This Love - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Final Chapter

There was a hesitation disturbing her concentration.

Weakness. The demons whispered. It was a weakness that she wasn't using her power to change what was bothering her, and then getting in the way of evolving further.

And that was you. Distant and hurt for the last few days.

You came back to the cabin only after Wanda had slept - Her physical form at least because the astral projection was well aware of your footsteps dragging across the room.

You slept in the living room, and the next day, despite your polite greetings and remaining company, along with the reminders of the agreed times without requiring her to stop if she didn't want to, you were evidently distant.

Waiting for an apology, of course.

Wanda didn't feel that she was wrong. Not entirely at least. There was a fog in her mind and an incessant impatience on being contradicted. The only thing she was sure she knew was that she didn't like how upset you were.

And she could have changed that a dozen times. Altered the fight, your own emotions or memories about it. But the way you mocked her, teased her to rewrite it, made her hesitate every time. Or maybe she just loved you as deeply as you loved her. So infuriating.

To add to the growing tension between you, in addition to the silent treatment, Wanda craved to be touched again.

It was frustrating, to say the least, how much she missed your mouth, those delightful kisses that warmed her whole body.

You weren't helping her not to think about it. At this moment, for example, chopping wood in the yard with so much skin exposed by the sleeves pulled up, the suspenders sagging around your body.

Wanda was sure it must have been on purpose - you both could conjure the wood, for Christ's sake. But you said nothing to her, and just retreated outside with an ax she didn't even know she had. And when she paused in her reading to get a cup of water, she was greeted by the image of your focused figure outside.

She was staring shamelessly. One arm crossed over her stomach, and her body leaning in the doorway. She was biting the tip of her thumb, every cell in her body trying to resist the urge to rip off all those layers of clothes with magic.

Suddenly it occurred to her: Why should she resist it? You were hers. You belonged to her. She could do whatever she wanted.

As soon as her fingers sparkled, you looked at her, and Wanda gave up on the surprisingly tender look she met.

You pulled out one of the headphones before teasing:

"A picture will last longer, Maximoff."

Wanda bit back a smile. "You're absolutely right." She murmured back, and when you blinked, there was a polaroid in her free hand. She unhurriedly took the picture, and as she was shaking it to reveal it, she looked back at you. "Just like old times."

The comment made you chuckle short, half uncertainly. Back in the tower, Tony gifted you a high-function camera, but the polaroids had been lost in the destruction of the compound. But apparently, that was no problem for Wanda's magic, who from what your eyes could pick up, had brought your old camera back.

She gave you an intense look before leaving the camera on the counter and turning her body to go inside again, shaking her hips a little more than necessary and making your breath catch.

Wanda was such a tease, unfairly so attractive when you wanted to stay angry with her.

But you weren't going to fall for it. Wanda was mean to you just after lying. Maybe it was childish to act like this, but it was exactly what you were going to keep doing. At least as long as I could resist. Paying no attention to the evident present, you went back to chopping wood.