Fire and Smoke - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Chapter 96

Wanda's POV

The air around me crackles uncomfortably, my scarlet allowing me to not only experience my own discomfort, but that of the bare atoms buzzing around me in the air, colliding and shooting off into another direction, only to inevitably collide once more to change direction. A never-ending cycle. It's unnerving. And loud. It makes me twitchy. I try to keep myself grounded by twirling the rings on my fingers, the motion making me stay in my body.

I stare, unseeing, eyes glossed over at the two bodies huddled in front of the computer screen on the table which separates me from them. They are muttering to each other but I'm not listening. I'm trying to not focus on my racing heart and my clammy hands. This is all because of me.

Thoughts such as that one keep battering against the weak defense of my mind and I twirl more intently with the silver ring on my middle finger. It's the one Pietro bought for me. Well, he said he bought it, but I know he stole it. But it's the gesture that counts. Around and around and around I twirl it.

Their whispering thoughts keep wanting to be heard, tickling softly against the wall I've built up. They're agitated, stressed and scared, their emotions bleeding into mine and it is getting increasingly difficult to discern my own emotions from those around me. Usually, I would find solace in Vis' head, his thoughts a slow flowing stream of musings almost so foreign to me it's like listening to a foreign language, or maybe an opera. Now though, as much as I try to cling onto his thoughts, I fail, slipping and sliding, his mind not slotting into mine like it used to before. I wonder if something's changed him, if by him not dying at Thanos' hand like he originally did, he was changed, somehow. My Vis, I sigh heavily as another attempt at grounding myself in him fails.

Darcy and that Yelena girl are virtual strangers to me, their presence is no solace to me. I don't like the way Yelena feels. She's unreadable, like Nat. But I trust Nat. I don't trust Blondie. My scarlet uncoils within me, desiring to tear. I know it's not the girl's fault, but something ugly unlocks in me when I feel her change when my Olivia is near. I don't even care to chastise myself for thinking about Olivia as mine. She feels like she belongs to me. And she herself thinks of me as hers, I can feel it whenever Vis touches my waist. Her jealousy is strong. And I selfishly enjoy it.

Her thoughts have been the only thing keeping me somewhat sane and they're currently the only thing that are keeping me from myself flying off and tearing Hydra apart with my scarlet. The thought of doing that makes my scarlet burn underneath my skin, pulsating through my veins and my cells hotly and strongly, and I want to just let it burn. Oh, and I will. At the slightest indication of anything being wrong, I will. The weak warnings of the others concerning Hydra are lost on me. What do they know of my scarlet? It's mine and I'm the only one who understands it, and it understands me.

My scarlet reminds me of Olivia and me. As much as I don't remember her, or know her, I understand her, and I can see it in her eyes and feel her understanding me. With my scarlet, I'll always be kept safe, and with her, I feel safe.

I close my eyes as I feel the air around me vibrate in all sorts of different colors and histories, and I feel the cold air on my cheeks as if it were real, the familiar feeling of dipping my entire body into a warm bath filling my muscles as my thoughts slow down, like a jigsaw I'm softly pressing against her consciousness. It takes a considerable amount of concentration for me to stay with her, and I have to willingly upkeep the connection. Faintly, so faintly, I feel the burning hot presence of Nat, and the oceanic consciousness of Steve. They're alright.