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alexawynters · 2 months

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Scarlet Whispers pt 12

Gif not mine

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Chapter Summary: Oh no, a melt down! But make it fluffy at the end

Warning: Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist with parts 1-11 here

A/N: Sorry I am late, life has been... busyyyyyy. But I'm trying to keep up with writing and posting!

Returning to the cottage, as much fun (and terrifying) as the date had been, you longed to take a shower. You were fairly certain you were covered in a layer of grime that combined dirt, sweat, and various animal fur. Also, Australia had been hot as fuck, if you could help it, that shower was going to be nice and cold even if it would be a bit of a shock to the system.

“Dibs!” you shouted, as you booked it to your shared room, stripping as you ran. It would probably be polite to let the woman who had planned all of this to go first, but if you had to tolerate one more second of this ~texture~ against your skin, as much as you loved Wanda, you knew you were going to turn into an intolerable bitch.

Wanda simply laughed at your antics and followed. You could call dibs all you liked, but if you thought she was going to wait for you to get out of the shower before she joined, you were sorely mistaken. A salacious smirk crossed her features as she imagined your expression when she surprised you. She would wait a little though, taking her time letting you get situated while she undressed.

The moment the cool water touched your over-heated flesh you hissed. It wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as you had expected, in fact it was a relief. Knowing you were going to have to scrub to get the grime off, still you could feel some of it already sliding off with the mere pressure of the water and that was enough to ease some of the overstimulation to your senses. Somehow you had managed to avoid showing Wanda your more obvious symptoms when overstimulated, usually keeping them managed. A lifetime masking them, learning your triggers, and thresholds, you had learned how to de-escalate yourself.

Today certainly had been a lot. Overall, it was a great day. There were certainly bumps in the road but between Wanda being just perfect, and you working to get your mask under control, everything had been manageable. By the time you had gotten into the shower though, you felt as if you were about to claw your own flesh off. It wouldn’t be too long, you just needed a little bit to decompress and for the love of the gods, get that grime off your skin.

This was why you had called dibs. There was only one shower, and while Wanda could easily have conjured a second one if you had asked her, you didn’t want to put her out after she already had done so much for you. However, you were afraid if you didn’t get clean immediately you were going to have a meltdown from which there was no hiding, nor recovering. After Wanda had already told you she had more still planned for the evening, you didn’t want to risk ruining that, so dibs you called, and fled promptly to the shower.

What you hadn’t expected was for Wanda to join you shortly thereafter, and really, you probably should have after your conversation this morning. When the older woman stepped in behind you, a scream nearly ripped itself from your throat.

“Hello there, detka.” voice husky, just behind your ear.

“W-Wanda, hey! W-uh, what are you doing here? In the shower, with me?” Your voice cracked, and you refused to turn around lest she see your panicked face.

The witch chuckled, thinking you were simply flustered. “I thought after our conversation this morning it would be quite clear. I’m showering with you. Like I said, I won’t bite. Much.”

Soft hands came up to frame your body, pausing as you froze in her grasp.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” She removed her hands from your body.

It was too late. Your mind was a tumultuous whirlwind, what little touch she had provided, gentle as it was, was simply too much, and you wanted to scream, cry, lash out. None of those things were acceptable, and you didn’t want to hurt the love of your life in any way, so instead you completely shut down. Not intentionally, you were simply incapable in that moment of verbalizing what was happening without an outpouring of emotion accompanying it.

Nevertheless Wanda found herself buffeted by your thoughts and emotions, though she couldn’t clearly discern any one in particular. Only distress.

“Dorogoya, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

More silence.

“Y/N I try not to do this, but I’m worried for you. Is it okay if I read your mind to understand what’s going on? To know how to help you?”

A nearly imperceptible nod was all the witch needed. Honestly, even if you hadn’t given it, she probably would have done so anyway. It wasn’t… the best moral decision, but seeing you so upset and not knowing why or how to help made her so worried. Green eyes radiated a soft scarlet, as Wanda filtered through your thoughts and emotions.

Fear, embarrassment, shame, discomfort, gross, overwhelmed, too much, make it stop, make it sto-

Wanda retreated from your thoughts. She had suspected that you were Autistic, but never knew if you’d had a formal diagnosis. There had been little signs, though today’s incident with the horse, and just now confirmed it for her. She hated that you felt as if you had to hide this from her, even if she understood why though

Your comfort came first and foremost. Utilizing her magic, she instantly cleansed the pair of you, removing the dirt, sweat, and grime before turning the water off and leaving you both in silence. Not wanting to overwhelm you, she spoke gently, directly into your mind.

“I’m sorry, lyubov moya, I didn’t know. You have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s okay, you’re okay. I still love you, and I’m still here. I’m going to be in the bedroom when you are ready, love. Take your time, but know that no matter what, I will never abandon you.” Though the older woman longed to place a kiss to the back of your neck reassuringly, from what little she knew, Wanda believed it wouldn’t be helpful to you now. Focusing instead on what was best for you she kept her word, heading to the bedroom to make some changes in preparation for your arrival.

To any normal person, Wanda’s reassurances would probably have been enough, but all you could think was this was it: She was finally going to realize just how broken you were and leave just like everyone else did. Just like your parents always said everyone would. Gods you needed therapy. You really needed to remember to ask Wanda if she could help set that up for you. If she didn’t go running for the hills that is.

In an effort to stop your spiral, you focused on your breathing. In for four, hold for four, exhale for four. Once that was under control, you began taking into account three things you could see, three things you could smell, three things you could touch, and so on. Grounding yourself was key, and you were careful not to look at anything too bright, to sniff too hard, or touch any textures that were not known pleasant ones. You could do this. You could recover, and when, not if, when you did, you would go out and promise Wanda you could change. That you would get better.

You couldn’t. Change, that is, but you would get better at masking. You had done it before, you would do it again. Anything as long as you could convince Wanda to keep you by her side. At this point, you didn’t think you could stand going back to the real world. Aside from the very real fear that you would have to live with your parents again (which again, you were positive they wouldn’t take you back anyway so.. homeless) and you would almost rather die than put yourself through that again. Now that you knew what it was like to be truly cared for by another person, you could admit that the way your parents had treated you was not how parents should treat their children, even as adults.

There was also the fact that you had fallen head over heels for the witch, genuinely enjoying being in her presence. Yes, you would like to make some additional friends, but you were sure you could get Wanda to eventually warm up to that. With these outings, she didn’t seem to mind you interacting with any of the staff and if she really wanted you to be happy, she would have to let you make friends. She could be won over on that topic, Wanda was just afraid to lose you, but once convinced you were hers, she would loosen the reins a little. You were certain of it.

Now though, you were terrified of losing it all over your meltdown. It had to be fixed. You had to be better. Wanda deserved at least that. Gathering all your courage (which admittedly wasn’t much, but for Wanda, you would find some), you left the shower, drying off. Mentally you were preparing everything you would say to the witch to convince her to keep you. It’s not like you were above begging.

As you stepped foot into your shared bedroom, a quiet gasp escaped you. The cottage-core style bedroom you had become familiar with had been completely transformed. More modern, the lighting was a soft, pale lavender. In the corner where previously had been a small television was now a zen waterfall, the water trickling soothingly. Your bed had been modified: It appeared to have a low hanging canopy completely encircling the bed with only one entrance, making it a perfect little nest.

To say you were speechless would be an understatement. A second ago you had been gearing yourself to come out and beg the witch to not throw you out, to plead your case that you could change and were worthy of keeping around. Not for a moment had you expected to come out and find that the witch had redone the room into an entirely sensory friendly experience just for you.

“I- what’s all this?” You could very well see, but you wanted verbal confirmation, not trusting yourself, as always.

Wanda spoke and you didn’t think you had ever heard her voice this soft.

“Darling, you were having a hard time. I just wanted to make things easier for you, so I made the room a bit more… friendly.. for you. What good are all these powers of mine, if I don’t use them to help the one I love most?”

Your throat tightened at that four lettered word.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.” I’m not worth it, went unsaid, but as usual Wanda knew.

“Of course I did, detka. You mean everything to me. I’m sorry for not realizing you were hurting earlier and just barging into the shower with you. I should have asked. I didn’t, I just assumed, and I’m sorry. You were just trying to decompress, and I made it so much worse for you. That’s never what I want for you, lyubov.”

Wanda sat on the chaise lounge, wanting nothing more than to take you into her arms, and hold you until all your bad feelings went away, but this was about what you needed, not what she wanted. So she waited for you.

With tentative steps, you walked further into the room, taking it all in. How could you have thought moments ago that this wonderful woman would ever possibly throw you out? How many ways could she say and demonstrate that she loved you and was here for you?

A few steps more and you were within arm's length of the redhead. Wanda observed you curiously as your lower lip trembled and your eyes watered. Before she could ask you what was the matter, you threw yourself at her. Only a decade of Avenger honed reflexes enabled her to catch you in her arms, preventing the pair of you from tumbling to the floor. Lightly muscle arms held to her as you cried into her neck, your entire body wracked with sobs.

Comforting words in her native Sokovian were muttered softly in your ear as Wanda held you. One hand behind your head pressed you firmly but gently into her neck, the other ran soothing ministrations up and down your back. It wasn’t long before you had cried yourself out, laying exhaustively in her arms, only whimpering occasionally.

“Malyshka, do you want to get into the bed and make a nice nest?”

Stubbornly you shook your head. That would involve parting from Wanda, and you didn’t want to do that. Wanda was solace. Wanda was safe. Wanda… was home.

Said woman chuckled at your rather loud, if childlike thoughts. Too precious. She was grateful the little research she had been able to do while you were in the shower had paid off. There hadn’t been much time, but fortunately thanks to Wanda’s magic, it hadn’t taken her long to get everything ready.

“What if I get in bed with you, malysh?”

A pause as you contemplated. Finally, you gave a single nod in acceptance. You made no move to get up though. If Wanda wanted to get you into bed, she could finagle that herself, but you weren’t willingly leaving her arms unless it was over your cold, dead body.

Though you weren’t able to see it, the witch rolled her eyes fondly at your antics. Fortunately, the same training which afforded her superior reflexes also improved her overall fitness and strength. She was no Thor, but Wanda could certainly lift you with relative ease, and so she did, carrying you over to the bed. With some awkward shuffling, she eventually had you both situated comfortably. Initially Wanda had set you as the little spoon, your go to position for cuddling. However, it only took a moment for you to decide that was not what you wanted, and you swiftly rectified the situation by rolling over and burying yourself in her arms, wiggling happily.

A surprised giggle left the older woman, but she loved when you got like this. How tactile you could be. It wasn’t possible for your bodies to be physically closer unless they were literally fused together, but you were clearly bent on trying to be. The former avenger could feel your fingers periodically flexing against her sweater (specifically chosen due to its soft texture in the hopes it wouldn’t irritate should it come into contact with you), unable to actually pull her any closer, but squeezing anyway.

No words were spoken for some time. Without moving, and therefore no access to a phone or watch, Wanda couldn’t say for certain exactly how much time had passed, but it was probably at least an hour if not a bit more. She had planned more for your evening, but with how content you were in her arms, the world could be on fire and she wouldn’t dare move you. Your eyes had closed a long time ago, breathing evened out. One could almost mistake you for having fallen asleep if it weren’t for how every so often you would nuzzle under Wanda’s chin. Every time you did, her heart melted. She was glad you were feeling better, and if you never got to go on the rest of the date tonight, that was just fine with her.

You however, had not forgotten. This lovely nest Wanda had created for you had done the trick. Well, that and cuddling with your favorite person. You weren’t sure what time it was, but you hoped it wasn’t too late. Lethargically, you disentangled your limbs from the witch’s so you could stretch and yawn (if Wanda’s intrusive thoughts to poke your tongue with her finger almost won, well, that was her business).

“Hey Wands?” You asked quietly, not wanting to break the spell of comfort entirely just yet.

“Yes, detka?”

“I don’t know what else you had planned for today, but if it’s not too late, can we still go out?”

Unbeknownst to you, even if it had been too late, Wanda had the capability to turn back time, such was the magnitude of her powers, but she wouldn’t bother you with that just now. Instead, she smiled at your eagerness.

“Of course, lyubov. Are you sure you’re up for it though? You don’t have to do that for me, if you want to stay here for the rest of the night and cuddle, that’s perfectly alright by me.” Hooking her index finger beneath your chin, she tilted your face to make eye contact with you, gauging your reaction to her words.

Ever the considerate one, you thought fondly.

“I’m sure. I was really excited to go, and if it’s alright with you, I would like to still go, please?”

Sensing your sincerity, Wanda grinned and crawled out of bed with you, helping you out when your foot got tangled in the sheets and had stumbled.

“I would love to, Y/N. Look in the closet for something semi-formal, and we can head out.”

Semi-formal? Where were you going? One of these days this woman was going to spill the beans, or you were going to tickle it out of her, you thought boldly.

The witch whirled back to arch an eyebrow at you daringly. Gulping, you acquiesced that formal was fine, asking instead how long you had to get ready. Technically you had all the time in the world, but Wanda gave you a timeline of about an hour for expediency's sake.

As Wanda left you to get ready, though where she went, you weren’t sure, you both shared a bedroom. However, when you opened the closet, it became clear the woman must have used her magic to transform it for you - everything in it was to your taste. There must be another closet for her elsewhere in the house. Or maybe she didn’t even need a closet? Perhaps she could simply conjure her clothing around herself, you were pretty certain you had seen her do that once after a shower with pajamas. You appreciated that she was allowing you to pick your own outfit, realizing she could simply dress you herself.

Heat bloomed across your cheeks, finding the thought more appealing than you probably should. It was healthy to have some level of independence in a relationship, right? Somewhere in the recesses of your mind the initials of a lifestyle pricked at your curiosity, but you pushed them back. You weren’t… one of those people, and surely neither was Wanda. Even if… part of you wondered what could be.

Disregarding such thoughts, you focused on perusing the closet in search of something to wear for the evening. Semi-formal, semi-formal. how convenient that the entire closet was filled with such attire, all in different cuts, styles, and colors. Half tempted as you were to find the witch and see what she was going to be wearing so you could compliment her, you deigned instead to trust in her instincts. Wanda never let you down, and even if you clashed, there were plenty of other options for you to change into.

Eventually you settled on a soft charcoal blazer, cream button up, the top two buttons left undone, dark grey chinos cuffed at the bottom, and black Oxfords. Briefly you debated on a tie, but Wanda had said semi-formal, so you thought the tie might be too much. To touch it up a little though, you added a classic silver and black Rolex Daytona, and a few of your black rings. A look at yourself in the mirror, and honestly, you felt pretty good.

Lately that has been the case. You wouldn’t say you couldn’t recall the last time you looked in the mirror and felt the need to vomit at your appearance, you absolutely could, and it was recently. These days though weren’t nearly as bad as it had been in the past, and they were definitely occurring less often than you were used to. The last time it had happened, Wanda had held your hair back while you emptied out the contents of your stomach into the toilet, rubbing soothing circles onto your back. By then she was long familiar with these episodes, and they broke her heart for you.

So ingrained was your mothers scathing, hateful voice in your brain that it had practically become your own. Often whispering vile, untrue and derogatory words, belittling yourself to the point of making yourself physically ill. The witch could only imagine what that must have been like growing up hearing all of it in person from someone who was supposed to have provided you with words of love and support instead.

Now though, you felt pretty dapper. Lightly mussed hair, a crooked grin upon your lips, eyes sparkling with happiness, one might even say you looked dashing. A thrill ran through you at your appearance, and that you were even capable of admitting it to yourself that you weren’t totally trash. Pleased overall with your appearance, you took a gander at your watch for the time - definitely early. You set off in search of your favorite person, hoping to catch her with enough time to see what she was wearing in case you needed to change because what you were wearing clashed with her outfit (poor you, grey goes with just about everything, apparently).

You didn’t have to search far, in the living room watching her shows was Wanda. Mouth suddenly dry, you struggled to swallow. You thought her outfit for your last date had been unfairly attractive on her - what she was wearing now should be a crime against your libido. Mommy? Sorry.

Crushed velvet blood red blazer, white button up done all the way to the collar, the length of the cuffs exaggerated extending beyond the blazer. Her legs were crossed, drawing your attention to her pants which were made of the same material and color as the blazer and tapered nicely to her ankles, leading your eye line to her beige heels. You gulped loudly, drawing the woman’s attention to your presence.

She took a moment to look upon your form appreciatively, eyes dark. “You look very handsome, detka.”

“Sdjka error..” you whispered to yourself quietly, not realizing this was an outside thought.

The redhead full on belly laughed and you blushed furiously, wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

Not wanting you to remain too embarrassed for long, Wanda stood to embrace you, kissing your cheek. “Thank you, for the compliment” she couldn’t resist one last tease before wrapping her arm low around your waist, settling her hand on your hip.

You just mumbled, letting her move you as she saw fit, before finally being able to speak again properly. “You look amazing, Wands, truly.”

Her smile could power a small sun.

“Are you ready, lyubov?”

Excitement returned as you remembered what you were dressed up for. Subtly you tried to contain your bounces to a minimum, settling for a small wiggle. “Please?”

The telltale portal appeared before you and Wanda escorted you through. First thing you were able to tell, it was noticeably cooler than the one you set foot through this morning. Not Australia then. You tried not to show your relief. The country was beautiful, and you loved petting the cows, and the horses, but.. you did not want to go back too soon. The faintest scent of the ocean invaded your nostrils - it wasn’t likely in walking distance, but this was definitely an oceanic city.

A quiet tree-lined street, the sounds of traffic were distant. A brick lined building stood out, with a brass plaque along it, in elegant text: Quince. It must be a restaurant, likely Italian if you had to guess. Arm still wrapped around your waist, Wanda led you in its direction, and you followed your shepherd. Ever the gentlewoman, she opened the door, gesturing for you to proceed. As you entered into the vestibule, you saw the maître d’, decked out to the nines waiting for you expectantly. Panicked, you froze, having no idea what name the reservation was under. A people person, you were not, you didn’t even make your own doctor appointments if you didn’t have to.

Fortunately for you, Wanda was immediately back by your side, and to your surprise, the man seemed to be expecting her. “Ah, Ms. Maximoff, right on time! This way, please.”

You looked at her quizzically. How could you be on time after everything? Oh. Right. Magic. A wizard is never late, he arrives precisely when he means to, you quoted silently to yourself and tried not to chuckle at your Lord of the Rings reference.

“Thank you, Jacobsson. Come on, detka.” Her arm was back around your waist, gently pulling you along behind the maître d’ as he led you through the restaurant. From the plaque and the man’s attire alone you had guessed the place was fancy, but you’d had no idea what you were about to walk into. Entering into the main dining area, the walls lined with brick, accented with beautifully stained mahogany, but what really stood out were the chandeliers that peppered the ceiling. Those couldn’t have been cheap glass. You squinted. Those had to be real crystal. Shit, how fucking expensive was this place? You looked at Wanda, attempting to sus out just where she had brought you.

As usual, the older woman gave nothing away, hers a perfect poker face. Knowing you would get nothing from her, you continued to take in the restaurant. Seemed a bit odd that no one else was there.

Suddenly Jacobsson began speaking, drawing your attention back. “Quince first opened it’s doors in 2003 by Chef Michael Tusk and his wife, Lindsay, in Pacific Heights. The restaurant moved in January 2023, highlighting the 20-year anniversary, to our current location here in Jackson Square, which incidentally is next door to our sister restaurant, Cotogna. Quince is one of only five other restaurants in California to boast three Michelin stars. (ehhh, google had conflicting info on all of this, suspend your disbelief) Here at Quince, we abide by a farm-to-table ethos in creating our contemporary Northern Italian cuisine. Chef Tusk works with ingredients from local farmers, ranchers, fishmongers and creameries—building on relationships that, in some cases, reach back 20 years. What’s more, the chef does much of the food shopping himself, often traveling to nearby Marin County for meat, produce and eggs.”

Oh. That… explained so much. Jesus Christ, you didn’t want to know how much this place was going to cost. Not that you were going to be able to tell - places like this didn’t post the prices on their menus. It wouldn’t matter, Wanda was never going to dream of letting you contribute, much less pay, which to be fair, what little funds you had left were dwindling from the last few times she had agreed to compromise and let you contribute. There wasn’t much left for you to make a dent in anything.

Sensing your anxiety, as always, the hand on your waist gripped a little tighter, thumb running soothingly up your side. Soon enough Jacobsson had brought you to your table. There wasn’t any place inside that could be considered secluded, the restaurant seated a mere ten tables. Since there weren’t any other guests though, combined with the ambiance of the lighting against the dark mahogany, the vibe felt very intimate.

The redhead pulled out your chair for you, pushing you in once you had gotten comfortable in it before taking her own seat. Jacobsson handed you both your menus, informing you that your waiter would arrive shortly, and the chef would be out in a little while to greet you. Once the man left, you turned to Wanda, eyes wide almost accusing.

“Madam!” Your voice was playful but exasperated.

Wanda’s in turn dripped with faux innocence. “What is it, detka?”

“You know very well what it is. Three Michelin starred restaurant? No one else here, and the host just gives us the whole restaurant’s history and then the freaking chef is going to introduce himself to us?! I know you have a black card, Wands, and I know we never exactly discussed your financial situation, but do I even want to know how much all this cost for you just to arrange, let alone the dinner?”

The witch considered you, weighing the likelihood of your actually being upset versus just not used to being spoiled. “Dorogoya, I want to spoil you, why are you concerned with money? I have more than enough to cover it?”

A strangled noise escaped your throat. “It’s not that I doubt if you have the funds, Wands, I just.. it’s a lot of money to be spending on me. I don’t have any way to repay you, and I could never afford to treat you to something this nice. It feels… uneven.”

The root cause of your concerns were two-fold, and Wanda understood. Hoping to alleviate your concerns, she explained. “Y/N, first of all, there is never an amount of money that is too much to spend on you. You deserve the world, and as I will continue to tell and show you over and over again, one day you will believe me. It brings me joy to spoil you. I don’t want nor expect you to “repay” me, as you put it. I can understand how you might view my treating you to such extravagances as “uneven”, but detka, you provide me with so much more with just your presence than money could ever provide. I don’t need you to take me out to a fancy dinner to make me feel loved.”

You bristled slightly. “And you think that I do?”

Wanda sighed, gathering her thoughts to explain. “Of course not, lyubov. You know of.. Americans say “love languages”? One of my preferred methods to show how much I care is to give gifts. It is not the only method, simply one of many. I know however that it is more about how you prefer to receive love, but I also know that I cover those you prefer with words of affirmation, physical touch, and quality time. So please, Y/N, indulge me in this? It makes me happy to make you happy. Unless you’re telling me it doesn’t make you happy? In which case I will respect you of course, and we can leave immediately.”

When the witch looked at you so earnestly, how could you help but give in? It was a nice gesture, and when would you ever get an opportunity to go to any of the places she had taken you to otherwise? Really, you felt a little shitty, like maybe you were spitting in the face of her generosity.

“Okay, Wands. But since we are on that topic, I wanted to speak with you a bit about having some more equality in our relationship?”

If it were physically possible, Wanda’s heart would have sunk into her stomach. Desperately she tried to think of what you could be referring to. In what ways were you unequal? Honestly, there were several, but that was a pill she wasn’t ready to swallow. But you were looking at her so timidly, afraid of her reply, and wasn’t that exactly what she didn’t want? Swallowing harshly, the woman nodded, prepared to ask you to elaborate when the waiter arrived.

He introduced himself as Matteo and asked for your drink orders. Afraid of what was coming, you surprisingly ordered a double shot margarita, feeling the need for some liquid courage. Wanda on the other hand, felt the need to keep a cool head, so she stuck with water, and a simple Chardonnay that was mostly for appearance’s sake. Matteo then read off the specials and left the pair of you to your devices.

An uncomfortable silence overtook the table. This was not what Wanda had envisioned for the night, and you felt terrible for ruining things. Still, if you didn’t bring it up while you were thinking about it, you never would. You were like that, bring it up in the moment, or never. Or rather, bring it up 4 months later after stewing on it to the point of explosive anger, and neither of you deserved that.

Eventually Wanda broke the silence. “So, you mentioned… equality in the relationship?”

“Oh, yes.” Slowly you took a steadying breath. This conversation could go one of two ways. Wanda had made such good progress with you and being less controlling, but had she made enough to make this request work?

“So in every healthy relationship,” you stressed the word healthy. “People do things like go to work, or school, or see friends.”

Wanda tensed. She thought you were passed this. She really didn’t want to have to forcefully block such impulses from your mind, that felt… like blocking off a crucial part of what made you, well, you. Begrudgingly she listened, if only to buy herself time to formulate an argument against it.

“I’m not asking to go back home, or anything like that. I’m just asking if like.. I would like to feel productive, I guess? I want to learn some new skills. I get that you said I don’t need a job, and I’m trusting you on that. But there are things I would like to learn simply because I would like to know more about them. To add to that, I would also like to have my own money to buy small things I like when we are out.”

Wanda started to interrupt, but Y/N held up her hand, and Wanda bit her cheek.

“I know, you want to pay for everything, and for the most part I have tried to let you. Please understand though that it makes me sort of uncomfortable to allow you to pay for absolutely every single thing. Plus then when I want to buy something for you, it’s with your own money and that just seems wrong to me. I want to buy you something with the money that I’ve earned.”

It killed her inside, but the witch nodded for you to continue. Pleased that she hadn’t exploded, you hurried to get out what was probably going to kill the whole deal.

“Lastly, I… I want to make friends, Wanda.”

Eye twitch. It didn’t go unnoticed, and you rushed your next sentence before she could change her mind and stop you.

“It’s just not healthy to only have each other. I really like you, like.. so, so much. I love spending time with you more than anything else in the world and I don’t want you to think that I would ever rather spend time with anyone else. But I also know that we have to have other people in our lives, or we’ll sour our own relationship, so if we could please try making friends? I’m not even asking to make friends separately!”

At this point you were about to beg. “We could look for a couple friends and go on double dates and stuff! Wouldn’t that be cute?” You appealed to her weakness: your nearly undeniable puppy eyes.

Silence stretched for what felt like infinity while Wanda considered all you had said. Finally, she opened her mouth to respond, when the Chef came out to introduce himself.

He was a very nice man, and spoke for a few minutes about the menu, where the ingredients were sourced that day, and how happy he was that she had chosen his restaurant. He hoped she would enjoy their dinner and told her if there was anything they didn’t like to please not hesitate to let him know and he would make it right. Wanda politely conversed and agreed, and at any other time she would have probably thoroughly enjoyed his conversation but right now she just wanted him to be gone. She should just stop time right now and hash this out but she didn’t want to risk ruining anything by being hasty.

When the chef left, Wanda could have cheered. Instead, she took a breath to settle her thoughts. As much as she hated to admit it, you made valid, rational points. These were all things you really wanted, enough to withstand several memory wipes, enough to bring it up with her, and so timidly knowing she would probably be upset. The last time that you had brought it up and she hadn’t wiped you, she had shot you down non too graciously. It wasn’t that she had blown up, per se, rather she had completely shut the conversation down.

Wanda weighed her options. She could wipe you, yet again, but at this point she was only putting off the inevitable. She could force the independence out of you, erasing that part of your identity. She could shut the conversation down once again, and as passive as you were, that would buy her time. There was no doubt in her mind though you would come to resent her for it, as you would the other options should they ever to light. Alternatively, Wanda could agree to your terms. With some caveats, of course.

“Okay.”

“Please, Wans, just think ab- wait, okay?”

“Okay. These are clearly things that would make you happy. Things you really want. I want you to be happy detka, so... Okay.”

You cheered, but the witch cut in.

“But! I do have some conditions. I still have enemies out there who would hurt you to get to me, and I can’t risk anything happening to you. Will you hear my conditions?”

Of course you would. You didn’t think Wanda would even let you get this far. “Yes!”

She chuckled at your enthusiasm. “As far as school goes, I’d prefer for you to do online classes at home.”

Your head tilted. “Online? But we don’t have any internet?”

Wanda sighed. She owed you the truth, and it was time she shared at least some of it with you.

“I may have told you a half truth when I brought you to our home, dorogoya. I’m not proud of it, but I didn’t want you to know how much time was passing, so I blocked off all network connectivity to our home while you were adjusting. I was afraid you would be too focused on needing to go home instead of getting to know me, but… if wanting to learn is something you are passionate about, I can arrange for you to have access to online courses.”

Green eyes peered at you through long lashes, waiting for you to lash out at her for her deception. It never came. You understood, even if you didn’t agree with it. After the incident with her cellphone’s notification several months ago, you had suspected as much and now she had just confirmed it. In the end it had been to your benefit though, so could you really be mad if the ends justifies the means? You chose to ignore the way she glossed over the fact that she effectively kidnapped you and held you hostage, finding her preference of the word “adjusting” almost amusing. Stockholm syndrome was a real thing, but you didn’t believe what you had with Wanda could be attributed to that. Well. Not now at any rate.

“Okay, I agree to that. Can I pick the classes I want to take?”

Blinking, confused, Wanda asked “Why would you ask me that? They’re your classes.”

Your silence spoke volumes, and Wanda once again internally raged against your deceased parents, wishing she could kill them yet again. “You can pick whatever classes you want, detka. They’re yours to take.”

A small, happy smile graced your lips.

“Regarding your job.”

The smile dropped. You waited for the caveat.

“No more than 10 hours a week, and they can’t interfere with your classes. If your grades start dropping, you have to drop the job, understood?”

Eagerly, you nodded. Those seemed like perfectly reasonable boundaries, ones you would probably even set for yourself. What you didn’t know was that whatever job you got, Wanda was going to make sure your manager adhered to that allotted ten hours, no more, they would only ever be a set schedule for when you weren’t having classes, and Wanda wasn’t putting up with any of that minimum wage bullshit. If she had to pay you out of her own pocket, you need never know. No one was taking advantage of you if she could help it, and fortunately for you, she had all the power to ensure it.

“As for the friends, I… suppose… we could look into that. I’m not a very sociable creature, Y/N, you know this. But for you, I will try. Just don’t expect a lot too soon, okay? Let’s get everything else going, see where we stand then and go from there, okay?”

Elation filled you. If asked, you would have said you could have walked on air. Wanda was trying so hard for you. She really was perfect. Obviously she had flaws, like everyone, but where it counted, she was perfect.

“I love you.”

Silence.

You both stared at each other. Those words were not meant to be uttered aloud by you just now. Inside thoughts, and all that. But seeing Wanda try so hard for you, more than the restaurant, more than the outings she arranged for you, it was these compromises she had just agreed to which sealed her into your heart. Such concessions must have been weighing heavily on her, and once upon a time the woman could have either blown up or shut you down, but instead here she was trying to make compromises. With fairly reasonable ones at that, all because she knew it would make you happy.

You loved Wanda. You knew that to your core, and to be honest, you had known for a while. It was clear Wanda had loved you as well, she had certainly made no secret about it. From the way she spoke to you, cared for you, helped you. You felt it in the way she crafted experiences with your enjoyment in mind, in the way she touched you.

This wasn’t how you had planned on telling her. You’d wanted to save up some money first and take her out on a nice date in return, make some grand gesture, as opposed to ungracefully blurting it out after a super serious discussion. Nevertheless, the words were out there, and you didn’t want to take them back.

“I love you, Wanda. With all my heart.” Gently, you took her hand in yours on the table, holding it as you gazed into her eyes letting her see the truth of your words for herself.

Words Wanda had longed to hear from the moment she’d laid eyes on you in this universe didn’t hit her like a train she often daydreamed. They rolled over her like the relieving mist of summer’s rain against her skin on a hot day. The air, once heavy and oppressive, was replaced by a crisp invigorating coolness, leaving a trail of relief in its wake, washing away the tension. Scars long burnt into her heart were soothed and eased by your words.

Lashes fluttered closed as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. Alarmed, you leapt from your chair to kneel in front of the older woman, using your thumb to wipe away the tear. Of all the reactions you expected to your words, this was not one of them. Before your anxiety could run away with you though, Wanda’s hand shot up to clutch yours, pressing both yours and hers more firmly onto her face before she opened her eyes to gaze at you lovingly.

“Happy tears, lyubov,” she whispered.

“Oh.”

Slowly, as if afraid you might startle like a baby deer, the witch leaned into your personal space until her lips were but a breath from your own. She glanced from your eyes to your lips, and back. “I love you too, Y/N”

It was the softest kiss you had ever received. There was no heat, just a simple pressing of lips against each other, knowing the truth had finally been admitted to both of you.

A quiet clearing of the throat came from the side. You both parted to see Matteo had returned to take your order. To your surprise, you weren’t the only one who blushed this time. With a grin, you took your seat, letting Wanda order for you as usual.

The rest of your dining experience was a blur, which would be disappointing for such a treat, but given how Wanda enjoyed spoiling you, it stood to reason you would be returning to this restaurant soon. Dinner was filled with heated glances and teasing touches. The air was thick with anticipation. Normally you would probably be miffed about your meal containing such tiny portions but at this point you weren’t sure how much you could eat. In truth, you wished Wanda would just get the check so you could leave. That would be incredibly rude to the chef though, and he seemed really nice.

After what seemed like an age, dinner was finished. The chef came out once again to chat, which fortunately was brief, and thanked Wanda for her patronage. When she stood up to leave, you realized she had pre-paid in advance. Likely very handsomely, which made the entire evening make more sense. You were relieved as that meant you could go now, no need to wait.

Wanda casually tossed a roll of bills on the table for gratuity and once again led you out of the restaurant though you noticed her hand had drifted far lower, resting possessively on your ass. A shiver rolled down your spine as you considered what awaited you when you got home.

A/N: Fashion: I hate it. Google. Had to do much googling of formal fucking attire (straight cheated and looked up Elizabeth Olsen outfits for Wanda). And thEN!! I had to try to figure out how to describe it! Honestly, I really just wanted to go by brands because that made more sense to me than “it’s a chino”. Okay?? That looks like a colored jean?? Tf is a chino? I have no idea wtf I’m doing. If it doesn’t come on a mannequin, idk how to put it together. I literally have to take pictures in the store so once I get it home, going forward I can wear it again. Don’t ask me the amount of money I have wasted on outfits I thought I would remember to put together later that I absolutely did not, and then never wore again (looking at you red and gold plaid slacks - what am I supposed to do with you??? Why???). For the love of god, someone please style me for the rest of my life. I’ll give you my credit card. Jk, I have no money :’( I’ll write you shitty fanfiction??? I realized too late that Wanda’s hair is red for this. Can red hair and red clothes go together? I’m sure, yes? I spent too much time googling that and then… Questioned my life choices.

A/N 2: Some of this is based on my own life experience (some exaggerated for story purposes or changed to protect them and or myself) with family but before anybody flames my mother, please note that she has gone to therapy, and has (as I have gotten into my mid 30s) made changes, apologies, and supported me in my own growth and journey. I want to be clear; I do not wish my mother was dead, but creative writing can be it’s own form of therapy, and I’m writing this from my perspective from when I was in my early 20’s.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @sadslasher13 Also @xxxtwilightaxelxxx your reblogs with the additional tags are giving me life lol bless.

#Wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #dark wanda x reader #yandere!Wanda #yandere wanda maximoff #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader

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