Mean Southern Wanda x Reader
TW: Implied Domestic Violence
You hardly ever got to see Wanda on the weekends, aside from church picnics on Sunday. Most of the time you spent together was during the week when her boys were in school and her husband was at work.
So on Saturday night, when you were getting ready for bed and you heard a knock on the door, Wanda was the last person you expected to find standing there.
She was wearing a nightgown with a sweatshirt thrown hastily over top of it. Her hair was tangled up on one side and her makeup was smeared like she’d been crying. There was a cut above her left eyebrow and a fresh bruise blooming around the eye and cheek. In all the time you’d known Wanda, you’d never seen her look so small.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped. “Now, are you gonna let me in or are you just gonna stand there and look at me like I’ve grown a second head?”
Silently, you stepped to the side, welcoming her into the small trailer. She immediately headed for the kitchen cabinet, rummaging through them until she found a half empty bottle of vodka. She drank straight from the bottle, wincing as the liquor hit her tongue.
“Sorry,” you flinched. “I don’t really drink vodka. That’s probably been in there for a while. There’s some fireball in the freezer. I don’t think there’s much left but you’re welcome to it.”
While she located the fireball, you went to cupboard for some hydrogen peroxide and a cotton pad. When you tried to clean the wound, though, she dodged your hand.
“It’s too close to your eye to risk infection,” you argued.
“Leave me alone,” she snapped, swatting you away.
When she still evaded your help, you sighed. “Please, mama. Just let me do this one thing and I’ll go to bed and leave you alone for the rest of the night.”
Finally, she stilled, letting you clean the wound before securing it closed with a plaster. You didn’t want to leave her there, sitting on the closest thing you had to a sofa, downing gulps of fireball, but you’d made a bargain.
“There’s an extra blanket in the storage area under the cushions. You can have one of my pillows. Just… come wake me up if you decide you want the bed,” you explained tiredly before slinking off to your room.
The bedroom didn’t have a door, and the shotgun style of the trailer meant you could see where Wanda was sitting from your bed. You watched her, heart aching as she tried to get comfortable on the thinly cushioned sitting area. It took everything in your power not to get back up and insist she take the bed. It was nothing more than a full sized mattress on the floor, but it was better than nothing.
She sneered at you when she caught you staring. You turned away, pulling the blanket up over your head.
You must’ve laid there like that for over an hour, tensely trying not to move a muscle or peak at what Wanda was doing. It kept you so distracted, you didn’t even hear the footsteps coming down the hall.
“Scoot over.” She commanded.
You lifted your head, pulling the blanket down to look at her. “Do… do you want the bed? I can go-“
“No. I want you to scoot over,” she repeated, more fiercely this time.
You shuffle towards the wall, letting her crawl into bed before shuffling back over to curl against her side. “Do you have enough blankets? Are you comfortable?”
“Yeah. I’ve just got this annoying little shit pressed into my side,” she taunted.
“I can go lay out on the-“
“No.” She interrupted. “Stay.”
“Oh. Okay,” you whispered, curling yourself around her.
You could tell she was still tense. Despite being surrounded by fluffy pillows and warm blankets, her muscles were still solid. In an attempt to get her to relax, you wrapped your arms around her and nuzzled her shoulder blade. Almost subconsciously, you placed a gentle kiss on the skin there. It came as a surprise to both of you when she said nothing, allowing the silence to settle over you.
In the end, you were the one that broke the silence with a shaky, tentative whisper. “Mama? Did he hurt you? Cause if he hurt you I’m gonna-“
“You’re not going to do anything,” she interrupted firmly.
“But… I could. I swear I’m stronger than I-“
“You’re. Not. Going. To do. Anything.” She repeated. “Understand?”
You tighten your hold around her waist, pulling her flush against you. “Yes, mama. I understand.”
The silence returned. Now you were as tense as she was. In an attempt to lighten the mood, you tried to kiss her. She turned her head almost sheepishly, leaving you to kiss the corner of her mouth instead.
Embarrassed, you settled back in behind her, facing away from her. Still, your backs stayed pressed together.
“Good night, mama,” you whispered, trying to keep shaky tears out of your voice. It was hard to feel so helpless, like there was nothing you could do for her to make this better. “I love you.”
Wanda hummed in recognition, but didn’t respond. You faded into a tense and fitful sleep, and, when you woke up, she was already gone.
