Merciless
Fandom: Marvel
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff/female!reader
Genre: Angst & Smut & AU-y Dark fic
Word Count: 13k+
Summary: What if Wanda was essentially Dracula, but not a vampire, more like a demon.. Wanda lived alone for centuries before she found you, then she lost you and let the rest of her goodness bleed away until finally the universe gave you to her again. Only so much time has gone by, she's so much older now, and any humanity she has left is hanging by a thread.
Warnings: dark!fic, murder, reader death, torture, violence, stalker!Wanda, controlling!Wanda, top!Wanda, bottom!R, magic strap, dubious (and I mean really dubious) consent, rough sex, oral, multiple orgasms, biting, hair pulling, size: large, I think I'm missing like five things....
A/N: Hi hi so sorry that this is 30 minutes before Pride Month is over (at least in my time zone) also sorry for the break. I just ran into such a big problem with trying to FINISH the fics I started. I still have an Emily one that I am determined to write the end for and post by the end of this week, I just have been stuck with how to craft endings lately lol
(gif not mine, credit to emcu7o, and also sorry for the ping)
When she saw you her world, forever bleak and meaningless, suddenly burst with color. Her heart, which felt as if it had been dead and dormant in her chest for centuries, finally squeezed. When she saw you, she didn’t even have to be sure–no matter the time that had passed–because she knew. Oh, how Wanda knew, as if it was a curse imprinted into her brain, exactly how your eyes shown, how your lips twitched up in the softest smile, how the flush of your cheeks looked when you felt shy. And when she saw you, passing through a small town in the back country of Switzerland, not even that far from the fateful day she lost you, that’s when she realized right away that you were back and that her world finally restarted.
Wanda wondered, truly, if you knew exactly who you were to her in the first few days of seeing you again. If there was some part of yourself deep down that had felt the longing for her the same way she learned to live with it’s home deep in her chest for over half a millennia. She had never forgotten a moment with you, and she felt with deep despair, every single moment without. She held onto those memories as if they were the most precious possession she had. When she had you, that was her most cherished thing. When she lost you, she realized quickly, being what she was, she did not age and she never could forget. No memory ever dulled, not even the worst ones.
At times, when the centuries turned, she would wish she could forget you. Then, the pain wouldn’t be as all consuming. Perhaps, if she tried, she could find a new lover to take and enjoy without feeling the ghost of your touch and your taste. Yet, you still haunted her. In her dreams that was where she would find you, but it was never a good thing when she did. Not when they were just reimaginings of the lowest part of her existence.
When she first found you, times were so much different. Wanda still counted the years, because she had lived long enough for days, weeks, months even, to be meaningless. But it had been 597 years since she last had you in her arms. She had nearly six-hundred years to process your loss, yet she still couldn’t heal.
The woman she was when you had come to her, fleeing from a would-be arranged marriage with a vile man, was much different than the woman she is now. Her soul was so old now. But back then she thought she had some kindness, she thought she would like to help the humans around her at least to an extent. She would never think for a second to do that again.
In those times, you were just a young woman trying to do whatever you could do to avoid a horrendous situation. The man you were promised to was over twice your age and he had a history of his wives going missing or falling ill rather conveniently. Your father was poor, your brother was useless, your mother was gone. Your family had essentially sold you and sealed your fate. When you had fled, Wanda had known before you even reached her doorstep, that you were destined to find her. She felt your longing for a better life, the kindness and hope you still had in your heart that she of all people could do something to fix your family’s situation. The gentle soul you had radiated off your body as you ran through her woods until you finally stumbled onto her path and pleaded your case.
Wanda was taken aback at the time when you made your request. You didn’t ask for your salvation from a family that did not deserve you. No, you asked for prosperity for your family so they would hold off on selling you. That’s not what caught Wanda’s attention, though it was the one thing that made her instantly understand your nature. What caused Wanda to pause was your reaction to meeting her. She knew the villages would whisper, she knew they were afraid. A woman living in the woods, able to sustain herself, younger in appearance than her age would suggest. People had a word for her they never dared utter, not when she would help if asked and proposed the right bargain. But the people who did come to her never looked her in the eye. They would recoil at her touch, as if her nature was contagious and corruptible. She knew there were whispers and words thrown around, words that she could easily be labeled with. She knew the witch was a monster these people were beginning to fear rather than rely on. You should’ve been like them, stumbling over your words and shaking where you stood. Instead you held your chin up and met her gaze, unwavering.
You didn’t look at her with false pride to hide the fear some tried to suppress when they were in Wanda’s presence. The look you gave Wanda was nothing but sincere. Wanda looked at you with the same wonder that you looked back at her with.
She can still hear the first words that came out of your mouth that day, echoing through her entire being with such a longing to go back to that day.
“Well, you came all this way,” Wanda had said then, staring back at you when you had stood in front of her for a long pause, just gawking. “Aren’t you going to make your request?”
“I apologize,” you had bowed, finally breaking the gaze you had held so fiercely. “I just did not expect you to be so beautiful.”
Wanda remembers the equal shock the both of you had, when your mind finally caught up with your mouth and your eyes flew open, your cheeks pinker than the flowers you had brought to appease her. She remembers how wide her own eyes grew at the blunt admission and how she had to bite her lip to keep her own surprised smile at bay.
It was all so fast from there. You had made your request, asked for the salvation of your family, and quickly Wanda had decided that would not be true salvation for you. Instead she posed another proposition, one she would never think to ask of anyone else who had come seeking her aid. She told you she’d teach you, she told you you could be her apprentice, she promised you a way to save you family yourself, but in reality she knew this would be a means to keep you far from the fate they damned you to while also giving you the tools to be as strong as you needed to for the rest of your life. Wanda wanted to make you like her. She knew it would take time, she knew she would have to search every book to find a way to make you just as capable of magic, to make sure you no longer aged the same way she did, she knew she was asking from the universe a way to not only understand what she was–her creator, who held all the answers, long gone in the centuries she had already lived through–but to create another like her. She thought she had time to find those answers, but her time with you was cut shorter than she had ever expected.
In the short time that you had been her apprentice, it wasn’t long for her to realize this fascination with you was much more than curiosity and a cure for her loneliness. Her feelings had grown and yours had too. Soon what had begun as an innocent friendship, turned into a deep love and adoration between the two of you. Wanda could remember the first nervous kiss you tried to steal from her. The way your lips brushed, feather light against her own, before she took the step forward she needed to envelop your mouth with hers and seal the unspoken feelings between the two of you.
After that kiss, Wanda had sworn her devotion to you by mapping every inch of your body with her kiss; by learning every way to make you sigh with her touch. And she would lie awake for centuries, tormented by the longing to trace her favorite edges of you with her fingers, only to know she remains with the ghost of you in her mind.
It was only five winters that she was able to love you with all of her being. For a creature that had lived for nearly two-hundred years prior and showed no signs of aging, those five years were meager seconds of happiness in what was otherwise a bleak existence. She had done her research, she had felt like she was close to a lead on how to create more like her; how to make you like her. But she had to leave. She knew travel would take a season, but conditions in the neighboring villages were changing. Times were changing.
The people of the area no longer whispered the word witch in fear of them. They spat the word with venom and dragged the innocent into the streets to be tortured, tried, and slain in the name of ending them. Wanda had foolishly thought that these witch hunts weren’t looking for the real magical beings, just people within their community that might be unlucky enough to earn their neighbors’ scorn. How wrong she was.
In 200 years of living at the time, she should’ve known to not underestimate the audacity, the selfishness, and the cruelty of humankind. She has been paying for that naivety ever since.
She was mere days away from the answer she had been grasping for when she felt as if something was wrong. She can still remember the nightmares that had plagued her when she was away from you for those few months. Those nightmares of your screaming before weren’t a reality, they were a “what if” back then. Now the nightmares of you screaming weren’t distorted, they weren’t a possibility that could happen. Now her nightmares of your anguish are crystal clear. They’re not the imaginings of her anxiety, they’re the reality of her memories.
Yet, when she began to have them she thought she could take a couple days. She thought they were her anxiety manifesting in her dreams. It wasn’t until the third night of them she realized it was an omen and changed course. It still took her way too long to return to you. And when she finally did, just as she was so close to reaching her goal of making you hers until the end of time, she was that much closer to saving your mortal body.
But she didn’t. She was so obsessed with finding a way to avoid her biggest fears–your humanness, your mortality–that she lost you to it much earlier than she ever should have.
In the time she had left, the village quickly learned that you were unguarded. Your family was scorned, your would-be husband held his anger over his rejection by you. They came as a mob as soon as they had the excuse.
The town cited that it was because your garden flourished when their crops were blighted. Their people starved and they pointed the finger to you, an accused witch living in sin with one even worse than yourself according to them. In the time Wanda was gone, you had been starved for weeks, locked away and awaiting trial.
No amount of pleading, no amount of proving the good you had given the town through Wanda’s help and guidance would’ve been enough to come out the victor of your trial. Your fate had been sealed the second Wanda left your side.
Not a day goes by that the image of your end–body bound to a post, face twisted in pain, your body emaciated and trembling as the flames took and took and took from what was left of you–failed to flash in Wanda’s mind. The trial of you was truly her own. She was found guilty of wanting to take you from your world, and her punishment was to be met with the aftermath of selfishly loving you and never for a single second of her existence, would she ever be allowed to forget it.
She returned to her cottage that day to find it empty. It was the same hour that they had begun to light the flames.
When she ran through the woods into the village you had once lived, it was the smell of your burning flesh that told her she was too late. And when she had finally arrived at the town square, you were mere seconds from death, your screams piercing through the crowd. Wanda remembered the way she was sick when she heard the people around your cheer. She remembered the way tears stung her eyes, as in your dying words you begged–not for yourself, but for them. For her to show mercy.
She does not regret that she denied this final request.
Wanda watched from the shadows as your body went limp, the last of your life leaving you, the remnants of you unrecognizable. And then she waited. She remembers whispering to the air a plea of forgiveness, for she could not grant you this last request. Not when these people damned her to a worse fate than your own. Your last moments were gruesome, yes, but at least you had freedom from your pain in the end. Wanda never would.
So she waited until the moment it seemed like the town would disperse and she began.
When she was done, not one single living soul remained in that village. She allowed for children to flee, but the rest died by her hands that night.
After that she spent century after century alone. Plagued by the sounds of your screams, she would try to fill it with retribution to mankind that she thought they deserved. She no longer held any value for human life. She took when she needed to, she punished those who hunted for others like they had you, and she decimated populations in a way that history books would label as plague or natural disaster. But after a century or so of that, the rage shifted to numbness and in her boredom and isolation she decided to learn more about her own nature. Up until this point in time she had spent the rest of the centuries becoming stronger.
Somewhere along the way she found the answer she had been searching for all those years ago when she had mistakenly left you alone. In the bitter irony of finally getting the one thing she had wanted at the time, she had come to the conclusion that she didn’t need this answer anymore, not when another interesting question had finally posed in her mind. If she can become more than human, if she can bend the elements, manipulate reality, and have mortality bow to her, why can’t she defy death in a different way? Why can’t she bring back the one soul that ever held significance to her?
She didn’t know how plausible this new purpose was. She was so old now, her magic so powerful she could encompass the world and bend it to her will if she so chose–So to force a soul to come back into the realm of the living, to rip a soul from wherever it rested and bring it to her reality again, she had to believe it wasn’t impossible.
Decades ago, she had thought she came close. She had felt something in her search to resurrect you. She just wasn’t sure what. But when she searched for you in the world. When she tried and tried to find your face all around the world, she found nothing. And then after about 10 years, she had given up and decided another method was needed.
She was years deep into following this new lead into resurrecting a soul when she was drawn to an area she hadn’t felt the need to return to in the near 600 years since losing you.
To her, it had felt like the smallest shift in the atmosphere, but Wanda was not used to feeling anything at all. So, she followed that shift. She found herself traveling straight to where her old cottage used to be, the building long gone with the woods as well. Now, it was a small town, with cobblestone streets, small houses, stores, and a university not far from the very place you had lost your life.
Wanda felt like she had double vision as she walked the streets, trying to find a reason for why her intuition had taken her here and not closer to the research she was currently working on. As she walked the streets she saw flashes of how it once was while simultaneously taking in the drastic changes of what it is now.
She couldn’t help but flinch when she realized she stood at the very spot you took your last breath, not even a single speck of dust or dirt the same as it once was.
And then she kept walking, wandering through the streets, trying to shush the inner turmoil in her mind as your screams replayed in her memory with cruel clarity. But just as they worsened and her chest tightened, her anger flaring and thoughts spiraling, everything suddenly went silent.
Then there you were, fingers wrapped around a coffee mug, a small smile playing on your lips as you sat on the other side of the window, enjoying a book alone at a local cafe.
Wanda could’ve fallen to her knees.
You looked the same. Your clothes were modern, your hair was longer, but all in all you looked the exact same. Wanda didn’t have to second guess if it was you, she felt it in her soul in the same way, she realized, that she had felt when you fled to her that first day. It was finally you.
She wasn’t sure what worked or how it worked. She didn’t, in all honesty, care when it meant she had you back. But Wanda wasn’t sure what you could remember; if you could remember anything of her at all.
It was very obvious very quickly that you remembered nothing.
Wanda followed you for a few days, staying a few steps behind and trying to gather what exactly your life was like now in this wretched town.
She learned quite quickly you weren’t from here, but as you told someone in a dialect of German that was very different from any of the locals, you had always felt drawn to this place and were researching its past–specifically, the historic witch trials of the 1400s.
Wanda flinched when she heard you say that. She wondered if you had a specific reason or if it was cosmic fate that made you want to pursue this. She pieced together very quickly that she hadn’t ripped your soul from its resting place to resume right where the two of you had left off. No, you had been reborn and the universe gifted you back to Wanda when you were exactly the age she had lost you. It was like the fates had unpaused her love story with you, even if you were absolutely oblivious to the significance of your existence.
Even if Wanda figured out that you had a new history, a new family, a new upbringing, she wanted to see if you knew her.
She followed your patterns closely, watching as you would work in the same cafe every weekend and that’s when she began her first test.
Living for nearly a millennia did not stop Wanda from feeling the nervous anticipation for the moment she would meet your gaze again. She sat across the cafe from you, waiting a respectable amount of time so she could feign curiosity for the book you were reading.
“Excuse me,” Wanda faked an innocent smile as she stood behind the empty chair across from you. “I was curious about the book you’ve been reading.”
“Oh!” You jumped at Wanda’s approach and she had realized in that instant she had been away from human society a bit too long and forgot how quiet she could be without needing to.
“I’m sorry to startle–”
“No no, I was just in my own little world.” You had laughed and finally peaked your head over the book to meet Wanda’s eyes and in that moment Wanda’s heart felt like it would beat out of her chest.
To hear your laugh again, outside of her own memories, was like hearing the first birds sing at the end of the long winter. And to see your eyes shine as you smiled–Oh, how Wanda had longed for that exact image to be back in front of her again–Wanda could’ve wept at that table.
But she wouldn’t, not when she had to make you hers again. She wouldn’t waste much time this time, not when she needed to fix you too. This time she would make sure nothing could take you from her, she would make you like her. She knew how and she refused to be alone a second longer when the love of her existence was sitting right in front of her again.
Only, to make you hers before was so effortless. You were so kindhearted, so easily willing to give to a much younger Wanda what she so desperately craved. Now Wanda was different. Now whatever humanity she had left when she loved you the first time had seeped out of her like a wound. As Wanda grew more powerful so too did she grow more cruel and callous. She seriously doubted if you could see the same goodness in Wanda you once had.
But it did not matter to Wanda at this moment. She didn’t think it ever would matter again. She was done fulfilling your wishes when your final was a plea of mercy for your murderers. Now, whatever you wished would only be granted after Wanda had ensured that you were hers for all eternity.
“It’s um, a book on the historical timeline of the Valias Witch Trials,” you finally answered, a blush creeping over your cheeks at the intensity of Wanda’s stare.
Wanda blinked once, trying to shake off the euphoria of seeing your face again before she could slip back into character.
“A little bit of a dark topic to be reading for fun, don’t you think?” Wanda leaned forward, flashing a wide smile.
“Oh, it’s not for fun,” you replied, finally placing the book down on the table. “I work for the university, I’m trying to do research on the local history here. We’re a little bit outside of the area for the Valais Trials but I was hoping some of the research on that would lead me to more information on this town.”
“Has it?”
“Er… No, not yet.” When Wanda saw the way your nose scrunched in frustration, if she had any doubts before, they were definitely long gone now. Everything was exactly how she remembered. Your mannerisms, the way you talked, everything about you was a carbon copy of how you were once before.
“You know,” Wanda pulled the chair out from the other side of the table, not waiting for your invitation and sitting regardless. “I’ve seen you here for a while, reading those history books. I’m a bit of a history fan myself and I’ve done a lot of research on this subject.”
Your eyebrows shot up, but you leaned forward in interest. “Really?” When you bit your lip, Wanda’s eyes flicked to them in a flash, taking in a sight she missed so much, but trying not to break the facade she was carefully crafting.
“Yeah,” Wanda smiled, “and I don’t think you’ll find your answers in those books.”
“Oh,” the way your face immediately fell into a dour frown made Wanda do something she hadn’t done in centuries–she let out a genuine laugh.
“No, definitely not in those books,” Wanda continued. “You need to get your hands on historical records. Old journals and written law. It will tell you about the history of the area better than those will.”
Your frown only worsened and Wanda could’ve sworn she was seeing you pouting now. It felt more endearing than it ever had all those years ago.
“Those don’t really exist for this town,” you were trying so hard to keep a normal tone, but Wanda could see the frustration in the scrunch of your eyebrows. “Most of the records got destroyed before the town was rebuilt nearly a century after the locals burned it down in an effort to stop a plague.”
To hear this filtered version of your own history nagged at Wanda. Her jaw clenched as she listened to you regurgitate a version of history that erased your own suffering and torture without even knowing any better. Her hands moved to her lap and she dug her nails into her knees with bruising force as she tried to keep her polite smile plastered on.
“Not necessarily,” Wanda offered. “You just have to know where to look.”
“Everywhere I’ve looked is a dead end,” you muttered more to yourself than to Wanda.
“You haven’t looked with me yet.”
The look you gave Wanda mirrored the same confused look you had given her when she had first asked you to stay with her as an apprentice. It was innocent and curious, but Wanda could tell you were trying to turn her every word around in your mind to figure out her hidden meaning.
“I don’t think I know what you mean…” you mumbled, your eyes searching earnestly for an answer in Wanda’s
“I’m sorry,” Wanda breathed out an easy chuckle. “I should explain first. I own a collection of journals that detail the history of the area and the town before it was rebuilt. I’m somewhat of a private collector.”
You blinked at Wanda and she knew you were trying to figure out how one person could have a private collection of historical documents when the town was reduced to ash by her very own hands. Lucky for Wanda, she was being truthful. There was one surviving record, her own record, and she kept them. She kept journals that span back centuries, before she met you even. But she held onto every one of them, just in case they held answers she would need. Never did she think the answers they held would be how to get you closer to her.
“I’m sorry if this is too forward, but I’ve been hoping for a scholar of sorts to take a look at them,” Wanda continued, her smile growing wider. “Seeing as you’ve been researching these topics and you said you work for the university… would you be willing to take a look?”
Your eyes grew wide and you leaned back. Wanda wondered if she was pushing it, but as you looked between her and the book that was so far causing you way more frustration and disappointment than you anticipated, she knew she was winning the silent debate in your mind.
“What exactly are you hoping for if I do look at them?”
You were skeptical, that was to be expected.
“Just someone to verify authenticity.”
You nodded slowly, still yet to say yes.
“Of course,” Wanda added, “you’ll have to come to where I have them stored, so that I’m sure they’re safe. These journals are quite pricy…” priceless actually, Wanda thought. “But I think if you can verify their authenticity it will greatly add to your research and it may even change the way we understand the past of this innocent little town.” She tried not to grit her teeth at the choice of adjective she used.
You paused for a moment, your eyes searching Wanda for any sign of insincerity and part of Wanda hoped you were naive enough to not second guess her, but the other part of her knew she would have to do more to teach you to be more careful of those you trusted. Obviously, you have had two lifetimes worth of bad choices when it came to who you put your trust in.
“Okay, yeah,” you began to nod your head faster. “I think I’d like to take a look at these journals.”
“Excellent,” Wanda purred. She stretched her hand out to you. “I’m Wanda by the way.”
And when you took her hand she swore you felt the same spark of electricity that she did.
—---------------------------------------------------------
From there Wanda was able to convince you to set a regular schedule with her. She had met you a couple more times at the cafe to talk about logistics and more details on the journals, as well as providing you pictures of them for proof so you wouldn’t think you were just being lured into a stranger's home for no reason.
When it came time to have you in her home, Wanda had set up a modest house on the outskirts of town and arranged for her collection to be shipped from one of the various locations she had globally. It came in record time and within a week she had a home that looked like she lived in it.
Wanda waited anxiously for the day you were meant to show up at her doorstep and again, just like the first moments she saw you again, she felt like she was seeing two lifetimes all at once. The way you knocked on her door, your eyes meeting hers with confidence rather than fear as you asked her questions about the journals while you followed her to the room she had them carefully stored.
Humans over the years after she had lost you all seemed to know to stay away from her. People would be visibly uncomfortable under her gaze or tend not to linger long in her presence. But, just like her first meeting with you, you seemed at total ease standing next to her. The only hint that her gaze got to you was the pink tinge of your skin when she locked eyes with you too long or leaned too close.
When you first saw Wanda’s collections of her own journals, she had feared you would question them. However, nowhere in them did she mention her own name, so in that regard she knew she was safe. And as you did your first readings of a couple of them, she knew you trusted their authenticity just by the material used and the way in which language had differed back then. Being a history scholar like you had explained to Wanda, she knew this was going to be the find of your career. The only thing was, once Wanda made you remember your significance to each other, there would be no room for a career. Not with the life the two of you would have to lead as beings outside of mortal society.
She thought she would feel a little guilt for that and for the idea that she would be ripping you away from a life that seemed to be treating you much better than your first one. But she felt no guilt at all. Only impatient anticipation for the moment she could reveal it all to you.
It took months for you to get through just a couple of the journals, and you hadn’t even reached the journal where Wanda would inevitably meet you yet. Wanda had spent careful nights removing parts of the journal that mentioned anything about her that would hint that she was more than human and then blaming it on damage over the centuries. When you finally got to the journal that had the five short years the two of you spent together in your first lifetime, that was when Wanda would unravel all to you.
“This one,” Wanda placed the journal delicately in your waiting hands, “is the one that will change everything for you.”
You looked up with her, your eyes full of excitement as you graciously took the delicate book and began to handle it with care.
Wanda couldn’t help but admire your misplaced aspirations. In the time that you had begun working with Wanda, she felt as if she fell in love all over again with this version of you. She found you were as headstrong as you were back then, but somehow even more kind and patient. You had a deep care for the world around you, something Wanda lost interest for a long time ago. She wanted to give you all of your dreams, but at the same time she knew your dreams would only be of a future with her once you knew. So in the meantime she spent her days with you praising your accomplishments and aspirations.
And all the while, Wanda closed the distance between the two of you slowly. It started with her gaze, then moved on to light touches and finally, after just a few short months, Wanda had you nearly completely comfortable with her.
Often, you’d scan the pages of the journal, making reprints to keep them safe from harm, and sit so close to Wanda as you read them, that the two of you would be nearly touching.
You didn’t jump anymore when Wanda would reach over and tuck your hair, or flinch when she would run her finger tips across your arm to get your attention. She watched as you effortlessly eased back into her touch and she thought, with how easily this was all going, that taking the final steps would be just as easy too.
As you worked through this next edition of Wanda’s personal records, you were eager to work more often and for longer hours. Wanda had no qualms with this, as it just meant instead of waiting a few months, she would just wait weeks or days even to address the whole truth with you.
After one week went by, you were beginning to react in the way Wanda anticipated you would to the first unedited journal in her collection.
“This one is so different from the last,” you mumbled to yourself as you jotted down some notes. “The author… I think they believed they weren’t human. They may even consider themselves a witch too.”
“Hmm,” Wanda hummed as she sat across from you, pretending to pay attention to a book when really she was observing your every reaction to the words in front of you. “In those times, would someone like that call themselves a witch? That used to be the word forced onto the innocent before they were given a death sentence.”
“I suppose you’re right…” you chewed at your bottom lip as you read over the same entry again and again. “But what did they think they were?”
“Maybe they didn’t know,” Wanda’s gaze on you was intense, but you were still too glued to the writing in front of you. “Maybe they didn’t feel a need to know because before the witch trials, magic was revered, not feared.”
“Maybe…” you mumbled and Wanda couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that you didn’t think to question her intensity more. Instead, you went back to reading.
After another week, you shared with Wanda what you had read and what you were finding. “I don’t really know why,” you admitted, “but I feel so much anxiety for what must have happened to the author.”
“It’s not her that you have to worry about,” Wanda muttered under her breath as you continued to meticulously absorb every single word you were reading.
It took only one more day for you to be determined to reach the end. Wanda was surprised when you asked to stay overnight so that you could work even later. It was something she was planning to suggest to take full advantage of the situation and have you closer, but she didn’t even need to when you looked up at her with pleading eyes and posed the question yourself.
That night, Wanda noted the way your hands shook as you read the pages Wanda had memorized by heart. All about the life the two of you had, how she had fallen in love with a village girl and attempted to save her from her own family’s cruelty. Wanda wondered if somewhere in you, you knew these words were written about you–that you were re-reading your own life from someone else’s eyes.
That night, when you fell asleep at the desk in Wanda’s study, Wanda effortlessly picked you up and carried you to her own bed. You were too tired to even question the sheer strength of Wanda or where she was moving you. And she sighed in relief when you didn’t stir as she lay next to you, never sleeping, just watching as she finally had you back in her bed.
When you woke up, Wanda had food already prepared for you and was eagerly anticipating the moment that she knew would inevitably come later that day for you to discover the full truth. She knew what pages you had left. She knew there was a gap in this account, as she had used a separate journal to document her finds to cure you of your mortality. She knew you’d get to the last words, her last moments with you alive, and then you’d move on to her anger and sorrow from there.
She was ready to reveal it all.
You ate breakfast happily and even spent a little time walking with Wanda in the garden on her property. As Wanda walked with you, she saw the version of you that walked the garden outside her modest cottage and she silently promised herself that wherever the two of you stayed after this, she would make sure she had a garden for you to enjoy. Your childlike wonder for the beauty of nature was never something that grew old to Wanda then, and she thought she could spend the rest of eternity feeling the same now.
When you returned to pouring over her journals with care and scrutiny, Wanda sat anxiously and waited until you finally reached the conclusion of your own story.
Her heart pounded in her head as she watched the anguish wash over your face. When tears began to well in your eyes, you rubbed at them with frustration and nervously mumbled an apology. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” your voice cracked as you spoke. “I’ve read so many other accounts of these trials, but this one is getting to me I guess.”
“It’s okay,” Wanda reassured as she stood and crossed the room to where you sat. She knelt down by your chair and brushed a tear from your cheek. “I’m sure no account you’ve read has been as intimate as this personal journal. And there’s pain in these pages that one can only imagine how unbearable it was to live through.” She thought to herself of all the things she had done since losing you in that moment. All the pain that left a gaping wound in her heart that never healed, only festered. She could never fix the humanity she lost when you left, she had hardened and changed, but she could get rid of the pain by having you again. She could soften a little, even if it was nowhere near how she had softened in her first life with you, it was something. It was proof that her love for you stayed just as strong as the pain throughout the centuries. “Keep reading,” she urged.
Wanda pulled up a chair and sat next to you, patiently waiting as the hours ticked by and you went through the last pages of her first life with you. She knew when you got to the point where she had denied the nightmares of your death and Wanda had to reach out and place your own trembling hand in hers as you turned the next page to finally learn of your own fate.
When you set down the scan of the last page, your eyes were red rimmed with tears you were trying so hard to suppress. The silence in the room felt suffocating to Wanda.
She held your hand tight for a moment, knowing she had to break the silence, wondering if you were still trying to understand the visceral reaction you were having to reading your death described in detail by the woman who loved you so fiercely she then tore apart every living soul who dared to hurt you with her own bare hands.
“Forgive me, my love,” Wanda finally broke the silence, her voice thick with emotion, speaking in the original form of the language from the text. “For mercy is a plight too great for the very monster these men have borne.”
Those were the last words of that journal and Wanda knew them by heart. The chapter closed on the only time in Wanda’s immortal life where she had felt happy before all had fallen apart. She believed that the monster in her lie dormant until your murders were forced to awaken it. And when they did she drowned in the horrifying capabilities of her power, learning ways to cause pain that she didn’t know she was capable of; ways that barely scratched the surface of her own anguish.
When Wanda spoke those words, she did not translate, she uttered them effortlessly in the same way the language once was nearly 600 years ago. You looked up with surprise, your free hand rubbing at your teary eyes. “You know what that means?” You whispered.
“Of course,” Wanda closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I wrote it.”
“That’s not funny,” you tried to withdraw your hand from Wanda’s slowly, but she gripped you suddenly.
“I’m not joking.”
You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, shaking your head before looking at Wanda with confusion rather than accusation like she had expected. “That would mean all these are falsified, but the way the language evolves between the journals… you’d have to be better than the best scholars to write all of this. Even I can barely understand them.”
“They’re not falsified.” Wanda’s eyes were stern, unwavering.
“Then I don’t understand what you mean.”
“It’s what I said,” Wanda leaned forward at the same moment you leaned back. “I wrote it.”
“Be serious,” you yanked at your hand, but Wanda held tight. “You couldn’t have possibly–”
“I did,” Wanda’s hand tightened on your wrist. “I wrote all of them. They all document my life. And the one you just read documents yours as well.”
The scrape of the chair against the hardwood floor as you flew from your seat felt deafening in the otherwise tensely silent room. Wanda followed you up, her hand never leaving your wrist as the both of you stood. “What the hell are you doing?” You demanded, trying to put some distance between you and the woman currently holding you tight with little effort, despite how hard you were trying to pull away.
“I’m telling you the truth,” Wanda gave you a pitiful smile, but the look in her eyes was beginning to become unnerving. “I wrote that journal. I wrote every single moment from the time before we met to the time I first lost you. Can you not see that? Do you not feel the connection we had–and still have.”
“I– I felt sad for the person who wrote this but–” you were trying so hard to back up, but with Wanda’s hand on your wrist, each step you took back she just took a bigger one forward.
“You felt my pain,” Wanda insisted. “You shed tears at my loss. It was my loss of you.”
“If you wrote this… then you’re hundreds of years old. You’re not human.”
Wanda’s lips formed a harsh line as she stared back at you, trying to will you to believe that she was serious and that you were right about every unbelievable conclusion you were coming to.
“This isn’t happening,” you shook your head, “you’re just fucking with me.”
Wanda didn’t want to scare you, but she also didn’t have the patience for your disbelief. Not when she wanted to finally reach the moment when you were back to being hers. She wanted your eyes to look at her with love rather than the unfamiliarity she has had to settle for the past few months.
“I promise you, my love,” Wanda’s voice was low, sending a shiver down your spine. “I am being honest. But I will show you, so you believe.”
Wanda let go of your wrist finally, and you snatched it to your chest as if her touch had burned you. Her heart twisted in pain when she saw that, but she shook it off. She knew having you love her as she is now would be more difficult. This was to be expected, but she would still succeed. She had to.
“Do not leave.” she warned as you took another step back from her towards the wall. This time she did not step forward, instead she took a deep breath after she was sure you wouldn’t make a run for it to the door.
In an instant, she did the one thing she had wished she wouldn’t have to do in front of your eyes just yet. She let you see just how monstrous she had become since the day you perished.
Using magic to hide the physical indicators of her sins had become second nature to her in the centuries she had to blend in whenever she needed to travel through mortal society. But to shake off this small trick took time.
You watched in confusion and then terror as vibrant skin chipped away like paint. First, from her finger tips and then past her arms to reveal ink black skin, as if they had charred over a fire. Her eyes, which you knew to be a beautiful green, began to shift, filling with red as if a drop of blood was tainting the original color. Her skin, where the ink black did not reach, was different too. The color from it drained, growing paler. Her cheek bones changing and growing sharper and all at once her height, her muscle growing larger until it felt as if you were cowering her shadow.
She did not look human. She didn’t look not human either. It was the kind of almost human that brought a primal fear in others. It elicited the feeling that said something was wrong, but one might only recognized the wrongness when it was too late.
Your feet stumbled back until you hit the bookshelf behind you and your eyes shot to the door, trying to plot out an escape. But this time Wanda stepped forward, her ink black hands reaching for you as she did.
“What do you want from me?” Your voice shook as your eyes took in the change in the being before you.
Wanda scoffed, a sarcastic smile of disbelief playing at her lips as her hands slowly grabbed onto your waist. “Isn’t it obvious?”
You shook your head vehemently.
“I want you by my side again,” Wanda’s voice was sweet but her demeanor was entirely different. No longer was she the gentle woman you had come to know these past few months. Instead, what stood in front of you was a version of her that dripped with danger. Every alarm bell in your head told you to run, but Wanda would not let you. She would never let you go again. She had finally learned from past mistakes.
“You think…” your mind was trying to piece together everything that was happening much too fast. “You think I’m her?”
Wanda shook her head before leaning forward, you had nowhere to go in Wanda’s grip. You were forced to tremble under her touch as she pressed her forehead to yours. “I know you are her.”
Her lips trailed your cheek and you felt sick as you finally realized her touch felt colder than a human’s should.
“I’m not,” you insisted. “That’s impossible.”
“My very existence is an impossibility to the human world, so why would your soul returning to me be any different?” Wanda used her hands to pull your body flush to hers. “Surely, you feel our connection like I do.”
You shook your head, wriggling in her embrace. Wanda’s patience was beginning to wear thin, especially when you denied what she knew that just hours ago you had felt.
Wanda pulled back, her hands moving to hold either side of your face in a near bruising grip. “You cannot lie to me, my love.” As she warned you swore you watched the red swirling in her eyes begin to turn black.
“No, no,” you pleaded. “I’m not her. We are not the same person!”
Wanda’s grips on your face tightened and her eyes grew frantic. You saw, maybe just for a moment, a glimmer of clarity, but it was soon replaced with anger and a stubborn determination that she had been holding onto for centuries. She would make you see, she would never hear you deny your feelings for her again. She just had to push harder
“Yes, you are,” her voice was low. “Don’t tell me you’re not the same person. At your core, you’re her. You’re mine.”
“But how can you know that? Wanda I- I do not know you. Even if it’s true, the me from hundreds of years ago– that girl that was with you is not the same as me today,..” Your hand reached up, trembling as it did, to touch her cheek too. Your eyes searched hers, imploring her to understand where you were coming from. “I’m so sorry, Wanda. I know how painful it must be to accept this. I know you have waited countless life times and you must be so lonely, but she is gone. Maybe I remind you of her, maybe we have similarities, but I could never be the girl you once loved.”
Wanda’s eyes blurred, tears threatening the edge of her lids. You watched with bated breath, hoping she would accept your response.
“Of course,” Wanda sighed and you exhaled the breath you had been holding.
“I’m sorry to—“
“Of course, you would comfort me even now. Just as you would’ve then.” Your blood ran cold. “Trying to comfort me, in my loss of you, when you are right in front of me…” She chuckled to herself breathlessly. “You think your soul has changed, but I assure you it has not. How do you not see?”
Wanda let go of your face to grab your hands and press them to her chest, to feel her beating heart. “I have looked for you in every room, in every person, for centuries. If I had decided to settle for a false memory of you in another person, don’t you think I would’ve done that earlier? Instead, I waited centuries to have you again. There has only been one soul I have loved in my immortality and it is yours. I would know you from anyone, whether we were apart for 600 years or 6000, I will always find you. I will always love you and you will always be mine.”
“That is not how this works, Wanda,” you begged but she just shook her head. “I still don’t know you. If I were her, wouldn’t I feel the same?”
“Don’t lie to me about your own feelings for me!” Wanda snapped, her nails digging into your skin as she held you still against her chest. “Do you think I don’t know how you feel? Do you think I don’t know the way your pulse quickens whenever I am near? Before you even realized who I was to you, your heart was already mine.” Wanda pulled your arms to her chest before wrapping her own around you in a tight embrace–as if to cage you in with her arms. “No matter the version of you, no matter the time that has passed, you are always going to be mine in every lifetime. I felt you the first time you ran to me then and I felt you the first time you were destined to find me now. I had to wait so long in between and I refuse to wait any longer.”
With one strong arm folded around you like an iron bar, the other reached for your chin. She tilted it up, her body bent down, shielding you, your senses, from anything other than Wanda as she’s towering over you. “You do not understand,” her voice is barely above a whisper, yet her eyes are still just as fierce. “The love that we have, it transcends time. You don’t know now, you have yet to learn in this lifetime, but you will. I will show you.”
Her lips pressed to yours then with a fierceness you did not expect, even as her anger dripped off her like poison. Yet, when her lips did meet yours, you couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine. With inky black fingers spread across your cheek, nails pressing into your skin just enough to leave faint marks, you squeezed your eyes shut as Wanda’s lips moved against yours with force.
The worst part was, as her tongue trailed against your own lips, there was a familiarity in her taste. Something deep inside of you that knew the way this should have felt. Yet in the back of your mind, you knew that even if you were her, the Wanda in front of you was not the one your soul may have known. This Wanda’s touch, as she pushed your lips to part with her own, held no ounce of familiarity. Yet her scent held a nostalgic feeling that touched something deeper inside you, a feeling you didn’t know you even could have.
She pressed her body to you in a way that both made you want more and made you want to recoil. She made you feel like you were coming home. A feeling that caused visceral fear that Wanda was right about your supposed reincarnation. Yet, the way in which her knee slotted between yours, her unnervingly cold body making its own space to press against every inch of you also made you feel like the only natural thing to do was to flee. It made you feel like your sense of security was a false one. Your instincts were fighting with your heart and your head, trying to scream at you to run.
She pulled away for just a moment, head pressing against yours again. The iron grip around you was finally released and instead her hands were tangled in your hair as she tried to catch her own breath. “See?” She breathed with a gravely voice. “I know what you are feeling. I know what’s inside your head.”
Wanda was admitting more than she probably should, but she was so drunk on the slightest taste of you that she didn’t care about repercussions anymore.
“Don’t fight how you feel for me,” Wanda whispered as she turned your head with her grip on your hair in order to trail her lips against your jaw. “We have waited so long to have this moment again.”
Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt her lips move down to the tender skin of your neck.
“Wanda…” your voice came out thicker and lower than you wanted. “Can we at least slow down?”
“I have already taken it slow when I first found you.” Her teeth nipped at your neck. “Do you see now? That you are her?”
You swallowed hard and nodded. “Can we talk about it?” Anything to slow her hands down as her nails dragged down your back, ripping the fabric of your sweater with it.
“What is there to talk about?” She purred against your skin. “We’ve talked for months, my love. Let us finally just enjoy what was taken from us.”
Your mind and body were warring. Half of you wanted to give into the primal terror coursing through your veins and flee. Half of you wanted to melt into the way lips pressed wet kisses against your overheated skin. Either way, it was already too late to fight off Wanda’s touch when she was so much stronger than you. She was so much stronger than any human being really and she proved that by the way she ripped away your sweater like it was paper thin.
Her lips were pressing their way down your collarbone now and you didn’t dare open your eyes to the reality of the version of Wanda in front of you. It was not the Wanda you knew. The fingertips that ghosted up your sides until they reached your breast felt familiar, but you knew if you saw them they’d be the charred black you had been shown before. You knew the eyes watching the way your breath hitched as her teeth sank into the most tender parts of your flesh weren’t the emerald green you were beginning to love, but the blood red that felt like they burned as they bored into you. And you knew the paleness of her face, that looked as if a fresh corpse was reanimated, would haunt you if you saw the way it replaced the vibrance of the woman you so quickly and foolishly trusted.
Yet, as her lips pressed over your now bare chest, as you felt the way she kissed right above your heart, you still felt it jump. Not in fear, not in anger, but in a feeling that you could only ever describe as a sorrowful longing. The type of longing that felt like it would lead to hopeness. It was a sadness then that washed over you. One you didn’t know you held. One you realized, felt older than your body, older than a young soul should understand. In fact, you didn’t understand it, but in that moment–that brief second of Wanda’s gentleness as her ear replaced your head and you felt her take a shuttering sigh at the sound of your own heartbeat–you stopped fighting her.
You were more aware of her body again rather than what she was doing to you and you realized, finally, she was sobbing. Your hands moved on their own, shaking fingers reaching for her red hair. You couldn’t help it. Another force felt like it was guiding your body now as you felt yourself stroke her hair with one hand, and wrap around her shoulders to press her closer with the other.
Wanda let out a watery laugh, her hands dragging down your abdomen as she did. “See?” her voice was different now. Less filled with confidence and more broken, scared even. “I have loved you the same, even in the absence of you. So long, I have wanted you and I know you feel for me the same way. You can’t push me away, my love. You were made for me.”
And she believed that. In all of her time with and without you, she had believed that you were brought to her the first time to bring life to her dimming existence. Like divine intervention trying to prevent–or in her case, prolong–the monster she would become. And now, as her soul darkened to near black, the universe gifted her with you again. As if to the cosmos themselves understood how deep her pain ran and knew that when it inevitably swallowed her, she would swallow the world in response. You were her distraction, her gift for sparing the world.
Her lips began to trail down, your hand never leaving her hair, but gripping a bit harder to it when suddenly she fell to her knees.
Her lips were above the button to your jeans, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the naked skin right by it when you felt the nails that once felt effortlessly sharp as they ripped your sweater from your shoulders, now teasing and delicate as they popped the button from its place. You tried with all your strength to stop the trembling of your entire body. You swallowed hard again, your head falling back, your eyes still not daring to open and see the version of Wanda that was now knelt before you.
When your jeans were pushed down, inch by inch, with agonizing slowness, your underwear came with them. Wanda watched as your chest heaved in anxious anticipation. Part of her felt a pang of guilt for the fear she could feel coursing through your veins, but she also could not deny herself of you for one more second. She could feel the way you warred with yourself, trying to deny all Wanda had presented to you. You just needed one more push. Just one step forward and then perhaps she would have you in the way she had been waiting for.
Her lips pressed a kiss right above where she knew you needed her most, letting her inhale your scent for the first time in over half a millennia. When her lips kissed lower the both of you let out a groan and Wanda swore she was in heaven. She licked the taste of you off her lips and that was when any last rational thought left her and she dove straight in.
The grip on her hair would be bruising for anyone else, but for Wanda it just excited her more. Her tongue lapped at your clit eagerly and your head hit the bookshelf behind you as you pressed one of your hands to your mouth and bit down on your own palm.
Your mind, that was once spinning, was now utterly focused on keeping your eyes shut and trying to envision the Wanda you had known these past months between your legs. Not this version, who’s humanity bled out of her right before your very eyes. But even then, as you feared the monster knelt between your legs, pulling moans of pleasure from your body without your permission, you wouldn’t make her stop. In fact, you pressed her face closer and you felt the rumble of her growl as she drank you in with all the selfish anticipation she has lived with for far too long.
Her hands moved to grab at the back of your thighs, keeping you standing and upright as she shoved them open for her. With her strength you wouldn’t fall, but Wanda needed to make sure you knew that so she could taste you more; drink from you deeper.
When her tongue ran across your opening you bit down harder on your knuckles and your thighs quaked against her head. Wanda breathed you deep before slipping her tongue in, moaning nearly as loudly as you did when she finally was able to taste you from the source.
Wanda’s nails dug into the back of your thighs, her hands moving in a way that forced your own body to buck and ride against her lips. Your attempts to remain quiet were in vain, your hand did nothing to muffle the way your moans filled the room.
But right when you were close to the edge she stopped. In that moment your eyes snapped open and the image before you burned into your mind.
There was Wanda, looking up at you with eyes as black as coal. Her lips, glistening with your own wetness, were parted and panting as she drank in the sight of you. She was terrifying, she was monstrous. But you realized, as afraid as you might be, that she was still just as breathtakingly beautiful.
She stood in front of you then, her charcoal fingers tangling in your hair at the base of your neck, and dragged you forward to meet her lips. Her tongue swept into your mouth and all you could do was whimper as she kissed you so deeply, filling your mouth with the taste of yourself on her own tongue. You felt drunk with want, the fear in you still present, but distant. Dulled.
“I need to feel more of you,” Wanda growled against your lips, her teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip before she released you and allowed you air.
In a blink you weren’t against the shelf anymore. In a haze, you realized you were falling back and then with a soft thud, you were on her bed. You didn’t have time to process the second unbelievable thing to happen in front of your own eyes though, because in an instance you felt the entirety of Wanda’s naked body pressed against yours. She was on top of you, her hands already moving down your body again, her lips kissing down your chest again, this time to your nipples before she could take one in and bite to elicit a pained, but pleasured hiss from you.
Your head met softness when you let it fall back this time, hitting a pillow rather than the hard wood of the shelf.
“Do you know,” Wanda mumbled against your wet, bare skin, “how hard it was to resist you, when you slept so peacefully in my bed?”
You shook your head, your stare never leaving Wanda’s gaze as her own fierce eyes looked up at you from your body.
“My love,” Wanda purred as her fingers moved from your body to trail down her own, “I fear that was the last bit of mercy I could afford you.”
Your eyes followed her hands down, watching in morbid curiosity as you realized they stopped between her legs to grab at a crimson red appendage you hadn’t seen before. When your eyes flicked back to hers, Wanda nearly enjoyed the anxious trepidation written all over your face.
“Wanda,” your voice cracked as your hands moved to brace themselves on her shoulders, her body pressing closer and closer, the feeling of the hard, otherworldly toy pressing closer and closer between your legs. “That will hurt. Please.”
Wanda knew that. It was her magic that formed the shape of it out of thin air. She could set the size, she could’ve been kinder. But she wanted to feel the way you’d writhe under her as you took from her all she could possibly give. She wanted to know the way your body would fit as close as possible against hers. How being inside of you would feel when you opened yourself to make room for Wanda. She wanted to know how you’d endure being broken apart for her and if you’d trust that she would be the one to put you back together.
“Shhh,” Wanda purred, her mouth coming back to your own, moving deep and slow against your own quivering lips. And as she kissed you slowly, you felt it, the moment when Wanda lined the strap up and pressed with force against your opening.
Your hands pushed harder at her shoulders, but she didn’t budge an inch. Instead she dipped your head back more, licking into your mouth and kissing around your cries of pain.
The way the burn of the toy being fully pushed inside your body had your head swimming. Your eyes began to roll back in your head before Wanda even really began. She gave you a moment to adjust, but it was more for her than for you. With her magic, she could feel everything. And the way in which your body fluttered around hers made her feel more powerful than she had in her near 1000 years of life.
It was wonderfully twisted for Wanda to realize that she could decimate whole cities, best the strongest armies, but nothing made her feel more powerful than when she had you beneath her. When the both of you drowned in shared pleasure as she made the two of you fall apart by her own hand, that was when she felt at the height of her power. It was all too much for Wanda. She knew she wasn’t lying when she said she was out of mercy, even for you.
Maybe it wasn't your fault that your mortality led to an early end for you. Maybe once, she loved the gentleness in you that first asked for the mercy of your family and last asked for the mercy of your murders. But that was once and she’s much different now. Now her anguish built in her a need to make you understand her anger. An anger that festered the longer she waited for your return to her arms. An anger that boiled over with each failed attempt to bring you back to her world. How dare you let her become such a hate filled creature, when you could’ve been tending to her soul these past 600 years?
Her thoughts spilled over and she felt that rage in her entire body, and with that her hips drew back and snapped.
Your hands left her shoulders to try to cover the cry of painful pleasure that pierced the room, but Wanda was quicker, grabbing both your wrists and slamming them above your head.
“Don’t hide from me,” she threatened as her body moved against yours with a force that felt like you’d shatter underneath her. “Let me hear you scream. Let me know that you finally feel my pain too.”
“Please, please, please,” you didn’t know if you were begging her to stop or to bring you back to the edge you were just about to fall over moments ago. The feeling of her strap stretching you out from the inside was the strangest mix of pain and pleasure you’d ever experienced. And the feeling of Wanda’s bare body, cooler to the touch than it should be as it slid against yours, was making you struggle to focus on anything other than the sensation of ice–cold against your own overheated body.
You were already worked up from before. So, when Wanda held your wrists with just one hand and moved her other to slide under your body and force you to arch her back into you, her strap hitting an even deeper part of you, you came against her with a broken moan.
Tears pricked at your eyes as you realized that Wanda didn’t slow even for a second. “I want more,” she groaned as her hips kept rolling into you. “I need to have more of you.”
Your head had lulled back, the fight and resistance you had first attempted when Wanda gathered your wrist was all but gone and you were reduced to nothing more than a ball of pleasure, falling apart underneath Wanda’s body.
She sped her hips up and the burn of the stretch was gone and replaced with the hollowing feeling of wanting more mixed with a fear that it would never ever be enough. When Wanda let go of your wrists, no doubt bruised from how tight she was holding them, you found yourself wrapping your arms around Wanda’s neck. This time, when she pressed her hips into you, she reveled in the fact that you chased them with each moment they pulled back. You had finally fallen too far. You let Wanda invade every part of your being now, and all you knew was the pleasure Wanda was pulling from you. All you knew is that this was the feeling you had been waiting for too, even if you didn’t realize it until the very moment Wanda made you fall apart against her the first time.
Your orgasm was building again, but so was Wanda’s. She was moaning on top of you, trying to hold back and make the moment last. Reveling in the way your body squeezed against her magic toy as you came the first time.
Wanda’s head tilted back as she felt her own body shake against yours. She was so close, but she needed this moment. She needed to feel the way your body would be in sync with hers.
“Look at me,” Wanda husked between her own moans, “look at me, please.”
And when you finally forced your eyes open again, for a moment you saw the familiar green looking back at you. Her features softer, her skin more vibrant, the look in her eyes less filled with fear and desperate need, and more filled with the vulnerability of how much this moment meant to her.
She kissed you then. It wasn’t full of possession, it wasn’t with force or bruising passion. It was a kiss filled with the love and despair she felt every single waking moment she was without you. She had stopped punishing your body for having to go without, and now, as her hips moved, she just felt herself sink into the feeling of fulfillment as she finally had the one thing she wanted most of all.
And when you kissed her back it was as if the cosmos moved themselves until everything felt like it slotted together. Timelines converged, feelings sorted, the conflicting versions of you in your head becoming one. You saw two lifetimes in that kiss, as Wanda’s body kept moving against you and her intense love began to replace her suffocating want. You felt the love you once had, the pain it caused you. And, at the same time, you felt the love you began to have again before you knew the truth about your monstrous lover.
Your arms wrapped around Wanda’s neck. You kissed her harder, tears falling from your eyes as you worked your body in time with hers. She took from you at first out of fear, out of a horrible need to erase the pain of not having you for life time after life time. Now she took from you out of necessity. A necessity to accept what she so badly wanted to be given to her and waited centuries to be offered again. And you finally offered her your all.
When Wanda fell apart inside of you, you cried out and came with her. The feeling of your body, stretched to its limit, immediately disappeared as Wanda collapsed against you.
Your eyes fluttered open again, expecting to see that original version of Wanda gone again and replaced with the reality of her. But it wasn’t. Instead, looking back at you was the same Wanda you had known centuries ago. With skin kissed by the sun, eyes shining brighter than emeralds, and fingertips that played with a strand of your hair no longer charred by the evidence of her monstrosity, but perfectly normal.
“I remember now,” you finally said after a moment of letting yourself lay beneath her.
“You do?” Wanda felt you nod beneath her before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your hand still shook as you lifted it to cup Wanda’s cheek. She let you tilt her face up until you could meet her eyes again. “I’m so sorry that you had to endure your pain alone for far longer than you deserved.”
Wanda didn’t answer, she just pressed forward until you willingly met her lips for a gentle kiss.
“You’re here now,” Wanda finally whispered against you.
There was a silence that fell over the two of you and she felt the tension in your body. “But I can’t be forever,” you admitted, your tone holding a gentle seriousness that told Wanda you understood just how far her grief had made her fall. If she lost you once and burned town after town down, what would happen when you inevitably succumbed to your own mortality again?
“Don’t worry,” Wanda’s demeanor shifted again, the warning signs of red returning to her irises. “I’ve found a cure for that.”
You swallowed as the tension that returned to your body felt like it permeated the air now too.
“You’ll be different,” Wanda admitted as her nails dug into the skin of your arms again, as if to hold you still, knowing you again felt that primal fear creep up your spine again. “You’ll be like me.”
You thought back to how you knew Wanda before. How her soul was darkened, but not nearly pitch black as you had been shown today. You could love Wanda this way, you could brighten what was once dimmed. But you still knew, as her mask fell and she fucked you looking like the monster she truly was, that being like her meant kindness was a choice. That care was something she could shed at a whim. You knew that being like her meant the values you held, the ones she supposedly saw shine through you so brightly all those years ago–those would be stripped away.
“When you’re like me,” Wanda broke you from your spiraling thoughts, “you will never demand of me mercy again.” You swallowed, your eyes silently pleading with Wanda to grasp whatever ounce of humanity she could still muster.
Her face twisted into a smile, her soft mask falling away right before your eyes yet again. “When you’re like me,” she repeated, “we’ll watch the world burn for the pain it caused us.”
Maybe the soul you had loved was no longer remotely the same as the one before you now. Maybe you were wrong about being able to love the monster Wanda grew into today. You didn’t know what was destined for you now, as you stared at a different fate, crueler than your first. All you knew was that just as the townspeople before ignored your pleas, just as Wanda ignored your final request then, she meant what she had written. Mercy was a request far too great for her to ever grant you–or anyone for that matter–ever again.
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