Written in Blood - Reader x Wanda / Reader x Natasha

Chapter Seven

You wake in an unfamiliar room, under bright lights bearing down from above. The fluorescence almost burns your eyes. Blinking away the discomfort, your surroundings start to come into focus as you make out a hospital style bed propping you up, with crisp white sheets and metal sidebars.

Across the room, the famed Captain America leans in the doorway, absent of his usual stars and stripes. It's strange to see him dressed in more casual attire; even at the height of the second great war, every bit of footage you saw of him featured his colourful uniform and famed shield. It was as inspiring as it was insufferable, you'd thought back then. Yet in the flesh, his righteousness seems altogether more sincere.

"Hell of a first day." He eyes you with less hatred than you'd expected, though a certain amount of suspicion is detectable in his tone.

"What can I say? I like to make a lasting first impression." You move to lift your hands, only to feel the chafing of metal at your wrists. Handcuffs. Of course. Pure silver, if you're not mistaken, which is amusing to say the least.

Steve crosses his arms, with an almost apologetic twist to his mouth. "Sorry. We couldn't take any chances."

You nod. After what you've done, it's more than fair. 

What you've done. The thought brings back memories you'd rather forget: attacking Wanda, fighting Natasha. Feeding. That warm, delicious blood...

"I didn't..." Your voice fails you for a moment, scared what the answer to your question might be. "I didn't cause too much damage, did I?"

Steve levels you with a curios look, searching for something in your expression. Sincerity, perhaps. "Not too much. But I have to ask... Wanda, will she be ok?"

His words make your chest seize with worry. "You tell me. She isn't... she's ok, isn't she? She didn't lose too much blood?"

He regards you curiously once more. "You're worried about her," he says, half a question, and half a statement.

"Of course I am. I could have killed her. And as much as it may surprise you, that's the last thing I would want. Now please... tell me she's alright." 

He must finally find the sincerity he was looking for, because the suspicion slowly recedes from his eyes, and understanding finally seems to dawn on him that perhaps you aren't the monster he'd imagined. "She's fine."

Relief instantly overwhelms you. She's fine. She's ok. 

"But we need to know if she's going to... change," Steve continues.

"Ah." You chuckle. These mortals and their fanciful stories about your kind are always endlessly amusing. "No, thankfully it doesn't quite work like that."

"Good. One of you is more than enough."

You both turn at the sound of a new voice to see Natasha standing in the doorway. It's a relief to see her smiling and mostly uninjured. Even so, the small amount of bruising you can see makes a rising swell of shame settle in your stomach.

It's an uneasy feeling. A sickly, twisting sort of thing that tugs at your insides. Better to avoid it entirely and default to what you know best...

"Romanoff, I should have known you'd come to visit me in here. You've been wanting to get me into bed for months." Flirtation. It never lets you down.

Natasha smirks. "Mhmm. Exactly how I pictured it too."

You raise a brow, moving your hands enough for the metal of your handcuffs to clink against the metal of the bedframe. "Really? I should have known restraints would be your style."

An awkward cough breaks the flirtatious tension between you, as Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "You both know I'm still sitting here, right?"

His awkwardness is endearing, in a way. Enough to force a laugh from you. "Don't worry Rogers, we'll save the flirting for after you've left."

Natasha shakes her head. "Actually, Wanda's on her way. She's been worried she-"

"No!" The shout escapes you before you even consciously think about it. Panic grips you at once. You can't see Wanda. Not now. The idea of her sitting beside your bed, so close. That delicious blood thrumming through her veins. That magic... calling to you. "I don't want to see her. Don't let her come here."

Both Natasha and Steve stare back at you in surprise, confused at your sudden outburst. You don't have time to explain. Not if Wanda is already on her way. You need to leave. Now.

You teleport from your bonds, instantly standing unshackled at the end of the bed. 

"Well I guess we can cross silver off the list of potential vampire weaknesses." Steve sighs.

You ignore him, instantly making for the door. Only when it swings open, you're confronted with the woman you'd desperately hoped to avoid. 

Wanda blinks in surprise at your sudden appearance, halting for a moment in her tracks. Her lips form words you can barely make sense of. Your name, you think. She's asking if you're ok. A ridiculous question. Vampires heal quickly, and she's the one who had been attacked, who had had the lifeblood stolen from her veins.

The thought of it makes you salivate. Her scent surrounds you at once, so tantalising you can almost picture snatching her by the shoulders and sinking your teeth into her neck once more. You could do it before anyone had chance to stop you. You could drink and drink until her veins ran dry and her heart stuttered to a stop.

Even through the haze of bloodlust, imagining her lifeless eyes is enough to make you sick. Here she is, concerned for your wellbeing, even after what you did. And all you can think about is tasting her blood once more.

You need to leave. To protect her. To...

She says your name once more, and it sounds so sweet from her lips. She says it like a question, probably wondering why you're standing there, body rigid, staring her down in wide-eyed silence. Concern laces her tone and it's enough to force your feet into action, finally pushing past her as quickly as dignity will allow and stumbling into the central common room to put as much distance between yourself and Wanda as possible.

The rest of the team await there, all eyes landing on you as you enter. Tony rubs a weary hand over his brow.

"So, funny story..." you begin.

"The silver didn't work," he guesses, shaking his head.

You sense the others filtering into the room behind you, Wanda's delicious scent flowing into the room. It's almost torture. You clench your hands tight, digging your nails into your palms in a fight to remain in control.

You're grateful when Tony speaks again. It's something to focus on beside the overwhelming temptation. "So, do you wanna explain how we're supposed to contain you until the chip is removed?" He pours himself a drink, seemingly working through a dozen options in his head. "You'll need a babysitter 24/7. Maximoff can-"

"No! Not Wanda," you cut in with desperation.

An awkward silence follows. You dare look in Wanda's direction only once, but her crestfallen expression immediately makes you wish you hadn't. She's hurt. And it's your fault.

You decide to focus on the far wall instead, pretending to find the paint there interesting.

"It's fine," Natasha says, finally breaking the silence. "I'll do it."

You send her a grateful glance. This is for the best, after all, and Wanda will understand in time.