The Mystery Club - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Tavern, Tattoos, and Trust

Westview is a small town, which means there are few places to hang out. Odin's Tavern - yes, like the Norse God - is one of them.

But old Odin died before you left Westview. His kids inherited the business, and together with their mother Frigga, transformed the place from a pool bar to a more family-friendly environment, yet considered funky with its good food and cheap beer. It was not the kind of place that the fussy folks from the Institute would go, for example.

And even if Wanda was a troublemaker now, she was still the daughter of rich people and lived in a house worth more than a year's salary of all the employees in that place.

Maybe that's why the waiter was in such a bad mood when he attended to you.

"Maximoff, nice to have you here again." He greeted sarcastically. "Are you going to pay this time?"

Wanda didn't mind the rudeness, smiling mischievously as she walked past him to sit down. You cleared your throat awkwardly. "I left the money on the table, Bucky, if someone took it it wasn't my fault."

He buffs incredulously, shaking his head. "You really expect me to buy that one?"

But Wanda made an innocent expression, shrugging as she opened the menu. That Bucky guy sighed in defeat, turning his face to you to welcome you to the place as he pulled a small pad and pen from his apron pocket.

As soon as you ordered your food, Bucky angrily warned Wanda that he was going to include the latter's price, and left dragging his feet. She rolled her eyes but didn't insist.

You stared at her, your eyebrow raised in surprise.

"What?" she questioned.

"You have to pay for your food, Wanda. The staff members are the ones who pay for it when you don't." You reprimand her, but she snorts almost guiltily.

"Yeah, I know." She retorts, her fingers moving impatiently around the table - tapping, pulling napkins. "Charles had cut my allowance and I just needed a burger to make me feel better. Damn, I've been coming here since I was six, can't he hold a tab for me?"

You don't buy the story. "Why, because you're so special?" You retort with mild mockery that makes Wanda lock her jaw. Sighing, you move your unhurt hand to hold her anxious ones. "You can't take your frustrations out on others, Wands. And you can't expect to run from the consequences when you do things like this. Bucky could have called the police."

"Can we stop talking about this?" Wanda asks impatiently, pulling her hands away into her own lap. You swallow dryly, but don't take it personally. She never liked straight confrontations anyway.

"What do you want to talk about?" your question makes her face light up softly.

"About us, of course! We have five years to catch up." She retorts. "I want to know everything you've been up to, and how you ended up back in this shithole that is Westview."

You chuckle, propping your elbows on the table before you start telling. You reminisce a little about Tony's heart disease, about the decision that you were better off living with Peggy and Steve in England, but that when your father's health deteriorated you returned to New York and stayed with him until he passed away. And then you mention the admissions letters for the student programs, and that when you saw the application to the Xavier Institute it seemed right to you.

Wanda chuckles at that.

"You should have picked a fancy academy in Paris, kotenok. Anywhere is better than this hellhole." She says, and you smile at her soft grimace.

"Or maybe a Sokovian Exchange program, where I'd finally learn the language and be able to understand what so many nicknames mean." You retort but Wanda laughs mischievously, looking at you in a way that makes your face warm.