It's the way Nicky reacted to Rio. The way he wasn't scared or even surprised like he knew her. The way she only nodded and he immediately understood that she was telling him to say goodbye to his mom. Like she'd been visiting him regularly before taking him. Like she's been preparing him. Like she's been parenting him. Like she's been loving him in secret because if Agatha saw her sniffing around him she would have lashed out. But Rio couldn't stay away from Nicky. And he left the road in peace with Death's hand in his.
i don’t think people understand how hard it is when your toxic trait is self isolation plus avoidance. everybody instantly think you’re ignoring them but you’re just struggling to find peace
Summary: Between you and Wanda, love has been kept a secret for too long. It's time for one of you to be brave. | This brief story is based on the Brazilian song "Medo Bobo".
Warnings: mild angst of mutual pining, drunk confessions, very fluff, friends to lovers, some kissing | words: 2.572k
A/N-> Hey, there’s a line here from Anne with an E. Also, I wrote this because I’ve been a Marvel fan for years, and it was only after WandaVision that I actually saw Wanda. I need this angst.
General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Song-Based Collection
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For the first time since she met you, Wanda was being selfish. Not only that, but she was truly determined to be selfish. And to be honest.
And to be heard.
Yet, seeing you cry change her words or tone to something less of a statement and more of a question. An hypothesis. To picture you both in a world where there was time and courage, instead of fear and missed opportunities.
“What if…” She started that from the kitchen counter where she was sitting. Unlike yours - which also happens to be the reason you're standing at the open fridge - her glass was full.
You hum out of curiosity, wishing for her to continue and hoping she would choose a lighter subject now that you were done pouring your heart out in that old compound kitchen. But Wanda takes a shaky breath, and you nearly miss her hesitation while you're leaning down to grab more wine from the bottom drawer. “What if I tell you that I have feelings for you.”
You chuckle. Naturally and immediately, because it's certainly a joke. To ease your nerves and soon to turn your sad tears into laughing ones. A talent that Wanda always seemed to have.
But you turn to your friend - Is that what she is now? Colleague. Work partner, drinking buddy maybe. The girl next door. The temperamental witch you share training schedules with. The strongest Avenger.
Wanda is looking at you, expectantly. Vulnerable.
You frown.
“What?”
You don't mean to sound so surprised, not really because mainly, you're sure she's joking. You're also drunk, the wine making it a little harder to put the thoughts in order. And Wanda is giving you this kicked puppy eyes and you're not understanding anything.
She swallows hard, but her gaze doesn't flinch.
“What would you say to that?”
You laugh again, dryer than before, somehow hurting your throat a little. The wine bottle stared at you from the counter but you don't feel like drinking anymore.
“Wanda, what are you…” you stop mid-sentence, reaching for your face to rub your eyes. You really shouldn't be drunk for this conversation. But then again, why is this conversation happening in the first place? “Why are you saying this?”
Wanda knows you're drunk, knows you're hurt. So she doesn't mind you're not taking this seriously. She gets up but doesn't move closer.
“Maybe I'm just tired of listening to your whining about your terrible partners.”
You cross your arms, pouting as soon as you mutter “I don't whine”. But Wanda is moving closer now, slowly walking past the counter and towards you.
“Or maybe I just meant it.” She whispers, green eyes nearly hypnotizing. “I am right here. I've always been. Why can't you see me?”
The question is too close to your lips, suddenly it's too real.
This is Wanda fucking Maximoff. The most incredible, world-changing amazing person you know.
Her cheeks grow a little pink and it's her time to giggle.
“I'm flattered.”
You huff, looking away. “Don't read my thoughts.”
She doesn't pull back, gaze searching yours even though you don't look up. “How else would I know what you think if you never tell me?” She challenges, but your head is spinning, and Wanda's perfume is not helping. You step away, putting more distance and a counter between the two of you again, and it works a little.
“I don't understand why you're doing this.” You declare, suddenly serious. You sound hurt and Wanda hesitates immediately once she catches the tears forming in your eyes. “I know it is not fun, having to endure my drunk nights. But you're the only person that stays so I thought…” You take a deep breath, Wanda shakes her head. She's gonna clarify that she didn't mean it that way - she was not complaining about your company at all - but your rambling shuts her out. “I know I'm not an easy friend. I can be self-centered and absent. And I'm so terrible at feelings. But we have known each other for so long, and it took us years to get here. Just to have comfortable silence. I don't have this with anybody. So, I'm sorry if I'm being too much but please, this kind of teasing… I really don't like it. You're… not the type of friend I can have this kind of joke with.”
Some part of her is hurt by that: She recalls how often you would flirt and joke with your other friends, most of them to be honest. Sometimes, even playful touches, that would make Wanda's blood boil.
Hearing this kind of joke is not for her hurts. But Wanda is not sure if it is a bad thing.
“I wasn't joking.” She insists, but you chuckle before stealing her full glass and the wine bottle.
You change your tactic because Wanda changed hers. It has always been this way between the two of you, a never-ending push and pull with a never giving up side.
“So you're obviously drunk. I'll take this.” That is what you say before grabbing the items and moving to the living room.
When the compound is empty and quiet like this, it's almost like a normal residence. The way things are arranged now, one could be fooled into thinking that was a normal living room in an old house instead of a high-tech secretive environment for superheroes.
Wanda takes a deep courage gathering kind of breath once she's alone in the kitchen.
Those feelings have been asleep, pushed back for way too long. Now that she said them, she's simply incapable of numbing it again.
“Why is it that the idea of me liking you sounds so absurd?”
She's not being sweet anymore - just like her feelings, she's demanding. Craving for validation and correspondence.
You chuckle during a gup and there's wine falling down your chin. Wanda let out a shaky breath at seeing the drops across your chest, exposed by the poorly bottom-up shirt, and you chuckle again when you catch her staring.
“Don't give me those eyes.” You sneer, as hurt as before but somehow, angry. The bottle is tightly grabbed in your left hand, but you finish Wanda's glass before speaking again. “This whole thing is ridiculous. You are drunk.”
“I'm not drunk.” She retorts, arms crossed when she stands in front of the couch you're sitting. You smile but it doesn't meet your eyes. “How could I be drunk if you have my glass?”
You grimace, putting the item away on the small table. Your head is hurting and Wanda gives up trying to read your messy thoughts.
“If you're not drunk, you're mourning.”
She raises her eyebrow at your audacity, but then, she catches the near despair in your eyes and takes a deep breath again.
Instead of cursing you, she uncrossed her arms and knelt down on the carpet to have your eyes at the same height as hers.
“I'm not running away from any of my feelings. It's quite the opposite.” She starts softly, hands moving on your things to take the bottle away and find your fingers. “You said yourself. We have known each other for so long. Why is it so hard for you to accept that I love you?”
You let her hold your hands but only for a second. Then, you take your bottle back.
“Of course you love me, Wanda, I'm your only friend.” It's not meant to be hurtful, not the way she thinks so. Yet, there's a form of venom in your words that leaves her speechless. You pull back to rest completely against the couch but Wanda doesn't move an inch. You try to laugh but it's almost a sob. After another long sip, you point at her. “I'm the only one who really understands you. And your silly jokes and your questionable morals. And because of that, you think you have to thank me somehow. That's why you're saying all of this love bullshit. You don't really mean it.”
She takes a peak, deeper this time, at this painful life-changing memory that you have of a first relationship. Hurtful and toxic behavior that traumatized you for life and would never stop coming back whenever you found yourself a good partner.
Wanda doesn't say anything at first. She gets up and decides that maybe you really are too drunk for this conversation.
There's a glass filling itself with water when she offers her hands for you. This time, to help you to your feet.
But you hug the bottle and give her a sad look.
“Just leave me here. I'm not being a good friend right now.”
“You're an amazing friend, sweetheart.” She retorts immediately, a sincere smile on her lips. “You're snarky and clever and loyal. And you're so fun. You're my favorite person. I wish you could believe me when I said it.”
You hide your tears from her, there were too many tonight. Wanda grabs the water floating in her direction and waits for you to look up again to give you the item.
The wine bottle flies away in colorful red sprinklers when you make the exchange.
“Can I take you to bed?” Her question is innocent in every aspect, but you grin and her cheeks warm up.
“One love confession doesn't make me that easy, Maximoff.” You retort playfully and she smiles while this time, you accept the help to get up. The wine glass is forgotten because Wanda's powers do the job of taking everything to the right place in the kitchen, perfectly washed if needed.
The walk to your bedroom is silent, excluding familiar guidance of “watch your step” or “let me help you with the zipper” when Wanda helps you off your work clothes to pajamas.
Those are things you have done together a dozen times now, but not quite like tonight. Wanda never took off your shirt after saying she had feelings for you. She was never in your bed after you didn't believe her words.
There's a tense silence now, while you're lying next to each other.
She tussles around before suggesting “Maybe I shouldn't sleep here tonight.”
You sigh deeply before it's your turn to tussle around and look at her.
“You never sleep away when we are drunk.”
She turns her body in your direction, using her hand as a support for her face.
“Well, I am not drunk. And it's different now, darling. Tonight is different.”
You hide your grimace against your pillow. Wanda smiles.
Her fingers move up, to play with your hair and she takes some pride in how she can catch some of your reactions: the blush, the shudder, or the hard shallow.
“What's in your head?” She risks it very quietly.
You look up just a little from the pillow and almost lose the ability to form a coherent thought with such pretty eyes looking back at you.
“As if you can't tell.”
She smiles at the impolite answer, never moving her fingers away from your hair. It's such a lovely and comfortable gesture that you're struggling not to fall asleep.
“Despite what everyone thinks, I'm not willing to read every mind I come across. It's often overwhelming and also disappointing.”
You smile at her, pulling the comforter up a little, nearly enough to cover your face. Wanda wishes you wouldn't do it, if there's something she likes to do is to look at you.
“You gotta admit there's fun in knowing what everybody thinks. What keeps them up at night, what's stealing their attention, and who they are thinking about. How they feel, what they fear.”
She gets a little closer, to count your freckles. To see your honesty.
“Is that what you want me to do with you? Read your every thought, know your fears, know your feelings?”
You swallow, look down at her lips but then pull back, gazing at the ceiling. Wanda just keeps looking at you.
“I don't understand why you're doing this.”
She's ready to start another argument, maybe even tell you to go to sleep so that you can talk in the morning, but you keep talking and she decides to keep listening.
“We were never like this. I'm a fucking mess and you're a fucking mess too, and I had James, and we both know how shit that went.” You continue with a tearful voice. “Then I had Natasha and fuck me, that was even worse. And you had Vision and Simon, and that is probably a lifetime of bullshit. So I don't….” You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You end up giving a sad chuckle. “What I think I mean is that we have been around each other from the start. And I never saw you. Not like this. And it sounds fucking ridiculous that I just stand there, next to you for years, wasting my time with everything else instead of looking at you. And seeing how perfect for me you always have been.” There's this crack in your voice and Wanda really wants to kiss you but you don't look at her, not even when your tears start to fall on the sides of your face. “Now I'm so scared. It's like you put on the lights on this thing that was going on in the dark, this precious and special thing we have. And I am terrified that it could end as bad as any other relationship I had, because you're not like any other relationship I had, Wanda. You're… fuck, I can't even-”
She gets closer, enough to touch and to take your face into her hand to make you look at her.
“I wish I knew sooner too. We would have saved us so much time and heartache. But you can only know something when you know it. And I know this now, I'm certainly of it. How much I care for you, how important you are. And I think we have wasted too long being scared.” Her forehead falls to yours. “Maybe it is time we are brave together.”
You kiss her first. Wanda has this memory of your eighteen-year-old versions hiding from Avengers training with cigarettes and shared headphones, making stupid jokes that were ridiculously funny. She recalls the teenage hormonal urgency she used to push down right at this moment, how your breathy sighs cause her head to spin, or how every little sound sends a straight wave of heat towards her body.
But she also tastes the wine and pulls away with the same accelerated breathing and dark eyes as you have.
“You shouldn't have drunk that much.” She whispers against your lips, ignoring your attempt to chase her mouth as she gets up. She knows her willpower wouldn't survive another round. “See you tomorrow, dekta.”
Just like this, she's out of the room.
You pull back at the bed with a huff and a silly smile on your lips. Every bit of skin Wanda touched, especially your lips, tingled. Your chest was as warm as your heart, and you were sure it had nothing to do with alcohol.
You may be just as drunk as you were the countless times your past relationships started and ended. But this time you are sure it will be different, the person means too much to you not to be. You will make sure it is better.
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