When Y/N Y/L/N's famous author brother is to be married to his publisher's sister, Wanda Maximoff, Y/N tries to go along with everything as usual in hopes of it ending as quickly possible.
But when Wanda begins to take a liking to the wrong Y/L/N...
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"...okay, so now use the water to dilute the colour."
I did as Wanda said, dipping my brush in the glass of water and diluting the watercolour I was using, but I must have used too much because it made the paint run and then the paper started to get too damp to hold together.
Wanda facepalmed, sighing as I smiled sheepishly.
"My bad...?"
She glared playfully before ripping a page from her sketchbook. "Try again, milaya (darling). And use less water this time."
I squinted in the sun as I glanced at her. "Can't you just accept I'm not very good at painting? Or art in general?"
She shook her head, taking the torn page from my grasp and replacing it with a new one. "No way. You're not getting out of it that easily. It's not hard, I promise!"
I groaned lightheartedly. "You said that about drawing. And about using acrylics. And about using chalk."
"And I'm saying it about this, now c'mon, try again," she encouraged with an amused smile before returning to her own painting.
We were sat in my garden, hanging out and making the most of the lovely day we were having. The Spring breeze was getting warmer as we transitioned into Summer and it was a nice change of pace from the usual bad weather we had. So nice that Wanda wanted to do some painting and also teach me how to. But art was never my strong suit and I'm sure she knew that but still proceeded to try anyway.
Sketching out the tree before us for the third time today, I attempted to provide an outline that I could eventually fill in with green watercolours. Unlike Wanda though, it wasn't fun. My eyes veered over to her and I smiled to myself as I admired the look of concentration on her face – her 'art' look, I dubbed it. It was this very specific expression she got whenever she worked on a painting or drawing, and it always reminded me of that first time I saw it, after we met in the stationary store and when she took me back to her room. Absolutely wonderful.
"I don't hear a pencil moving," she said, not looking up but beginning to smile.
"That's because I'm looking for... what did you call it?" I racked my brain, thinking back to the day in the store when she talked about inspiration. "Vdokhoventi?"
A sharp exhale escaped her lips as she finally lifted her gaze to meet mine. Attempting not to laugh, she tilted her head adorably. "Vdokhnoveniye."
I quirked a brow. "Is that not what I said?"
She giggled, shaking her head. "Definitely not."
I grinned, shrugging. "Well, that's what I meant."
She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not it, so eyes on your page."
"Oh, how dearly mistaken you are, love," I said quietly, leaning close and giving her a knowing smile.
