mcu_kink_meme | Prompt Post #1

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Prompt Post #1

Welcome to the brand spanking new MCU Kink Meme!

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Wanda is the definition of glass cannon. She can wreak absolute havoc, but her body is still painfully human. If someone gets close enough to land any kind of blow on her at all, she's going down.

Except, it's really hard to do that vs telekinesis, so no one's been able to successfully land a hit on her, and the Avengers all take it for granted that she can't be hurt. Until in the middle of a fight with some baddies, one of the enemy goons comes up behind Wanda without her noticing and shoots her in the arm/shoulder/leg/somewhere non-lethal. She drops like a rock, and everyone panics.

Wanda wakes up in bed a day or two later with the whole group fussing over her, each in their own way.

Bonus if Vision never leaves her side in case she needs something, and/or if Natasha as the only other female has to help her bathe so she doesn't mess up the bandages.

On the off chance OP is still around, how would they feel about this being a post Civil War fill?

I'm not OP, but would love to read this!

OP is A-okay with this!

She didn't fight the police forces that came to arrest them at the airport, she couldn't. Her head was still pounding, throbbing from the inside out from Rhodey's attack.

She couldn't focus enough to try anything when she was thrown onto the asphalt, forced down with a knee between her shoulder blades, and had her hands cuffed tightly behind her back.

If she fought back it'd be worse, Wanda was sure.

So she didn't fight when they hauled her to her feet, yanking her towards a van at a pace that had her stumbling repeatedly, foot twisting beneath her, knees banging against the runway scraping into her skin.

She didn't fight when she was thrown onto a bench seat, or when Scott was tossed in next to her carelessly.

She wanted to fight when she saw Clint being hauled just as brutally into another van, but he shouted at her that it was okay, he could take it. It made a soldier hit him hard with a stun baton, but he only gritted his teeth against it before disappearing from sight.

-

At the raft Wanda didn't fight either, not when she was marched blindly down a maze of hallways by soldiers who didn't care if she kept her footing or not, who didn't care how they held her, or how their hands dug into her arms.

She wanted to fight, she wanted away from them, she needed to move, to leave, but if she did she was risking the boy's lives. She couldn't do that.

So Wanda concentrated on keeping her powers inside, on biting her lip so hard it bled to keep from saying anything, doing anything, and risking worse treatment.

Worse than when she was held down, hair yanked out of the way and a heavy collar secured around her neck with a loud click and a beep.

Worse than the electric shock that shot through her body when she did try to move out of their reach as one started to pull her jacket off.

Maybe if she'd fought she'd have prevented the worse that happened when she was stripped of her 'combat gear', what she knew would happen the moment the first one gained a cruel smile.

Fighting, in her experience, only made them crueler, egged them on to do worse, to show the worst of themselves.

So she didn't fight.

Instead Wanda bit her lip again, closed her eyes, and tried not to make a sound, even when the collar sparked and filled her body with white hot pain.

--

Sometimes, if she listened, if she could force her brain to focus on anything, Wanda could hear the boys talking. She thought she could anyway.

Sometimes they yelled, there was banging against what sounded like metal, plastic, but she couldn't see them.

All she saw were the guards who came into her room, who made her hurt and bleed and cry, and tried to make her use her magic, or scream for help. But she wouldn’t.

Using her magic would make the boys get hurt, make the guards hurt her worse with the collar that made her heart race, her muscles burn until she lost control of herself.

She saw a doctor once, Wanda thought, one who laughed when soldiers held her down, held her still as he shoved a tube into her nose, down her throat making her choke and gag.

There was a baby in Sokovia she'd seen once with one. his mouth wasn't right, he couldn't eat, so they'd put something through him like that tube so he could eat and live.

She could eat normally, they just never let her have anything.

He might have put stitches in her too, Wanda wasn't sure if that's what the pain was, but later parts of her burned with a new pain under the straight jacket.

-

The days blended together in a blur of pain and tears and drugs, of guards trying to make her react, to show off her magic so they could shock her, hurt her worse.

She wanted Clint, Clint would protect her. Clint would always shelter her
from anything.

Or Sam. Sam who knew so many terrible jokes, and who made a production of putting cartoon bandages on any injuries she gained in training.

Steve would get her out of here, he'd pick her up like she weighed nothing, and carry her away, letting nothing stop him.

Natasha would... no... no she wouldn't... Natasha was on Stark's side now. Natasha was at the airport but didn't stop the soldiers who arrested them, didn't talk to them or come towards them at all. She probably thought Wanda was a monster too.

Didn't everyone?

There were bootsteps coming down the hallway again, her heart began beating rapidly in response to the sound.

Boot's on concrete, the sound of screeching metal. It didn't sound like how her cell normally opened, but instead like a can being peeled open, metal shrieking and hinges tearing.

Then there were hands, not mean like usual, bigger than the others. Lifting her carefully like an infant, arm around her back, under her knees.
She blinked bleary eyes, and thought maybe the man holding her looked like Steve. It must have been a trick, there was no way Steve would be coming for her. Not with all her mistakes, not with what she'd done.

If it was a trick, that meant they were trying to hurt her more, make her talk so they could shock her. The drugs they'd given her made her head swirl and it was hard to concentrate on anything, eventually she drifted again into an unsettled sleep, resting her head against whoever held her.

-

She was right, Wanda thought later, waking disoriented, unable to breathe at the feeling of that horrible tube being pulled out of her face, gagging as it left her throat.

She didn't mean to fight, she really didn't, but she couldn't escape the panic that came when someone undid the jacket that held her arms tight to her body, leaving her in the cold air, when someone's hands were on the waistband of her scrub pants.

Someone screamed, it might have been her. Wanda kicked out with her feet against whoever was trying to touch her, tried desperately to hold back the magic tickling at her fingertips because if she didn't it'd be worse.

Someone grabbed her hands, and she tried hard to yank them away, out of their grip. She didn't want to be pinned down. Not again.
But instead of handcuffs or pain around her wrists, hands pressed into cold metal or concrete, her hands were pressed against someone's face. Someone's temples, their hands rough but light over hers.

"--with me, hon."

An invitation?

There were hands on her legs trying to still them, other loud, deep voices in the background. It was a trick, it had to be a trick. Still, Wanda took the distraction, the invitation into someone else's mind.

She expected to find herself in horror, in a mental torture chamber of some kind. Someone's sick fantasy meant to make her hurt even more. It wasn't horror that she found herself in however, but in the front room of a very familiar farm house.

"There you are," Wanda whirled at Clint's voice, eyes widening in shock, "You know how long I've been waiting to talk to you."

"You're not real," Wanda shook her head, hands twisting the material of her skirt, something she knew she wasn't really wearing.

"I guess not, I'm whatever you count as when we're stuck in your dream world," he shrugged, held his hands out to her, arms open, "But I'm here."

"I... I.. You weren't..." Wanda swallowed hard, "I tried to be strong."

"I know kid, I know."

Wanda gave up staying away and practically flung herself into Clint's arms, holding him almost as tightly as he held her. "I was scared you wouldn't come."

"This prison proved a little more difficult to escape than the ones I've been in before." Clint sunk to the floor, resting back against the couch that suddenly moved to be behind him, pulling her onto his lap as if she were as little as Lila, "But you know me, I'll always come for you."

"I'm a monster." The guards, the media, her ex-team mates had drilled that into her head well enough.

"No, you're just a kid with some interesting powers. Hey, focus on me, okay sweetheart?" Clint rubbed her side lightly when she jolted, pain seeping into their dream world and making her ribs ache.

"It hurts."

"That's Sam working on you. You know our combat medic? The one who has Disney bandaids for the dumb injuries?"

Wanda shook her head, "He shouldn't see me like this."

"He's a combat medic, he's seen worse I promise you. Hey, did Steve ever tell you about the time he got shot in the ass and his only backup was Sam and Nat?"

"No." She settled against Clint, head resting on his shoulder. He was obviously trying to distract her, but it made the pain quieter so she didn't question it.

Wanda my poor baby noooo! TT.TT

Thank goodness the boys are here for her now, but OH GOD she's suffered so much, the poor thing!

*wraps my sweet cinnamon roll up in a blanket somewhere safe*

The next few days were almost as much of a blur as the raft had been.
There was still pain when Sam changed the bandages or checked over her wounds, but now there was also Steve helping her sit up and cradling her to his chest so he could help her drink whatever tea and broths Clint made for her, things that were easy on her stomach.
When Steve wasn't with her it was Clint who'd talk endlessly, out loud and with her hiding away in his mind with him, who'd sleep sat at her beside in a chair, or on the floor, hand holding onto hers for reassurance the whole time if she needed.
Scott seemed to keep his distance, but he'd talk to her too, even when she was pretending to sleep. Mostly it was talking seemingly to himself about his family, his life, and his past, but anything was better than the silence. He sounded like a nice guy.

The only big incident came when the boys tried to convince her into bathing. The thought of a bath brought to mind ice and drowning, the feeling of being unable to breathe even if she could, and laughing guards. A shower... she couldn't protect her bandages while showering, not without help, and she didn't want them helping her with her bandages anymore than necessary.

The panic attack at the thought had already had her powers showing off, but when Steve made the mistake of reaching out and touching her arm she couldn't help but lash out. It was only a wall that was destroyed, a dresser that imploded, but it still had them having to leave their safe house and run immediately.

Her fault. Of course it was.

After that sponge baths worked, at Sam's suggestion. Something he could cautiously help with only when she let him, which she'd rather not, instead trying to do it all herself when it hurt to move, and some parts of her still ached and burned at movement.

It was frustrating, but there wasn't much else she could do.
-

The first real food Wanda was able to consume after the raft was all Sam's doing. Sam who used Scott and his suit to go and fetch some groceries without anyone paying much attention to the missing fugitives, and spent over an hour working on making her spaghetti, swearing they'd help her feel human again.

Which it did, to an extent, but she wasn't able to stomach much without feeling sick.

"Sorry," she mumbled in apology, pushing her plate away with over half of it still covered.

"Don't be sorry, kid," Sam shook his head, not sounding or looking reproachful at all, "It's gonna take time to get back to normal. Don't push yourself."

Normal. What was normal now?

Normal was hiding in safe houses and dodging police and other agents, and staying where no one could see you while every part of you hurt so much you felt you'd be sick.
That was normal now. Something Steve had nightmares about often, and each nightmare would pull Wanda in with it. With her body and mind hurting, she didn't have the power to fully block out the other four's bad dreams.
Leaving her without sleep more often than not.

But it could always be worse. She could be back on the raft, like she often dreamed she was, she could be in the rubble with her twin, or drowning in the dust that Sokovia became, burning along side it.

--

Scott left them at a month into hiding, letting himself get caught downtown, turning himself in so he could cut a deal to be with his family, but also distracting the world long enough for them to catch a flight in a borrowed Wakandan Quin jet flown by Natasha.

Wanda didn’t want to trust her.

Wanda wanted to trust her immediately and completely.

She didn’t say anything instead, hiding tucked against Steve’s side while Clint and Natasha piloted the jet, getting them away from Africa, aimed for ‘somewhere safe’.

“It’s all going to be alright,” Steve assured her, arm wrapped around Wanda’s shoulders, keeping her close and warm, “No one’s going to hurt you.”

“She might.” Wanda had never thought of Natasha as the enemy, even back when she was meant to be Wanda’s enemy. The woman had simply accepted when Wanda and Pietro left Ultron to work with the Avengers, she hadn’t raised a fuss over Wanda moving in with them, or having to train her.
She’d even told Wanda to keep the leather jacket, as long as she liked it, ‘I have half a dozen’.
Natasha hadn’t ever been anything worse than a teasing older sister figure, maybe a mother figure if Wanda was deluding herself enough, but now... it was Natasha who fought them at the airport, who sided with Tony, and let the police forces take them away to the raft.

She hadn’t come to rescue them when Steve had.

“No,” Steve promised firmly, wrapping his other arm around her in a hug, “She won’t hurt you. She wouldn’t ever hurt you.”

“She didn’t save me.”

“I didn’t either, at first,” Steve countered, resting his head against hers when she leaned against his shoulder, “I only came later. She’s just a little later than me.”

“She’ll hate me now, she agreed with him after Lagos.”

“She could never hate you, none of us could.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

---

Natasha didn’t approach her the first night they were around, or most of the second day. She kept her distance like Scott had, mainly talking with the boys, helping them sort out where it was they were meant to be.
Then it was Clint leaving, like Scott, but not. Clint taking the jet and going to get his family, to take them to another safe place they’d meet up at later, where everyone could stop being afraid for just a while. Maybe, so he had promised her anyway.

It wasn’t until late that second night, when Wanda woke from yet another nightmare, that Natasha actually came to talk to her. When Wanda found herself in the bathroom yet again, gagging and retching up bile spurred on by memories she wanted nothing more than to forget.

Normally Clint would come in if he heard her, or Sam. But instead it was Natasha’s gentle hands that pulled her hair back from her face, who rubbed her back and spoke to her gently.
Natasha who got her sat down on the lid of the toilet afterwards, with a cool glass of water so she could try and regain her composure, stop the hiccuping and catch her breath.

“I’m going to guess nightmares?” Natasha asked, very careful and deliberate as cleaned off Wanda’s hands, her face with a damp wash cloth, brushing away sick, sweat, and tears. “New ones, or old?”

“Both.” Wanda didn’t like how hoarse her voice was, but it wasn’t exactly something she could help. “They never stop.”

“I know the feeling.” Natasha brushed her fingers over Wanda’s hair, “There’s always the tried and true method of sleep. Hot shower, new pajamas, hot tea, bad TV.”

Wanda winced, shaking her head, “Baths are... I can’t cover my bandages for a shower on my own.”

Natasha, to her credit, didn’t ask about baths, or why she didn’t have one of the boys help her out. “I can help with the bandages, I have enough practice.”

The thought of being alone in the water, of being so vulnerable had her heart racing a little, “No, I-- I can’t. I don’t... I can stay like I’ve been.”

“Your hair needs washed,” Natasha brushed it back with her fingers, tilted her head watching Wanda. “C’mon, I’ll do your hair for you.”

“I don’t...” Wanda trailed off, handing Natasha back the glass she’d been drinking from, wrapping her arms around her middle. The idea of anyone seeing her injuries, seeing her so vulnerable had her stomach feeling ill, but the idea of Natasha helping didn’t start the edge of panic that had been there with any of the boys suggesting. Somehow saying ‘I’m afraid’ wasn’t possible, she couldn’t get the words out, ‘the water’s too much’, ‘it’ll hurt’, ‘I can’t be alone’, none of the excuses, reasons would make their way out. “You’d get your clothes soaked,” the excuse was pathetic even to her ears.

“I’ll join you,” Natasha gave a half shrug, “I could use a shower anyway, and we’ve been in closer quarters for decontamination, haven’t we?”

With one of the guys the idea might have made her sick again, had her shaking and full of panic but with Natasha... Wanda sighed and nodded, “I... okay.”

Awwwww, Natasha!

"maybe a mother figure if Wanda was deluding herself enough" - I LOVE this line so much. Excellent update!

*eagerly stares at screen and hopes for more*

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Prompt Post #1

[GEN] Avengers/Wanda - nursing her back to health, fluff

Re: [GEN] Avengers/Wanda - nursing her back to health, fluff

Re: [GEN] Avengers/Wanda - nursing her back to health, fluff

Re: [GEN] Avengers/Wanda - nursing her back to health, fluff

[GEN] Avengers/Wanda fill; Shattered 1/?

Re: [GEN] Avengers/Wanda fill; Shattered 2/?

Re: [GEN] Avengers/Wanda fill; Shattered 2/?

Re: [GEN] Avengers/Wanda fill; Shattered 3/?

Re: [GEN] Avengers/Wanda fill; Shattered 3/?