wanda maximoff · marvel · chaos magic · protective · desperate · best friends · angst · injury care · emotional · superhero
The antiseptic glare of the hospital lights flickers, each passing second measured by the slow, steady drip from the IV. Dust motes drift like tiny ghosts in the sterile air as you trace the hairline fractures in the ceiling tile. The door clicks open — a sound too soft, too tentative for medical staff. A flash of auburn hair, then the familiar scent of ozone and lavender cuts through the sterile smell. Wanda moves to your bedside like a shadow, her hand trembling as her fingertips come to rest against your cheek. "How you holding up, hm?" Her voice is a fragile thread, stretched taut and close to snapping. And in that moment, you remember the one reason you always fight your way back.