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the issue with someone seeing the tags in the fics i read is i will read ANYTHING if it’s my favourite characters like it can have so many kinks that im not into but if it’s wanda maximoff etc im going to read it and Love it.
As get-togethers often go, they’re followed up at the end of the night with the traditional, “It was so nice to see you, let’s do this again soon.”
What was nice about it was that this time it was actually followed through. That’s why you’re here at Hayley’s, a dive bar not too far from the center of the city. The multicolored lights and worn-out furniture make you feel more at home than you maybe should.
You nurse a seltzer, head resting against the wall behind you as you watch the basketball playing on one of the televisions against the wall. Your girlfriend didn’t come this time, a time reserved for just your group of friends.
Part of you was relieved she wasn’t here, but another part of you wished you weren’t alone and tipsy.
The camaraderie is easy-going, something you’re happy to finally have back after busy months. You joke with your friends, share shots, and play card games in the back booth of the dive.
You’re mid-story when, out of the corner of your eye, a glass is placed to your right. With a smirk on her face, she plants herself right next to you. No words are said right away, just Wanda silently inserting herself into your conversation.
After a beat of silence, “What, she let you out for once?”
She raises her drink to take a sip, eyeing you over the rim of her glass. fighting an eyeroll, you sit back and watch as a drop falls down her chin. Of course, she sees your eyes follow the drop, and of course, you watch as her thumb wipes it off.
“I’m not on a leash, you know,” the response comes out nicer than you expected it to. voice too light for someone talking to their ex of two years, too familiar.
“She texts you enough for someone who doesn’t own you.”
Her voice is light as she says it, and if you didn’t know her, you’d brush it off. But you do know Wanda, too well, and the way her eyes don’t leave your face tells you she means it.
The two of you stay quiet for a while, her knee touching your own in its familiar way. Neither of you pays too much mind to the contact, too engrossed in the group conversation that you even realize your bodies have gravitated towards each other.
Her gaze drifts lazily over the friends around you two before eventually landing on your wrist. her eyes fixate for long enough for you to know what she’s looking at.
“Does she know that’s my bracelet you’re wearing?” she nods to your wrist, a ghost of a smirk on her lips. She knows the answer already, only wants to know how you’ll respond, “What, you told her it’s your mom’s birthstone?”
You bite your tongue, trying your best to ignore the smug way she said it. Instead, you force a smile, “Does your girlfriend know you’re questioning other girls about their jewelry?”
“And does yours know you still wear expensive jewelry gifted to you by your ex-girlfriend?”
Again, you’re at a loss for words, and Wanda knows it, “you gave it to me.”
It’s the best you can come up with. Inwardly, you berate yourself for saying something too much. They came out easier than you expected, too honest and quick.
“Three birthdays ago.”
Wanda knows she has a point, and she especially knows you’re not going to make a move to stop her accusations. Her grin widens immediately when you don’t answer immediately. There it is, the hesitation she was looking for.
“Don’t mean anything by it,” you know she does, “just thought she would’ve replaced it by now.”
You turn your body toward her, shoulder against hers, “thought what’s her face would’ve shown you by now that not everything needs to be replaced.”
Wanda’s grin twitches for just a fraction of a second. You got her with that; even she knows it. She drops the banter for a second and stays quiet, only allowing herself to enjoy your presence for a few moments longer.
Still, something warm flickers behind Wanda’s eyes as she memorizes the way the charm rests easily on your skin. satisfaction, not that you’d kept the gift, but because she caught you.
The few minutes of quiet you spent doing the same. Her presence brought a bittersweet sense of familiarity, one you shouldn’t have the privilege of feeling at the moment. Her cedar perfume only transports you back in time to the years you spent with her.
“Does she know you don’t even like sports?” Wanda asks suddenly, turning to you. Her lips curve as you scoff, acting offended, “Don’t even lie. You used to say it was unnecessary. You’re just making yourself look busy.”
Ignoring her is the only thing that you can think of doing. You try your best to avoid her, but the fact that you can feel her eyes watching you every few minutes has a heat rising in your chest that should not be welcomed.
You two pay attention to the card game that is going on at the table. For once, neither of you has a remark to make about the other. Instead, the noise of the bar fills the space between you two. Her shoulder remains against your own, but you refuse to create space.
Wanda excuses herself from the table with a muttered excuse of needing a new drink. You try to ignore the way you’d gotten used to her presence by your side after so long of not having it. You even think you slightly miss the way she casually brushes your thigh when she reaches for her phone.
“Be right back,” you say quietly to your friends, who really aren’t paying attention to you two. As if time and a girlfriend couldn’t stop you, you find your way following the taller woman to the end of the bar.
As if she knew you’d follow her, Wanda saved a space right next to her for you to fit perfectly into. She watches how you search your brain for an excuse as to why you trailed after her like a dog to a bone.
“It’s cute that you still follow me around, you know?” The smugness in her voice makes you want to hit her arm, but you refuse to do anything you used to while you were in a relationship.
“You’re not special.” Your voice doesn’t sound secure enough when you say it, maybe because it’s a lie, and you’re jealous.
She smiles at that, almost like she thinks it's a joke. It could be a joke, or it could be a way for you to pry at her thoughts. A brown drink is placed in front of her, and you can’t help but watch her hands as she reaches for it.
“Probably.”
You can practically feel the way your heart stuttered hearing the word, a heat rushing to your cheeks as you slowly pull toward her a bit more. The corner of your mouth twitches slightly before you can even notice it.
“Aw,” she coos mockingly, “you like that I could be jealous, don’t you?”
Wanda watches you from over the rim of her glass, index finger tapping against the cup. She leans against the bar, a few inches from being able to touch you, and you can’t help but watch the way her throat moves as she takes a sip of her drink.
It's pathetic, and you know it, to be with her like this when you know you both have someone else.
She’s the first to break the tension. She clears her throat and cuts eye contact, taking a small step back from you.
“For what it’s worth,” she takes in a deep breath, “I want it to be her.”
Your face mirrors that of quiet confusion, egging her to go on, “I want you to be happy with her, for this to be it, so you don’t ensure pain anymore. think that if you really love her, maybe I’ll stop…”
Her voice trails off toward the end, you almost reach out for her and beg her to finish her sentence. Instead, you settle for two words.
“Stop what?” Your voice sounds like it’s on the verge of begging, and it very well may be.
“Looking for you first,” Wanda’s eyes meet yours, a sad smile that slowly breaks your heart all over again. The breakup was never messy, and neither of you was completely at fault, so maybe that’s why it makes this even harder.
“When something good happens, when I want to tell you news, even when I have a bad day,” her smile is small, and her eyes are sad around the edges, “I hope you figure it out though.”
The sincerity in her voice brings in waves of anger, as if she’d decided once and for all that you two were not to be in each other's lives. It only angered you enough to voice it.
“You and your blonde don’t exactly scream soulmates.” You don’t know why you said it, you just know that it was on the tip of your tongue.
Wanda barks out a surprised laugh, eyes squinting and nose scrunching in the way you can’t stop loving, “There she is. Are you jealous?”
You scoff and roll your eyes. Once again, ignoring her is the only way you can preserve some sort of dignity. Wanda doesn’t need a response; she knows all of you.
“For the record, you don’t look so in love either.”
Soft music plays in the apartment, creating a comforting atmosphere that you know for a fact would not last long. light chatter around the room, a few clinks of wine glasses, the occasional laugh.
green eyes bore into your skull as you sit down at the table, three people across from her. You feign innocence, knowing that the lack of attention you give her only makes her more irritated. She knows you can feel the intensity of her gaze. Her cheeks have a flush to them like they always did when she’d drink.
To say you didn’t notice her arm candy when you walked into the dinner would be a lie. Of course, you noticed the blonde sitting next to her, one whose eyes twinkled so innocently as Wanda toyed with her fingers. The poor girl had no knowledge of the history you two shared; she only knew that she had never seen you two speak.
Neither was your date aware. The short-haired brunette sat idly to your left, a polite smile on her face as she made passive conversation with your friends. The few of you who showed up for the birthday dinner at your friend's apartment made easy chatter amongst yourselves.
Your date presses a kiss to your temple after you crack a joke, and Wanda just about drives her knife into her plate with the amount of pressure she puts into cutting up her steak. The scrape of metal against porcelain cuts through the conversation for a split second.
The blonde, whose name you can’t be bothered to remember, eyes her from the corner of her peripheral vision. She gently takes the knife from Wanda’s hand and begins cutting her food for her.
You roll your eyes at the sight, fighting a menacing smirk. Wanda paints a forced smile as her supposed girlfriend cuts the food for her, something you know she’s never been a fan of having done for her.
In fact, Wanda insisted on having a specific way her food was prepared and cut. something this new girl was very obviously unaware of. She preferred to cut the fat from first, then creating bite size pieces to pair with her sides. something her girlfriend has apparently not learned.
Instead of acting on maturity, you swing an arm across your date’s shoulders and whisper in her ear, your fingers playing through the hairs on the nape of her neck. She smiles against your cheek, body leaning into yours.
Wanda’s fingers tighten against the stem of her glass.
The sweet nothings flow from your lips with practiced ease, words you know you meant at one point, but not for the girl you’re whispering them to.
Her brown eyes look into yours, and you have to convince yourself you’re looking into the light eyes of the girl you loved not too long ago. It becomes increasingly difficult to hold her, knowing that you can hear Wanda’s light laughter just a few feet away from you. Whether fake or not, your heart still knows it’s not with you.
You notice that both of your glasses are empty, and you offer a refill, which she accepts sweetly. Somehow, almost planned, Wanda happens to arrive in the closed-off kitchen with you away from the rest of the guests.
You smell the expensive perfume before she’s even within your line of sight. The expensive cedar fills your senses, and your chest tightens at the memory. It’s the same scent that would linger on your bedsheets after Wanda stayed the weekend with you.
“You know, for someone who really enjoyed pulling on my hair, hers is pretty short, isn’t it?” She stands a few feet away from you, a tilted head with an accusatory expression on her face.
Of course, she’d follow just to get you for a moment for herself. It comes as no surprise that she’d find any reason to get under your skin.
Your lip tugs between your teeth before you allow yourself to turn and face her, “and for someone who really loves control, you gave it up so willingly.”
Wanda’s accusatory expression turns to one of cockiness, something you enjoyed seeing after she downed a few glasses of wine, “You never complained.”
Her voice is just above a whisper, eyes taking over your body. You roll your eyes and hit her shoulder with enough force to make her hold her left arm with a pout. You let out a huff of laughter as she continues on with what she entered the kitchen to do.
“Careful,” you muse as you lean against the counter while Wanda fills the glasses of wine placed between the two of you, “your little friend might think you’re flirting with me.”
Wanda rolls her eyes and sets the wine bottle down with a bit more force than necessary, “Maybe because you keep looking over at me every two minutes to see if I’m looking at you with little Miss What’s her face.”
You scoff, pushing off the counter, “Please, you’ve been shooting daggers at me all evening like it’ll change anything.”
“You’re the one practically putting on a show, basically on her lap with the whispering, almost on the table-“
“So you were watching.”
With your arms crossed against your chest, she places the two wine glasses in your hands with a huff. You grab them from her, purposefully brushing your manicured fingers against the back of her palms with a cheeky grin. The two of you fall into a practiced rhythm, muscle memory keeping you two too close for comfort, where there shouldn’t be any left.
Wanda scoffs, as if she can’t believe you’d say such a statement like that, “You’re basically on her lap.”
“So is blondie over there.”
“She has a name.”
At that statement, you tense up. The idea of Wanda defending this new girl is enough to make your stomach twist over and over. You stay quiet, allowing Wanda to walk back over to where the guests are sitting.
Wanda watches as you stare her down in thought, and she takes it as a silent victory. She glances back to where you’re standing in the kitchen, “she kisses you too much,” she says suddenly.
“What?” Her voice pulls you out of your haze.
“The brunette,” she nods her head back to where she is sitting with your friends, “it looks too forced.”
You laugh at Wanda, “You’re unbelievable.”
Wanda only grins just before she returns to where the party is. You throw your head back in frustration, bothered at how easily both of you fall back into your usual banter. It takes you a minute before you return to your seat, green eyes following you every step of the way.
