rang through the air as he lunged like a shadow.

Meanwhile, alongside me, the Spider-Child spoke up: "Hey, Mr. Stark, what should I do?"

Tony did not even hesitate. "What we discussed. Keep your distance. Web them up."

My gaze swept across the battlefield: Steve bracing for T'Challa's wrath, Rhodey diving down with his weapon ready, and Clint fumbling with his ludicrous bow as if this were a medieval joust.

"Idiots," I mumbled as my jaw tightened. "All of them."

I looked at Peter, who was already bounding toward the terminal. "Kid," I yelled, my fangs nearly falling through from frustration. "We are on Barnes. You either keep up or stay down."

He nodded hesitantly, his webs breaking as he moved forward.

Inside the terminal, glass broke as Peter swung, connecting with Sam mid-flight.

Bucky whirled and raised his metal fist back.

Peter caught it in the middle of the swing, his eyes wild behind his mask. "Do you have a metal arm? That is awesome, dude!"

I rolled my eyes so hard they almost ached. "Focus, Spider!"

Sam struck again, Peter dodged, and the three of them fell into a tangle of fists, wings, and webs. I dashed in, my hand reaching out to push Bucky hard against the wall.

"Stay down, soldier," I shouted, "You're not running from this."

He snarled back, attempting to wriggle free, but Peter's web grabbed his arm again, jerking him backward.

Bucky strained against the webs, Sam pinned beside him, both looking amused and annoyed. Peter hopped on his toes, babbling quickly.

"...and by the way, that metal arm is the coolest thing I've ever seen. Is it like vibranium, titanium, or-?"

"Kid," I snapped, tugging his shoulder, "look at them, not their toys."

But Peter was not listening. He was still speaking. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Usually, there isn't this much commentary in a fight," Sam muttered, tugging on the webbing.

"I'm just excited," Peter said. "First big mission, gotta impress Mr. Stark, and..."

He didn't notice Bucky's knife flash until it had already cut cleanly through the webs.

Sam snapped his wings open, knocking Peter sprawling on his back. Bucky shoved off the fence and began pulling free. Both of them rushed through the smashed glass wall and disappeared into the chaos below.

Peter grumbled and lifted himself off the floor. "Oh, come on!"

"You had one job," I screamed, staring down at him.

"I-I almost had them!" he mumbled.

"You talked them free! Are you trying for the worst Avenger alive?" My voice was louder than I meant to be, but adrenaline was rushing through my veins.

Peter winced and rubbed the back of his head. "Mr. Stark is gonna kill me..."

"Forget Stark -" I growled and cut him off.

My gaze went toward the airfield.

The Quinjet.

Steve's team had broken through the line, rushing for escape. Wanda was beside them, her hands glowing scarlet as she protected Clint. The sight of her hit me harder than a punch. High neckline, corset hugging her figure, power sparking like a storm all around her. She's so beautiful.

"Come on!" Steve barked and waved them forward.

Steve's team came to an end and stopped. Vision loomed over the wreckage.

"Captain Rogers," he said calmly but clearly, "I know you believe what you're doing is correct. But for the collective good, you must surrender now."

Team regrouped and spread out. Rhodey, Natasha, Peter - I'm still standing on this side of the line. Wanda came across it.

I caught her gaze for the briefest of moments, my chest wrenching. She looked away first.
Sam murmured, "What do we do, Cap?"

Steve's response was quick. "We fight."

I swore under my breath. Of course. "This will end well," Natasha muttered, brushing her hair.

The world dissolved into noise, with metal clashing, flames erupting, and the thunder of boots, fists, and power slamming. The barrier faded quickly, and teammates became enemies rather than friends.

Natasha was by my side. Clint rushed at us, arrows drawn, attempting to cover Steve's flank.

"I'll take Legolas," I mumbled as I sprinted.

Nat smirked. "Don't get cocky."

Clint fired three arrows in a heartbeat. I dodged left, felt one graze my arm, and closed the gap. My boot caught his bow mid-draw and snapped the string. He cursed and aimed a taser arrow at my chest, but Nat was there to deactivate it before it lit up.

"Two versus one? Kinda unfair," Clint grumbled.

"Yeah," I grinned, catching it mid-swing and yanking it from his grasp, "for you."

Nat's knife landed on his ribs, and I shoved him hard enough that he stumbled back, his breath knocked out. We got him

But then the red light burned the corner of my eyes. My stomach fell even before the power surged through me.

Wanda's energy burst through the air, ripping me and Natasha away from Clint and hurling us backward like rag dolls. I hit the ground hard, shaking every bone in my body. 

I should have gotten back on my feet and attacked her, but I didn't. My body screamed to move, but all I could do was stare, frozen in the pull she had on me. Anger crawled up my throat, bitter and burning, yet it was something I couldn't push down. Something made my chest hurt more than the fall ever could.

I dragged myself away from the road, rage pouring through my bones.

Steve was hurrying across the runway, shield up and body inclined, in a pose that shouted, "Don't try me."

So, of course, I went right for him.

"Steve!" I yelled, my voice ragged. "Enough running."

He turned, blue eyes narrowing, and for a brief moment, I thought he might stop. Then he charged.

The impact was bone-cracking. His shield crashed against my forearm, sending vibrations through my bones. I kicked him low, knocking him down, and then delivered a punch that could have broken stone. He hardly blocked.

The crack of the gun echoed throughout the airport. I looked down at my side, expecting flames and pain. However, the bullet went into me shallowly, hardly cutting into me.

My lips curved back into a sneer. "Really? Is that your move?"

Bucky squinted his eyes and tightened his grip on the rifle, ready to fire again.

Before he could blink, I was on him. My palm gripped the gun's barrel, crushing metal like paper, and with a jerk, I ripped it from him and tossed it halfway down the runway.

"You think that can stop me?"

I pushed my fist into his chest and tossed him. His body collided with the side of a carrier truck, causing the metal to crack.

He jumped up, the metal arm flashing. He swung quickly and brutally, but I caught his wrist midair. The ground broke beneath our feet as I spun, forcing him to his knees.

"You're nothing." I spat, pushing him back. "And I've killed worse."

Bucky lunged again. I did not hesitate. With a shout, I grabbed him around the waist and tossed him across the ground. He landed and tumbled, leaving a trail of dust behind him.

Adrenaline was like fire in my veins. But then...

I was thrown off my feet, the world spinning as Wanda's magic wrapped around my body, flinging me backward. I tried to stop myself, but the power was too strong. I smacked into the ground hard.

The skyscraper above me creaked. Vision's blast had already sliced through some of the building. Wanda's push sent me straight onto the fault line. Metal exploded, walls bent, and everything collapsed.

No sound. No pain. No light. Only cold quiet pressed down on me, like the grave I'd been pushed into more times than I remember.

And then, like a match struck in the dark, my body finally woke up again.

As I clawed upward, stone and steel cracked beneath my fists, allowing air to return to my lungs. Dust stung my throat, blood flowed down my lip, but my vision and senses were sharper. My heart raced with frustration.

Above me, the world was in chaos.

"Where is she?!"

"Over here - I saw her falling this way!" Rhodey yelled back, pieces shifting as his armored gloves ripped through the ruins.

"Anastasia!" Vision's voice sounds frightened. I could hear him scanning and phasing through the walls. Even Peter's little voice crackled with anxiety.

And beneath it all, footsteps pound away. Fast and steady.
Steve. Bucky. Running. Taking advantage of the confusion to go closer to the Quinjet. Of course.

My lip twisted as I moved free from the ruin. I listened through the ringing in my ears and the aching of bones still trying to heal. Her heartbeat. I needed her to stop fighting, because we couldn't stop them.

I went silently, saw her behind the corner of a collapsed wall, her back turned, her head whipping as she searched the wreckage she had buried me under. She did not see me.

My hand reached out, fingers tightening around her throat, not crushing but strong. She gasped, eyes wide, red crackling reflexively in her fingers.

"Stop," I hissed, my voice low. My fangs ached at the corners of my lips, and my eyes remained red from the near-death haze. I drew her closer, my lips nearly touching her ear. "No more fight. You're done."

Her lips parted, shock transformed into fear, and then something else. Guilt. Her hands tremble, and the red light flickers as she stares at me, unsure whether she should fight or fall into me.

"I-I didn't mean-" Wanda's voice broke. Her eyes were wet, "I didn't want to hurt you. I swear, Ana..."

Her knees buckled before she had finished. The red color drained from her palms like dying flames. She stumbled, her weight folding beneath her, and I had to catch her before she collapsed on the ground.

"Damn it, Wanda..." I mumbled as I slowly lowered her onto the damaged cement. Her body trembled, not from fear, but from tiredness, her eyes lowered but yet looking for mine.

Her fingers brushed lightly across my wrist, not pushing me away but clinging on.
"I'm sorry," she said again, but this time softly, as if admitting a sin. "I never wanted to..." Her lashes fluttered shut, and her head rested lightly against my arm.

For a minute, all I could do was stare at her. My anger split and weakened by the curve of her mouth and the thrill of her breath.

"Wanda..."

"Anastasia!"

Vision's voice broke through the fog, relief filling his face as he dropped through the mess. His eyes widened as he saw me clutching Wanda, alive but barely conscious. "You're all right."

I met his stare, "She'll live. Just...probably her powers exhausted her."

He crouched, worry etched over his flawless face. But then his head leaned slightly, almost guilty. "Captain and Bucky have made it to the Quinjet. If we move right now, maybe we can - "

"I'll go," I interrupted, carefully putting Wanda into his arms. I wiped a stray strand of hair from her cheek before letting her go, pushing myself to control my voice. "Take care of her. Don't let her leave."

Vision nodded and held her as if she were glass. His lips curved into a small smile. My gaze darted down the landing strip, toward the Quinjet engines that were already firing up.

As I reached the end of the runway, the rumble of engines vanished into the sky. My chest still heaved from the sprint. The Quinjet was already a tiny object taken up by clouds. Gone.

I stopped and looked at the boots dragging on the burnt pavement, and the first thing I noticed was T'Challa. The panther is on one knee. His muscles trembled furiously, betraying him, and his black suit flashed with blue sparks. He gasped and dug his claws into the floor in order to stay upright.

Natasha stood beside him. My anger was seething and crackling in my chest as I looked at Natasha. She stood with her chin up, her gaze steady despite the shame.

With a raspy voice, I yelled, "You don't get to just - just say sorry and walk away." Are you even aware of your actions? You gave him everything. You gave them everything."

She made a small line with her lips. "I know."

I let out a sharp sigh and dragged a hand down my face. "You piss me off," I whispered.

She tilted her head, almost surprised. "You think I don't piss myself off?"

I briefly laughed bitterly and sighed. Then, with T'Challa still on his knees and his body shaking from the Widow's Bite, I turned to face him. Even through the fog of suffering, his eyes were fixed on mine. He would remember this. He would remember everything. Natasha would be damned by that.

I knelt down in front of him and said, "Sleep, and forget me. Forget I was here."

The fighting left him as if someone had plucked the threads from his body, and his eyes closed. The King of Wakanda fell to the ground a moment later, unconscious but still alive.

As if to relieve myself of its burden, I stood up and wiped my palms against my thighs. Natasha was staring at me.

I said, "You don't have to run. I can also make them forget. Stark. Rhodey. Each and every one. Nobody will be aware of what you did."

She shook her head after that. "For that, it's too late. They will be aware. They may not do so now, but they will." After pausing, she moved closer while speaking in a quiet, determined voice. "And when the time comes, I'll handle it."

But I understood. I got it, damn it. Despite her many qualities, Natasha Romanoff was not a coward.

I grabbed her wrist, tight but not unkind. "Then go. Now. Before they realize."

She simply stared at me for a moment. She then gave me the tiniest nod. When I released her hand, she turned and vanished before the smoke cleared, vanishing into the darkness at the runway's edge....

 

Notes:

𝑴𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔, 𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆!!!! 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒏, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌. 𝑨𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒎! 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒊𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒏' 𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆, 𝒌𝒖𝒅𝒐𝒔 , 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓.𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 ♥

Chapter 14: 𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓁

Later that day

The tower was dead quiet. You could hear your own heartbeat in the type of silence that pressed against your ears. There were no footsteps. Nothing but quiet.

I spotted Tony sitting in the living room with a glass hanging from his fingers and slouched shoulders. His shirt was half untucked, and his tie was gone. He looked nothing like Tony Stark at all.

I leaned on the counter and muttered, "So, now what?"

At first, he didn't respond. He simply swirled the whiskey in his glass as if it might reveal something wonderful to him. He sighed at last. "Now? I get to tell Ross why everything went wrong in less than a day. I get to convince governments throughout the world that we're not totally out of control. I also had to accept that my teammates decided rebellion was a nice pastime.

I furrowed my brow. "That wasn't an answer."

He gave a quick, sour laugh. "Welcome to my life."

For a beat, we sat in silence. I studied him. His shoulders dropped, and there were folds around his eyes. All of it weighed him down like rust.

Finally, I pushed off the counter and muttered, "I'll go check on Wanda. She is most likely in the hangar. Since our flight here, I haven't seen her. She shouldn't be by herself at the moment."

His head snapped up at that moment.

"Anastasia..."

"What?"

His eyes darted away as he shifted. "She's not there."

"Not there? What the hell do you mean, not there?"

Tony pressed the glass down so hard that it cracked on the table. His eyes met mine. "Ross had them transferred."

"Transferred?" My voice was suddenly sharp. "Transferred where, Tony?"

He paused. I took a step closer, fangs pricking at my lip and heat flooding my veins. "Say it."

"The Raft," he mumbled.

The word struck like a gunshot. I saw flashes in my head: gray steel, damp passageways, and dark cells.

"You said she was safe," I shouted. "That they will not take her. You promised me, Tony."

"I tried." His voice cracked, frustration mixed with guilt. "Do you think this is what I wanted? Ross left me no choice."

"No choice?" I let out an extremely loud laugh. The heat in my chest swelled and blazed till I snapped. In one movement, I grabbed the front of his shirt and threw him against the wall. The whiskey glass smashed on the floor.

His eyes widened, but he did not fight back; instead, he stared at me as if he expected it.

"You had a choice," I snarled, my voice filled with rage. My fangs were bared now, and my eyes were black. "You've always got a choice. You put her in a cage. All of them!"

"She's safer there than out here with half the damn world after her!" He responded with a shout. His voice crackled again. "I tried to protect Anastasia. Protect all of them."

I forced him harder into the wall, the plaster creaking under the pressure. For a moment, I wasn't sure whether I wanted to shake the truth out of him or break down the wall around him.

Then I noticed it: the guilt in his eyes, the same guilt that had been eating at him since Sokovia.

"We have to go," I screamed, my face inches from his. "We have to help them out."

"I know," he said strongly. "What about right now? We cannot. It's impossible without Steve."

His name was a curse. "So we'll wait while she drowns in chains beneath the ocean? You expect me to sit still, Stark? After everything I've done for you, you stood by me, and this is how you repay me?"

"Damn it, Ana! Do you think I like it? Ross circles like a vulture. We move wrongly, and he buries us all. We need Steve."

"Then let's get him," I spat, fangs scraping against the edges of my sentences.

"It isn't that easy, Ana. Steve may be anywhere right now. s, I'm not sure."

"So how are we supposed to find him?"

He glanced at me then, as if he was debating whether or not to share the weight he was carrying. His jaw worked, tense with frustration. "Wilson," he mumbled. "Or one of the others. They'll know where Cap's going. "They always do."

I almost laughed, "So we break them out."

"No." He shook his head forcefully and spoke quietly,  "We do not break anyone out. Not yet. We come in clean. We lie to Ross and tell him it's only a visit. If we burst in with guns blazing, he'll lock every door and toss us into the cells right next to them. Do you want Wanda to be locked up forever? Because that's how you keep her trapped forever."

"Fine," I said. 

 

The world outside was full of water and storms. Gray sky, sea, and silence. And then the Raft came. It was not a prison. It was a cemetery that hadn't recognized those who were still alive.

The Quinjet landed with a metallic crash, and Tony stood behind me, attempting to seem calm. I could hear his heart thudding.

As the ramp fell, soldiers in black walked out, guns in hand. Secretary Ross stood in the center, rain dripping off his pressed suit. His mouth curled as soon as he noticed us.

"Well, well," Ross replied, hands clenched behind his back. "Hi, Mr. Stark. And..." His gaze shifted to mine, keen and wary. "Ms Dimitrescu."

"Relax, Ross," Tony mumbled, trying to smile that did not reach his eyes. "We aren't here to cause trouble. just visiting."

Ross laughed without humor. "Visiting. What's this, Stark? A zoo? Do you think these traitors deserve visitors?"

"They're not traitors," I said before I could control myself. Every soldier's rifle twitched towards me until Tony lifted his hand.

"Easy, dear," Tony muttered, his gaze shifting nervously between me and the pistols.

"Fine," Ross said, eventually waiving his hand. "Lead them in. Ten minutes. And if she - " He jerked his chin toward me. " - tries anything, I'll put her in a cell myself."

The channels smelled like salt and chlorine. Cold lights flickered above us as we went deeper, the buzz of gear echoing through my bones. Then the cells became visible.

Glass walls.

Behind them, there were familiar faces. Clint is pacing like a caged wolf. Sam slumped, but remained defiant. Scott is nervously tapping his foot.

And Wanda.

She slumped on the floor of her cell, her red coat thrown in a heap and her hair twisted from the struggle. But it was her eyes that broke me - they were hollow and rimmed with dark. When she looked up and spotted me, a scarlet glow flickered across her fingers, as if her abilities recognized me.

"I'll fix this," I said quietly, "I swear, I'll get you out."

Her eyes shimmered, but she shook her head slightly, as if to warn me not to make promises I couldn't keep.

I wanted to shout. To rip Ross's arrogant throat out. To shake Tony's armor till it rattled. But all I could do was stand there, breathing hard, every muscle twitching from wrath, with nowhere to go.

Tony put his hand on my shoulder. "Come on, Anastasia."

I did not look back as we exited the cells. Couldn't. If I saw Wanda behind that glass one more time, I was going to destroy the entire prison, Ross and his men be damned.

Tony kept quiet while we walked, which was unusual for him. There's just silence. That told me more than words could.

When we reached the Quinjet, the ramp hissed shut behind us, and he finally spoke.

"We have to go."

I hurled myself into the seat opposite him, "Is that all you have? Do we have to go?"

He grabbed for the comms, turned them off, and sank into his seat. His armor pulled back in parts, revealing him in his undersuit, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Sam gave me something before I left," he murmured, "A location."

"Steve."

He nodded. "And Barnes. They're after the other soldiers. If Ross figures it out before we arrive-"

"-he'll follow," I said for him. "Of course, he will. He does not trust you, me, or Steve. So we have to move."

"Exactly." He leaned back and closed his eyes briefly, as if he hadn't slept in days. "We're already on borrowed time."

"Tony... If Ross is already following us, how are we going to get there? Do you not believe that his eyes are everywhere?"

For a brief moment, that smug Stark sneer flickered as he opened one eye to look at me. That's the enjoyable part. The Quinjet is not something we use. It's too obvious. Too simple to follow."

"You dare not say it."

As he tapped the arc reactor on his chest, he murmured, "Flight plan B. We enter in armor."

"No way, Tony! Never again! Last time, I swear, last time I nearly lost my soul falling out of the sky. Absolutely not."

"Calm down," he replied, up and stretching as if he weren't making the worst possible call. "The flight will not be long. Easy. Cozy. Five-star vampire service."

I gave an angry scowl. "You're crazy."

He just snapped his armor into place while smiling. He wasn't asking, I realized as the panels sealed over him and the walls hummed.

After a few minutes, I found myself hanging in Iron Man's grasp, with the ocean below and the wind roaring past us. With every nerve screaming, I buried my face against his chest plate and clasped my arms around him like a trap.

"Stark, te urăsc!" The rushing air tore the words out of my mouth as I swore in Romanian. "Jur că o să te omor eu if nu mor azi!"
(Stark, I hate you! I'll kill you personally if I don't die today, I promise!)

In my ear, Tony's laughter pierced the comms...

Siberia

There were mountains, rocky rock, and a wind so cold it sliced through my coat like blades when we landed in the middle of nowhere. I made myself stable even though my legs were still trembling from being flung into the air like a doll.

"All right. This is where we split."

I scowled as I came upon the snow crunching beneath my boots. "You mean split, what? The plan did not include that."

"It's right now." He pointed to a ridge with a view of the area. "There are multiple entrances to that bunker. There is less heat and a lower probability of being picked up by Ross's satellites if you go around the back entrance. I will take the lead."

Flakes flew in my face as the wind howled. "You're facing a trap."

Tony grinned, but it was a grin that stopped short of his eyes. "This isn't the first time. Besides," he said softly, "someone has to be out here to pull the rest of us out if something happens to me."

I took a step back, allowing the sound of my boots to be muffled by the snow. "All right. However, don't make me regret letting you leave by yourself."

With a phrase of forced confidence, he laughed. "Dracula, I wouldn't dream of it."

I forced my senses to become stronger, slowed my breathing, and followed the silence.

There was a problem. I initially believed it to be the bunker alone. I followed the sound by pressing my palm against the wall and running my fingertips over the chilly surface. The faint but distinct smell of old blood and oil filled the air.

I came to a complete stop when I turned around.

A man stood there, half-hidden in a small room with only one flickering lightbulb. He was a normal man, not in uniform.

He had an easy stance, too easy for a guy standing inside a Hydra base.

I took calculated steps to slow down. Until I got to the doorway, my hand ghosted the wall. At first, the man inside didn't notice me. His back bowed in silent focus, he sat at a decrepit desk with old Hydra papers scattered open.

I moved forward as my boot made a faint moaning sound on the floor. He froze. Turned. And in a single fluid motion.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

My skull snapped back under the force of the bullets as they tore into my forehead. I didn't fall, but my body jerked.

With blood running hot down my temple, I lifted my eyes. I smiled, a savage, humorless flash of fangs, and he froze, the pistol quivering just a little in his palm.

"You have to do better than that."

I moved before he could fire again. I put my fingers around his throat and shoved him back into the wall faster than his eyes could follow. Papers strewn all over the floor as the desk shook.

"Now," I screamed, my eyes black, "Who are you?"

His pulse twitched, but his gaze remained fixed.

"Tell me your name. Tell me what you've done. Tell me what you want."

His mouth quirked, the struggle within him dissolving before my eyes. With a futile crash, the pistol fell from his grasp and onto the ground. Despite having a strong accent and a gruff voice, he complied with my demands.

"My name is Helmut Zemo. Sokovia... was destroyed. My family is buried under it. The Avengers left us there. Left me nothing but ruins. So I destroyed them. From the inside."

I eyed him, my teeth scraping the air as I tightened my hold. He made no effort to resist. He was unable to.

"What are you looking for?"

"I want them broken. To kill each other. To tear themselves apart... until there is nothing left."

I pressed my fingers deeper into his throat. Veins were straining against my hold, and his face was already turning pale. I stared into his eyes while I allowed the quiet to grow.

"What about Vienna? Did you plant the bomb yourself?"

He rasped, "Yes. I planted it. I wanted everyone to see your true nature. The flames were what I desired. I wanted the fire. The grief. The war."

I struck. My fangs dug into his throat, and hot red flooded my mouth. He shook once, his heartbeat booming in my ears before slowing, fading, and breaking. I drank till my frustration faded into calmness. Until he was left with only emptiness.

With a wet gasp, I tore away, my lips red and his body limp in my arms. I let his head drop back, my hand still curved around his jaw. A sharp twist—

Crack.

The sound was final and rang against the steel walls. His body slumped at my feet, lifeless eyes fixed on the ceiling.

I stood over him with blood streaming from my chin.  "May hell take you," I whispered, kicking his body aside like the waste he was.

But I heard another heartbeat. I turned, my gaze narrowing, and there he was. Black Panther stood in the shadows, claws out, and his mask reflecting the dim light.

I let out a short, breathless, piercing laugh. I raised my palm to my chin, sliding one bloody finger across my mouth and licking it clean. "Well," I said, smirking faintly, "This is embarrassing."

He came closer, silent as a predator, but with flexed claws. "What did you do?"

I cocked my head toward the crumpled figure at my feet, Zemo's broken shape still dripping blood onto the floor. "That man," I continued, "He killed your father. He planted the bomb in Vienna. Not Barnes."

T'Challa's breaths deepened, his chest rising and falling beneath his costume. His mask tilted towards the corpse, his claws twitching.

I went closer, carefully. "He wanted you to hate Bucky. I wanted the planet to rip itself apart. He succeeded... until now."

T'Challa's voice rumbled.
"Proof. Words are meaningless without it."

I breathed through my nose, pleased by the dried blood on my lips. "Check his things," I replied simply, prodding Zemo's fallen body with my boot. "He won't speak anymore. But dead men can't hide their sins."

He searched the man with deadly precision. Moments later, he took out a thin device with files and images. His breathing has changed. He saw it: the Vienna plans, the added charges.

His head sank, not in weakness, but in silent recognition. "So it is true."

I leaned against the wall, arms folded, and watched his every move. "You hunted the wrong prey. But now you know who planned it. And now you know who has been pulling your strings."

"And you? How did you find him?"

I smirked slightly. "Everyone has their ways."

There was stillness between us, then I came closer. "Do you want to honor your father? Then don't waste any more blood on revenge. Barnes is not your enemy. Perhaps he could benefit from your help."

His head tilted slightly. "Help?"

"Take him someplace safe. Ross is unable to reach him. Somewhere, he can recover from what they did to him." My stare fixed on him. "Take him to Wakanda."

"Very well," he replied. "I'll wait outside. When this is finished, bring him to me."

I gave a crisp little laugh. "Good. Then we'll have an understanding."

As he turned to leave, I shouted out softly, "T'Challa."

He stopped at the door.

"Don't remember me being here. That's a favor you'll want to keep."

He didn't say anything, but the air between us was like sealed steel. And then he left.

"I need to find Stark," I said under my breath as I dug deeper into the bunker.

The corridors twisted, and sounds bounced until they stopped sounding like whispers. Voices. I slowed, my senses increasing, and every vibration in the walls came to me like whispers.

"...He killed my mom."

The words struck me like a bullet. Tony's voice was cracked and shaking in a way I hadn't heard before.

Another lower voice, heavy with shame. Steve. "Tony - "

But Tony cut him off. "Did you know?"

"Yes."

He knew. He knew, but he never told him. I knew that Tony's parents died when he was young, but this is so fucked up.

I didn't realize I was moving until the sound of fists and shields against armor sounded through the hall. My body responded before my head caught up.

The sound of the fight got louder, I tore through the final doorway, and there they were - Tony, wrath barely keeping him together, Steve swinging that blasted shield like a knife, Barnes in the corner, each move drawing Tony deeper into his pain.

The room was in chaos. Metal exploded against vibranium as Tony's weapons collided with Steve's shield. Barnes sprang from the shadows, grabbing Tony's chest plate and pushing him back.

"TONY!" I yelled, my body moving before I could think. In a blur, I slammed into Barnes, pulling him from Stark and tossing him across the room like a rag doll. He crashed into the wall, the stone shattering under the shock.

Steve's eyes shifted to mine. "Anastasia, don't - "

"Don't what?!" I cut him off, "Why don't you stop killing each other? Or don't you remember that this is your fault?

Tony pushed himself up, chest heaving. His voice cracked, rough. "He killed my mom, Steve."

Steve's jaw tensed, but he kept his voice steady. "It was not him. He was under control."

Tony's fist glowed with energy. "I don't care."

Steve rushed at him, shield raised, but I intervened, kicking the shield aside with enough power to send it spinning. "You're not listening!" I snarled.

Barnes rushed again, trying to grab Tony's arm. I grabbed his wrist, metal against unbreakable strength, and twisted until the gears screamed. My voice broke into a furious hiss: "That's for shooting me, soldier."

With a terrible crunch, I threw him off balance and pushed him to the ground, my boot slamming into his chest. His breath whooshed out, and his head snapped back, disoriented.

Tony's disgusting face flashed. "Stand down, Barnes!"

But Steve charged in, shoving me back with the flat of his shield and towering over Barnes like a guard dog. His voice cracked, but he remained stubborn. "He's my friend."

Tony struggled to his feet, his eyes blazing through the fractured faceplate of his helmet. He pointed a repulsor directly at them both. His voice was as frigid as I had ever heard it.

"So was I." Tony fired.

The blast crashed into Barnes' arm, the metal cracking and tearing apart under the force until it exploded in sparks and steel, ripping his arm away. Barnes shouted, collapsed.

I did not hesitate. In an instant, I was on him, my hand clutching his throat. He looked up, eyes wide and broken.

"This is where it ends," I muttered, before I hit him with his own hand.

Breathing hard, I looked up to see Steve's face pale with shock, Tony's armor shimmering with damage, the three of us forming a triangle of anger, loyalty, and pain.

Barnes was down, unconscious. Tony's electrical reactor flickered faintly, FRIDAY's warnings echoing in the distance like a heartbeat slowing. 

That left me and Steve.

He stood over Barnes like a human shield, his face bloodied and sweat trickling down his temples. Despite his heavy breathing, his eyes remained open. His eyes were still filled with that darned stubborn fire.

"Move, Anastasia," he rasped.

I bared my teeth, "Not a chance."

In a blur, I was on him, tackling him to the ground. My fist smacked into his jaw, causing the shield to clatter away. Then another. And another. With each strike, his head crashed back onto the stone floor, leaving blood on my knuckles.

"Why won't you stop?!" I yelled, my voice vibrating throughout the space around me. "Look at what you've done! Look how much this has cost us!"

Steve snatched my wrist mid-swing, blood streaming down his split lip. "Because it's the right thing."

"Pathetic man!"

His blue eyes met mine. He did not fight back. He just looked at me as if he was willing to let me break him if it meant keeping Barnes safe.

And in that moment, I realized I could kill him. Right here, right now. End Captain America. End this mess. But I did not.

My fists trembled. I slowly lowered them. I muttered, "This is so wrong... for all of us."

I pushed away from him, stumbling back. He remained on the ground, peering up at me, his chest heaving.

"Take him," I replied, nodding at Barnes' motionless body. "Take him out of here. T'Challa is waiting outside - he knows the truth. He'll help him."

Steve blinked, surprised. "You... you're letting us go?"

I wiped the blood from my mouth as my hands shook. "Do not mistake this for forgiveness. This is mercy. Also, we need to get Wanda out of the raft, and you are going to help me."

He forced himself up, looking at me and Tony - broken, and barely standing. Then, without saying another word, he tossed Barnes' unconscious body over his shoulder.

I watched him leave. Tony struggled to his feet, flames shooting from the damage to his armor. "I can't just let them go!" He growled.

I moved between him and the exit, chest heaving and eyes flaming. "Tony, enough. This is not your fight anymore. Let them go."

He shook his head, shock written across every line of his face. "You can't just let them walk, Ana. You saw what they did. He killed my parents."

"Exactly. That's why we can't take this any further," I said, "If you follow them, we'll all lose. Trust me."

"Now sit down and stop playing hero for a second."He grumbled but relented, grounding himself as I stepped aside.

The quiet snapped.

Boots slammed against the freezing ground, and shouts cut through the darkness. Dozens of Ross' men charged forward in full military gear, weapons raised and lights blinding.

"Anastasia Dimitrescu!" Ross's voice echoed through the chaotic atmosphere. "Stand down! Now!"

I barely had time to react. A pulse round blasted into my side, not lethal but nasty enough to knock me back. My vision blurred. Another hit. And another. Stinging electricity jolted through my body, weakening me just enough to knock me off balance.

"What the—?!" I gasped, my eyes wide and mad. I tried to show off my fangs, snarl, and fight, but another shock baton struck my chest, and white light flashed behind my eyes. My kneecaps buckled. The ground sprang up to greet me.

Tony yelled from a distance.

"Stop! Do not touch her!"

The soldiers did not listen. More boots closed in. My body felt heavy and unconscious, with every nerve screaming. I wanted to rip them apart, tear their throats open one by one, but my body failed me.

"You allowed Natasha Romanoff to escape custody," Ross continued, then the barrel of a rifle crashed into the back of my head, and everything went dark...

 

 

 

Notes:

𝑴𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔!  𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒅, 𝑰 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒊𝒕, 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓!
𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒚! 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓! 𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒊𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒏' 𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆, 𝒌𝒖𝒅𝒐𝒔 , 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓.𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 ♥

Chapter 15: 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒹𝑜𝓂

When I woke up, I was unsure whether I was still alive.

The light above me was overly bright. The kind of brightness that burned your eyes and made everything appear fake. My head felt heavy. Despite knowing that my body had healed and my skin was smooth where bullets had wounded me, I still felt weird.

The room was small. Empty. Four walls and one metal table. No windows. One entire wall was just a mirror.

I sat there for a while and listened. Waiting. Normally, I could hear everything. Footsteps down a hallway. Breathing behind a door. All around me, hearts are beating rapidly. But here? Nothing. No sound. Only silence.

I gently pushed myself up, my legs wobbling despite my confidence in my strength. I stepped toward the mirror, my eyes narrowing as I saw my reflection looking back. My hair was a mess, and dust still clung to me. My lips were smeared red - not mine, but someone else's. I licked them clean slowly, almost by habit.

For a moment, I simply looked at myself. I hated it. I have dark eyes. My teeth were sharp when I pulled my lips back. I looked less like a person.

I pushed my palm to the mirror. Cold. I leaned in so close, I could almost breathe on it.

"I know you're there," I whispered softly. "Someone is watching. Isn't that correct?

Nothing.

I slapped my fist flat against the mirror again, this time harder. The sound boomed and bounced back at me. "You hear me?!"

"Sit down."

The voice sounded from above me, filling the room via hidden speakers. Ross.

My head snapped up. "What the hell is going on?" I snarled and stood instead of doing so. "Where am I?"

"Sit," Ross repeated calmly.

I clinched my fists. "I'm not a dog you can order around."

"No. You are much more deadly than a dog. That is exactly why you are in there."

I looked around the room, finally noticing the faint red glow of cameras. They watched me. They are recording me. Probably with pistols primed right outside.

I pushed myself to move. I slowly crossed the room and sank into the bolted chair. My nails scraped against the metal seats.

"Good," Ross replied. I could almost sense the smugness in his voice. "Now we can talk."

I squinted my gaze at the reflection. "Tell me why you locked me up like an experiment. What do you want?"

"You know, I've dealt with monsters before," he replied calmly, "Hydra. Aliens. Things that destroy people without hesitation. Do you know what I've learned, Anastasia? They all bleed. They'll all break eventually."

He let the silence continue, as if he wanted my own thoughts to turn against me.

"Where are Rogers, Barnes, and Romanoff?" Each name reflected an order, not a question. "If you don't answer me, you'll rot in there. No light, no sound, and no blood. We'll see how long you can stay when hunger consumes you from within."

But Ross wasn't done. "Barnes shot you. I saw the report. You let him crawl away. Romanoff? She abandoned you. Rogers - " he spat the name like poison. "he ran without looking back. They do not care about you. You're just a weapon pointed in the proper direction until it breaks."

My nails bit into my palms until I could feel the skin split, warm blood trickling down my knuckles.

"Tell me where they are, and I'll make sure you don't end up in a hole like the others. You cooperate, and you could even see daylight again. If you don't...I'll bury you so deeply that the world will forget your name. No Wanda, no Vision, and no Stark. Nothing."

He paused.

"Do you truly think Maximoff will come for you? She manipulated you, distracted you, and used you. And Rogers? He does not need you. He never did."

A long silence split us, with just the faint sound of the speakers humming in the stale air.

Then I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table, and allowed a piercing smile to spread across my face.

"Okay," I said, "You want something? I'll tell you something."

Ross's noisy pause sounded like he was leaning closer to the microphone, waiting.

I tilted my head, my eyes narrowing. Then I spat. A sharp spatter on the steel table.

"That's your answer," I replied clearly. "Choke on it."

Ross's giggle came through the speaker. "Cute. Very cute." His voice grew louder,  "Let's see how long you keep that attitude."

The ceiling hissed. A tiny stream of white mist slithered from the vents above, snaking into the corners of the room. My eyes opened as the bitter smell struck the back of my throat, something chemical. I pushed back from the chair, reaching up to cover my mouth, but the gas moved quickly. 

"You think you're strong," Ross laughed. "But strength means nothing without submission. Obedience can be taught."

The room's edges blurred, and the cracked mirror doubled and tripled until my own gaze reflected back at me from every aspect. My lungs burned, yearning for air that wasn't contaminated. My palm slipped on the slick metal table, leaving a path of blood as I dropped to one knee.

Through the hazy haze, I heard his final words before blackness swallowed me:

"Sleep well. Let's see how long you can keep this little game going."

 

I lost track of time first.
No sun. There's no darkness. The same buzzing neon bulb overhead.

So I started to count. Scratching patterns into the wall with my nail, little traces that blended together as my eyesight swam. One, two, three. By the time I got to seven, I wasn't sure if it was really seven. But I kept going.

One week. I believe it's been a week.

Every two days, the speaker would crackle to life. Ross. His voice was always the same: filled with authority he didn't deserve.
"Where is Steve Rogers?"
"Where is Barnes?"
"Where is Romanoff?"

Over and over. The three names were always the same, like a broken record designed to drill into my skull.

I always kept silent in his presence. Sometimes a smirk. I laughed once. That appeared to irritate him the most.

The punishments have been changed. Sometimes there's gas. Sometimes the lights were so bright that my eyes wept red. Sometimes the water in the cell was removed.

The toughest part, however, was hunger.

They did not feed me. Not once. My body shrank against itself, muscles throbbing from weakness. The burn in my throat extended to my chest and bones.

The collar around my neck vibrated softly, filled with something I couldn't understand. Magic? Tech? Both? Whatever it was, it kept me weak enough to prevent me from breaking out, even while the beast within clawed at the boundaries of my skin.

By day five -if it was day five, my hands were trembling constantly. On day six, I could barely stand. By day seven, I was convinced I had forgotten what strength felt like.

Still, Ross returned.

"Where are they?"
"Where is Rogers?"
"Where is Barnes?"
"Where is Romanoff?"

Always the same. Always calm. He seemed to have unlimited time.

And perhaps he did.

I didn't know when I stopped sitting on the chair. At some point, it didn't matter. The floor was cold. Harder. The kind of cold that numbs your bones to the point where you almost welcome it because it isn't hunger.

I lay on my side, hair knotted on the floor, eyes half-opened but not seeing anything. The buzz of the collar was louder now. Or maybe my mind just kept circling it.

Sometimes I believed I heard Wanda's laughter. Or Natasha's voice, Tony's dry sarcasm, and Vision's quiet voice. All ghosts. All hallucinations.

A scream echoed throughout the room. Sirens. Blasts from hidden speakers pierce my skull, forcing me to open my dead eyes.

I gasped and curled up further on the floor, hands rushing to my ears and fangs bared in an uncontrollable snarl. The noise shook the walls and my bones from the inside out.

And then Ross' voice cut through it.

"Get up, now. You are going to listen to me this time. You hear me, little bitch??!"

I placed my palms more on my ears, but his words pierced through. His voice was heard everywhere. Above, around, and within me.

"HOW?!"

"...H-How w-what?"

There was a beat of silence as if he couldn't believe I dared to respond like that. Then the wall opposite me shimmered and lit up, transforming into a holographic image.

The vision was clear: Tony Stark standing before reporters, press microphones pushed toward him like weapons.

"Thaddeus Ross has taken Anastasia Dimitrescu into illegal custody. No trial. No representation. There's no oversight. This is not justice; it is kidnapping."

Ross hissed over the speakers. "Is he painting me as the villain? Me?"

The hologram flickered again and changed. Now we have helicopter footage. A Quinjet roars across the seas. Headlines crawl over the screen: AVENGERS ESCAPE THE RAFT.

Steve. Sam. Clint. Scott. Even Wanda's name was on the list.

Alive and free.

I couldn't stop laughing, a low, broken, but genuine chuckle. I pushed my hand against the floor to keep myself stable. 

Ross, on the other hand, was absolutely furious. His voice cut through like fire.
"Do you think this changes anything?! You believe Stark's tantrum and Rogers' brief jailbreak will save you? They've only made things worse! You are now all enemies of the state. And when they fall - when Stark falls - I will make sure you are the first to be buried."

I tilted my head toward the hologram, 

"Ross," I sighed, lifting my head to face the camera and the invisible eyes that watched me.

"You can shove your questions, threats, and pathetic little power trip right down your throat. You are nothing. Only a poor little man hiding behind soldiers and cages. You believe you are strong? Do you believe you've broken me?"

"Fuck you! Fuck your agreements. Fuck the leash around Tony's neck. Most importantly, fuck this country if it believes you are justice."

"Aggressiv till the dying breath. Let's see how long you can hold that tongue while choking on it."

The ceiling hissed. A panel slid open, and something steel came down—a mounted device, which clicked to life. My nose flared. I didn't identify it, but my instincts were screaming.

"No!" It fired.

Pain rushed through me. Electricity, sharper and more intense than anything I'd ever felt, burned through my veins. My body was trembling, limbs lashing against the floor as if my flesh was trying to tear itself apart. My scream was wrenched from my throat before I could control it.

The world went white. Then black.

Ross's silky and caustic voice was the last thing I heard before dropping unconscious.

"Sleep peacefully, monster. Tomorrow, we will try again."

 

 

(FLASHBACK)

The stone floor felt chilly against my bare feet. I was shaking, pulling the thin fabric of my dress about my arms, but it did nothing to keep the cold away. The halls were too large and too lofty, and I constantly felt as if the shadows were waiting for me, listening.

I should not have left the room. Alcina hated it when I left. But I overheard him. A man is sobbing.

I followed it through the curved staircase to the huge hall, where the candles flickered like trembling hearts. And then I froze.

Cassandra stood there. A man lay at her feet, his hands tied and his shirt ripped open. His face was stained with dirt and tears.

"Please," he begged, choking on his tears. "Please, my family - my son, my wife - need me. I'll leave and I'll never return. I swear."

Cassandra smiled sharply and cruelly. She cocked her head, like a cat poised to crush a mouse."Do you think we care about your little family? You're nothing but meat."

The sickle came down. The sound - wet made me clap my palms over my ears, but it did not help. His scream was high and dirty, ending in a horrible gurgling sound. Blood flowed across the marble.

I couldn't control myself. I let out a little, scared squeak.

"C-Cass..."

Her head snapped towards me. My breath caught. She knew I was there.

"Little sister," she said, her lips curling into something worse than a smile. "Spying, are we?"

I ran. My heart crashed into my ribs with such force that it hurt. My feet slipped on the glossy stone, and my breath escaped in sharp sobs. I tried to close my eyes, but that only made the music louder in my head. Scream, cut, and silence.

Then, white.

Alcina's robe swept across the floor like snow. I crashed into her, burying my face in the fabric before I even noticed. She smelled like perfume, smoke, and a subtle hint of copper.

Her hand dropped, claws brushing across my hair with disconcerting softness. "Little mouse," she muttered. "Why do you cry?"

I tried to speak, but the words strangled out of me. "She - he - blood"

Alcina crouched, lowering herself. Her red lips curled into what wasn't quite a smile.

"So... you've finally seen."

I looked up at her, my tears touching the candlelight. "Why? Why - why did she do it so easily? " My voice cracked.

Alcina used one sharp nail to tilt my chin slightly. "Because this is what we are, child," she murmured quietly. "This castle isn't a sanctuary. It's an empire. And kingdoms are based on might, not mercy."

My lips trembled. "But... I am not like you. I am not..."

"You will be. You'll learn, Anastasia. You will grow. And one day, you will not mourn over prey. You will go after it."

"You've seen enough for tonight," she said. "Anastasia, go to your room. Donna will wait for you in the morning. She tells me your Italian lessons have been missing."

Her pointed glare pierced through me like a razor, daring me to argue. I only nodded, my throat was too tight to speak. She turned and swept away, her long robe trailing across the marble like a shadow absorbing the bloodstains. Cassandra's laughter echoed softly in the darkness as she fled with her victim.

My young hands trembled as I mounted the stairway.

And then "Hey, little sis."

I froze.

Bella stood at the end of the corridor, her clothing stained with blood and her fingers slippery with gore. She was crouched over something - a guy, or what remained of him. A tangled pile of limbs and ripped flesh. She smiled at me behind the curtain of her blonde hair, her eyes filled with a strange kind of happiness.

"You want some?" She asked with a sing-song, holding up a severed arm as a gift.

My stomach lurched violently. I stumbled back and shook my head so hard it ached. "N-no," I said softly, my voice breaking.

I leaned my back against the heavy door, my chest heaving and my little hands shaking so violently that I thought they would crack. My heart felt like it was going to pull itself free from my ribs.

On the pillow rested the only thing in this palace that genuinely seemed like mine: a little teddy bear. Donna had sewn it for me herself, with slightly uneven seams and one button eye larger than the other. I gripped it so closely against my chest that it almost ached.

Hot tears ran down my cheeks, dropping into the bear's fur as I muttered, "I don't want this. I do not want this life."

"No more crying," I said softly. "I will make them proud. I'll show them that I'm not weak. I'll... I will be strong. Strong, like them."

I wasn't strong yet. Not like Cassandra. Not like Alcina.
But one day, I will be...

(END OF FLASHBACK)

 

Notes:

𝑺𝒐, 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔: 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆, 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝑰 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒇𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝟖 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒔.  𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒊𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒏' 𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆, 𝒌𝒖𝒅𝒐𝒔 , 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓.𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 ♥

Chapter 16: 𝒪𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎

Notes:

tags: l content/warnings: wanda maximoff x oc, resident evil x marvel, sapphic blood, fanfic, 18+, Violence, re8crossover, death, mutal pinning, angst, Weapons/Gun Violence, Strong language, Violence / Gore, slowburn, Kidnapping, slightly smut!

 

 

I felt the weight of someone's gaze before I opened my eyes. She watched me quietly and patiently, as if she were memorizing every line of my face.

My eyelashes fluttered, and the first thing I noticed was Wanda. Her head rested on her hand, her hair falling about her shoulders in a loose, wild veil. She smiled, little but full of affection.

"Morning," I muttered, my voice still heavy with sleep.

Her smile widened. "Morning, ljubav ." (love) She leaned forward, brushing her nose against mine before kissing me softly. I let out a small sigh and moved closer, my hand finding its way to her waist.

We kissed again, slowly, as if we had all the time in the world.

When she eventually pulled back, I snuggled my face into the curve of her neck, smelling the familiar scent of her skin, while she wrapped her arm around me. We stayed there, twisted and comfortable, till I muttered against her collarbone, "Are the boys up yet?"

She chuckled, her fingertips running up and down my back. "Tommy tried to steal cereal at six in the morning. Billy complained. They surely are making plans against each other as we speak."

I laughed, but the sound was muffled in her shoulder. "Our little terrors."

"Our little miracles," Wanda said quietly, laying a kiss on my hair.

I tilted my head back slightly to look at her, catching the glitter of her mother's pride in her gaze. "We should get up before they destroy the kitchen," I joked, but made no effort to leave her arms.

"Five more minutes," she whispered, drawing me closer, her lips meeting mine again.

Wanda slipped her hand up my side, her thumb brushing just inside the edge of my panties, gently. Her lips met mine again, deeper this time, no longer lazy or slow, but hungry.

My fingers twisted in her hair, the kiss deepened and heated up, her breath warm against my cheek. "Wands," I moaned against her lips, begging. Her fingers slowly circle around my clit.

When she pulled back just enough for me to see her face, I froze. Her eyes were no longer gentle. They were searching and in pain. She gripped my face, shaking, and crushed her forehead to mine.

"Where are you?" she murmured, her voice breaking.

The words didn't make sense at first, like a crack in a dream I didn't realize I was having. My stomach became cold, and I realized I wasn't in bed, surrounded by her warmth.

 

 

I gasped, and my eyes sprang open. It was fucking dream. I don't know how I'm still alive. It's been fourteen days.

The room had become smaller. Not physically - it was always the same four walls and mirror - but in my mind, it was crushing in, closing tighter and tighter till I could not breathe. My thoughts bounced back to me, as if they belonged to someone else.

The speaker cracked.

Ross' voice slipped into the room. "You're looking worse than I thought. Fourteen days, no answers." A pause. "You're not as strong as you think."

Silence.

"I do not have to touch you to break you. Look at yourself. No food and no one to help. You are a shell. And you still protect them? Why? They would not do the same for you."

His words slipped through my mind. Because what if he was correct? What if Wanda, Steve, and Tony had already left me behind? What if they had moved on, forgotten me, and dismissed me as a casualty?

I shook my head hard. No. That was not true. That could not be true.

Ross's voice became sharper. "Anastasia, tell me where they are, or you can stay here until your bones are all that remain."

A hiss snapped through the ceiling. I felt sick to my stomach. I expected what would happen.

"No." I dragged myself against the wall and murmured. I scratched at the concrete with my nails in desperation. "Please don't."

Before I could say the final word, the current blasted through me. My body arched, my teeth gripped until I thought they would break, every nerve blazing. This time, I stopped screaming because my throat was too dry and scratchy.

Ross's voice sounded mockingly soft over the speakers.
"This may be ended at any time. Just one word. Give me just one place."

I wanted to curse him and spit back, but my mouth closed. White streaks sliced across my vision as the light above grew hazy, until the room vanished completely.

 

(Flashback)

My chair was too big  -  the wood cold under my legs, my feet swinging uselessly. It wasn't meant for me to move. I was not allowed to speak. Simply watch.

At the end of the table was Mother Miranda. She didn't have to move to get everyone to stop talking since I could feel her eyes watching me and everything else behind that golden mask.

On one side of the table stood my grandma, a tall and elegant woman. Her presence always made me feel safer. Her words, however, were like claws tonight.

"Heisenberg, your machines are primitive toys. When you're nothing but filthy, do you dare to call yourself her uncle?

Uncle Karl smiled, and he slammed a boot into the table. "Alcina, at least I don't keep her in a cage. The girl is treated like a porcelain doll by you. You made her soft, which is why she is soft.

Staring at the long table where Moreau sighed and snapped, his hands wringing like wet rags, I sank in my chair. Angie's laughter echoed high, with her veil still and her palm resting on the wooden shoulder of the doll. Aunt Donna sat in silence.

I wanted my ears covered. I wanted to go out.

Alcina muttered, "Pathetic, all of you. She's so young. I'm the only one who can raise her. She's my blood."

"Then why is she trembling now?" Uncle Karl asked in a joyful voice.

I noticed they were staring at me, but it was too late. Each and every one. Under the table, my legs trembled more. My eyes burned, but I didn't want to cry. My hand was touched by a warm one.

Auntie Donna.

Her voice was the only soothing thing in the room when she murmured, "Come." Angie chuckled once more, but in a softer, almost affectionate tone, as Donna got up and walked me away from the table.

With a loud boom, the doors closed behind us. I breathed again in the silent, dark hallway.

My tiny shoes clicked too loudly on the floor as Auntie Donna guided me along the stone halls with her cold but steady hand.

We paused in the greenhouse, which smelled of flowers and earth and was warm. Glass jars filled with plants and roots were lit by softly glowing candles on the tables. Angie sat on a pot, watching me with a painted smile.

Donna's black veil fell like a curtain as she crouched down so that we were eye to eye. When she did speak, it was quiet and low, like a lullaby.

"What's upsetting you, cara mia?"

With words stuck in my throat, I twisted my fingers together. "They... they yell. I don't like it." My voice broke into a whisper. "The wolves. Ly-ycans. They look at me."

Auntie Donna tilted her head. After that, she brushed a lock of hair from my cheek. "They won't ever touch you, even though they might look."

I gave her a blink. "Why?"

"Because you are family. Family holds value as well."

My hair was stroked by Donna's hand as if she could take away all of my worry. There was a lengthy pause before she cocked her head and spoke softly.
"Cara mia, would you like to read with me?"

I hurriedly nodded while sniffling and running my sleeve across my cheek.

Her black skirts whispered across the stone floor as she stood and walked across the greenhouse. She pulled a book with pressed flowers on the cover from a high shelf. She patted the spot next to her while sitting on the bench when she got back. As she turned the pages, I got up, leaning against her arm with my legs hanging down.

As she read about gardens and blossoms, and how many flowers express without words - love, sadness, hope.

I said, "Thank you, Auntie," as she stopped to flip a page.

She tilted her face in my direction. "What for, little one?"

"For making me feel better," I whispered, drawing nearer. "I want to be just like you when I grow up." The book remained still in Donna's gloved hand. "Like me? Why?"

"Because you are incredible. You know everything. You always know what to do. And you're kind and safe." For a moment, she did not respond. I wondered if I'd said something wrong. But then her hand touched mine again.

"You are already stronger than you realize," she said kindly. "But if you want to learn, I can teach you. Every book I own, every flower I grow."

"I'll make you proud, Auntie."

(End of Flashback)

 

The darkness clung to me like a second skin. My body was pale and static, a shell that no longer felt like my own. Every breath burned and was weak and sharp. My veins pleaded for blood, strength, yet there was none, only emptiness left.

Then came the voices.

At first, I thought it was just the echoes of Ross' constant questions. However, this voice was different. "Anastasia? Where are you now? Are you okay? Please - tell me something."

It could not be.

"Ana... please answer me." Wanda's voice.

I closed my eyes harder, my nails sinking into the cold floor under me. No. No, that was a trick. It had to be. Ross was trying to break me down, putting false beliefs in my mind until I gave in.

"I'm going insane," I said to the quiet and the walls that never responded. "I'm actually losing it. Bloody hell"

However, the voice did not stop. Sometimes it was faint, like wind through a crack in stone, and other times it was sharp, as if she were there beside me.

"Please, Ana. Don't leave me. Just say something."

I pressed my forehead to the ground, trembling. "You're not real," I said to the empty room. "You're not here. You can't be."

I bit down hard on my lip, no longer feeling the pinch. Blood dripped, and I couldn't tell whether it was real or imagined.

Was Wanda real? Was the room real? Was I even real anymore?

Shadows moved in the corners, reaching toward me. Sometimes I believed they were Ross's men rushing in to pull me away, and other times I swear they were Alcina's daughters, smiling with greedy smiles.

I also laughed. I felt hysterical and broken, as if something inside me had cracked apart. "I don't even know what's real anymore," I said to no one and everyone. "Am I here... or am I still there?"

 

 

(FLASHBACK)

Bella stood tall beside me, her torch lighting her grin and gold-red eyes. To me, she appeared to be a higher power, not the monster that others had warned about. My favorite sister.

"Watch closely, Ana," Bella said, placing a dagger into my hand. She grabbed a struggling man by the hair and dragged him to his knees before us. His eyes were open, and he breathed quickly and heavily.

"Right here," she said, placing her palm over mine and lifting the blade to the sensitive skin of his throat. "Not too deep. You want him to bleed and not die. Yet."

The man sobbed. I could look at him without hesitation. I could look at Bella and the smile on her lips, as if it were a game. Her hand was solid on mine.

"Go ahead, Ana. Show me."

My fingers shook as I pressed the dagger forward, slashing carelessly. Red streaked across delicate flesh.. The sound he made, part scream, half sob, went deep into my chest, but Bella giggled and kissed the side of my head.

"Nice one, iubi!!!You will learn."

I turned to her, "Bella... I finally reached a decision. I do not want to be human anymore. I want to be like you. Like grandma, like all of you."

She knelt and cupped my chin, pushing me to stare into her eyes. "Are you sure? Once you choose this life, there's no turning back. Ever."

I swallowed. "I want to be strong. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I want to be a family. Really, family."

Bella's smile widened. She drew me close, blood from her hand sliding across my cheek, whispering, "Then you'll get your wish, sister. Soon. I can't wait to tell this beautiful news to Cassandra!!"

(End of Flashback)

 

 

My eyes snapped open, pulling me out of the blood-soaked memory. Bella's voice and the man's strangled cries faded away.

It flickered above, bursting in random bursts. Each flash entered my skull, and each hum pressed against my bones till I wanted to scream. For a time, I couldn't tell if I was back in the castle, with stone walls breathing about me, or in this coffin of steel and quiet.

When I moved, the cuffs cut into my wrists.

The light above me spat and died again, throwing the room into shadow before returning to life. Each flicker carved ghosts into the corners: figures that moved when I blinked, breathing walls, and twisted shadows.

The floor shook. Only once. A low groan sounded through the metal below me, shaking up my spine.

Hallucination. It needed to be. Too many days without blood and sleep. My thoughts were collapsing in on themselves.

But it happened again. The room was no longer safe.

Ana...

I froze. My eyes darted wildly to the corners, to the glass, to the walls that shook again. My throat burned.

Where are you? 

"No." My voice was a rasp, barely more than air. "Not real. Not real, not real."

The mirror broke without notice. A crack like lightning broke through the silence, and pieces showered down onto the floor, scattering about me like small stars. I flinched, too weak to move my arms, and lay lifeless on the cold ground, glass piercing into my skin.

The world was in chaos right now. Screams, gunfire, and metal banging into metal. Boots stomped over the floor above me. Shouts, orders, then the sudden crack of something exploding.

I placed my cheek against the floor. My eyesight blurred in and out, the colors blurring together, and my body was too empty to move.

Then - footsteps. Closer. A tiny outline against the flashing red of the alarms.

"Anastasia..."

The voice. I knew that voice. Warm hands caressed my face, thumbs stroking against my dirty flesh. The touch made me shake even worse.

Her breath trembled against me, urgent. "I've got you, Dušo." (sweetheart)

My collar clicked. As the device was taken away, the pressure around my neck relaxed. I wanted to speak, to hold on to that moment, but the room shifted sideways, the sounds faded into emptiness, and darkness swallowed me whole.

 

 

Notes:

𝑴𝒀 𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑹 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑺, 𝑰'𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕! 𝑰 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝟐 𝒂.𝒎., 𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒛𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔. 𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒊𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒏' 𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆, 𝒌𝒖𝒅𝒐𝒔 , 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓.𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 ♥

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Only you - Wanda Maximoff