Wanda x Reader | Why Woman Kill • Ongoing

Chapter Thirteen: I like to not like him

"When a Woman Kills, it's with clear, undeniable motive. When a Man Kills it's because his ego was bruised."

13) I like to not like him

-—— ❥ Wanda Maximoff wore her signature red hoodie. Her auburn hair was tied back into a ponytail and the sleeves to her sweater were rolled back. Hands in her pocket, hoodie up, she sank into the comfort of your sweater.

Our sweater, she thought.

On one of her expeditions to your room she had forgotten that she took off her red zip up sweater. And when she was making her way back to her house with a sweater absent from her hands she begged that you wouldn't notice the new addition to your closet.

And that you didn't. In fact, Wanda was pleasantly surprised to see that you had claimed her lovely red sweater to yourself. The day that she saw you wear it was the day she fell even more deeply in love with you. It was the day she knew for sure she wanted you forever.

However, Wanda couldn't keep herself from holding off on touching what was once hers; now embedded in your scent. What she didn't account for was your amiss sadness in losing the comfort of your red sweater.

"(Y/n) come back! We need to talk about this!" Bucky Barnes yelled.

Wanda Maximoff stopped dead in her tracks. She stood dormant, observing in plain sight.

"There's nothing to talk about!" She watched as you marched yourself down the steps of your apartment building. You wore a T-shirt twice your size, and pants she knew had been worn for days.

Bucky Barnes grabbed your arm harshly and turned you around. "Don't walk away when I'm talking to you!"

"Or what?! You're going to hit me?!" Wanda heard you yell. She stared at Bucky, that same scarlet anger building up. Bucky Barnes stood dumbfounded. "That's what I thought."

"I can't help you if you don't allow me to." He finally spoke up. His back was now facing Wanda and he covered you. She took one step closer in hopes of seeing your lovely face. She was disappointed by her failure to do so.

Your voice began, "I never asked for your help."

"You didn't have to, that's what I do. That's what someone does for a loved one. That's what I've always done for you for years! When your father-"

"When my father got violent because he was drunk you came to the rescue because I called the police." You intervened, recalling the deja vu of this exact conversation a year back.

"(Y/n)..."

"I never asked for your help then, nor did I need it now Buck."

Bucky's eye brows furrowed, "You didn't have to ask for help, anyone with a conscience could see you were drowning in your own inability to care for yourself. For god's sake, your mother didn't even know if you were dead or alive!"

"I was getting therapeutic help. I was looking for a job, I was getting my life together. You didn't help me Bucky, you came into my life, intruded my personal space, and messed with my living arrangements because what- you saw a damsel in distress and wanted to be a hero!?"

"That's not fair (Y/n)."

"No, you want to know what's not fair, the fact that you think you can come back into my life after YOU left me when I needed you the most!" Tears welled in your eyes. You were begging for Bucky to say what you wanted to hear. All this effort, all the pain, and he had yet to do the obvious; say sorry.

You stared into his eyes, his lips curled before he finally turned his gaze from yours. "Fine. If what you want is for me to leave then I will. I'll pack my things. I'll be gone in an hour." He removed himself from the conversation and walked back up the stairs.

You watched in dismay, disillusioned by reality. When the door closed behind Bucky you let a hefty cry out. Tears began to stream as you angrily held in a shout. Wanda watched as you turned to look around, alone, and in pain.

You searched for another being's presence and when you looked to the side walk Wanda stood in, a look of embarrassment washed over you. You stared at her staring at you and all you could muster to do was give this strange woman a sympathetic smile.

Just as quickly as you looked and smiled, you were gone. Wanda watched you swiftly continue your walk away from your apartment. Your shaking hands wrapped around you as you held in your overbearing emotions.

Wanda held all of her instincts to follow you. She wanted so badly to run after you. She wanted to hold you in her arms, kiss your wounds away, and protect you from the world's cruelty.

However, she knew she couldn't do that, at least, not with the enormous casualty packing it's things in your apartment complex right now.

Wanda Maximoff held out her hands. She could count the amount of people she has killed in her lifetime on her fingers.

"One," she counted, "two," she pondered the most painful ways one could die in an apartment, "three," how would she escape? "four," you wouldn't show up hours later, "five,'' so getting caught wasn't an issue, "six," and so it began, Bucky Barnes would be the- "seventh."

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