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Silver Screen magazine, March, 1937: Wildboy of Siberia Conquers Hollywood by Whitney Williams

Transcript of article

Wildboy of Siberia Conquers Hollywood

Mischa Auer remembers the days when, as an exile, and friendless, he fought for life against starvation and the biting cold of the Russian Steppes.

Solemn-visaged Hollywood is laughing. Not alone laughing… but screaming with hysterical glee.

Now, for such a state of affairs to happen in this movie town of ours, where the lads and lassies in-the-know DARE anybody to make them even smile, is so startling an event that something has to be done about it. And Hollywood’s doing pul-lenty.

It has taken the raison d’etre (fancy French, for “cause”) of the matter and skyrocketed him to the object of everybody’s affection. It has pounced upon him, like a tiger on its kill, and elevated him to a niche many a fading star would give his very soul to once more attain. In short, Hollywood is lionizing Mischa Auer, the young man of our story, and from one not too well known on the screen- although he’s been in the movie colony for nearly eight years- this tall and lanky Russian overnight has become one of its favored sons.

Why, you ask? What’s the reason for Hollywood affixing its unanimous and fondest eye of approval suddenly upon an actor who has been in its midst for years?

All right, I’ll tell you.

Think back- not too many months- to “My Man Godfrey”. To all intents and purposes, this riotous film co-starred Carole Lombard and Bill Powell. Fair enough… it did. But it did more.

“My Man Godfrey” made Hollywood so Mischa Auer-conscious that Mischa was hailed as the real star of the picture. Not that he’d admit it- you’d never catch him that way, this sly Slav- but to the majority of the picture-wise around the colony, and for the critics through-out the land, he simply wrapped up the honors and tucked them very neatly into his pocket.

Will you ever forget his impersonation of that ape in the picture, as he went into his monkey act with all the feeling of a bewildered simian? Can you ever erase from memory how he struck the monkey pose, shoulders hunched over and long arms swinging ground-ward, and, with bent legs and features contorted slap-bang-ape-like, he swung about the room, over furniture, up pillars and ended by climbing the iron-grilled gate?

Well, hardly.

All Hollywood gasped to its very toes at Mischa’s antics, too amazed at first to quite believe its eyes. It couldn’t be Mischa… Mischa always had played either dark and dirty glowering roles or parts deeply dramatic. The night of the big preview it burst into a mighty roar of thunderous appreciation; laughter still ringing long after the film had ended. When an actor can do that to as sophisticated and hard-boiled an assemblage as one plays to in the cinema capital… he’s made.

Several months later, with the recollection of Mischa’s performance lingering vividly in their consciousness, the movie-great-producers, directors, writers, stars- went to see the previewing of Mary Pickford and Jesse L. Lasky’s production of “The Gay Desperado,” starring the opera-singing Nino Martini.

As the film unreeled, a familiar, yet not too familiar, figure inserted itself into the action… a tall, serape-huddled, black sombrero-topped Indian who stalked stolidly through scene after scene, saying not a word. Suddenly, the identity of this wooden individual was realized, and with this circumstance the audience as one man acclaimed him noisily, deafeningly. The Indian, who from the first had created ripple after ripple of merriment, was Mischa Auer!

Hollywood has taken other players to its heart ere this for some very outstanding performances, but I can recall no incident in which a more or less established actor or actress, a native of Hollywood for so many years, has struck the chord that Mischa Auer has touched. It is as though he has entered upon a new life. Certainly, Hollywood producers think so.

Immediately after he made his hit in “My Man Godfrey”, every studio in the business tried to cast him in a comedy role. Previously, if anybody had mentioned, even in jest, that Auer might be acceptable in a humorous vein, he would have been booed right out of the studio. But that one part changed his whole future.

Basically, Mischa Auer, sad-faced a young man has ever set foot in our capital of Cinemania, is a comedian, and loves to clown and be gay. He is the very antithesis of the character you undoubtedly have fashioned for him, through the medium of his screen appearances prior to the Lombard-Powell feature.

“For years I’ve tried to enter the forbidden realm of comedy, but only once was I given a chance.” Mischa sipped a brandy, and after each taste of the liqueur put a small piece of lemon dipped in powdered sugar- Russian style, Mischa said- into his mouth. “That was in Lily Pons’ first picture ‘I Dream Too Much.’ In this I played a musician who hated music, who accompanied Miss Pons during her first audition. From the miserable musician I was to turn into a raving enthusiast. Apparently, it went over so well that everybody liked it; many called me up to tell me how funny they thought that bit of action. But though the studio praised it, nothing ever came of my clowning and I continued in heavy and dramatic roles.”

Mischa Auer’s preference for light characterization is a strange commentary on the man, for Mischa’s early life in Russia scarcely prepared him for such interpretation. By all rights, he should be enacting still those highly dramatic roles for which he was he is best known, for his existence in his homeland was beset with hardship and suffering.

Born after the intelligentsia- his father, killed in the Russo-Japanese War, held a high naval rank- Mischa was caught up in the whirlpool of the revolution and at the age of twelve, along with two hundred other lads of his class, ranging in years from eight to seventeen, was sent by the Bolshevists from his home in St. Petersburg to a small settlement in Siberia… to learn Communism!

“It was a tiny place, with a long name, and just eighty miles from where the Czar was assassinated,” he tells you. “For a time, we had things pretty much our own way, but gradually the food gave out and we existed for months on nothing but rotten potatoes, with living conditions absolutely intolerable. The ones that sent us to this desolate spot forgot all about us and there we were, two hundred of us, with nothing to eat but those damned rotted spuds.” Mischa is quite American in his speech.

“Late one afternoon, a chap only a little older than I, announced he was going out and beg around the countryside for food. There were plenty of wealthy farmers at this time, and several hours later he returned with a large sack filled with bread- fresh bread, too!- and large hunks of meat and all sorts of vegetables. I tell you, we feasted that night, but two days later the boy died, from the effects of over-stuffing. That’s the condition we were in.

“His success in foraging started others of us on the same path, and before long large bands of us would descend upon the farmers and demand to be fed. It got so we were a dangerous lot, for when you’re desperately hungry you’re apt to do anything. Eventually, after we had held up and robbed travellers of their clothing- we were cold, freezing- and stoned farmers who would not feed us, nearly killing a number, the government stepped in and sent us home.”

I mention the foraging in such detail in an effort to give you a word-picture of this actor’s past- the Siberian episode was only one of many hazardous and agonizing experiences- and why it is all the more surprising that he turns to comedy so readily and with such gusto. At fourteen, because of the suffering he had endured and the gruesome sights that were his daily lot, Mischa thought and acted like a man of thirty, as, indeed, did all Russian boys of that period.

“But I learned the value of things, during all that while,” Mischa says. “Instead of acquiring the bitterness many could not empty from their souls, I learned to evaluate that which surrounded me. My mother taught me the futility of revenge, and the necessity for becoming a fatalist.”

Mischa’s mother died from the typhus she contracted while administering to the sick in Constantinople. Following the lad’s return from Siberia, mother and son soon fled to the south of Russia- the mother’s name appeared on the Bolshevist list of those to be shot- and there Mischa fought in the British ranks against the Russian Red armies. Some time later, he and his mother were evacuated to the Turkish capital, and as a result of her humanitarian work in refugee hospitals the lady passed away.

By selling a few jewels he had clung to in flight, the boy, only fourteen, made his way to Florence, Italy, where a girlhood friend of his mother was living. This woman, wife of a Florentine attorney, took the boy in, and notified his grandfather, Leopold Auer, in New York, who immediately cabled passage money.

Only since Mischa has been in America has he grown to his present stature of six feet two inches. Because of hardship and malnutrition, he was less than five feet tall when he joined his grandfather, the famed music master who taught Zimbalist, Heifetz and Elman, among others, the art of the violin. Even today, the effects of those early years of strife are plainly evident.

Hollywood first saw this talented Russian when he appeared with Bertha Kalich on the Los Angeles stage in Sudermann’s “Magda” some eight years ago. Prior to this, he had shown an early interest in the theatre and played in a number of shows on Broadway.

Returning to the film capital following completion of his stage tour, Mischa discovered the man who had promised him a contract with a studio had been discharged two days before he arrived- and he had less than two hundred dollars in his pocket. When this had gone the way of all funds, he threw pride to the winds and turned extra.

An amusing incident, although at the time it was far from funny, insofar as Mischa was concerned, occurred during this period of travail. Henry Hathaway, then an assistant director, fired him from his first “extra” job because he said Mischa wasn’t “the Russian type!” But Frank Tuttle, the director, befriended him and gave him work in every picture he made.

To chat with Mischa Auer in his hilltop home. Amid the luxurious surroundings he has provided for his American wife, and his two-and-a-half-year-old son, Tony, and himself, one would never suspect he had ever known anything but an even-tenored existence. His sense of humor is superb and there is not the slightest suggestion that he might be an actor. He rears champion Great Danes- Lars, his pet, weighing only a measure less than a house, stretched at our feet during the entire course of our conversation and occasionally uttered yawning noises that suggested a noontime factory whistle. Mischa likewise owns up to a fondness for cats. He is looking forward to the time he can amass sufficient wealth to retire… then, he expects to do one of about two dozen things, none of which he knows he will ever attempt. Meanwhile, he teaches his wife Russian, and she responds with lessons in draw poker.

You’re going to see much of Mischa Auer. He’s the comedy find of the year and his humor on the screen is so infectious that it will continue to entertain American public for years to come. You’ll laugh with him in “That Girl from Paris,” Lily Pons’ latest picture, in which he glories in the cognomen of “Butch” Strogoff… watch him burlesque Hamlet in Universal’s “Top of the Town” in such a manner that even the members of the company roared with delight… and the potentialities of his role in Hal Roach’s feature, “Pick a Star,” are sufficient to predict a brilliant performance. Just as murder…comedy will out!

#silver screen #silver screen magazine #mischa auer #1930s #1930s Hollywood #1930s movies

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redroomreflections · 6 days

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Silver Lining

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Natasha dies, Wanda helps reader with raising her baby. They didn't know they would fall in love

W/c: 4.2k

Ellie needs diapers.

It’s a simple text. A message you’re used to these days. It’s straightforward and to the point. Ellie needs diapers. Though there’s no other meaning behind the simple sentence it's a bit unsettling. You stare at the message watching as the text bubble for typing appears. You wait with a finger over your cursor for the sender to say something else. Just as quick as it appeared it leaves your screen.

Are you okay?

You want to send it back. You quickly delete the message and tuck the phone into your pocket. Guess you’ll be going to get diapers. You start the engine of your car, glancing to the bar in front of you, before pulling out of the parking lot. Wanda’s been weird lately. Distant.Cold. a little testy. You have a bit of an inkling of what it could be but your mind won’t let you go there. You’ve just come from a pretty awesome late-night dinner with your coworker, Danny. It’s the second time she’s asked you out and you accepted. It’s about time you hang out with someone other than Ellie these days. Not that Wanda isn’t a good company but You’d be an idiot to say no. Danny is kind, sweet, smart, and so damn sexy. She’s tall, runway model tall, with legs that never seemed to end. Most of all she listened. She’s the only one in the office that understands a bit of what you’ve been through so you go to her for things. It was only a matter of time for your relationship to progress. Right?

You can’t help the deep-seated guilt at leaving Wanda in the dark. She takes care of Ellie as if she’s her own. She helps whenever you need it and despite her own grief and pain, she’s always there for you. This is why you are unsure of her recent behavior. It must be something you did. Maybe she’s not comfortable with you leaving her with Ellie to go on dates? If so you’d be happy to find a babysitter to relieve her. Was she upset that you forgot to put the laundry in the dryer? Did you forget her birthday? No, that can’t be it. Wanda was so gracious and plentiful with her forgiveness. Which is why you are so confused.

The only thing open right now is the 24 hour CVS. Simple enough. You step into the store with a purpose. You find the baby aisle with ease. You’ve been here plenty of times before. The Honest Company brand is the first you spot. You’re not too keen on being loyal to a specific brand but Wanda always insists that it’s really good. You grab a pack of diapers in Ellie’s size and tuck it under your arms. You pull out your phone again to check if Wanda has messaged about anything else. You’re the only one in the store beside the cashier so you’re not in much of a rush. You step around to the second aisle where there are trashy magazines and other assortments of books on display. You grab a crossword puzzle book for you and Wanda to finish together. Maybe then she’ll tell you what’s been on her mind. You make your way to the front where you spot her favorite candy. You’re not intentionally trying to make her feel better, you technically haven’t done anything wrong, and yet you can’t help but feel that you need to make things right with her. You grab the turtle's candy from the shelf and hand it to the cashier. She bags with boredom ready to clock out of work herself. You give her thanks before taking the items and leaving the store.

It doesn’t take long for you to get home. You sit in the driveway with the lights off for a minute. You’re looking up at the house. It’s beautiful. Two-story, brick, a white picket fence. It’s everything you’ve wanted in a home. Everything Natasha wanted. It’s been a little over a year since she’s died. A little longer than that since you’ve seen her face. Ellie never got to meet her. You were eight months pregnant when Natasha and the rest of the team decided to do the mission to reverse what Thanos messed up. Your wife, a natural leader and a true hero sacrificed her own life for the greater good. Natasha was always good. Which is why you resent her so much. In her haste to save the rest of the world she left you with a baby who would never know her name, never know her smile, and never feel her arms around them.

A life you planned together was over before you could start it. You’re here with the house that you chose together and sometimes you can’t make yourself go in. It hurts to see Ellie smile and laugh knowing Natasha would never get to see that. It’s a silhouette in the front window that breaks you from your thoughts. Wanda seems to be cleaning. She hasn’t closed the curtains which you have to remind her to do often. She moved in after you had given birth to Ellie. She was no longer Avenging. She wanted something else for herself. Wanda is your rock and you’re incredibly thankful for everything she does for you and Ellie. Suddenly, as if she senses you’re home, she turns to the window to peer out. She finds you easily and gives you a small wave. You wave back.

You unbuckle your seat belt and grab your items from CVS along with your briefcase. You take slow steps up the walkway. Wanda’s planted new flowers in the garden. They’re beautiful. She opens the front door for you and takes your briefcase just as she does every day.

You plant a kiss on her cheek in hello before stepping over to allow her to close the door. Briefly you think about how domestic the greeting is. She’s your best friend. It’s always been like this.

“Hey,” Wanda greets. She rubs her arms to warm herself. It’s the middle of August. It’s not too warm but Wanda always seems to be freezing. “How was work?”

“Work was work,” You shrug. Wanda lowers her hands to take the diapers. She places them on the front steps. “I need a long vacation. What do you say about taking Ellie to Montana or something?”

“Montana?” Wanda questions. She raises a brow.

“I know there’s nothing there but that’s the point.” You say. You follow her into the kitchen. Wanda rolls up her sleeves to get started on cleaning Ellie’s dishes. She’s sleeping by now with it being way past her bedtime. The eleven-month-old is full of energy. You find yourself missing her whenever you’re away. “How was she today?”

“She was great. She has another tooth coming in so she was a bit fussy before bedtime but a bath and a song fixed all of that.” Wanda scrubs a bottle with care and precision.

“How were you today?”

She pauses to look up at you. “I’m fine.” She drops her head back to the dishes.

“Her first birthday is soon,” Wanda begins another conversation.

“Yes, I can’t believe it,” You smile. “I think we should have a small party. Nothing too flashy. Danny thinks we should do a princess theme. I’ll probably ask her to plan it since she’s good with those things.” There it is. Wanda’s frown appears and she doesn’t try to hide it this time. “Is that not a good idea?” You lean against the counter to wait for her answer.

“No, no, it’s a great idea.” Wanda shakes her head. “I was just thinking that we would plan that together. Danny doesn’t know Ellie. I mean she’s never met her and you’re not dating.” Oh. There it is. She’s upset about you spending time with Danny.

“We can plan it together.” You placate her. “I didn’t think you would want to considering you’re already so generous with your time.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to.” Wanda sets the last cup aside. “Ellie has been the highlight of my life for a while now. I can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t want to help with such a milestone.”

“Okay then, we can plan it next week.” Wanda nods.

“I brought these.” You hold up the bag with the crossword puzzle and candy. Wanda eyes it before rolling her eyes.

“I’m going to have cavities because of you.” There’s no real malice in her tone. You grin before shaking the bag.

“Go change and I’ll make us tea.” Wanda takes the bag before waving you off. You plant another kiss on her cheek before running up the stairs to your bedroom. You make a pit stop at Ellie’s bedroom. Her door is cracked and the light from her night light castes the room in a light blue glow. You push it open gently. You tiptoe over to the bed where you take a second to look at her. She’s on her stomach with her hand resting near her face. Her favorite plushie, Boris the monkey, is inches away. You’re sure she fell asleep with it in her arms.

Sometimes you wonder how life with Natasha would be. How different would it be raising Ellie together? If you let yourself think too long you’ll become depressed. Natasha was the love of your life and you’d probably never be over her death. Does one ever get over that? Looking at Ellie, you’re constantly reminded of how much is being missed. You reach down to brush a hand over her head. You lean to press a kiss to her head. She twitches in her sleep before settling again.

You leave the room, closing the door behind you, before making your way to your bedroom. Deciding that a quick shower would feel amazing you step into the bathroom with that purpose. You don’t even bat an eye at Wanda’s towel resting beside yours. You take your time in the shower, allowing all of your stressors to melt away, before stepping out feeling refreshed. Wanda would be ready with the tea by now. You quickly dress and make your way downstairs to meet her in the living room. She’s already tucked under a throw blanket and she’s added a cardigan to her outfit.

“It’s amazing how you’re always so cold,” You say before joining her under the blanket. She adjusts it so that it’s covering both of your legs.

“If you kept the house at a reasonable temperature maybe I wouldn’t be.” She quips. She takes a sip of her tea before setting it on the coffee table. She grabs a pen and the crossword puzzle. She doesn’t hesitate to lean further into you so that you both can see the page. Despite her being cold, her warmth is comforting. She smells amazing. Clean. It sounds weird but it’s Wanda.

“Okay this one is literary lingo,” Wanda begins. She tucks the pen against her bottom lip as she reads across the page. “Two across says an exaggerated statement not to be taken literally.” She glances to you for help before turning back to the page.

“Hyperbole.” You answer. Piece of cake. She scribbles the answer onto the page before going to the next question. This is how much of the night goes until you finish the entire page. Wanda sets the book down in triumph. She picks up the turtle’s package and rips open the paper. She hands you one before biting into one herself. The candy is sticky and tough but delicious.

“Have you been back to the compound recently?” She asks you.

“Not really, I can’t bring myself to.” You shake your head. Going back there would only remind you of Natasha and Vision. She nods her head. She feels that way too. She chews before swallowing thickly.

“I think I want to start volunteering somewhere,” She says and you sit up a bit straighter in interest. Wanda adjusts herself so that she’s fully facing you. “I know I spend a lot of time with Ellie and I love her but I need some adult human interaction.”

“Wanda, if it’s too much please tell me, I can bring her to work with me some days and-”

“No,” She cuts you off. “It’s not that. I just want to do something good. I want to help other orphans maybe. Growing up in Sokovia without parents and then joined Hydra. I know it probably won’t be as dramatic here in America but I want to help them onto the right path. Whether with homework or reading.” Wanda’s hands move excitedly as she speaks. She’s passionate about this and you can’t help but smile seeing her so happy. She notices your look and smiles back. “What?”

“You’re a good person, Wanda Maximoff.” You reply. Her smile widens. It’s all she’s ever wanted to hear.

“Thank you, y/n. I think you’re pretty good too.” She grins cheekily. “So you think I should do it?”

“I think you should. I can get Steve or Peter and MJ to watch Ellie and I’ll come with you some days.” You suggest. NYC is only a train away so you figure it won’t be too bad.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod. Suddenly your arms are full of Wanda as she hugs you in gratitude. You think you're a bit touch-deprived as the feeling of Wanda in your arms is heaven-like.

“You’re the best.” Wanda smiles as she pulls back. “Are you too tired for a show?” She tilts her head towards the tv.

“No, put it on.” You watch as she grabs the remote, settling into your side again, as she finds her favorite episode of BEWITCHED.

**************************

The next few days are weekend days so you and Wanda attend a play date with another mom from the neighborhood. Her son, Tyler, is a month older than Ellie and they’re still a bit young for any real play but it’s more of a social thing. Tyler’s mom, Terry, is serving you and Wanda finger food as she talks about a new committee that’s happening in the neighborhood. They want to plan events for the coming year.

“I know things are hectic but it may be fun,” Terry shrugs as she sits across from you. “Mike probably won’t enjoy it but I’d figure us wives will.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Gives us something to do being stay-at-home moms.” This time she looks to Wanda. You don’t bother to correct her. This wouldn’t be the first time someone mistook you two for a couple since moving here.

Wanda nods, she might be considering the idea. You don’t think it sounds bad either. You’re just about to ask Terry about the type of events when Ellie crawls over to you with a toy block in one of her hands. She uses your knees to stand on her own feet. Her eyes are wide and trusting as she shows off the toy.

“It’s so nice,” You feign interest. You wonder if this is like a parent requirement. To give praise or encouragement to something your child wants to show you.

“Mama!” Ellie pushes the toy into Wanda’s lap. There’s a gasp but you can’t quite tell who it’s from. Wanda looks to you for the next step. “Mama!” Ellie is insistent as she pushes the toy further into Wanda’s lap.

“Go ahead, Mama.” You find your voice. You emphasize the title with a gesture to Ellie. Wanda swallows thickly before nodding. She looks down at Ellie before pulling her into her lap. The slipup was forgotten as she inspects the toy and puts on a voice for the toddler.

“Is this her first time saying it?” Terry asks with a smile noting your reactions.

“It’s the first time she’s directed it towards either of us.” You inform her. It’s true. Ellie has said Mama before in passing but she was never so indicative about whom she was talking to. Seeing her direct it to Wanda was startling but heartwarming. It brings tears to your eyes. Seeing the other woman respond and play with Ellie with such care. Wanda looks over to you with a smile before turning her attention back to Ellie.

Whoa. What was that you’re feeling? Butterflies. You haven't felt those in a while. Suddenly you feel as if you’re suffocating. The room feels smaller and you need space. You stand, excusing yourself from the room, to find a bathroom. You go to the one Terry directs you to. Wanda watches as you leave with a frown. Did something happen? You push the door closed leaning your head against it as you take harsh, breaths.

Wanda. Wanda Maximoff. Your best friend. You’re in love with her. It’s a thought that makes you want to puke. You don’t know how it has happened or when it’s happened but suddenly all of your feelings make sense. How happy you are to see her. Even on your date with Danny, all you could think about was Wanda. Coming home to Wanda. Spending time with Wanda. Kissing Wanda. Making love to her.

You gasp. This can’t be. You shake your head hoping it will rid you of the thoughts. Wanda lost the love of her life. You lost yours. It could be nothing more than what it was. She probably didn’t even feel the same way.

Life is crazy.

The car ride home is ridden in silence. Ellie has fallen asleep after the playdate. You glance at Wanda every few minutes. You don’t realize she’s looking at you too. You park in the driveway, helping her with Ellie’s bag when your hand brushes against hers. You pull away hiding the effect it has on you as you walk into the house. You put Ellie to bed on your own while Wanda does god knows what downstairs. You take your time dressing in a t-shirt and shorts before sitting on the bottom step to tie your shoes.

Wanda steps into the foyer to ask where you’re going. You both only just got home. She didn’t know you had plans to do anything.

“For a run,” This surprises her even further. You don’t like running. You despise it and yet here you are gearing up to run.

“You hate running,” Wanda points out. “In fact, the last time Steve suggested you run you told him you would rather have crows poke your eyes out and eat them for breakfast.”

Damn. You did say that.

“I’m trying something different,” You shrug. You stand to stretch before heading for the front door.

Wanda follows after you. Before you turn the knob she calls out to you.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” You pause and turn back to her.

“Overstep? Why would you think that?” You question her.

“Well, Ellie called me Mama and I know that’s what she would have called Nat. I’m not her mother.” Wanda folds her arms under her chest. A nervous move. “I thought you might be uncomfortable with that.”

“No, Wanda, that’s not it at all,” You assure her. “I’m so happy that Ellie views you as her Mama. There’s no one I would rather have that title. You are her Mama.” Wanda nods with tears in her eyes. Maybe she’s wanted that without really knowing. You find yourself wanting to kiss her tears away. Again. Whoa.

“Okay,” She gives you a small smile. “Have fun on your run.” She tells you and you nod. She watches you exit the front door. You do a few final stretches before you plug your headphones into your ear. Guess it was time to run.

It’s been two hours the next time you walk through the front door. The lights off save for the foyer. You kick off your shoes, rubbing your forehead with your sweaty shirt before you make your way upstairs. Wanda must be asleep. You check on Ellie as you do every night. She’s sound asleep. You hop into the shower and allow yourself to stand under the scalding hot water. You’re going to regret running so much in the morning. Your thoughts are riddled with Wanda as you shower, when you dry off, and when you dress. You can’t stop thinking of her. You don’t know what prompts you to do it but you suddenly find yourself in front of her bedroom door. Her lights are off but you knock anyway. No answer.

You twist the knob to find the door unlocked. You open the door and call her. She’s on her side facing away from the door. Her posture is a bit stiff.

“Wanda?” You question.

“Yeah?” She whispers into the darkness. She turns over just as you climb into the bed. You’re under the covers now and briefly you think about how comfortable her bed is. You can see her through the light emanating from her window. Her cheeks are stained with dry tear tracks. She’s been crying. “Y/n?” She tries to hide the shake in her voice as you look at her. It’s now or never.

Your eyes fly down to her lips then back to her eyes. You lift a hand to caress her cheek as you lean to plant a chaste kiss against her lips. She gasps, quickly recovering, before kissing you back. You pull back keeping your eyes closed. If you open them to her being angry with you, you don’t know if you’ll forgive yourself.

“Y/n,” Wanda asks.

“Wanda,” You whimper.

“Open your eyes, Malysh.” She raises her hand to rub her thumb against your hand still caressing your face. She takes hold of it before lowering it to lie on the covers between you. She never let's go. You open your eyes slowly to find nothing that you were afraid of.

“I wasn’t mad that Ellie called you Mama,” You repeat your sentiment from earlier. “I was confused. Her calling you Mama made me realize a few things.” Wanda listens. “You’ve been here through it all and yet I’ve never seen you for you until now. My selfless, sweet, Wanda.” You don’t know what you’re saying at this point. All you know is you want Wanda to know how much she means to you.

“I feel the same,” She doesn’t need to you say the words. She knows.

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize all of this time what was right in front of me,” You frown. “I can’t believe how long I wanted to kiss you and I didn’t see it as anything other than platonic.”

“I realized a couple of weeks ago.” You lift your head to rest on your elbows. “When you went out with Danny for the first time. I couldn’t figure out why I was so angry about it. Then I knew why. I wanted it to be me.”

“Wanda, why didn’t you say something?” You ask. “If I knew I wouldn’t have gone out with her.”

“I didn’t want to stand in the way of you finding love again,” Wanda shrugs.

“I don’t love Danny,”

“But you could,” Wanda points out.

“No, I couldn’t.” You say firmly. “Not when I love you.” It’s the first time you’re verbalizing this. “Don’t be a martyr when it comes to your heart, Wanda. Even with me.” You squeeze her hand. “It took me some time but I want you.”

“How do you know that after only a couple of hours?” She asks.

“It hasn’t been a couple of hours,” You shoot back. “It’s been months. The late nights with Ellie. The dinners we have. Our crossword nights. I enjoy them. I look forward to them. We’ve been spending a life together without us even realizing it. I want more with you. If you want it too.”

Wanda surges forward pushing you onto your back as she kisses you with a passion that has you moaning against her lips. The weight of her on top of you is pure bliss. All you can think, feel, and smell is Wanda. Reluctantly she pulls back to take in a deep breath.

“I want it too.” She doesn’t wait for you to answer as she kisses you again.

Five years later

“Mama, Mama, we got ice cream.” Ellie races across the park with your golden retriever, Max, in tow. She’s hanging onto the leash very loosely as she waves around the popsicles she has in her hand. Wanda looks up from her book to inspect the items as Ellie pushes them into her hands. You’re a few feet behind watching as Wanda interacts with the little girl.

“Do you think the baby likes fudgesicles?” Ellie asks as she drops down on the picnic blanket.

“I don’t know, Kiddo, you have to ask him.” You say as you sit next to Max. You watch with pure adoration as Ellie takes it upon herself to lift Wanda’s shirt to expose her swollen belly. Wanda looks over to you with amusement in her eyes.

“Hi baby brother or sister,” Ellie begins. “Mommy told me to ask you if you like Fudgesicles. I bought some for you.” Ellie waits as if she’s truly expecting an answer. “Baby says yes.” She looks up at Wanda for confirmation. Wanda takes the Fudgesicle with gratitude as she licks into it.

“I think baby made a good choice,” Wanda grins. She runs her free hands over Ellie’s brown ringlets to smooth it down a bit.

“Me too,” Ellie says in between licks.

“I think I made a good choice,” You say and Wanda nods. Her too.

#black reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x y/n

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