One Shots

Mutant Pt4 - Wanda x Reader

Ignore the previous AN...Ima just continuing posting this here too XD

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Recollection

Y/N hasn't seen Wanda since the afternoon she entered their mind. They're hoping it's due to the 'don't go downstairs' rule but, a menacing whisper tells them she's scared to return. Whatever it is Y/N used to do, whoever they worked for, it clearly wasn't good.

Burdened with guilt. That constant sickening turn in their stomach. Hostile thoughts issue friendly fire. Y/N refuses to look anywhere other than their own hands.

Y/N's more cooperative because of this, desperate to right whatever wrongs they've done. They even rejected a more comfortable holding cell, believing they deserve this desolation.

"Try to breach the blockade. Can you remember anything at all?" Natasha asks. The Widow's taken over as leader on the case, much to Y/N's dismay.

Natasha's cold toward them but certainly not hostile. An undeniable rage radiates off her though, causing frequent tremors in Y/N's hands. It's clear Nat has personal ties to whomever this 'Barrack' person is, and Y/N's acutely aware they're the next best thing where vengeance is concerned.

"Are you getting anything?" Nat asks, forcing Y/N out from their thoughts.

"Nothing." Y/N whimpers, not daring to look at the Russian.

"Try harder." She demands. "It's been a week with no progress, guys." Natasha speaks to seemingly no one, confusing Y/N thoroughly. What they don't see is the earpiece in her ear.

Whoever she's talking to must have replied as she begins a hushed conversation.

Y/N drives their attention away, not wanting to eavesdrop and earn more bad blood with the woman. Instead they focus on their mind, pleading with it to let them remember something. Anything! Even a memory unrelated to the Barrack would be helpful. At least they'll know it's possible to break through the blockade.

As Natasha's voice strays further, retreating back up the stairs, Y/N's thoughts grow clearer. They close their eyes, squeezing tightly to try and compel a memory to form.

A flash of multicoloured static fills the black void. As they relax their eyes, the image stays. Blossoming into something intelligible.

A blurry figure towers above them, their face incomprehensible. They're talking but all Y/N can hear is gibberish.

Y/N starts nibbling on their bottom lip, eyebrows knitting together with determination. 'C'mon Y/N, what are they saying?' They urge themselves.

"You've been an asset to my project, 004. I will miss our talks." Y/N frowns at the mysterious person's words. 'Who is 004?'

"I'm sorry for what happens next. You'll understand someday." The memory bursts into a frenzied quake, similar to a seizure.

Y/N's eyes shoot open as they push away from the spot on the floor, taking cover on the mattress. "What the hell?" They mutter to themselves, looking desperately for any sign of the blurry figure. "Was...was that the Barrack?"

Once regaining their composure Y/N leans over the mattress to pick up the notebook and pencil Natasha left them at the start of the week. So far it's been untouched. That crisp, new book feel still present. Y/N opens it to the first page.

They struggle to grip the pencil, finding it alien to their knowledge. Of course they've seen a pencil before, but using one is a whole different ball game. Eventually they win the battle and, though unconventional, they find a comfortable position to hold it.