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thaisibir · 5 years

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Bloodwrath (fic)

[Endgame SPOILERS] Wanda was born weak and poor, to a family that's no longer with her and in a country that no longer exists. Now she can strike true fear into the Mad Titan with her bare hands. [Oneshot. Contains Scarlet Vision and Maximoff sibling fluff. 2456 words]

Somewhere in the shabby urban sprawl of Sokovia, in the middle of a night that flashed lightning and wept rain, Wanda was born twelve minutes after her twin brother. Pietro had come out wailing between gasps, as healthy babies should. His little sister, however, emerged without a sound. She came out pale, limp, and still.

In the lush forest of Wakanda, right where she had knelt in defeat before her lover's broken, lifeless shell, Wanda came back surging with vengeance. She came back with enough power to rip apart the bastard who had ripped away her second chance for love, family, and happiness before her eyes. She stood straight, tall, very much alive, and ready to crack skulls in her fists. The very air crackled with violent red sparks of her aura.

The twins were born at home. Marya and Django Maximoff couldn't afford to have their children delivered in a hospital. Marya bit down on a rag to stifle her cries. The apartment was tiny and the walls were thin. The neighbors, most of them addicts and drunks, were best left undisturbed. The power flickered in and out, almost in the same rhythm as the thunder booming overhead. When Wanda wouldn't stir or cry, Marya clasped Pietro to her breast in silent, fervent prayer while Django rubbed Wanda's little chest with two fingers to coax her awake. For a while, nothing.

Then, just as the new mother and father believed that Pietro would be their only child, Wanda let out a thin, reedy wail.

Under the blinking lights, Django and Marya caught glimpses of a gaping cleft lip running up into their daughter's left nostril. Wanda struggled just to breathe and feed. She may have survived the night, but her parents feared that she wouldn't have long to live.

Wanda flew through the portal that Dr. Strange had opened up, away from the peaceful forest and thrust into the chaotic fray where the Avengers headquarters once stood. Flanking her were the Winter Soldier and the Falcon. From a portal nearby, the Black Panther had emerged with his sister, general, and army of Wakandans.

Wanda had held the dubious honor of outliving the rest of her family. When Thanos had snapped his fingers, she had turned her gaze upward in relief as she faded into dust. She could finally reunite with the loved ones she had lost and sorely missed.

But that death was not set in stone. The Avengers, the world, hell, the entire universe, still needed her. Thanos continued to pose a threat, and more importantly, Thanos could be stopped. If Wanda had a fighting chance in making that happen, she would take it gladly.

Five years ago, Thor had shouted it as a bold challenge for everyone to hear, but now Wanda muttered to herself through gritted teeth, "Bring me Thanos."

Pietro loved to run around outside, while frequent colds kept Wanda at home. She would look like a cocoon in her bed, swaddled in many blankets to keep her warm. Intractable coughing fits made her retch and gasp. She kept on a surgical mask to prevent the rest of her family from catching her bug. Going outside made her coughs even worse. The nearby factory always churned up smoke and contributed to the perpetual haze in her family's part of town. So Wanda would stay inside, away from the smog but also away from her brother, feeling left out and lonely, and wishing she wasn't sick all the time so she could play and keep up with him.

Somehow, despite the bad air, Pietro still dashed around the narrow alleys and bustling streets as the fastest kid. Sometimes he enjoyed challenging his friends to races and outrunning them, but most of the time he'd run to fetch medicine from the free clinic for Wanda. She would pull down the mask, then tip her head all the way back to wash down the medicine. She couldn't eat or drink like a normal person, or everything would spill out through the gap in her upper lip.

"Thanks," she'd always say to her brother, and one day she mumbled, "Sorry that I'm so much trouble."

"You're not trouble." Pietro plopped down on her bed and patted her back. "You're my baby sister."

Tears brimmed in her eyes and fell into the empty cup in her hands. "I wish I could be like you."

He pulled Wanda into a hug. "You'll never be me. You'll be better. You'll go farther than I ever could."

She pulled up her mask in time to cough into it. After catching her breath, she asked, "How do you know that?"

Her big brother grinned. "I had a dream about you last night. You're not going to run. You'll fly."

"Avengers, assemble!"

At Steve's rallying command, Wanda threw herself at the enemy without a moment's hesitation. She soared high in the air with Sam and plunged into the teeming, snarling horde. With savage swipes of her arms, by curling her fingers into claws and fists, she crushed chests and snapped necks without touching them.

Get out of my way. You're not worth my time.

Five years out of fighting had only fueled her anger, and stirred up that dangerous itch to hit the enemy where it hurt. Outriders twice her size and the amount of arms fell before her like wheat to a scythe. Wanda left piles of dead bodies in her wake. Avengers, Wakandans, wizards, and Guardians alike knew better to keep their distance and out of her reach. Could she tell friend from foe? No one on her side was daring or stupid enough to test that. The Scarlet Witch was on a bloody rampage, and for good reason. She didn't just wear red. She saw red.

Through the blood-colored rage filming Wanda's eyes, her target came in sight. Thanos ran to retrieve the Infinity Gauntlet on the ground, only for Wanda to intercept him with a slam of her feet into the earth.

She bared her teeth at Vision's killer. "You took everything from me."

Confusion flickered across the Mad Titan's face, then disdain. "I don't even know who you are."

"You will."

With that calm, quiet assurance, Wanda rose back into the air, picking up mingled remains of the Avengers headquarters and hulls of enemy ships. Thanos's genuine ignorance of her, and of what he had done to the love of her life, cut deeper than any taunting, gloating indication that he knew. She'll make damn sure that this Thanos from another time would know exactly who she is.

Much as her family wanted it so badly for Wanda, cleft lip surgery was much too expensive, an impossible luxury. Instead of having it fixed as a baby, she had to grow up with it. Wanda was afraid to go outside, not just because of the bad air, but some of the boys would follow her around and tease her, pry off her mask and laugh at her cleft lip. Pale, frail, and helpless, all she could do was hide her face behind her hands and cry.

Pietro got into fights with those boys. He could never call himself a good brother if he couldn't protect Wanda. He'd beat the boys black and blue, glare at their retreating backs, and dust off his hands. Then he'd turn around to dry the tears running down her cheeks. No one can make fun of his little sister and get away with it.

As long as she had her big brother always around, always looking out for her, she would be okay.

Debris buoyed under Wanda's control then hurtled straight down at Thanos. Braced with his double blade, he staved off the first, then the second. Wanda swung down joined hands like a hammer to send a shock-wave at him. He endured that, too, but she wouldn't give him even a split second to catch his breath or look away.

You're not getting that Gauntlet. Eyes on me.

She charged at Thanos like a bull, slinging blow after blow of her energy. Each impact to his arm, then his blade, knocked him back a bit, but not enough to topple him over. Wanda charged on. Power-laced hands clashed against the edge of a blade bigger than herself. Armed with nothing but her own thirst for revenge, that alone kept her from being cleaved in half.

She took on the infamous Mad Titan by herself. Held her own without help from anyone else. Either that made her very reckless, or just that strong. Maybe a bit of both.

Wanda wished that her first kiss with Vision had been under better circumstances, when she wasn't weak from sedatives and torture at the Raft. Still, she would never forget it, and would hold that moment close to her heart.

Steve freed her from that horrible shock collar and straitjacket, then stowed her, Sam, Scott, and Clint away into a Quinjet, where Vision awaited them inside. The sight of Wanda, who was subject to the most security and the worst treatment, who could barely stand and had to lean on support between Clint and Sam, robbed the android of his usual articulate, aloof manner. He pulled her into a fierce, tight hug, taking over the support from Clint and Sam, who let go of Wanda and quietly edged away to give the two a moment. So grateful to see Vision, and melting into the surprising warmth of his arms, Wanda too was at a loss for words. Even as Steve ushered everyone to strap in before they could take off, Vision and Wanda didn't break their embrace as they sat next to each other.

Across from the two, Clint, Sam, and Scott slumped in their seats and quickly fell asleep from exhaustion.

Vision rested a palm on her head, and she felt him tremble. "Seeing you locked away and treated like a wild animal...that's what I had feared the most. I wanted to protect you from that. I had failed. I'm so sorry, Wanda."

She shook her head against her chest, stifling a sob. "I'm sorry, too. We all are." Her wet eyes met his, and she closed the gap between them with a kiss. Vision stiffened with surprise, but held lips against hers and the gentle tug of his hand running through her hair sent a shiver down her back.

Vision pulled back with a puzzled look. "What's this?" His thumb brushed down the skin above her left upper lip.

Wanda couldn't help but pull away and avert her eyes. "I was eight when I had my cleft lip fixed."

The Smile Train charity was approved to provide free cleft lip surgery in Sokovia. Her family was among the first in line to schedule an operation for Wanda, just in time for her (and Pietro's) eighth birthday. He had been so happy and excited for her that he couldn't sit still while Wanda was wheeled away to the operating room. She wished she had been that ecstatic.

"I'm scared," she had whispered to Pietro.

He had squeezed her hand. "Don't be," he whispered back. "I'll be right by your side when you wake up. I promise."

After what felt like a nap, she opened her eyes to see that he kept true to his word. He even held up a little mirror so she could see the surgery's results, and had such a big grin from ear to ear that she couldn't resist smiling back, despite the stitches and soreness between her nose and lips.

Years later, none of her fellow Avengers had noticed the scar. It was hardly visible now, as if she had never been born disfigured. You had to get right up to her face, almost touch noses, and squint to see it. Wanda shouldn't be surprised that Vision would catch that small part of her. He was created to be a model of peak function, to exceed the limits of human mental capacity and sensory capabilities. And his name was Vision, after all. She wished that he would stop staring at her mouth, and her cheeks flushed.

"Don't be ashamed," he murmured. "You are beautiful." He planted a soft kiss on the scar to assure her of that. She smiled against the brush of his lips. Born without proper lips, and since the deaths of her mother, father, and brother, Wanda didn't think she had much of a reason to smile. Then Vision came around and gave her a reason.

Thanos used his greater height to his advantage. He pressed both hands and his bulk on top of the blade and leaned forward. Wanda bent back under the added weight, but her grip on the edge of his blade proved to be stubborn. No, she would not let Thanos press her into a corner yet again. This time she had both of her hands, and he had no Infinity Stones. Not yet. She would make sure he'd never get his hands on them.

I'm done with playing defense. My turn to play offense now.

That made her glare right up at Thanos and crack a smile. Not the soft, warm kind reserved only for Vision, but the fearless, confident, almost devilish kind that made Thanos regret that he had ever crossed paths with her. Gathering every ounce of strength from the raging storm of her mind, Wanda shifted hold of the blade into one hand, and cocked back her other arm. Scrunched up exertion turned into slack surprise on his face. That sent a wild thrill through her body like she had never known before. She had never felt this way with battle. Until now.

I'll tear you into pieces, Thanos, just like how you tore apart Vis. I think I'm going to enjoy it.

Wanda unleashed a mighty uppercut, throwing Thanos off balance and sending the blade spinning out of his hands. Her table-turning blow took a chunk off a blade that could bite through vibranium. Knocked back and disarmed, Thanos fell into the choking, red snares of her grip. Ignited by the sheer heat of her wrath, his own armor roasted his flesh before crumpling off like dead leaves. The man with the shield, the man with the axe and hammer, and the man in the suit combined hadn't inflicted this much harm to him.

From head to toe, his body screamed for mercy. For the first time in his long life of conquest and domination, he cried out for help: "Rain fire!"

With his life in real danger, he learned who his opponent was. This girl from nowhere, with no one and nothing left but a terrible power that he could not outmatch, was fear itself.

This fic's alternate title: How To Turn A 40-Second Scene Into 2000ish Words!

Wanda's comeback in Endgame turned me into the foaming mouth guy from Avatar: The Last Airbender. I enjoyed experimenting with the story structure, drawing parallels and contrasts between how weak she had started out and how much stronger she became.

-For the names of the Maximoff parents, I took them from the Avengers #166-187 comics.

-Wanda born with a cleft lip is, of course, my headcanon. I hope you didn't think that too strange.

-The fic's title "Bloodwrath" comes from the Redwall books (an anthro animal medieval fantasy series I grew up reading). Common among Redwall's badger warriors, Bloodwrath is a mental state involving berserk strength, thirst for battle, lack of fear, and blood-colored eyes. I thought that name suited Wanda's role in Endgame.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you think of my take on the Endgame scene.

#avengers endgame fic #avengers endgame fanfiction #scarlet vision #thescarletvisionnetwork #wanda maximoff fanfiction #avengers endgame spoilers #mcu fanfiction #wanda and pietro #wanda maximoff

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anonthenullifier · 4 years

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Valentine’s Day is not a major holiday in the Maximoff household. Sure, at the beginning of their relationship they celebrated it in full style - some years with fancy dinners out at Michelin star restaurants, others with elaborate meals Vision concocted at home, sometimes just with a little (a lot of) extra PDA if they were on a mission-- but it was more for the sake of novelty and allowing Vision (and herself) to get the full human experience than for purely romantic reasons. Their interest in the holiday began to wane with the crowds of people and the frequent attempt of other couples to rope Wanda and Vision into their proposals or dates due to the social media fame that came with sharing Valentine’s Day with Avengers. Roughly six years in they made it just a slightly more rose petal accented date with a slightly more complicated meal and dessert at home. Once Billy and Tommy arrived, it became a box of chocolates, a suggestive card to each other (with a promise of fun after bed-time), and lots of stuffed animals for the boys.

This year, however, Wanda was breaking the mold.

The idea came right after the holidays, late at night when Vision was on a mission and Tommy was sick roughly every twenty minutes. Wanda, to keep her sanity, scrolled aimlessly through various websites. That’s when she saw the picture and almost sent it to her husband, but she stopped herself at the thought of not being able to see the way joy would break across his face, starting with a small huff of amusement that would be the straw that broke his serious demeanor and would erupt into sniggers. It’s one of her favorite reactions of his, second only to the absolute, pure adoration on his face whenever the boys tell him I love you daddy!.

Given Christmas and Hanukkah had gone by, she didn’t have the prime gift-giving opportunity. His birthday wasn’t until May and that felt too far away. It could be a random gift on a random day, nothing that is outside the norm of their relationship, except Wanda wanted some level of fanfare only available with an official celebratory day. Valentine’s Day remained the most plausible option and he would just have to deal with it.

“This is for you.”

The bag is red and shiny, a llama with heart-shaped sunglasses grinning at her confused husband. “This is against protocol.”

A too cheery smile and gleeful “I know,” doesn’t quell the clear discomfort her actions have caused, his mind suddenly inundated with the realization he missed the memo and had only gotten her the customary velvet lidded 50 chocolate assortment. “Open it.”

Vision is always gentle with gifts, either peeling the paper with slow and steady hands so he does not rip it or, with gift bags, removing each piece of tissue paper and folding it into a little packet for reuse. Wanda is in literal pain from anticipation, eyes bouncing between the immaculate folding of the tissue paper and his face, her heart racing and palms sweaty as she waits for him to just get on with it. “What is--” finally he pulls out a folded sweater. Meticulously he unfurls the arms before grabbing it by the shoulders with a shake and looking at the front. “‘She’s my sweet potato’?” He reads the shirt out loud, a tiny smirk on his face.

This is when the true unwrapping happens. Wanda stands up and yanks down the zipper of her hoodie to reveal the other half of the gift, a companion sweater with a phrase she joyfully shares, “I Yam!”

Vision stares at her, irises clicking to the right and then, like a choir of angels descending on her, he bypasses the huff and goes straight for a cackle, bending over at the waist, shoulders shaking, mind fully and completely overtaken by replaying her reveal. “Oh Wanda,” it’s not often he can’t speak without breaking into a tittering mess, “I-”

“Do you like it?”

He pulls the sweater on, looking down briefly to admire the ridiculousness of it all and then flashes her a smile that could rival the sun, “I yam delighted!”

#scarlet vision #wandavision #wanda maximoff #vision #thescarletvisionnetwork #the vision #mcu

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