Magda dies four days after birthing the twins. It’s an illness, that’s all they ever know, and neither can truly be sad because they never knew her.
Erik often talks of her. He tells Wanda how she has her mother’s eyes and body. He tells Pietro how he has her face.
Erik raises them. He is their “Father” although Pietro can never think of him as such. Wanda calls him daddy and for a long time, she believes with her whole soul that he is the best one there is.
Pietro isn’t sure why he doesn’t have her rose-tinted glasses.
The days following his disappearance are the first time that Pietro has seen his sister cry, properly.
At first it’s because she misses him, but then it’s because his control starts to lift and the truth begins to seep in through the cracks. And he starts to realise why she saw him so differently to him, just as she starts to realise what a monster their daddy was. Is.
His heart breaks as he watches her realise all of the atrocities that she’s been put through. All of the things that man did while forcing her, still, to love him.
He holds her for three days straight and they cry together. They’re alone in the house when Raven — Mystique — finds them, curled up together in Erik’s bed.
*
The first safe place they’ve been since they were babies and in their mother’s embrace, and the bomb is what rips is apart.
They are sitting at the table across from Oleg and Irina, and all of them are smiling. Wanda remembers this, because she looks to her brother with a grin, seconds before the missile comes plummeting through the roof.
They have been here for two years. Wanda had called Irina “Mother” (matka) for the first time last week. It felt nice, and right. She cannot call Oleg her father, it would not feel right for her or Pietro, and he suggested “Uncle” (stryjek). That felt better.
Wanda’s last memory of their happy, contented life in that apartment, is watching her matka and stryjek fall through the gaping hole in the apartment floor before Pietro grabs her and dives beneath the bed.
In retrospect, Wanda often wonders whether they could have done more, had their powers been stronger back then.
They are there for three days. Three days of being pressed against one another, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe.
Everything else felt impossible, and make believe, apart from the presence of each other. In those three days, they became each other’s entire worlds, more than ever before.
*
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
Ultron is standing barely ten feet away, so Wanda keeps her voice quiet, standing close enough to her brother that she can feel his harsh, jagged breathing against her face.
His hand finds hers and he squeezes it hard. “I want revenge,” he says, and his voice is thick with tears. “I want to make him hurt the way he hurt us.” the way he hurt you.
Wanda understands. She squeezes his hand back just as hard, resisting the urge to lean in and kiss away the tear that falls only because it feels too intimate of an action, with a murder-bot watching them.
“Is this what you want, Wanda?” he asks, and he sounds calmer now. She knows that if she didn’t want this, he would take them away in a heartbeat.
She knows that all Pietro has ever wanted to do is keep her safe. And that is all that Wanda wants for him. She knows he needs to do this.
“I want what you want,” she says, and she squeezes his hand again. “We will make it right.” I will make it right. For you.
*
They are on the Avengers quinjet — alone, right now — bone exhausted, covered in dirt and blood that is part their own, and part others’.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” His fingers are gentle against her cheek, brushing softly along the curve of her jaw and to the round of her lip where he strokes. His eyes are earnest and tender as he gives that look reserved just for her with that tone only she gets to hear.
“Yes,” she says quietly, and although she doesn’t want to look away from him, she does, to check that they are still alone. They are. “Are you? Because we can leave, Pietro. I promise.”
His eyes scan over her face, lingering on the curve of her lip and then the blue-green of her eyes. His eyes are such an icy blue, yet they are so warm when they look at her. He has eyes just like Erik’s, but the way he looks at her couldn’t be anymore different.
It takes a little while, but he shakes his head. “I want this too. I want… I want safety. This will be new, and this time, it will be okay,” he says, and his hand finds hers, taking it into both of his and holding tight. “You won’t be hurt again. This time, things will be okay.” This time, you will be okay. I will keep you safe. He doesn’t say the words, but she knows them.
Wanda has tears in her eyes that she won’t allow to fall, and she nods her head. “Yes,” she says again, and he moves closer to brush the lightest, brief kiss over her lips.
“I will protect you better, kotenok. This is it.”
She wants to tell him that he’s always protected her, always kept her safe so good. But he knows that. They both do. His job has always been protecting her.
They are forever.
*
The Avengers’ compound is a big, curious place. It has a clinical feel to it, but similarly, a lot of it feels… homely. Not like a home, not yet, but like it could be a home.
“This is where we eat our meals,” Steve says, as he opens the doors into a large common area. There’s a kitchen, a dining room and a seating area, all open plan and modern. The windows overlook a large green, and Wanda’s willing to bet they’re both tinted and bullet proof.
The magnitude and extravagance of it all is quite daunting. She anchors herself with the presence of her brother, but resists the urge to reach out and hold his hand.
It’s not that she particularly cares about what any of the avengers would think — she doesn’t. She just doesn’t want to expose a weakness like that. She doesn’t need them to think she’s scared, or that she’s reliant on her brother.
Yeah, she may be. But they don’t need to know that.
“We don’t always eat all together. But we usually do on Friday. We have a movie night, too, when we can,” Steve says, and he smiles, too wide. He’s over-compensating for the thick tension in the air and it’s painfully obvious. “You guys like movies, right?”
There’s a silence, during which it dawns on them both that he’s actually expecting an answer to that, and Pietro exchanges a glance with his sister. “Yes. We like movies,” he says, and Wanda has to resist the urge to roll her eyes because that would be rude. Steve is just trying to being nice. Even if it is a very patronising type of nice.
“Cool. Very good,” Steve says, nodding his head enthusiastically.
He walks them through some more parts of the “communal wing” (it’s Wanda’s understanding that they all have their own sections of the building but this is where they convene, and where the guest suites are), but he can obviously tell they’re exhausted and wanting to get somewhere where they can catch some sleep (it’s been over 72 hours, minimum, for them all).
They get to the rooms, and he begins to point out who is where, causing Wanda and Pietro to briefly lock eyes.
“You’re— just to be clear, you know that we cannot pay you rent?” Pietro says, and he looks uncomfortable as he says it, but he’s got to be sure. It’s pretty rare that someone offers you accommodations for free.
Steve turns to look at them both and his eyes widen a little. “No, of course. I know that, we don’t expect you to,” he says, and then he pauses, seeming to think hard for a moment before he says, “You’re Avengers now. Whatever that means to you, in whatever capacity you want to be a part of our team. That is your payment to us, okay? You don’t owe us anything more. That’s all we’re asking, that you be on our team.”
The silence shifts from awkward to a little less awkward as Wanda glances between Captain America and her brother. She doesn’t bother to quash her impulse this time, and reaches out to takes her brother’s hand into her own carefully, saying, “We can do that.”
“Yes.” he curls his fingers around hers and squeezes, nodding once at Steve. “We can.”
Steve shows them their rooms — suites, they're huge and have little kitchenettes and bathrooms of their own, for god’s sake — they’re next door to each other. Wanda feels relieved at that, even if the idea of not sleeping in the same room is weird, after so long.
Wanda forces Pietro to take a shower, but he does it at superspeed, and he’s done within ten seconds, back at her side with a towel around his waist, hair damp and messed up.
“What about you?” he asks, grabbing a towel to run over his damp hair, and she lets her gaze drop to the outline of his v-line, dipping beneath the towel.
He smirks but she ignores him.
“What about me?” she asks, not playing any further into his games as he makes a show of shaking his hair out, which is getting particularly long. Fucker. He knows she has a thing for his hair when it’s all grown out.
“Well, are you going to stay in here or go to ‘your own room’?” he asks, and he moves closer, snaking his arms around her waist carefully.
“Pietro, don’t,” she says, dropping her head. She’s exhausted, and she kinda feels like she’s on the verge of tears right now. She’s not in the mood for anything like this.
He, on the other hand… She can feel his pent up emotion — the worry at seeing her amidst yet another war, the anguish at watching their city, their home, fall apart in front of their very eyes… she can feel it. And she knows what he wants when he tugs her a little closer, nose brushing lightly against her forehead. “Stay here, with me,” he murmurs, one of his hands against her ass, squeezing lightly.
“Pietro, I…” She sighs, not wanting to push him away, her palm coming up to rest flat against his bare chest. It’s firm and reassuring beneath her hand. “I’m tired. I just want to take a shower. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“We have always slept in the same room, Wanda. The same bed. Always,” he says, and there’s something angry in his eyes as he pulls her closer, but she knows it’s not anger at her. It never would be, and she would never be afraid. Her belly is level with his crotch and she feels him harden beneath the towel as he presses closer.
“You said it yourself, this is a new start.”
She should’ve known not to say that. Really, she should have. His eyes get cold and hard, and he grips onto her tighter. It doesn’t hurt much, but she’s aware of the fact that she couldn’t get away from him using pure strength alone.
“Don’t,” he hisses, and he pulls her closer, lifting her slightly until she’s having to balance on her tiptoes, his eyes level with hers and breath hot against her lips. “Don’t. You are mine, always, Wanda. You are mine. No fresh start will change that. You… you are mine.” He sounds angry, looks angry, his eyes are ablaze, but she knows that’s not it.
He isn’t angry. He’s scared.
“Pietro,” she tries softly, but he grips her harder, and pushes her to the wall, his eyes insistent as he stares at her, hands tight on her body.
“No. I have always… I will always protect you. That won’t ever change. Don’t fucking start with me, okay? Don’t…” He trails off then, and it must be something in the soft way that Wanda is looking at him, despite the fact that he’s practically got her rammed against the wall, because then his anger fades, almost as fast as it had come, and the tears are in his eyes.
She isn’t surprised, she just hushes him softly, and when he lets her go, she pushes up onto her tiptoes and winds her arms around his neck. “Shh. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s okay,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the first tear that falls down his cheek. And then the next one. And the next. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”
“I will never let you go, Wanda,” he says, and his voice is low, and trembles the smallest amount with emotion.
“I know you won’t. I know. You protect me so well, Pietro. I know. You’re so good at keeping me safe,” she murmurs, and buries her face into the crook of his neck as she hugs him tighter, letting him run his hands over her back.
“I hated seeing you fight, in Sokovia. I wanted to grab you and… and get you out of there. You shouldn’t have to… have to do that,” he says, and his voice shakes a little more as he places hard kisses to her forehead.
“I’m safe,” she murmurs, holding onto him tighter, nuzzling closer. She keeps herself small and tucked away into him so that he can feel he’s protecting her better. “I’m yours, always.”
She doesn’t object when he lifts her and carries her over to the bed. Doesn’t object when he drops his towel and peels off her clothes. She’s exhausted and wants a shower, but she doesn’t object when he takes her — rough and quiet.
He needs her, like she’s needed him, and it’s the only way they know how to need each other — Erik did a number on them both.
He reaches his peak silently, holding her close, arms bound around her middle as he kisses her neck. They both know how to be quiet by now.
“Do you want…” he asks, reaching a hand down between them as he loosens his grip a little but keeps a hold of her.
“No, it’s okay,” she says quietly, shaking her head. “I just want to take a shower.”
His eyes suddenly fill with guilt and he pulls back a little, suddenly appearing that he doesn’t want to touch her at all. His hands recoil from her bare body. “Did I…” he begins, and he looks scared for a long moment.
Wanda is quick to shake her head, taking his hands into hers. She knows what he’s thinking. “No. Hey, no. Never. I wanted it,” she says, and she knows that he’s asking if he took her against her will. If he did what Erik did. “I’m just tired, kochanie. That’s all.”
He leans into her again, cupping her face lightly, eyes looking intense and sad, and so she leans in to kiss him, nuzzling against him. She doesn’t like it when he gets that look. She hates when he’s anything but happy. Hates it beyond words.
“Mhm- no.” Pietro pulls away and shakes his head, cupping her cheek and stroking it gently. “You don’t have to kiss me just because I appear upset. Go and shower. Sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Wanda pauses, shaking her head, suddenly feeling worry gripping at her chest. Her turn to be overwhelmed with the emotion. Been an emotional day, it seems. “N-no. No. You’ll…” She falls silent, and then allows a little bit of vulnerability to leak through. “You’ll come and tuck me in, won’t you?”
No matter what, he’s always there to give her a kiss goodnight.
“Yes,” he doesn’t react, he just nods his head, kissing the tip of her nose. “Yes, I will tuck you in, baby. Call me and i’ll come.”
So Wanda gets dressed and goes to “Her room” to shower. She washes her hair until it’s silky. She washes between her legs where Pietro had been. She spends a long time washing the blood off the grazes on her legs.
Then she cries for a little bit.
She wraps a towel around herself as she gets out of the shower, and looks up to the ceiling. She remembers before they’d gone back to Sokovia to fight, Stark had been talking to an AI in the ceiling. Okay not… “in the ceiling” but, well, wherever AI’s live.
She swallows and tips her head a little, extending an experimental, “FRIDAY?”
“Yes, Ms Maximoff?”
Wanda starts, eyes flying a little wide and she instinctively grips her towel a little tighter to her body. “Oh,” she says, for lack of better expression. “Hello. Uhm… okay. Hi.”
“Yes, good evening, Ms Maximoff.” FRIDAY says. “I’m detecting that you may be curious about my presence.”
Wanda nods emphatically and then says, “Yeah. Definitely.”
“I am Mr Stark’s artificial intelligence programme. I’m in charge of a large amount of Stark industry, along with a large amount of undertakings on the compound.” FRIDAY pauses, Wanda assumes for processing time. “I am activated by voice recognition of my name only. I have cameras which are only activated upon requests that require them. I do not ‘listen’ or ‘watch’ when I am not requested.”
Wanda tips her head, rubbing a hand over her neck. “You have cameras?”
“I do. They’re only activated upon requests that require me to acquire a visual. I will always state my intention first.”
Wanda sighs, moving over to the mirror and grabbing the hair brush to brush out her non-existent tangles. “So you… you feed back to Stark?”
“Miss Maximoff, forgive me if I am assuming. I believe you are worried that Mr Stark has access to your audio and visuals. I can assure you that he does not. My protocols are strictly wired to maintenance.”
Wanda mulls over FRIDAY’s words, dragging the brush through her hair a few more times. Theoretically, FRIDAY is Stark’s programme, so she has no reason to trust anything she says. But still… well, that’s probably the best she’s going to get.
“Thank you, FRIDAY.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” FRIDAY asks.
Wanda tilts her head, curiously, catching her lip between her teeth. “Can you… dim the lights in the bedroom?” she asks.
The bedroom lights dim.
“Could you make it a little colder?”
A couple of a seconds later, the air against her skin feels a little cooler.
“Could…” she pauses. “Could you tell my brother I want him?”
It takes about a minute for Pietro to knock at the door. Wanda’s heart feels tight in her chest. He’s knocking, he’s taking a step back to give her some boundaries. He feels like he hurt her.
“Come in, silly,” she calls, softly.
He comes in, and she suddenly feels a little misplaced, standing in the middle of “her” bedroom in just a towel.
“The robot in the ceiling said you called for me,” Pietro says, and he looks down at her, tipping his head a little to the side. “But you don’t look ready for me to tuck you into bed, little one.”
Wanda’s cheeks flush and she drops her head a little. “No,” she says. You help.
Pietro does. He goes to the drawer and picks out a thick sweater and some sweatpants. The drawer has a selection of plain clothes, but he knows Wanda likes to dress cozy, especially for bed.
“Panties or boxers?” he asks her.
“Panties,” she says.
He takes away her towel and gently helps her into the clothes. She just stands there once he’s done, and for a few moments… he just looks at her. He feels so lucky, sometimes, that she’s all his. Because she is. She’s his sister, his sweet girl. Especially like this. When she just wantshim to take care of her.
He keeps his eyes on her for a few moments longer before he takes her into his arms and carries her over to the bed.
“Here we go,” he murmurs, peeling back the covers and gently setting her down. “Oh, there. Warm enough?”
Wanda nods her head as he tugs the duvet over her. He crouches down beside her and tucks the little curls of hair that are spilling onto her face behind her ears.
“You can stay if you like,” Wanda murmurs, eyes trained on him as he strokes her cheek. “Wanna stay, miłość?”
“No. You will sleep in your own bed tonight, kotenok. If you need anything, call for me. I will be here within a second,” he says, and he’s being literal. She knows it.
“Love you. Gimme kiss,” she murmurs, sleepily, and blinks at him.
He leans in and kisses her softly, lips lingering as he brushes his fingers across the soft of her cheek. “Sleep, dziewczynka.”
Baby girl. She likes that. Likes being his baby. Small and safe so that he can protect her, like he does.
And she sleeps. Sleeps for one hour before she wakes up and she can’t stop crying because it’s been so long since she’s slept alone. She’s shaking so badly and the tears keep coming, regardless of any attempts at internally reasoning with herself.
Her body won’t accept not having him there with her. The scared, little girl inside of her that needs her brother, won’t settle. It’s been so long since she hasn’t had Pietro’s body pressed against hers in bed. That’s how they’ve always been, right there with each other, forever since they were tiny.
And it’s been hard. It’s been a hard, scary few days, and she’s overwhelmed and overtired and more than a few of her triggers have been hit over the last few days so she’s feeling particularly vulnerable.
She whispers Pietro’s name quietly, body shaking with how badly she needs him with her.
She doesn’t have to wait very long for him to be next to her. She gasps lightly and turns to sob into his chest instead. She clutches at him and sobs.
He holds her tight and she holds him back.
“I know. Me too, Wanda. Me too,” he whispers, and kisses along her forehead. She lifts her head to meet the kisses, pressing her own to his chin and his cheeks, heart feeling painful with her tears. “Right here with you. Right here. Not alone.”
“Need you,” she whines, can’t help her desperation, and he hushes her, holding her tight.
“You’ve got me. Always. Always.” he strokes her hair firmly. “Breathe.” He pulls back so that he can kiss her, all over her face, fast and comforting. “Breathe, baby. You will never be alone.”
Wanda’s breaths are jagged and she holds tight to her brother, as his kisses slow until he’s at her lips, kissing her deeply. It’s slow, and calming, and she melts into it. His hands on her face and in her hair, stroking her to calm her.
She’s not sure why her panic is so intense, but she’s glad that Pietro gets it. Gets that she just needs him. Needs him all over her.
His body is wrapped tight around hers.
This time when she falls asleep, it feels safe. Safe, warm and she sleeps soundly.
Maybe for the first time in years.
*
It’s around eight by the time Wanda gets dressed (into a cami and a pair of shorts… there aren’t an awful lot of clothing choices, they’re all quite plain. Not that she’s complaining) and leaves her room.
She had tentatively asked FRIDAY if Pietro was awake and she had confirmed that he was, in fact, still sleeping.
She doesn’t want to wake him, but her stomach is audibly growling with how hungry she is. She figures it’s been a few days, aside from the protein bars Steve handed out on the jet on the way to sokovia.
“FRIDAY, which way is the kitchen?”
“Down the hall to your left, Ms Maximoff. It will be the second door on the right hand side.”
“Thank you,” she says, although she’s not entirely sure if she has to do that.
She makes her way through the hall, hands tucked into the pockets of her shorts. She cracks the door open slowly, and almost turns around to leave when she realises that it’s not empty, but it’s too late by that point.
“Good morning.” It’s Natasha — Agent Romanoff, the Black Widow.
Wanda’s insides tense up literally just at the sight of her, but there’s no backing out now. Well, she could, but she can’t. So she pushes the door open all the way and gives a soft, “Morning.”
Natasha made an important decision last night. She was awake pretty much all night, sitting out on the balcony long after everyone had gone to sleep. She did a little digging on the twins, and she couldn’t dig up much.
Somewhere along the line, Natasha concluded that she had two choices. She could either hate them — which seemed to be what she wanted to do by default, seemed to be the path of least resistance — or she could try to understand them. And at the end of the day, it’s inevitably going to be her job to train them up if they are deemed suitable for the team.
Plus… They’re young. Hating them would just feel wrong.
“Did you manage to get some sleep?” Natasha asks, “I assume you found everything you needed?”
Wanda blinks, slowly moving to stand by the counter, making eye contact with Natasha again, who’s sitting on a stool with what looks like a mug of coffee. She hadn’t expected anyone apart from maybe… Steve, to be quite so nice. “Yes thank you. W— I did.” She stops herself from saying ‘we’ because that wouldn’t make sense. No one else needs to know that Wanda spent the last eight hours pressed tight into her brother’s arms.
“Good,” Natasha nods, eyes sweeping over the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
Wanda is almost apologetic in the way she nods her head. She doesn’t want to inconvenience Natasha, or anything, but embarrassingly she… doesn’t know what to do.
Natasha obviously has some sense of that, because she smiles and slips of the counter stool, rounding until she’s nearer to Wanda. The urge to flinch away from anyone other than her brother is almost instinctive, but Wanda forces herself to quell it. “I’m gonna make some pancakes, because no doubt everyone will be hungry this morning. Would you like some?”
Wanda doesn’t hesitate very long before she nods, yes.
“Good. I’ll show you how you make them,” Natasha says. “Okay. Can you grab the milk from the fridge for me?”
The next fifteen minutes are spent with Natasha showing Wanda how to make pancake batter. She tells her it’s a good, simple option for breakfast and it can be super quick.
Wanda doesn’t say much, doesn’t really know what to say, she feels awkward and tight with tension. Natasha is being nice and Wanda almost wishes she wouldn’t. She’s not used to people being unconditionally nice, especially not when she’s fucked them over — like she did with the Avengers.
It’s fucking confusing.
Steve comes into the kitchen when they’ve almost finished making the batter. He smiles and slings an arm around Natasha’s shoulder in a way that is very friendly. Maybe too friendly. Wanda can’t decide if it’s romantic or not.
Clint is next. And then Bruce. Wanda tries to control her breathing when Bruce comes in. She can’t shake the feeling of remembering the chokehold he had held her in. His arm braced against her neck… she feels shaky at the thought.
It’s not that she can’t handle a little combat, it’s that — being choked right against someone’s body, a man’s body… Erik. Despite how she did her best after that and powered through, it made her want to cry and curl up into a ball, somewhere hidden and safe.
She tries to shake it off, but she catches Natasha looking at her sideways. She wonders if she’s that easy to read.
As soon as Pietro comes into the kitchen, she feels at ease. She doesn’t even turn to look at him, she knows he’s there as soon as he walks in, can feel his warmth.
“Good morning. You hungry?” Natasha asks, smiling at him, and Wanda glances in his direction long enough to see the brief flash of confusion grace his features.
He tucks it away quickly enough, though, and says that yes, he could definitely eat.
Wanda helps Natasha stack the pancakes onto three plates as they make them. There’s a lot there, but she knows Pietro eats a lot, and figures Steve and Bruce probably need it for their metabolisms too.
Everyone is talking, but Wanda keeps out of it little. She sits down at the table beside Pietro, and cuts up a pancake. She makes it last a while, because despite the fact that her stomach had been grumbling, she’s not really hungry anymore. She actually feels a little sick.
After about half an hour of them sitting at the table, and she’s only about half way through one pancake, Pietro nudges his hand against hers gently. “Wanda, spożyć,” he says, voice low and firm. Eat.
She glances up from her plate self-consciously, glad that his words seem to have been quiet enough that no one else heard.
I am not hungry. She pushes the words into his consciousness and lets her fork fall down to her plate. She flinches a little at the noise of it even so and ducks her head again when Natasha meets her eye.
“Jeść twoje jedzenie,” he says, Eat your food, voice a little firmer, and his hand squeezes her knee.
She shifts uncomfortably, because now she knows Natasha is watching her. And Steve too.
Stop it. I am not hungry. She tells Pietro, in Sokovian.
He squeezes her knee a little more.
Pietro don’t. I feel sick.
He’s always tried to make sure she eats enough. When there wasn’t enough food, he would make sure she got what she needed, even if his metabolism requires more food. He’s always been like that. Always wanted to take care of her — can’t stand the idea of her being without.
But sometimes he goes too far with it. Like the time she’d been sick. She felt sick the day before she started to get any symptoms — didn’t wanna eat anything. Couldn’t. He didn’t like the idea of that, though, and held her down to force the food down her throat. She was gagging, but he didn’t stop until she swallowed it all.
It comes from a good place, she knows that it always, always, comes from a good place… but sometimes he goes too far.
She knows he learnt it from Erik. Knows that “No” doesn’t mean anything to him, because, Erik never listened when they said no. When Wanda said no, and Pietro had to see all that. He had learnt that no doesn’t mean no, when he had to see Erik taking Wanda against her will, in so many ways, even when she protested.
“Wanda…”
She stands up — she can’t do it, can’t deal with the memories rising from his persistence. She walks out.
She’s not sure which way she’s going and she sort of blindly stumbles into a room opposite the kitchen area, dropping into a crouch and letting her head fall into her hands. Her heart is racing and her head feels light.
She doesn’t want to think about her daddy, but he won’t get out of her head now. She can feel his hands, all over her, and she wants it to stop. She can feel the burn beneath her skin as he touched her, can feel the weight of him on top of her as he…
“No. No. No,” she murmurs quietly, tugging at her hair and shaking her head fast. “Papa, no. No,” she bites back a loud whimper, hands trembling.
The door clicks open and she feels her trembling intensify. “N-not now, Pietro,” she whines, she can’t have him with her right now, because he’ll want to touch and hold her. She doesn’t want touch right now. Just wants a little bit of time alone.
“It’s not Pietro. It’s me.”
It’s Natasha.
Wanda trembles some more, burying her face further into her hands as she tries to calm herself down. She just can’t. Feels her head spinning from the intensity of the memories hitting her.
“Okay. I think you’re having a panic attack. I’m going to sit down in this chair, and just talk to you, okay? Try to ground yourself by listening to my voice,” Natasha says, and her words are still and even.
Wanda whimpers, biting down on the skin of her hand, trying to anchor herself to the present.
“Don’t do that, don’t hurt yourself. Focus on my voice, alright, Wanda?” Natasha says. “I want you to take some deep breaths. I think you’re feeling overwhelmed, maybe you’re having some unwanted thoughts, but I want you to focus on your breathing and what you know is true, right now.”
Wanda tries, tries to focus on what Natasha is saying. Breathe? yes. Breathe. She can breathe. Okay…
She takes her breaths in, and then out again. She keeps her fists clenched tight, digging her heels into the carpet. She whines out, can’t hold it back, hands trembling hard.
“It’s okay, Wanda. It’s alright. You’re here at the compound and it’s safe here.” Natasha’s voice is steady. “Just keep breathing. It’s okay. You can cry as much as you need to.”
It takes a few more minutes of Natasha calming Wanda down before Wanda’s trembling slows down and she can finally uncurl herself a little, slumping back against the wall because she’s fucking exhausted now.
“I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry…” she murmurs, and her voice is thick with her own tears. “Shit.”
“There’s nothing to apologise for,” Natasha says, and Wanda looks up at her now. She’s sitting in the chair looking at Wanda, and her expression is soft but pretty neutral. “What happened in there?”
Wanda swallows and shakes her head. She presses her palm to her forehead where a headache is starting to come on. She can’t even begin to explain it.
How does she explain how her not being hungry transformed into her having flashbacks to her father assaulting her?
“That’s okay,” Natasha says, and tilts her head. “Your brother was very worried.”
“I… yeah.” Wanda clenches her jaw and ducks her head down, her stomach clenching painfully. “Sorry I just…”
“No, you’re fine. I’m just trying to keep you here in the moment, Wanda,” Natasha says, leaning back in the chair a little, and shaking her head. “You weren’t eating very much, and you… You can’t have had a proper meal in a few days, Wanda.”
Wanda shakes her head, “No. I…” she trails off, there’s no good way to explain it. “No.”
“Okay.” Natasha seems to get the idea that Wanda isn’t going to answer any of her questions. She slips off her chair and moves to crouch in front of Wanda, movements slow. “I need you to eat something, honey. You’re extra pale and you were shaking this morning, even before your panic attack. Your blood sugar is low and it’s probably making your anxiety worse.”
it takes Wanda a little while to agree. She doesn’t want to, but she doesn’t know how to say no without explaining stuff that she doesn’t even want to talk about.
Natasha goes to the kitchen and comes back with a banana, granola bar and a protein shake.
“Come, sit at the table,” Natasha says, and her voice is a lot softer this time.
Wanda approaches slowly, brushing her hair out of her face, keeping her head ducked as she slips into a seat opposite Natasha. She’s shaking again and she can’t think of a way to explain why other than the fact that she’s fraught with nerves right now.
“Hey. You know you’re safe, right?” Natasha says, and she tips her head. “You’re okay, here, Wanda. Nothing is going to hurt you. Is that what you’re afraid of?”
Wanda shakes her head and swallows harshly, words feeling trapped in her throat.
“I know that it might take a while for that fact to sink in. It did for me too, when I first came here. The idea of safety is new, right? it’s hard to separate the outside, the bad things, from in here,” Natasha says.
Wanda almost flinches at how accurately Natasha sums it up. Yeah. Yeah it is.
“Eat the food. Or at least drink the shake.”
Wanda does, opening the bottle and bringing it to her lips. She takes a sip. It doesn’t taste that nice but she doesn’t really mind.
“Your brother’s worried.” Natasha states. “You two are close, yes?”
Wanda ducks her head, not wanting her cheeks to burn. “Yes,” she says.
It takes awhile for her to drink the shake, and then she eats the banana too. And the granola bar. It’s easier to eat without everyone else here.
She stills for a moment before she says, “Pietro?” softly. It’s three seconds exactly before Pietro is standing at her side.
Natasha blinks once, but to her credit, she doesn’t look too shocked.
“Okay. I’m going to leave. Is that okay?” Natasha asks, and she’s asking Wanda. Her eyes are fixed on her.
It takes Wanda a second to realise that and nod. “Yes,” she says quietly. She’s ready for Pietro to hold her now. Not in front of anyone though.
Natasha leaves, and Pietro comes over to crouch in front of her. He sighs quietly and reaches up to tuck her hair away from her face. “Wanda,” he says quietly, then, “You’re not scared of me, are you?”
“No, kochanie, of course not,” she says, shaking her head and taking his hand between both of her own. Because it’s true — he could never scare her. “Not scared of you, baby. Promise.”
He brings her hand to his face and kisses the palm of her hand lightly, his other hand stroking her leg. “Is it… You ate, yes?”
“Yes,” she looks to the half done bottle and granola wrapper. “I just… Pietro, you can’t make me eat,” she says quietly, and twists her hands together because saying this is making her a little nervous.
“Wanda…”
“No, I… I know you’ve been in charge of me for a long time. In charge of looking after me and protecting me but, I still… I still get to choose what I do. And I felt sick, didn’t want food, and you made me feel…” she stops there, because she doesn’t want to go too far.
Pietro hardens a little and he moves closer, gripping her waist, other hand holding her cheek. “No. I look after you, Wanda. I am not going to let you do anything that hurts you, ever.” he sighs, gritting his teeth and standing up, and now he’s towering over her and leans down against her chair. “Wanda— fuck. You’re mine, you understand that, yes? I can’t let you do things that are going to hurt you. You were shaking,malyshka, not going to let you starve.” he grips her cheek a little harder and she bites back a wince, which he quickly cuts off when he leans down and kisses her hard.
“Mhm— Pietro, stop,” she says, trying to push him off, but he pushes closer, his knees pinning her to the seat.
“Hey, shh,” he says, and moves closer until she can feel his breath against her face, against her lips. “Just calm down. Just calm down, okay? Everything is okay, little one.”
She almost starts crying then, and he’s quick to kiss her again. She doesn’t resist it this time.
“Come on. You didn’t get nearly enough sleep last night. Think you can go back to bed for me, baby?” He strokes her cheek and kisses her again. “Maybe i’ll help make you a bit sleepier, hm? Come on. Let’s go get you into bed, yeah?”
They do. Pietro leads the way back to Wanda’s room, and as soon as the door is closed he starts stripping her down gently. He gets her into bed and then climbs on top of her. She’s whimpering before he’s even touched her, and he kisses her long and hard, wrapping her up in his body. He palms at her breast, hand slipping up under her loose shirt.
“Good girl. Okay?” he asks softly, stroking the curve of her breast with his thumb.
She nods, nuzzling into him, a loud string of whimpers forcing their way through her lips. He slips his hand between her thighs. He touches her softly, and then a little harder. He knows exactly the way to stroke her and curl his fingers to bring her over the edge.
She reaches her peak as he cradles her close, out of breath and moaning softly. Her breaths are fast and her eyes fall closed, letting out a soft sigh of content.
“I can…” she begins, softly, reaching down and touching over his pants.
“No, kotenok. Sleep, alright?” He murmurs, and rolls off of her, pulling her close into his body. He wraps her up like a protective layer, and she snuggles into his chest.
Sleep comes more readily than Wanda expected, and once again?
Wanda feels entirely and wholly safe.
She could definitely get used to this feeling.