Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch Imagines

Good Time Baby

You stare at yourself in the cracked mirror. A face stares back at you. You're not entirely sure that it's yours, but it moves when you move and it blinks when you do, so that's good enough for you. The din of the club echoes around you, stopped only by the thin doors marking backstage. New York is loud, so it's hard to find someplace quiet to sit and think. This little corner of a former storage closet turned backstage is going to have to be good enough for you.

A knock sounds on the door, and seconds later, a familiar face is grinning over at you. "Hey, Y/N. You ready for tonight's show?" You force yourself to stand up, plastering on a smile. "As ready as I'm going to be." Your drummer, Kenna, raises an eyebrow. "Love to hear that confidence. I do think your odds are going to change, though." She waits a moment, then smirks at you. "A certain Wanda Maximoff is in the house again. You know, I think she's starting to come to a lot of our shows, actually. Isn't that strange?"

Her tone is innocent, but you've known her for too long to be fooled by her seeming innocence. You swat your friend with a nearby magazine. "Alright, alright. Lay off. Wanda's just, well, Wanda. Maybe she has a taste for small scale rock bands." Kenna snorts. "Is that why she always makes sure to nab a front row seat, and only seems to let herself relax when she sees you take the stage?"

You fold your arms over your chest. "I'd say everyone here tries to get a front row seat. And of course she relaxes whenever I come onstage, it means that we're actually starting our performance and not waiting for you to finish flirting with her twin brother." Kenna gasps in outrage. "Hey, it's not my fault Pietro Maximoff is devastatingly handsome!"

You shrug, fixing your hair and outfit in the mirror. "I don't know, Kenn, he's not my type." The drummer rolls her eyes. "No men are your type, Y/N, you can't bring that up against me. Besides, you can't make fun of me for crushing on Pietro when you've clearly got eyes for his twin."

You glance over at her, somehow unable to deny this. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." Kenna grins, sensing your weakness. "I bet you don't. Now come on, it's time to get going. You don't want Wanda to have come here for nothing, do you?" This time, Kenna is expecting a swat to her shoulder, and dodges it gleefully.

You dutifully follow your drummer through the backstage area until you wait before the door leading to the front of the club. You've been living in New York for a while now, playing small bars and bigger clubs until you've made it here. You'd say that you're fairly well known among the music circles, and look forward to putting out an album or two soon enough. You haven't gotten here alone, though, and it's thanks to your band that you're even standing here today.

Your band is composed of friends, some you'd made from before and others that had come to join after the first members left for brighter tides. In the end, you're left with a ragged assortment of yourself, two other guitarists, and Kenna on the drums. You couldn't ask for anything more or find anything better in the entirety of this ungodly city.

You've been playing electric guitar and heading the band for a while now, although it doesn't mean that performing comes any easier to you. You still feel that same rush of adrenaline before you take the stage, like you're still a nervous teenager preparing for a school presentation. Then you look out through the small window in the door and see her- Wanda Maximoff, standing in a crowd of excited onlookers, waiting for the show to start.

Instantly, you swear that all of your nerves fade away from you. Sure, you may brush off Kenna's teasing like it's all a lie, but you can't hide it from yourself anymore. For every performance and every show, you always scan the audience for Wanda, and every time, you feel your heart skip a beat whenever you see her.

It's just that she's always there, always greets you with a smile. You've gathered up your courage and offered to take her backstage a few times, excusing it as a thank-you to one of the best Avengers in gratitude for saving the city, but you're fairly sure that Wanda was able to see through the flimsy excuse. In truth, you just want to see her, to talk to her and pretend that there would ever be a chance that she might like you back.