He set fire to the world around him
but never let a flame touch her
When there's a new addition to her beloved team Miriana's trust isn't gained easily, she soon grows to resent him after the few unsuccessful attempts on her life. But when she learn...
The venue for the New Year's Eve party was in the heart of the city, meaning Tony had to splash out even more on elegant transport for the team. However, when the time came for them to all leave, Miriana and Wanda were late.
"No, Wanda. What if something happens, it's on me. You can't deny that." She gripped her friends shoulders.
"We have guards and surveillance and like... every single security leader out there. You know Fury will be there, and Ross, and the Avengers. It'll be the safest place in the city Ana." She assured her with soft eyes and a gentle tone.
Anas brows twisted, "Do you promise?" Her voice cracked.
"Yes." Wanda raised her hand to Anas cheek, swiping her thumb across her cheekbone, "Of course. We'll make sure you're safe."
Miriana finally agreed, partly accepting that there was no way she'd ever escape attending this party. The pair fixed their makeup and adjusted their dresses, making final preparations before they descended the stairs to meet the rest of the team.
Her eyes instantly found his, her entire focus staying on him as everyone else stressed over being late, plastering on a smile for him as if she hadn't been on the verge of tears a moment ago.
"You look..." He started, his eyes trailing down her body, his lips parted as he soaked in every inch of her. "Beautiful." He eventually finished his thought, bringing his mind back from the dirtiest corners.
"I do, don't I?" She replied, lifting her hand to brush over the lapel of his suit. He wore a simple black blazer over a white dress shirt, matching dress trousers leading to his shiny dark shoes. "You look just as beautiful." She grinned.
Miriana had almost been forced to dress up as much as she had, Wanda and Natasha banding together to find the perfect dress, the bodice was a fitted corset the deep red colour matching that of the long gloves, they covered her scarred hand. The dress covered her stomach entirely but the skirt had a high slit, the neckline low, just enough skin showing. She wore a thick leather holster around her thigh, plenty of thick jewellery to match, with her new necklace front and centre.
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Her hair had been braided tight into a bun at the back of her head, her edges laid and her skull pounding. Her stomach still twisted with anxiety but she got into the limousine with her friends, handed Tony the Piaget she had "stolen" from an ex and promptly poured herself plenty of alcohol.
If Wanda was right, if Ana was going to be completely safe, and this would be fun, then she could take after Stark and bury her nerves with tequila. She made sure to drink it all before she could think about everything that could go wrong in this scenario.
Drunk Miriana was messy, she couldn't fight anyone, she couldn't protect anyone, she could make a fool of herself, hurt herself, and wake up with regrets and scars.
But she wasn't going to think about that, she was going to beg Thor to give her a shot of his famed Asgardian ale and brush off the worried glances from Loki.
