#while very reasonable from her perspective
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Thank you @penguinsfly for the delightfully (albeit painfully) on-point discussion.
I'm gonna jump in here to elaborate on the 'but it does affect aromantic and asexual people keep it in mind' part of this because I'm seeing some understandable confusion on just how/why that's a thing.
Most of the time, fandom gets to be happily seperate from the rest of life. And that's great--its part of why people like it. You write what you want, how you want. If someone disagrees or dislike it, the rule is they can leave. Don't like? Don't read, don't interact, use the filters. I think we all get this, and get that most of the time its the best and most respectful course of action for everyone.
But here's the thing.
This rule works the vast majority of the time because most fanworks do not run the risk of negetively affecting real people's welbeing in the real world.
Why?
Most fanworks are based on characters who, while unique and very cool in their own ways, are very demographically bland. So you get to start with a relatively blank, not-likely-to-upset-anyone-if-changed charater and then the fandom gets to have at and make things more different in whatever ways they so choose. By their own consensus.
So fanworks usually give diversity instead of taking it. Giving more diversity isn't somethig that hurts people. And the base characters are so overrepresented and similar that its essentially impossible to take their diversity enough to cause harm.
Under these conditions, the 'don't like don't interact' rule works.
Still with me? Now buckle up.
There are --very rarely-- times where what you choose to create in fanfiction can hurt real people, outside of fanfiction. This happens when fanfication takes more diverse charaters and erases the traits that make them more diverse in an instance where those traits are real traits that belong to real people. (Read: you can safely un-werewolf as many characters as you want. But erasing cannon things like ethnic identity, disabilities, or minority sexualities not nearly as innocent as creating them).
Remember-- the fact that a traits is rare and not usually seen in any cannon means that the people with that trait are experiencing real world eraser and being told on a culturally significant level that their traits are undesirable and would, ideally, not exist.
Ergo, if you for whatever reason take a character representing the traits of a real miority and chose to get rid of those traits, from the perspective of that minoriy, you are doing the same thing and telling them they are unwanted and should not exist.
Again: Changing the traits of culturally accepted characters is fine. But you can't change the traits of a cultually erased character or any rare minority to be more mainstream (including mainstream in fanwork), without your actions telling real people experiancing oppression that you would prefer they didn't exist, either.
Okay, but why do my actions have to impact them? Especially when they still have the cannon charater?
Okay, look. You exist and the things you put out into the world exist.
If someone who has lived with significant parts of who they are being completely ignored and isolated from representation for most or likely all of their life hears that there is a character like them who they might actually be able to relate to, they are going to take whatever courage they have to risk being terribly dissapointed, and they will go find that character. And because there will not be anywhere near enough mainstream representation, no matter how good those few seconds are (literal seconds, usually) they will go looking for fanworks as their next step. If not the first because lets be honest, fan rep is usually way better than mainstream.
The hope, of course, is that the majority of the fandom will recognize and accepted the charater's culturally outcasted traits, and take it as an important part of their core characterazation. Just like it is to real people with those traits.
But here's the thing--what if they didn't. What if instead you come the the fandom and find that that trait--a core trait of that charater's being and your existance, identiy, and experiance of the world-- is being intentionally shunned and erased by almost everyone.
There's no way that's not going to hurt. And there's no way that's not going to impact your experience of your identity as a person and as they fit into the world. In this instance, fanworks being fanworks doesn't protect from harm. It actually makes it worse becuse its real people as a collective are choosing to erase you and not a big corrperation trying to make money.
If you have a character who you want to make fanwork of, and they have a trait that real people are oppressed for, or is in any way underrepresented, stop and consider how you would feel if you were someone with that trait, who came across a work that had erased it. Then consider why you want to erase it in the first place.
This is what's upseting aroace and sex-repulsed people about fan portrails of Alaster. Not because of people making or not making any specific work, but because of the collective message those works sends to the people who identify with cannon Alastor's sexuality.
Case in point: I went to check out AO3 because aroace sex-repulsed rep. And unholy mother of toadstools.
Look, the evidence isn't subtle that Alaster is much more likely to be a sex-repulsed asexual than any other identity. Anyone on the hell no side of intrinsic willingness to have sex can recognize that discomfort. And yeah, some people are going to want to explore other kinds of being ace, not being ace or aro, etc. But 'some' and 'literally the vast majority' are different things. Further, two thirds of the people aware of sex-repulsed asexuals people activily choosing not to accept that identity, even when--again-- it fits best at this point-- that's not a great message to send to the people about their sexuality. Or, y'know. Existance in the world.
Even in the asexual community, being aroace, asexual, or sex-repulsed (alone or all together) are extremely isolating and underrepresented experiences, and its incredibly difficult to find any representation (Alaster is the only one I know that seems to get it right even given how little its refrenced). Surfice to say its a bit disturbing to look up the closest description you have of your sexuality and find that its largly being erased. Not surprising. But. Out of 22,519 works only 4,790 tag Alaster as asexual (which is great ace rep, but not great considering over 3/4ths of the content ignore it (or at least didn't tag).
But here's the really troubling part: For a character who is most likely sex-repulsed (and is cannon ace, likly aro, and absolutely not shown in any way to want sex), just under 300 works, total acknoledge that. Out of over 20,000. Add aroace and get rid of clearly explicit content and...84 works total on AO3. (aroace without being sex-repulsed is also 84)
Total works:
Works tagged Asexual:
Works tagged Sex-repulsed and Aroace
I'm under the impression that very, very few people are at the far 'black' end of the ace spectrum, are sex-repulsed by nature, or are those things and aromantic. Even within the ace community, it can feel isolating and far outside the norm. And frankly, 84 works is still pretty exciting considering the usual zero.
I'm not saying we should have more works or less works. It seems much better to be greatful for what we have.
And at the same time, it does illustrate the point that's worth reflecting on.
Additionally...here's the bigger, much more disturbing example:
That's a pretty blunt 'we'd rather you not exist'. Especially counting the numbers. Also, weirdly specific. Why so much interest in denounceing a lable for an identity thats...almost never acknoledged or represented in the first place. Roughly 2,000 versus 200. And over half of that 200 is not of the sort of work sex-repulsed aces typically enjoy reading so. There's that, too.
This leads to another part of this that's got aro and ace feathers ruffled: Bad Ace rep. (Aro and not). The good news i there's also a decent amount of great ace rep! Bad news is the vast majority…isn't.
Listen, er all know there's a lot of ways to do ace rep because there's a lot of ways to be on the ace spectrum, and a good few to be asexual as well. But a component of being anything ace, is that sex et al. can be happily done without most to all of the time. Plus being asexual is a wildly different experience than being allo because of all the ways sexual stuff is tied into cultures and gender and other identiy stuff. Its really not the same experince as being allo, give or take sex. So if the point of the plot is and tags is primaritly 'how to get the ace charater to do sex while still saying they're ace' consider just not. At least that way folks can filter properly.
Especially for sex-repulsed people, ignoring or erasing a sex-repulsed charater's signs of discomfort around sex because you want to make things sexual and think its harmless...tends not to go over well. It runs too close to real life.
Look, I'm aware that if there's a term to unite fandom its probably incoragable --and that that's genrally something to be proud of-- and I think we all understand that people will be people and will keep up creating wildly not-in-character charaters--but l hope this helps more people understand the reasons discussions about Alastor's portrale in fandom keeps being brought up by extreemly ruffled aroaces, and that there are, perhapse, reasons its not always great to erase a queer minority character's representation in favor of turning them the fandom version of straight.
Hope this helps
I unfortunately saw something I didn't want to see and that was my last straw. I'm fucking doing this.
Let's establish this first. Alastor is stated in the show to be asexual that is not up to discussion. He is also very heavily implied in the same conversation to be aromatic. 'An Ace in the hole' being used in context of him being with Charlie is also implying his aromanticism.
VIDEO
If that's not enough then here is Viv speaking about his romantic orientation. It's pretty clear despite the fact that afterwards she said it's okay to headcanon whatever (it's not but I will get o that later) that he is written purely as an aro ace character.
On top of that going by Alastor's interaction with Angel from the pilot and the first episode it is clear that he is sex repulsed. Not only that but on the fandom website he is stated to be touch averse with two sources which you can check out on the website.
Hazbin hotel wiki, Alastor page
Now we established that Alastor is canonically Asexual, Aromantic, Sex Repulsed and Touch Averse
As I also am all of the above I'll try to explain everything to the best of my ability as simply as I can.
Aromanticism and Asexuality.
I'm probably targeting the audience that knows those terms but regardless I will explain it anyway.
Aromantic - people that experience little to no romantic attraction towards any gender
Asexual - people that experience little to no sexual attraction towards any gender.
Little to no
Asexuality and aromanticism are spectrums in which people can feel certain attractions towards people but those attractions are less occurring or are defined by personal connection.
Diagram from AVEN website
However some people are at the end of the spectrum, they never felt attraction and that's valid. Alastor was stated to be aroace he wasn't written as demi or as gray he was written as aroace as in the end of the spectrum. His repulsion and not giving shit about romance or sex speaks for itself.
Representation
I do understand that everyone wants to be represented but it's so important to understand that aroace people are one of the most underrepresented queer groups in the media.
And I'm not here to scream about how I want my fav character to be just like me I don't care for it I'm way too confident in my orientation to rely on that however I'm tired of explaining to people what asexuality and aromanticism is just to receive 'are you sure' or 'you'll change your mind' or 'its not real' or the community favourite 'you'll find the right person' no I won't I'm not looking thank you very much (I just smile and nod to be polite and I'm sick of it).
'Harmless' buts like: 'He might be on the spectrum', 'AroAce people can still feel attraction' hurt the final outcome for all the people on the spectrum not only strictly aroaces because it allows people to write one shots with 'Demi Alastor' that falls in love in 2000 words because he is 'demi' (spoiler alert: they don't understand what that label means). It's just a cover, an opening, sneaky way to disregard his orientation, feel good about themselves and move on. Newsflash there is no moving on for aroace people it's our life.
Shipping
Shipping is just harmless fun right? Usually yes but not in this case. In the same way its not okay to ship gay characters with genders they are not attracted to.
It's erasure and since there is much less people identifying on aro/ace spectrums then there is gay or bi people our voices are being silenced. Not to mention that gay people received support from entire LGBTQIA+ community over the years in contrast to aro/ace specs who to this day are told that we are 'not queer enough' or 'not oppressed enough' often by other queer people.
And finally... FINALLY we get cannon Aro/Ace character that is clearly not interested in romance and sex. Character that beats stereotypes of boring and timid aro/ace people and what's the first people do? They ship him. Alastor's storyline provides so many points to be explored like 'what is his backstory', ' what's about his deal', ' how does he fit in in the found family trope' , 'does he care about hotel guests' yet people choose to write about the only thing that he is not interested in. As a heavily repulsed person that used to be horrified about the fact that I'll have to fall in love with somebody at some point before I found out what aro/ace is I find it repulsive and trust me he would too.
But Viv said it's okay!
Its the same point once again. What if Viv said that it's okay to ship gay Angel with woman. She doesn't have authority to say shit like that.
Queerplatonic relationships
I can't tell you not to do it I don't think he would be necessary interested in it but for fuck sake do your research and try to understand what queerplatonic means before you use it as a cover to shamelessly ship him. Respect the fact that he is sex repulsed and touch averse and you're fine.
Why can't you just avoid it?
First of all I shouldn't have to. Alastor's orientation should be respected in the fandom like any other orientation is. Second of all I've tried. I tried to only look up AroAce Alastor tag I've blocked over 80 people on tumblr alone (I just counted) to avoid to see anything that could trigger me and I'm not talking about slightly shippy posts or fanarts I'm talking about full blown disregard towards his orientation. Guess what it didn't work!
Archive of our own where do I start. I've used this website for over a decade and I could probably count days I didn't go there on my fingers. I'm fluent in AO3 I know which tags I should block. I know how to skim thorough the summary and tags to see if I'm interested. I've seen shit I'm a shipper I've been on ao3 for ten years but never had to mentally prepare myself to face queerphobia as I click on the tab.
Just use aro/ace Alastor tag.
I do and let me tell you people can't tag for shit or they just pretend to be clueless at this point. Besides see this?
there is more ff with Alastor/reader (disgusting) than there is Alastor with his canon orientation and to play the devils advocate for arophobic people there is more Angel/Alastor then his stated in the show sexuality. I understand that fandom goes back before the show was aired but Viv confirmed his orientation back then too.
Summary
I could go on and on bout different issues and maybe I will in the future but I'm not wasting anymore of this weekend on it. I'm ready to answer any questions as long as they are respectful.
I'm aware that he is a fictional character, it doesn't affect him in any way whatsoever but it does affect aromantic and asexual people keep it in mind.
If there are any mistakes grammar related I'm not sorry I'm fluent in English (not my first language) but I took 3h nap in between and I'm sleep deprived.
Have a nice day.
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Mister pitch perfect
The perfect Gryffindor golden boy has gone off his rails to catch a Black daughter.
Warnings: James Potter x reader fanfic, James is down bad, I tagged marauders but no peter, Slytherin reader, Black family reader, reader is portrayed as she/her, reader centric, forbidden love trope, SFW, James perspective
havent done this in a while and this will be the first time im posting on this platform. im very sorry if its quite messy!
this was supposed to be a oneshot but i drag it too much. so it'll be some sort of a series oneshot? will also be posted on ao3 soon!
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It was never meant to be. James Fleamont Potter was basically molted into the perfect specimen of man and every soul who has ever walked Hogwarts knew. Sure he would cause trouble every then and again with his fellow mates. Yet of course, James would always dazzle his way out of it with a few charming smiles or reasonings to squeal his way out of being blamed.
He was confident, charismatic, spotless.
And when he meets eyes with you, it was set. James is sitting at his usual spot with the marauders at supper when the moment arrives. You were fixing your necklace to your neck at the Slytherin table, struggling with the clasps as your face scrunches in frustration. James almost walks the whole way over to you and offers his assistance right then and there.
"Stop undressing my cousin with your eyes, Prongs," Sirius brings James back to reality with a slap on the back of his head. He seems to still be having his feast so that was new of him to pick on James in that setting. Remus raises an eyebrow as he stares at the two, "Since when do you care about the other Blacks?"
"That was foul, Pads!" James yell as he rubs his head and glares at his mate, he's used to Sirius playfights but that slap seems to be sincere. He tries to focus on the conversation as he tries to find you again on the table across. You seemed to have moved next to Regulus as he helps you with your necklace. James lets out an involuntary sigh.
"She's different, Moony. She's on the edge too. Pretty sure she's going to find a way to run when she hits 18," Sirius lets out a scowl, "Heard she is to be arranged with Nott. Bloody brilliant that."
"Nott? That Nott? Surely you're joking. That bastard can't even keep his owl alive for a week! How's he going to keep a wife that young?!" Remus exclaims in disbelief. Whipping his head to take a good look at you now that you're a big deal. "I wish I was. I love you but seriously mate, don't. You're big enough trouble yourself," Warns Sirius with his fork right to to James face. A juicy piece of meat dangling right on it.
He bites it though. Sirius lets out a shrieking squeal of, "My meat!", erupting laughter at the Gryffindor table as James chews proudly with a sly smile across his face. The boisterous sound turns a few heads, including yours. Your brows raised at the sudden commotion, only to have the red of your cheeks creep in as you find one of your cousin being the center of it. He watches as you rub your cheeks to hide the tint.
James gulps the meat down. He's quite full himself but he must admit, it's nothing like he has ever had.
——————————————————————————
The next time he sees you, you are sitting by yourself writing in parchments on a patch of grass by the lake. James is in a broom practicing to catch the golden snitch on Hogwarts grounds. Quite foolish but he's gotten bored of the arena and its currently being used by the Hufflepuff team anyways.
He's worried about you sitting all alone in this breeze though. It's quite cold and you don't seem to be wearing enough layers. He keeps a distance near a tree so as not to scare you, although he is quite discontent with seeing just your figure by the lake.
You whipped your head to the skies behind you, "Reggie? Is that you?" You ask calmly, your eyes not missing the shadowy figure blatantly hiding behind a tree, "I saw you from the reflection. Very funny, Regs."
James cracked a smile at your sarcastic tone. He even finds your voice perfect. He fixes himself a little before he reveals himself off the shade and lands in front of you, "So I'll take it you find me quite funny?"
Your eyes widened as you process the man in front of you. Why would James Potter—the Gryffindor golden boy—be here? And why is he talking to you now?
"You're not Reggie." You said still in shock, almost sounding like a question. Your brows are raised as you try to study his demeanor. He's holding his broom awkwardly in his arms, you've always thought James Potter's confident composure was permanent.
"Well if your standards of humour is a certain Regulus Black, I'm sure I'd be comical, love," He cracks a small smile and a hand extended to you, "Potter. James Potter."
You look at James like you're Newt Scamander finding a newfound beast, "I know who you are. Everybody does," You said in disbelief, finding the whole situation suspicious. The breeze of wind moves his curly hair to his face, framing it gracefully, "What I want to know is why are you doing this? We're not exactly fit to be friends."
"Why that's quite bold of you, lovely. Who said I'd like to be friends?" He said as he leans closer. You never noticed it before but his glasses are rather clean today, his hazy eyes look at you with glimmer in them you've never seen on anyone before. You think to yourself if its one of the charisma of being James Potter.
You stood your ground, you would have never thought to ever be face to face with this dazzling man in front of you. You are a Black though, your legs won't give in even if you try, "Well that's settled then. Are you here to pick a fight?" You ask him plainly, crossing your arms upon your chest.
James finds it adorable, he knows full well of his effects on people and especially of course girls. What he doesn't understand is the effect you have on him. "The contrary, darling. I have a proposition for you."
You lift a brow and yet let him continue, "I heard you're in quite the predicament with Nott. Now I know a way to get you out," His claim makes your eyes open, you let him continue. Words dripping in confidence, "A date. With me."
This time, you can't help but let out a laugh–of which James can't help but take in the sight. He's completely enamoured.
'What? Huh– Hold on. You can't be serious," You looked at him as if he had gone mad, the thought of a Black and a Potter dating is out of this world, "I don't know what kind of prank you're up to, but do you seriously think I'll fall for that?"
"Wait, I am serious! Picture this, if Nott knows you're going out with me he'd be livid, enough to break off the arrangement. I mean have you seen the way that scum looks at me? It's like he has this permanent face of eating vomit flavoured Bertie Bott's Beans!" He rants as he joined in on the laughter with you.
You are smiling as the laughter reduces to giggles. As stupid as it is, it has a good chance of actually working. You pondered, there's still one thing on your mind, "What's in it for you? Would I have to do anything?"
James let out a smile, his palms are sweating like he's deep into a Quidditch game, "Well I get to see Nott lose his bride—" He pauses, confronting himself whether to tell you the real truth or not, "I mean I'll also get a beauty on my side."
You roll your eyes at that, "Don't you try to charm me, Potter. Give me the real reason or its off. I have a feeling you need this more than I do,"
She's right, James thought. He was about to play it off if you denied it straight away, he wasn't entirely sure you would actually take him seriously. He grasps the sight of you for a bit before closing his eyes tight, "Okay, how about I tell you the reason in a week— Maybe a month. You don't have to do anything, we'd just go out like normal couples do. Sounds good to you?" He said, he extends his arms to you for a handshake. His thoughts full of prayers to Merlin so you wouldn't notice the tremble in his arm.
You grin the same one James had seen a million times on Sirius's face, the Black's grin of content. You shake his hand firmly, his big ones almost encasing yours, "You've got yourself a deal, Potter."
James is using every atom on his magical being to control his ecstasy as he smiles widely at you. Once the handshake is done he reaches for his scarf over his neck and wears it on you, "Nice doing business with you, sweetcheeks. I do hope you start wearing warmer clothes though. No snogging will be done if you're in Pomfreys care."
She looks good in my color
Well technically so is the color of a quarter of the schools because of course its a Griffyndor scarf.
"You surely don't expect me to go back. To my dorm. Through the halls, the stairs and the common room. With this on?"
Oh I won't regret this one bit, James thought. He chuckles at your words dripped in such a sarcastic tone, "Of course not, darling. Do you think I'm mad?"
He extends his arms for you to hold, "We'll go back together. Through the halls, the stairs, even the common room. I heard you folks have lovely parties there."
You let out a chuckle as you circle your arms around his, "Oh, the best ones. Your Gryffindors ass is so not invited though."
"Well at least I do have a lovely one, don't I?"
"Oh shut it, Potter!"
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Another storm of commotion is coursing through Hogwarts. A lot has played it off as a mere prank. James grins at the thought of it. He has only you on his mind lately, cherishing the bits of conversation you and him had.
He's on his way to charms class this morning, one that inconveniently does not have you in it, he checked. He checked your schedule last night sneaking through administration with the invisibility cloak.
Moony and Pads by his side as usual. Sirius seems to still haven't caught wind of it, his hair tousled from a good sleep. Apparently he was up all night helping Remus solve a 10k piece magic puzzle.
Won't be long with how loud the students are gossiping though. James let out a coherent sighs. He had an amount of grins with knowing looks from a couple male students and even a pat on the back by a random Slytherin, "Alright, what is going on?" Remus breaks first. Stopping the two boys right before the class door.
James crackles a laugh, "What's going on? Nothing's going on, mate! What?" Moony lets out a drawled scowl on him, one he makes when he pieces that they're in some kind of trouble, "Why is everybody on Hogwarts up your pants then, Prongs?!"
Sirius yawns as he hugs James by the side to lean his head on him, "Yeah... Saw that too even if my eyes were closed the entire walk. You can tell us mate, come on," He does notice the lack of scarf on his mate's neck though, none in this rapidly chilly morning? "Prongsie, where's your scarf? I could really use a pillow here–"
"Oh! Thank Merlin! One second late and I would've thrown this in the bin. Here, take this off me," There you are with James Potter red and yellow scarf on your hands, just coming out the door. All three boys were quite startled, "What? Wait. This isn't your class," said James. His eyes land on the presence of a Slytherin scarf wrapping your neck. James wishes he could take that one instead.
"Yeah... I'm sort of risking being late to Dark Arts for this but I can't take the whispering anymore. I might square the next person who even looks at me!" You told him, your grip on his scarf tightens and James wishes the fabric would stretch upon your nails.
Sirius is well awake now, his bagged eyes darting between you and James as if you're both insane, "Hold–Hold on! What is this? What is happening, Why do you have James's scarf?" He cuts, going between you and James to put a distance and blocks James view. Remus gives James a 'he did warned you, mate' face at the side.
James on the other hand, in too much of a thrill of seeing you this early in the morning, "You could also just admit ya didn't want me to get cold, love. Thanks for the thought there," He said almost shouting as he stands on his tips to try and see you from above Sirius's head.
You let out an annoyed grunt, "Ugh I don't have time for this. Here Siri, give this to that stupid friend of yours. I'd like to keep my Dark Arts seat next to Cissy and Malfoy's been eyeing it like the vulture he is," You throw James's scarf to your cousin's head not caring if it covers his vision, it earns a few chuckles from nearby students. He trashes to take it off and looks at you in betrayal.
You're about to run off to Dark Arts and leave your cousin and his foolish mates when your feet stop and turn you back, "If you still want that date to happen. Expect my owl, Potter. She's a snow named Emerald."
"Oh and it is lovely to meet you, Remus. Do take care of my sod cousin and my idiot boyfriend. Make sure they're out of trouble," You smiled sincerely at Remus, you actually do admire him a little. You love dark arts and your professor rants and rants about Remus's talents.
Remus seems taken aback, but that would make the three of them. You left after he reciprocated your smile and responded with a polite, "You too, (Y/N)."
And as such, you scurried off in a rush to go shoo away Lucius Malfoy from your seat and save Narcissa. Leaving behind a bewildered Remus, an angered Sirius, and a lovestruck James.
James keeps his eyes on you until you turn the corridor, a stupidly huge smile stays on his lips. He turns to find the reality of Sirius's wrath upon him. Remus is quite literally holding back Sirius with his whole body, it's quite an advantageous turn of events that Sirius hasn't had his proper sleep yet.
"Boyfriend! Boyfriend?! When did you even– How is this— Let me go, Moony! He's going to have an earful!"
He definitely will get that earful later. James grins an apologetic smile at Remus as he picks up his scarf that fell to the ground. He could already smell the sweet of your scent from a distance.
Remus lets out a huffed noise, "You really do always get what you want don't you?"
James doesn't reply. He wraps his own scarf on his neck, embracing the warmth it does to his skin. Your scent crashes onto him like tidal waves. A tint of rose blooms on the pale of his cheeks.
He smiles faintly at the open skies over the hall window. He wishes for an owl he hadn't even met for safe travels.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james fleamont potter#marauders fanfiction#james potter fanfiction#forbidden love
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It’s been one of those days. It’s Time for me to violently defend stephanie brown on the internet beyond what should be considered reasonable or good.
I saw an older anti stephanie brown post which blamed Steph for Robin #87 (when Bruce reveals Tim's secret identity to Spoiler and offers to train her) and all the comments and reblogs and whatever were ragging Steph and it pissed me off and it made me sad so I'm going to break down why being mad at Stephanie for something Bruce Wayne did is insane, why Stephanie is genuinely in the right, and why having the same opinion as Alfred "boy mom" Pennyworth is embarrassing.
This ones gonna be more rambly and less analysis like than my other Steph posts for the record, I just kinda need to get this off my chest.
Let's break it down.
When Batman first brings Steph onto the team as Spoiler he tells Steph Tim's secret identity. When Tim finds out his secret was told to her, he freaks out. Tim's perspective is super understandable. He feels betrayed by Bruce, because he didn't even consult or ask Tim first, a clear betrayal of Tim's trust and the supposed equality of their partnership. Especially in light of how much Tim feels he has sacrificed to keep Bruce's secret.
But lets look at the situation from Stephanies perspective. Because she is just NOT at fault here.
Here are the facts: Stephanie is approached by Batman, who has in pretty much every interaction beforehand been cold and dismissive, and who she expects to tell her to quit being Spoiler again.
This man has only ever shown an ounce of approval towards Steph's vigilantism one time before this, for like one line in Stephs very first appearance. For him to be asking her for help sets off serious alarm bells. Steph is "really scared" when Batman asks for her help to find Robin.
Robin #84
Furthermore, its important we don't take Batman at his word here. Bruce is withholding information, something he does with Steph a LOT. He says "no one" knows where Tim is, and in Robin #87, he clarifies that Robins transmitter went dead.
Robin #87
"No one" is an exaggeration of epic proportions, given that Batman has not checked Tim's boarding school, or contacted Alfred, the location which it is overwhelmingly likely he is at, and the person who would be able to check extremely easily.
Robin #87
Because Bruce didn't want to go to Brentwood himself and run into Alfred, or have to speak to Alfred, on account of their fight in Officer Down, he sends Steph.
While the fear and worry Steph is portrayed with in Robin #84 doesn't really carry over to #87 (one of the numerous inconsistencies between these two issues) the fact of the matter is Steph is misled by Batman about the stakes of Tim being missing, which she is led to believe are much higher than they are.
In addition to this, Stephanie was under the impression that Tim was only ever holding back his secret ID soley because of Batman's wishes, that Tim was just waiting on Batman to change his mind.
Robin #56 #75 #82 #62
Tim will assert this is true later, and he certain says this is true beforehand.
If he's telling the truth, he doesn't have an issue with Steph knowing his identity. He has an issue with Batman telling her without checking with him first.
How is Steph supposed to infer this?
Steph has no reason to think it's important that Batman checks with Tim, because Tim has made it abundantly clear to her that he does want her to know but has just been waiting on Batman's approval.
Let's look how Steph acts when she meets Robin knowing his identity for the first time.
Robin #87
Steph enters the situation seeming to believe Tim will feel happy for her and relieved that their relationship no longer has to be as one sided as it has been. She still leaves room for Tim potentially having conflicted feelings, by mentioning she "hopes" that it's okay with Tim that she's finally on the main team. Tim, as mentioned early, freaks out.
Again, Tim's frustration is understandable. But let's look at Steph's dialogue for a second.
Robin #87
She says "we can be together now". This is weird and really interesting choice, because Tim and Steph have been dating for the entirety of No Man's Land and over the course of her entire pregnancy. This is a substantial amount of time. So what does Steph mean by "now"? There are two explantations.
Steph and Tim were not on speaking terms before this, because Steph was under the impression Tim had been cheating on her. He isn't cheating, but it surprisingly never gets resolved. Like the many other threads which were brought up in Robin #84, it gets completely ignored in Robin #87 and onward. Steph could be referring to the fact that she believes they couldn't be together because he was supposably cheating, but now that she knows his secret identity, he has no reason to cheat anymore. This is a super flimsy idea however, and given the fact that no character brings up how Steph believes Tim was cheating with Star after Robin #84, the logical conclusion is that it was either resolved off screen, or retconned.
The second explanation is much stronger. Steph says "now" because despite the fact that they have been dating for so long, their relationship has been extremely unbalanced. She's been closed off to half of Tim's life, something she agrees to when they first get together, but clearly has taken a toll on her. To the point she says "now" because, to her, the relationship never really truly started.
Robin #80
This isn't a stupid or petty complaint, for the record. Tim has seen her at her worst, he was there for there immediately before and after childbirth, but she doesn't get to know anything about an entire half of his life. This is especially true when you consider much Tim was in control of their communication.
He can show up at her house anytime, but if he doesn't initiate contact Steph's on her own. In Robin #80 for instance, Steph is presumably just hopping around rooftops hoping to bump into Tim, because she has no other way to find him.
Robin #87
And after Steph expresses excitement that they can finally be in the balanced relationship, a real relationship, she is rebuked with a violent "No!" that she seems to lean away from. And in the next panel, she asks, confused: "What?" in a small speech bubble which gets entirely ignored. In fact, neither Batman or Robin speaks to, or even addresses directly Stephanie for the rest of the encounter.
When Robin storms off without even a look to Stephanie, Stephs reaction is (big Shocker) to blame herself. Batman uses neutral language to place the blame on Tim, stating that Tim feels betrayed. In direct contrast, Steph actively disagrees, clarifying that Tim was betrayed, and more than that, she directly places the blame on both her and Batman's shoulders.
Robin #87
But Stephanie is a prop in the plot. Tim doesn't yell at her, he runs from her. Because she isn't Stephanie Brown, his girlfriend who has been in a massively unbalanced relationship, who is overjoyed at finally getting to be in a "real" relationship with him, she's the person Batman told Tim's identity to. He's not angry at her, he's angry she knows his identity and Bruce didn't bother to ask if Tim could tell her. He's angry at Batman. This conversation, this whole drama, is about the partnership between Bruce and TIm.
Stephanie Brown, who believed Tim was just waiting for the Batman go ahead, had no reason to think Tim would be anything but as happy as she was. Importantly, Stephanie Brown is seriously just not to blame in this situation, even if she blames herself (which as I've discussed before, is a running theme with her characterization, her low self-esteem and occasional tendancy to blame herself for the actions of others).
Not to mention, Tim doesn't blame Steph either. So if you're reading Robin #87 and somehow coming to the conclusion that Steph is a monster, please reassess.
Robin #92
How does Alfred factor into this? I'll make it quick.
Robin #88
Oh no Alfred, I'm so sorry that your loyalties to Master Timothy run so deep that you HAVE to yell at the teenaged girl who was more of a prop than anything in that encounter and had no reason to think Tim would be hurt. Oh no, really that must be so hard for you. Well, at least we know he's consistent, I'm sure if he's this mad at Stephanie, he's fucking fuming at Bruce Wayne, right? Right? Right?
No, of course not. Alfred Pennyworth, hypocrite extraordinaire is out there actively defending Bruce to Tim. Which no one asked him to do.
It's all "in his defense" and "you knew the perils" and "master bruce's crusade ill afford the delicacy of privacy required in affairs of the heart" and "stop feeling sorry for yourself"
I cannot believe he has the gall to yell at Steph for this. Talk about wounding Master Tim deeply bro, just wait until its Tim's 16th Birthday Party and Alfreds applying his stupid latex mask with a smile on his face. Sorry Alfred, you’re not always wrong, but when you’re wrong you’re really wrong.
That’s all. Goodnight 🌙
#stephanie brown#tim drake#batman#bruce wayne#alfred pennyworth#stephanie brown meta#dc comics#robin 1993#mine
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I’ve been thinking for a while about Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Lookingglass and specifically how these stories get adapted into other media and how seemingly every adaptation ages Alice up to make her a young adult rather than a child in ways that invariably feel inaccurate. I think the problem is that the original stories from Carroll are all about how a child views the world and how strange and confusing everything is to them since they don’t yet understand what stuff is and how it works, and that is then amplified and reflected in her dreams. The caucus race, for example, is how a lot of children probably view politics, like it’s this weird, arbitrary competition with no real point and confusing rules and processes. This is the same sort of thing we see with stuff like the court scene, or painting the roses, or even just the way that she keeps growing and shrinking because growing up is confusing and the eat me/drink me stuff is a great way of showing how confusing it is for children to still be little and yet be growing into a larger body that they aren’t used to. As such, an adult version of these stories would have to be completely different since that core theme would have to change and so would Alice’s perspective along with it.
One way this could work is by having Alice be a teenager on the cusp of adulthood, so then the core theme shifts to something around the transition from childhood to adulthood, the confusing nature of all the new tasks and responsibilities you have as an adult, and gender roles and expectations. Carroll, at least in my opinion, used these stories as a way to make poignant social commentary in how he showcased the ridiculous nature of society and all its arbitrary, confusing rules and norms through this lens of a child’s dream. Having Alice be a young woman on the verge of becoming an adult could also very well lend itself to similar commentary, especially when it comes to gender norms and patriarchy, but that commentary would look different from how it did in the original. The setting of Wonderland works for a child and Carroll’s original story, but that setting would have to change for an older Alice, and that’s where I feel that all the adaptations I’ve seen with an older Alice just don’t get it right. I think Tim Burton’s live action films are a good example of what I’m talking about where they make her older for no real reason but then infantilize her and make her very childlike so they don’t really have to change Wonderland itself aside from adding a plot.
That’s another key point here — it isn’t just that Carroll’s novels don’t have a plot, it’s also important that they don’t and everyone who keeps adding a plot to these stories is missing the whole point. It isn’t a linear narrative, it’s a glimpse into how the main character is processing the world around them in the middle of their greater story that we the audience never really get to see because the whole point is that little glimpse. We aren’t supposed to have the whole story of Alice growing up or learning how things work or any of that; we are only meant to see this little bit of how confusing and stressful that whole process is for her, and everyone keeps forgetting that. The whole story ends with the culmination of her anxiety about that process and how she feels like she doesn’t know anything and she’s constantly in danger of getting in trouble because she just doesn’t know stuff yet but then she is delivered from that fear and danger by the end of her dream. The whole point is that, at the end of the story, she is still a child who is growing up and yes, it is stressful and difficult, but she is home and she is safe and she is able to come out of that anxiety and go back to just being a kid without a blade at her neck.
We never see anything remotely comparable with adaptations that feature an adult Alice. For one thing, I think a lot of people tend to feel judgmental about the ‘it was a dream’ ending but, for these stories, I think it’s very important that this is all just a dream and not a real place. Having Wonderland be a real, tangible place that Alice goes to where she can choose to stay at the end of the story defeats the entire point of the freaking story. If the point of the story is how the main character is processing the difficult experience of growing up or even transitioning from childhood to adulthood, then it is necessary that the character return to their normal life at the end of this story. Now, if we have an older Alice on the cusp of adulthood, I could see a version where she learns a thing or two in that dream and comes out of her dream with a different perspective, but Wonderland is very much not supposed to be a place where she chooses to stay because it’s meant to be a more stressful rendition of her own world. In some ways, I feel like Coraline does a better job of telling this story with an older protagonist than any of the actual adaptations I’ve seen and I do think that, with an older Alice, it would be necessary to venture into more of a gothic lens or even horror.
I’ve recently been reading The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson and I actually feel like that is a pretty good take on Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland with an adult protagonist who ‘chooses’ to stay in ‘Wonderland’ at the end, even though I’m pretty sure Jackson wasn’t directly inspired by Carroll with that story. An adult Alice choosing to stay in Wonderland works, in my opinion, if that ‘Wonderland’ is as awful and stressful, or even horrifying, as it is meant to be and yet the protagonist still chooses to stay because that awful world is still better than her normal life. The way that Nell is originally disgusted and horrified by Hill House but, by the end, is desperate to stay because the house wants her and she craves that deep level of belonging more than she fears this horrifying place is the sort of thing that, to me at least, can work in an Alice-inspired story. Regardless, I think it’s easy to look at Carroll’s stories as adults and just see silliness and whimsy and forget that, to the protagonist, it’s frightening and stressful. I think people also lose sight of the nature of the stress, confusion, and fear that Alice feels in those stories and feel the need to add a plot, like having her fight a war, because they forget that the whole fucking story is man vs. nature and man vs. society and those are the fucking conflicts; we don’t need ham-fisted plot and conflict.
Anyway, I’m just really sick of people adapting stories they don’t even bother to understand (like Mike Flanagan with Hill House 👀) and how something can be adapted so many times and yet, still, no one has done it correctly. At least Quinrose’s Wonderful Wonder World series managed to showcase Alice really growing into adulthood and carving out a place for herself while developing as a person without sacrificing her morals and convictions, so that’s cool but did we really have to make it an otome game? I find it fascinating how many variations of this story end up aging Alice up for the purpose of then having her get into a relationship with some character from Wonderland and end up staying there. Heck, even freaking Ever After High has it baked into the story that Alice still lives in Wonderland with her son and, with all the Storybook of Legends shit, it’s pretty clear that the original Alice was not a small child when she first went to Wonderland based on Alistair’s age. EAH is another one that almost gets it right because they do have the right amount of age-appropriate stress and anxiety tied to the environment and structure of Wonderland, which I appreciate, but then it’s a physical place and also the characterizations and relationships don’t feel very accurate. But yeah, I just wish someone would really do it right because it’s been bugging me for ages.
#lewis carroll#alice in wonderland#alice's adventures in wonderland#through the looking glass#wonderland#the haunting of hill house#ever after high#eah#wonderful wonder world#hnkna
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Well we also see her already being a harpy in the Prequel Comic, so she had to definitely undergo transmutation before liftoff.
Long-ass speculating ramble under cut.
It's really interesting to me how exactly the whole thing about embracing the harpy/bird form may have worked in her home country. Despite Penglai's overarching Taoist ideology, there is a whole ass country devoted to transmutation of their plants as well as their own bodies to survive better in their barren environement. At a face value this goes against the Edict of Inaction. For whatever reason Goumang's people are doing it, there must be a cultural weight behind it and behind becoming a bird.
Maybe it is a sort of a rite of passage expected of every adult or even from every teen? Yi mentions that Yumin's cities are vertical, based around their tall GM-ed trees, so it sounds like you just straight up need wings to move around to the fullest capacity. The idea of making such extensive body modifications to teens or possibly even kids maybe weird from our perspective, but in a cultural context of this tried-and-tested as well as the default for most adults, it maybe accepted that as soon as a kid is supposed to start growing more independent they get the wings.
So for Goumang this would possibly arguably add another dimension to how her childhood was fucked. The harpy transmutation procedure can be presumed to be costly to conduct, and the specialists conducting it will want to get paid for their work. So for a normal Yumin family this could have been a borderline mandatory expense, where any responsible parent was expected to have the means to pay up for their kids when the time came. Goumang having no parents would deprive her of that and possibly make her additionally stand out in her teenagehood.
Though we don't really know about her living arrangements over her whole childhood, her Dreamscape implies that at least a period of being all alone and homeless left a big mark on her. However unless Yumin as a whole was poverty-stricken beyond belief, I don't see how an orphan could be entirely deprived of for example receiving shelter in an orphanage. We know she did become highly educated so she at the very least interact with some sources of education in the first place throrough her childhood.
Though even if she wound in an orphanage and for example had some sort of initiative to fundraise money for giving their charges wings, a lot of extra things could have gone wrong. Simply no money left for her, corruption, etc.
To go back to a point I wanted to make before tailong off, regarding her situation at the point in her life shown in this pic. She is quite accomplished by then, literally a Sol. Even if the Sols don't directly have high wages or something, she definitely got the means to undergo the harpy transmutation for a while by this point. Most people in Yumin can afford this, and the Dreamscape of her meeting Eigong already shows her seemingly operating her own lab or something, so she probably already had moderate income by then. The reason why I think she didn't do it before this last period of preparations for the launch of New Kunlun is because she kept putting it off until it last moment.
As in;
Goumang in her early studies before meeting Eigong - I don't have time to transmutate, I need to properly make a name for myself. I will do it later.
Goumang in her early Tiandao career under Eigong's tutelage - I don't have time to transmutate, I need to prove myself to Lady Eigong. I will do it later.
Goumang right after ascending to being a Sol - I don't have time to transmutate, I need to prove myself as a Sol. I will do it later.
Goumang after the launch of the Eternal Cauldron - I don't have time to transmutate, so much needs to be done and prepared right now. I will do it la... Wait there is no "later".
So she stopped putting it off at this last stretch and went back home to finally gain her wings. New Kunlun was by that time planned as the last chance, they knew everyone else was doomed by that point. The country of Goumang's birth was doomed, destined to be naught but ruins and ashes by the time Goumang could ever see it again under the most optimistic circumstances. Regardless of whether or not she cared much about Yumin before, I could see a wave of sentimentality take hold as the reality of the plan sunk in.
Under this assumption that getting wings was culturally important in Yumin (which imo it was), Goumang's decision to undergo transmutation was most probably as much of a decision of sentiment as it was a decision of any practical concern. Possibly it was also during this last trip that she took with herself the seed for the GM-ed plant that Yi finds in-game.
God what the fuck why is she so pretty oh my god
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So I just finished season 2 of Wondery's Suspect podcast, and if you enjoyed season 1's thoughtfulness and interrogation of the injustice and biases of the criminal legal system, ughhhhh....maybe skip season 2. I'm usually chill about subsequent seasons of podcasts departing pretty far from the original season's premise/presentation, but this was such a refutation of the original season that even though it was technically just (high production-value) true crime drek, I feel honestly betrayed and disguised at the end.
Season 1: educational, nuanced, thoughtful and thought-provoking; takes pains not to demonize anyone involved (even people that it presents as doing/having done incredibly harmful things) and to try to understand their motivations and pov; explores how past/other criminal (even unarguably atrocious) behavior is not sufficient evidence that someone committed a separate criminal offense (and how our human brains and biases will overweigh such "evidence"), and also how weird/unusual/bizarre behavior - behavior that seems bizarre or inexplicable to "normal" people - isn't sufficient either (and the dangers of how our human brains and biases might overweigh such "evidence"; presents contrasting juror viewpoints from a trial that highlights how hard "beyond a reasonable doubt" is to actually apply and what it looks like to wrestle with that standard, while also highlighting how real jurors absolutely do decide based on impermissible biases and assumptions; bluntly and explicitly refuses to provide (or even try to provide) an answer to the viewer about whodonit; and wrestles with how sometimes we can't actually know who committed a horrible offense and get justice for a victim (and their surviving friends and family)
Season 2: standard bog-issue true crime (just with a high-end production value and presentation); cops are great and let's not interrogate at all when we hear them explicitly lying to the Criminal, we've got real clear Good Guys and Bad Guys here; presents a narrative (and uncontested statements from speakers) suggesting that previous criminal/atrocious behavior is 100% evidence that a person probably also did the murder; weird/unusual/bizarre behavior is at minimum justifiably suspicious, and at maximum absolutely evidence that a person did Crime, and there is no need to interrogate our reactions and assumptions; interviews a single juror who (without any pushback or interrogation of her position) presents as unreasonable and unethical the juror who came in with a list of all his (reasonable) doubts and didn't think the prosecution presented a strong case - to the point of stating that he violated his oath/pretrial statements that he could convict based on circumstantial evidence (b/c he wasn't convinced by the particular circumstantial case presented) (meanwhile the interviewed juror was being 100% reasonable and Correct in being convinced he was guilty when she admittedly had no idea why he might have done it until she wrote a bunch of true crime fanfic "figured it out" after the trial); presents a narrative clearly intended to leave the listener with the impression that yay the cops clearly got the right guy, justice has been served, the gross/creepy/abusive dude really was the one who did it; and we all get to sleep at night with the certainty that the world makes narrative sense and justice can be wrapped up in a neat little bow and the only problem is how long it took the system to get there :)
Just, incredibly disappointing.
#the criminal injustice system#suspect podcast#just#fucking christ#like to be clear I'm not saying the guy that was convicted didn't necessarily do it#and they did a pretty good job convincing me that he was an abusive creepy and dangerous asshole who might have done it#(but also really failed to interrogate - for example - that just b/c a criminal team chooses not to formally present an insanity defense#that doesn't mean a defendant doesn't have have serious mental health issues that might explain some of their 'inexplicable' behavior)#in either the first or second episode there was an interview w/the mother of the victim's friend#where she was super suspicious of the behavior of the victim's dad and how how unusual and inexplicable and suspicious she found it#and that thread was just left dangling#and i was like#ok i see - the podcast is going to pick this back up later to discuss how her suspicion#while very reasonable from her perspective#was not actually evidence of anything#and the dad's reactions were also perfectly - from his perspective - reasonable#and it's going to tie into larger themes and discussions#lol#nope#it was just a red herring that was just supposed to make you think maybe the dad did it!
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Currently thinking about Artemis's will in the code at the bottom of TLG and how it really kinda shows how strained his relationship with his dad still is. Everyone else gets something they're interested in or that Arty thinks they'd like (sound system for Juliet, frozen chicken for Mulch, ethical investments for his mother, etc) and yet for his father he leaves only bearer bonds, despite Artemis I trying to move away from a money-focused enterprise and lifestyle as of TEC. Not to mention it's Butler who would know how to disengage all the booby traps protecting said bearer bonds, further highlighting the difference in trust & familiarity Artemis has with everyone but his father.
#artemis fowl#is this comprehensible? idk#i just think they're a fun relationship to explore#and like i get the reasons why the relationship between the two artemises isn't really elaborated on in canon#and why it exists as it does in the first place but still#your son - whom you had a very businesslike relationship with in his young childhood - talks about money when you are returned to him#after being missing for nearly two years. you tell him you failed and want to be a better father and money isn't all that is important.#a handful of years pass and your son goes missing (and is presumed dead just like you were) and yet returns just like you did#barely a year later though while grappling with his actual death and corpse you find out that no actually nothing had changed#and he still went to his grave with the only bridge between the two of you being money with no interest in other hobbies#what a thing for Tim to experience#from an overthinking and reading too much into things perspective that's heartbreaking#we never hear about Juliet's interest in sports cars or pop music yet that was included in artemis's will for her#compared to like beckett who we know likes bugs and slime and how artemis put that in his will for him#so when we get snippets of Tim's other interests (solar powered planes or his bio-hybrid prosthetic or running marathons or whatever)#and yet Arty didn't include anything about those interests in his will for his father is kinda like... huh.#you never really did change your perception of what would make your dad happy did you#and that would've destroyed Tim
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finished hera & started lady macbeth and we have got to start blaming women for shit again for real
#this is a joke. but.#if i have to read one more retelling~ that’s just#‘but what if the woman was ASSAULTED ALL THE TIME and had NO AGENCY so everything bad she did was JUSTIFIED or a LIE???’ please stop#when you’re actively taking agency away from women written and portrayed in deeply patriachal cultures you’re not giving them a voice#youre taking the voice they had away.#women worked around and within the patriarchy while having feelings and ambitions and wants and dreams and flaws and virtues forever.#without the necessity of ‘but what if the MAN in her life was just SUPER EVIL and NOT NUANCED and she was just ASSAULTED’#what if no women wanted anything but SAFETY ever what if they were never power hungry or jealous or predatory ever themselves?#yes circe did this too if i have to see one more person say ‘oh except circe’ i will scream.#circe is literally like. the worst offender here.#pivoting back though sorry but it also all feels very bioessentialist PRESUMABLY without meaning to but ‘oh men are just inherently evil#with no nuance. nuance is for women and by nuance we mean was just super oppressed and wronged’ is uh haha actually terfy as fuck#good ol lady macunsexmeherebeth who definitely didn’t plot the whole thing to begin with for sure needs to be Given a Voice#i haven’t finished this one yet btw. i like this author’s work on the whole i just think this one is a swing and a miss because like.#this is not a woman who didn’t do anything and who didn’t have a voice.#if you want to show us her perspective in terms of her psychology and her inner workings and how she got to this place excellent wonderful#but not when the answer is just ‘but actually nothing was her fault ever!!!!!!’ like. lol let her want that crown for reasons that aren’t#my husband is abusive.#like oh my god.#same with hera you’re gonna go with the ONE tradition where she didn’t want to marry zeus#and all her rage is just about Injustice and the Patrairchy and not actual envy. okay.#she & zeus were an og most toxic couple of all time but they WERE in virtually all tradition a couple still who had times of reconciliation#and attachment.#like you know. actual toxic and abusive relationships do.#also it completely erased rhea who was actually the character whose story this more closely resembled#(warrior goddess with flop husband she finally schemes against)#instead she just. uh. went away oh no hera’s so afraid of being weak like mama she must break the cycle.#like okay this is the story you want to tell stop superimposing it on mythical entities from thousands of years ago then.#justice4rhea.#okay sorry. end rant.
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As much fun as I'm having doing my alternative run of DA2, one thing I really miss about my mage Hawke is his friendship with Merrill.
Those two are best friends and he's 100% supportive in her goals toward the eluvian. Ed has the humorous/charming personality, too, which bounces off super well with Merrill. He doesn't think any less of her for her usage of blood magic; if anything he's impressed by her level of strength and willpower. He's so ready to defend her from the other companions and the clan, and he's absolutely out here attempting to matchmake her and Carver....at least he is in my heart because the game won't let me, it's fine, I'm not bitter about it or anything-
But then my warrior Hawke? She has the diplomatic personality with quite a bit of direct/aggressive thrown in there and she ends up having the same attitude as that one party banter Aveline and Merrill have: "Merrill, you're clearly talented and meant for great things, but you're stupid," and that's so difficult for me to lean into. I'm trying to play Aris differently so she ends up being so condescending to Merrill, like she's trying to gently tell her to give up on the eluvian but it doesn't come off well.
Also if Carver was around, Aris would be the opposite of Ed, she'd look at the suggestion of her brother and Merrill getting together and be like, "No :) I don't think so :) I like Merrill, she's my friend :) but she's not right for Carver."
But I guess it makes sense; if you told him that Bethany would giggle and kick her feet and twirl her hair around Sebastian, Ed would've thrown him in the ocean as a warning. Meanwhile, Aris is like, "A handsome prince that could take my sister away from all of this? Wonderful, we just need to work on his incorrect views on mages, but that shouldn't be a problem :)"
Anyway I miss playing Hawke as the #1 Merrill stan.
#dragon age 2#da2#da2 merrill#carver hawke#bethany hawke#sebastian vael#da2 hawke#edgar hawke#aris hawke#listen i'm a little weirdo i like comparing the different ways to play the heroes of da games but especially the different hawkes#i like comparing my own hawkes and i like looking at other peoples hawkes and the different relationship dynamics they bring to the table#kicks my little gremlin brain into gear#like ed always rivals aveline and their relationship is strained at best... meanwhile aris and aveline are ride or die best friends#and seeing aveline from both perspectives is....... well it's an experience i'll just say that sksksks#oh also i miss anders so much sksksk i miss his romance and the dynamic he and ed have#aris rejected him right from the start and while it's neat to see her character through an unromantic lens i still miss him and his bullshi#aris romanced isabela and *that* makes me want to bite nom nom so interesting and heartbreaking in its own way like losing leandra like tha#and then dealing with the qunari bullshit only to find out isabela's part in it before she abandons aris with the book#and then aris reunites with bethany who is bitter and pissed off and can't get away from her fast enough like........ the end of act 2 y'al#aris was *ready* for the arishok fight solely because she needed an outlet for her frustration and grief and agony#she couldn't kick his ass fast enough sksksksks and now she's so Done with everything and then isabela admits that she's in love with her#and it's just................. a lot. it's so much. i can't#anders and isabela's respective romances drive me nuts for very different reasons i love them#this has been another 'cj needs to ramble about [blank]' post#stay tuned for next week where she continues to sob about the hawke twins
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*sighs in post mildly broke containment again* there's nothing wrong with reading willow as a lesbian, this is a piece of fiction, and the post I made took on a jokey tone for a reason and is ultimately more about underlying bi-erasure on tv than anything else kaybye ✌
#im watching btvs#jeepers creepers but btvs is bringing out the *taking it all very seriously in a very morally high-and-mighty kind of way* crowd#and i dont mean about shit that matters such as discussing racism or misogyny in fandom#just about whether you agree or dislike someone's read of a situation - move on my friend if you dont agree#i mean i could go on a rant about HOW the show portrayed willow-the-now-lesbian#(and while im at it why i hc buffy-the-apparent-heterosexual as bi too but nobody has disputed that part oddly enough)#but that would be an effort im truly not interested in expending on this day and possibly never and has been written before#im mostly just live-blogging and moving on#if im writing anything fanfic-wise it'll be about kendra and that'll be my full fandom contribution#ok but the ONE thing i'll mention is the fight willow has with tara which is one of the rare Ls for tara#where she basically admits that she's afraid this is a phase because willow has loved men/been with oz#and that's just an interesting fight from a meta perspective because the idea that bi women have to *choose a side*#and are consistently questioned and doubted by their lesbian partners#is a core element of biphobia within a gay relationship that many people can attest to#hell it's a big part of bisexual rep that is conscious of itself that at some point there's a plotline where the person is questioned#about their true loyalties and asked to take a side#btvs ofc is NOT conscious of this underlying tension and in fact i would argue is agreeing with tara that this is what needs to happen#for several other reasons as well#but literally people have WRITTEN about this im not saying anything bold and controversial here AND it doesnt take away#from lesbian willow reads to acknowledge the flawed approach of the show to her sexuality like come on#willow rosenberg
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Me, attending the latest in a ridiculous number of funerals this year in the place of a childhood friend who couldn't be there, watching the lifeless body of an old lady who used to make me snacks in the kitchen when I was a kid be carted away forever while my friend's mother cries and tells me she's grateful I could be there because it felt like having the support of her own daughter, hugging her and talking reassuringly and not processing a single one of these emotions: ... I am going to write soooo much fanfiction about this
#''this'' being collective grief. because tbvh it's the main reason I haven't written very much this year (but will slowly start to)#I write to remind myself I am lucky. I keep telling myself this but even now when I feel awful I am so lucky#I am lucky that none of these funerals have involved very close family members or friends of mine#and I am lucky to be living in conditions with the space to write and space to grieve#and space to come together to mourn with dignity while people not that far away from me are not receiving the same privilege rn#I am lucky my dad was with me today and I spent the evening chatting with him on the terrace I am lucky he is alive I am lucky I am lucky#(apologies if this sounds like a robot malfunctioning lmao writing is just how I process things)#(and apparently I just don't seem to feel like I have the right to feel bad about any of this anywhere except my st@r trek blog hehe)#anyway. To stay on theme I shall say something about Trills :D#I imagine loss and grief must register very differently to them. very Non Linearly in the literal sense but also a highly abstract one#even I feel this massive sense of time warp between all these funerals; and this chest-crushing distance between me and my friends#how do Trills even exist#how do they wake up every day remembering all those friends and children and parents who loved them and they loved and are gone now#and still function#how does Ezri feel walking around with memories of parents that aren't hers (but were soooo much better than hers) taking care of her#does she feel comforted by them? does it feel like the people in those memories were always comforting HER specifically?#does it even matter who it belonged to originally if a memory is HERS now?#does Ezri mourn for any parents of past hosts more than she knows she will mourn for her own mother one day?#does having all this lived experience bring her reassuring amounts of perspective for a 20-something or just overwhelm her all the more?#idk; but I hope she learns to take comfort in her past hosts' memories of family eventually...#(...again. I am going to write sooooo much fan fiction about this lmao)#cw death
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Thinks abt my lob corp nuggets oh so hard. I may only have second hand half remembered knowledge of project moon worldbuilding but I will still forever obsess over my lil guys who suck absolute ass
#rat rambles#oc posting#I <3 women who are just straight up bad people#this is mostly abt my girl yuri but its also abt my girl juliet#yuri is well. she's certainly smth.#she's very fascinated in psychology and in particular the psychology behind abnormalities#and it is for this reason that shes in disciplinary#for most of her life one of the things that had facinated her most is the mind'd reaction to pain and suffering#so she finds suppressing abnormalities to be very fun and interesting#her girlfriend maxy certainly has an interesting perspective on this aspect of yuri to but it kindly#maxy has a lot of self loathing mostly relating to how numb shes become to everything and how unatural it is for her to care abt stuff#so she sees yuri as a far better person than she is because she still manages to care and be passionate abt things#she deeply admires and loves yuri and feels like she doesnt deserve yuri's affection#maxy is also the only person that I say yuri genuinely cares abt on a personal level#most of the time even ppl yuri rly likes arent safe from her morbid curiosity but she genuinely cares abt maxy's wellbeing#now juliet is generally a lot less extreme than yuri but shes still not great#juliet and her bestie loki both are genuinely very invested in the cause and goals of lob corp which is the first red flag#but juliet is the more noteworthy of the two actions wise because she actually interacts with fellow employees#she was among the first employees here and while she comes off as friendly and nice she takes her job incredibly seriously and doesn't fuck#around when it comes to productivity levels#she generally respects malkuth a lot more than any of the other robots and actively dislikes most of the others#most newbies tend to like her because of her being one of the few higher ranking employees thats friendly and welcoming but most that make#it longer term tend to realize quick that she doesn't care abt any of them#but whats often worse than her not caring abt you is her seeing potential in you#if she sees potential in someone she will make it very clear and do everything in her power to help them realize that potential#one of my other higher ranking guys mason very much hates juliet because of that exact situation#mason rly didnt know what she was getting into when she got hired at lob corp and mostly worked with the much softer abnos for her first#while at the job until she was thrown into the deep end to work on censored#most of the other higher level employees at the time wouldnt be able to make it through a work session with censored but she was#barely. but it was enough that juliet took notice of her and decided that maybe this guy was worth keeping around afterall
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What is your OC’s Role in a Tragic Play?
I was tagged by @corvosattano, @fourlittleseedlings, @shellibisshe and @aceghosts to take this uquiz for my OC/s, thank you!
Not tagging anyone since it’s been a while, but if you see this and would like to do it consider this an open tag, and feel free to tag me in on your results :)
Deputy Morgan Malone (FC5)
misunderstood villain
prepare for an onslaught of both the most dehumanizing and hateful takes, and flood of thirst comments. you are chronically misunderstood. whether or not you're actually evil is debatable. you may be acting out for revenge, to defend someone you love, or even just to protect yourself. you're a pretty jaded person. you don't trust or even really like most people. maybe you did at one point. but that part of you is gone, and you don't go a single day without grieving it. you think a lot about what your life could have been. you're stuck in the past. you're angry and maybe you don't even want to be, but this is the only way you can see to survive. you're open, but less in a trusting way and more like a wound. you don't like to let people see you, but the hurt spills out of you before you can stop it. you're impulsive, even as you try hard to plan and prepare. maybe someday your side of the story will finally be heard. until then, you can convince yourself that being hated is safer anyway.
#so this isn't really the role i see for morgan#but it's a similar result to a few i've gotten from uquizzes#and given that i don't really have a canonical ending for morgan's story yet...maybe?#as time goes on and the reaping really only gets worse for her and her patience wears out and she finally snaps#and then - without going TOO far into the darkness because that's not her - refuses to apologise because 'it was a shitty situation and i#couldn't have done any better'#i don't know#she was created to be a bit of a foil to joseph - and developed as i learned more about him#and she has a very similar 'i saw something terrible happening and was i supposed to do nothing? i chose to act' vibe#so taking on a similar role to him - as a lot of fc protagonists end up mirroring their antagonist - wouldn't be completely inappropriate#for her#going further and further to try to protect the people of hope county and just get it OVER with#while less and less people understand her and she's less and less inclined to explain her reasoning#and has less and less energy to try to connect with people#she is a little untrusting of people - has trust issues - but i wouldn't say she doesn't like most people#but anyway - interesting result#and certainly true of her from the cult's perspective#uquiz#tag games
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A few months ago, some of you might know if you keep up with this blog, I went to Collect-A-Con LA. It was truly on a whim. Literally the day before my girlfriend and I had just come back from our Europe trip. Normally I'd be so tired and jetlagged but for some reason I was feeling really antsy and energized and just needed to go somewhere and get out of the house.
I found out that Collect-A-Con LA was happening the following day and that a lot of the original Pokemon voice cast would be there. So I bought a ticket, drew/printed up a picture that I wanted to get signed and got up early to drive to the convention center (you have to understand that I hate driving in town and also very much never wake up early). I don't know what possessed me to do this but I'm so glad I did.
I ended up having the privilege of meeting Eric Stuart, Veronica Taylor and of course, Rachael Lillis.
She was masked up, looked tired, and a bit sick. And at the time, I assumed she might've caught a cold over the weekend of the con. I went to her table and she still smiled and gave me all of her attention and time. I paid her assistant for an autograph, gave Rachael the drawing I'd done and she got to signing it. Her assistant said the print I had was cute and asked where I got it. I told her that I drew it myself and that I spent a LOT of my time drawing Team Rocket and other various Pokemon fanart. When I said that, Rachel stopped mid-sign and looked up and squinted at me and asked "are you Kiana Mai"? My heart skipped. I had no idea she knew who I was and was surprised that, given how many Pokemon fanartists there are in the world, she was able to pick me out. I left that interaction so happy and felt so seen. Soon after, I went to get my print signed by Veronica Taylor and while in her line, noticed Rachael had left her table; presumably not feeling well and had to leave the con early. I remember thinking how lucky I was to catch her before she left.
A couple months later, I saw the gofundme that her sister posted, detailing what Rachel was going through for the past few years and her battle with cancer. It put that convention day in such a different perspective for me.
All I could think about was how much she cared about her fans and how in touch with her community she was to go to a convention while being in so much pain and suffering in silence. I obviously don't know her personally, but based on how other fans who've met her, as well as her colleagues have spoken about her, I got the impression that she was an amazing, thoughtful person who cared about the people around her. That was only solidified for me based on this singular interaction a few months ago.
Rest in Peace Rachael Lillis. You've touched so many lives with your voice and so much of us grew up listening you. Thank you for everything!
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everyone always wants to talk about jenny nicholsons video essays and i’m like does ANYONE want to talk about the art of the mattress aka the sleep song. bc it plays in my head every time i see anything about her.
#sleep sleep sleep time to go to sleep now… it is night and i need to sleep while it is dark….#also of course it’ll be okay from the wedding episode <3#anyway she blocks me on twitter also. not as scandalous as it seems i just made a vague tweet abt friendship is witchcraft#and presumably got auto blocked#i wasn’t even calling her out either i think i was just like. reflecting on how the song from it was trending on tiktok#it’s an understandable reason to block people just. not wanting to engage with that part of her history i get that#this was also before her briny video so she hadn’t spoken on it in a long time#brony*#i genuinely like that video a LOT i think she is able to offer a really unique perspective on a lot of brony fandom culture#not just as a big name creator but as a long time fan of older mlp gens#and ofc what she had to say about the use of the g slur in fiw was like. i mean i believe her.#that she and the cocreator had no idea it was a slur and dropped that aspect when they realized it was.#like i didn’t know for a long time either. it’s not my place to be like ‘and that means it’s fine and not a problem’#and i don’t think it IS fine. but certainly everything she said about her intentions seems like. true and honest.#anyway brony stuff aside i hate her for the way she’s spoken about john boyega. no apologies for THAT huh!!!!#there are some things out there that ppl attribute to her that are fully fake/edited but#ppl will also say ‘oh she didn’t say anything bad about him that was fake’ no she very much did#but i’ve followed her on youtube since she was still actively making fiw like she had a bit with a pony oc that she did for a while#i remember the first star wars video when i was like oh she Is A Reylo#which on its own is like. ew but i’m still interested in her stuff#but you know. she crossed a line i think#and i do still find her stuff INTERESTING#and i am genuinely still fond of fiw though a lot of that is nostalgia#but like she has a lot of interesting stuff to say about mlp and obviously as a theme park fan she’s inescapable#and it pisses me off that she’s friends with other creators i DO like but also they know her as a person and i don’t#sorry this was gonna be a short post i just can’t talk about her a normal amount#i have to explain every thought i have about her#anyway i haven’t watched the star wars hotel vid but i probably will eventually#in like an incognito tab#r.txt
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girl next door | wanda maximoff & fem!reader
Wanda attempts to become closer with the young woman who moved in beside her while balancing her work and personal life, though she’s doubtful of the possibility that you might be interested in her at all.
Word count: 23 310
Tags | MDNI: smut, fluff, shy idiots flirting, wanda is a cutie and kind of a pervert, specified age-gap, masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, dildo usage, praise, wanda doesn’t know what mommy kink is yet but you can tell she’d be into it, milf!wanda maximoff, lesbian reader
Checking her rear mirror before signalling left and merging into the adjacent lane, Wanda drove around the moving truck parked outside of one of the townhouse buildings she lived beside. Beside her detached house was a townhouse owned and put up for rent for temporary long-stay renters, and often, around the beginning of the summer or the start of September, Wanda would often see professionals working in Jersey City moving in.
It was the start of the summer now, and there were presently movers helping to carry small pieces of furniture through the open townhouse doors. It was furnished inside, Wanda assumed, though the furniture they were bringing in seemed to be building up to some sort of office — perhaps there was an extra empty room in there for renters, and whoever was moving in was setting up a workspace.
Wanda nearly missed her driveway while she was scrutinising everything the movers were bringing in, trying to pin down whoever it was that was renting. When Wanda stepped out and shut the car door, she could see a young woman from above the roof of her car stepping out of the townhouse’s front door, talking with the movers and letting them know where to place the furniture.
Just when it seemed that the young woman’s gaze shifted over to Wanda, who was, admittedly, staring a bit too hard, Wanda’s phone buzzed with an incoming phone call and she quickly broke eye contact to pick it up. She locked her car and walked up to her front door, carrying a stack of paperwork of upcoming orders that she needed to sort through.
She thought of you again while making dinner, curious about you for some reason she didn’t quite understand. She wondered if you were just a younger relative helping the actual renter move in, or if someone who looked as young as you had really moved into Westview by herself just beside her.
From the kitchen island counter where she was standing eating her dinner, Wanda looked through the living room window where she could watch you continue to unpack a few small things from the back of your trunk. She regarded you curiously; perhaps it was your age or the fact that you seemed to have moved in alone that seemed to be interesting to her, though Wanda wasn’t sure why any of that would necessarily pique her interest as she felt like it had.
In the morning, Wanda prepared for the twins’ arrival in the afternoon when she’d have to pick them up after work, waking up with enough time to clean.
Vision, Wanda’s ex-husband, worked as an attorney in New Jersey and often stayed in New York, but when it was his turn with the twins, he stayed in New Jersey — much closer to Westview.
Wanda had always counted herself as lucky for having been married to and having children with a good man. Though she and Vision were necessarily divorced, she never had to worry about what would become of their connection, and she knew that their relationship wouldn’t regress into something difficult between the both of them nor with their children.
However it became rather clear as their relationship progressed, especially after they had children, that the directions of their ambitions and perspectives of their lives were diverting from each other; nothing about them aligned except for their children.
Vision was Wanda’s neighbour when she first moved into her apartment once arriving in America alone. He was smart and very kind and showed her around. He was a westernised Brit, which was palatable for Wanda who found security with a man who knew so much about the country she had just moved to, but who also wasn’t overbearing, and was rather well-mannered and docile.
When they first met, Vision was finishing his second last year of law school, and Wanda didn’t have much going on for herself until she made plans to open a business. It all went quite fast after they married; Vision passed his bar and Wanda’s floral shop had begun to find its footing, and they decided to finally have a family.
But Vision’s career and dreams took him further than what Westview could offer, and Wanda wasn’t the same young woman with wide-eyes and unsteady footing like she was when they met — she had dreams too, and children.
By the time the twins turned two, it wasn’t difficult to figure out that things were different. Their dynamic had changed, they weren’t of the same mind as they used to be, and Vision could tell that Wanda had changed too; she hadn’t intended to be distant, but it always felt like her life took place somewhere her husband couldn’t reach. She was changing and growing, and she didn’t need a crutch to lean on anymore.
She wasn’t as unsteady and lost as she used to be.
By the time she was leaving the house, it should’ve been around the time that Vision was dropping the twins off, but instead, she opened the door to see them running up the porch stairs.
Surprised at the way they rushed passed her, both giving her a quick hello before they ran up the stairs, Wanda stuttered, “What–”
“They forgot their class projects,” Vision explained with an awkward smile, stepping onto the porch and watching Tommy and Billy dash into their rooms.
“The Bristol boards?”
He nodded.
“Did they behave?” she asked, holding her purse with both hands in front of her.
“Of course,” her ex-husband answered with a smile. “We went to the cinema on Friday. Tommy cried during the final scene and Billy was quite supportive.”
Wanda and Vision shared a laugh, and chatted about how it was going with the new firm he was with and about Wanda’s shop, until the twins came back down holding their school projects.
“Good luck on your presentations today,” Wanda told them and leaned down, holding each of their faces delicately and kissing each of their foreheads.
“Thank you, mama,” Billy replied cheerily and gave her the best hug he could with his other arm full of Bristol board.
Vision and Wanda spoke a little more about when he would pick them up this weekend for their grandfather’s birthday, which Wanda couldn’t attend because she had promised to help set up a town event celebrating the start of the new season.
Westview was a popular destination during the Spring for it was located in a relatively secluded area of New Jersey, and well-known for its nature reserves, which also meant Westview well-decorated for the season.
That also meant Wanda and her floral shop were always hard at work throughout the start of Spring.
From the corner of her eye, Wanda saw your car pull into the driveway, and for a moment she saw you briefly running your eyes over her and Vision and the twins in the car.
Throughout the day, Wanda thought of you for the same reason as she did last night, and with the same degree of inexplicability. While she signed and read through paperwork for orders and put together arrangements alongside her employees, she thought of how long you might be renting and where you’d come from. She thought of the kind of flowers you might like; she tried her best to recall the furniture and items you’d brought in yesterday to try and pin down your style.
Once she realised how much she’d been thinking of you and realising it was strange that she kept acting as if she hadn’t been thinking of you, Wanda decided to put together a bouquet for you as a welcome gift.
After she picked the twins up from school, she was sure to keep the bouquet in its vase secured in the passenger’s seat, checking on it occasionally as she spoke with the boys about how their days and presentations went.
“Go put your things away,” Wanda told them as she ushered them through the front door, “I’ll come to help you with your homework in just a minute.” She locked the front door and headed back to her car, reaching into the passenger’s seat for the bouquet.
Your car was in the driveway, and she could see some movement through the window beside the dining room.
For the first time since she even thought to put the bouquet together, Wanda wondered if she was coming off too strong, or even too strange. After all, why would the older woman neighbouring you introduce herself with a bouquet of flowers?
Wanda could justify herself to you; she owned a floral shop and was working all day and didn’t have time to give you anything else and she always made a point to be friendly to neighbours.
Before she could even justify herself to herself, she was already knocking on your front door holding the vase securely with two hands. She heard some rustling beyond the door, and a few chaotic tumbles, before the front door opened and Wanda got a good look at you for the first time.
You were young — a college student, she presumed — and pretty.
Wanda felt her words catch in her throat and she internally panicked trying to get some form of an introduction out. She hadn’t known what she had expected from you when she knocked on your door or what unsuspecting part of her curiosity was taken aback by your appearance, but Wanda forced out an introduction as normal-seeming as she could.
“Hi,” she said with a friendly smile, “I’m Wanda Maximoff, your next-door neighbour.”
Panicked and deciding that her initial introduction wasn’t enough, she added, “I thought I should introduce myself.”
She couldn’t seem to stop rambling. “A-And I work at a floral shop in the shopping district, hence the flowers,” she explained then held the vase out to you.
You seemed genuinely happy and appreciative when you replied, “Oh, that’s so nice of you! Thank you so much.” Wanda was grateful when you took the bouquet from her and didn’t look like you thought the gesture was strange.
“I was hoping I might be able to meet some people from the neighbourhood soon and maybe explore Westview a little,” you told her, “but I’ve just been so busy unpacking — so thank you, really.”
“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” you introduced yourself. “I saw you this morning and thought to say hello today too, but I think I’ve just been so overwhelmed with the move.”
Wanda thought you were sweet and rather cute. She attributed it to the fact that you stood out from the other people of Westview who were older and a bit less spry. “It’s normal to be a bit overwhelmed once first moving into a new place,” she told you supportively. “I’m sure you’ll adjust in no time; Westview is easy to get comfortable in.”
“Thank you,” you answered graciously. “I’m happy to finally be able to talk to someone here.”
You were trusting and talkative too, Wanda noted.
“I would be happy to show you around whenever you have some free time,” Wanda found herself offering quicker than she could think through what she was saying. She added, trying to save her first impression, “Only if you don’t mind — I assume you’re a student and rather busy.”
“I would really love to have a tour!” you answered enthusiastically. “Thank you so much. I feel adjusted to Westview already.”
Wanda felt herself flush, feeling appreciated and flattered by your words.
“Would it be okay if we exchanged numbers?” you asked. “I can let you know when I’m free next! I should be sometime at the end of the week; I don’t start my work until next week.”
“O-Of course, that’s completely okay,” Wanda said with a wide neighbourly smile, stuttering slightly for a reason she couldn’t exactly explain to herself. It was normal to exchange numbers with acquaintances, but the idea of you asking for her number made her feel excited.
You kept taking her by surprise, though she wasn’t sure why.
For the rest of the night, Wanda tended to the twins — helping them with their homework, making them dinner, and playing Minecraft with them before bed.
They said she was bad at it, but they always asked for her to play with them.
As she got ready in her washroom after putting the boys to bed, Wanda picked up her phone at the sound of a text and found a message from you: Hi Ms Maximoff, it’s Y/N! Thanks again for the flowers, they’re beautiful.
The way in which you addressed her was all too formal, but there was something about how polite and proper it was that she enjoyed, even if it made her feel a little old.
While Wanda found herself smiling at her phone and thinking up a way to reply, you texted again: You mentioned you worked at a floral shop in town. Where is it located?
Eventually, you spoke to her about what you were studying and what you were in Westview for and for how long. She talked about Tommy and Billy and their father and when she opened her business. You and Wanda continued to text you back and forth until she realised she had stayed up about thirty minutes past when she planned to sleep, and she had to tell you goodnight.
Wanda couldn’t remember the last time someone seemed so genuinely interested in her life and interested in sharing things about themselves with her. It made her feel interesting and paid attention to.
In the morning immediately after dropping the twins off and saying goodbye to them, her thoughts went to you and the conversation you shared together last night.
You had just graduated and were now doing research with a professor, and you wanted to explore some research before beginning your Master’s. Since your professor’s research institute was located closer to Westview than northern New Jersey, you decided to move to Westview for the duration of your six-month research period.
Around the beginning of the day Wanda thought of you the most, wondering particularly about when she might see you again and when you might be free, until the afternoon rolled around when her scheduled employees came in and she started picking up the pace with her orders and arrangements.
It wasn’t a large shop, so there were typically four people working there at a time. One dealt with walk-in orders and those who wanted to purchase anything on display in the front, another with shipments and administrative work, and two that helped with preparing and putting together the arrangements.
Wanda oversaw and managed all of it along with Agatha, who she’d opened the shop with, so she worked each day aside from Fridays and Saturdays — unless she needed to be at work — and Sundays when the shop was closed.
Spring was busy for them, but Westview was a rather small town and their shop was also local and a bit smaller. However, it was from Wanda’s shop that businesses and sometimes the town ordered intricate arrangements for events or for statement display pieces.
But by the late afternoon, the shop had a visitor that Wanda hadn’t expected.
“Y/N,” Wanda uttered at the sight of you walking into the shop, looking around at the vases and flowers and succulents on display.
“Hi,” you greeted with a smile once you walked up to the cash register.
Wanda’s smile widened and she felt herself excited and unsteady at the thought that you might have come into the shop purposely just to visit her — but she couldn’t jump to conclusions. “Are you looking for another bouquet?” she teased.
You laughed and Wanda felt her chest flutter.
“No, not yet,” you answered. “I just thought I would return the welcome favour with a gift.”
You laid a cup of tea and a pastry on the counter between the both of you and Wanda found herself speechless by your gesture — you had come just to visit her after she told you where she worked, and you had brought a gift for her too.
“I finally got the chance to walk around today, and I thought to visit the shopping district first and stopped by the café down the street to get something for you. I hope you’re okay with Oolong.”
“Y/N…” Wanda didn’t know what to say, her hands laying themselves by the tea and pastry but not having enough confidence to take them. “You really didn’t have to — and to have come all the way over here!”
You laid your hand atop of Wanda’s and she felt her cheeks flush, her eyes flickering down to your soft hand for a brief moment before looking back up at your soft expression. “But I wanted to,” you told her, then retracted your hand. “I really am grateful and I hoped to be able to make my own impression if not pay you back for the gift.”
Wanda felt so warm and she finally gave in, taking the tea and pastry and moving it closer to her and beside the cash register. “Thank you so much, that’s very kind,” she said.
To have someone think of her so much, to go out of their way during their first day free from unpacking to visit her and make such a thoughtful gesture instilled in Wanda a feeling she hadn’t felt in a very long time — or ever, if she really thought about it.
She felt so cared for, and seen.
“Have you been liking the town so far?” she asked.
You nodded. “Westview is really beautiful, and I’m happy to have chosen to move here,” you answered.
“But you seem busy,” you said, looking around at the employees walking behind her with papers or assortments of flowers in their hands. “Hopefully we’re both free soon so you can show me around your favourite spots.”
“I’m really looking forward to that,” Wanda replied with an eager smile.
Over the next while, Wanda’s free time completely diminished and she struggled to find any time to see you like she’d promised or even talking with you in-person or over the phone.
You sometimes see her coming back late, sometimes looking fatigued or just in a rush to finally get home, so you didn’t want to push by messaging or visiting her, intruding where you shouldn’t as a neighbour and a new friend.
You imagined that the mere thought of you must just be another task she must complete and try to fit into her schedule, so you didn’t want to impose yourself and overwhelm her.
Wanda also thought often about reaching out to you just to ask how you’d been and to let you know that she’d just been rather overwhelmed for the last two weeks, but that she’d been thinking of you and hoping her schedule might free up soon.
She felt disappointed in the timing too, because she knew that your research project had already begun.
But she thought the attempts would be fruitless and unwanted — why message you just to say she still couldn’t fulfil her promise?
There was one time you nearly had a proper conversation with her a few days ago. You were outside planting some flowers you had bought, finally having finished packing inside and deciding that it was time to decorate the exterior of your place too.
Wanda was waiting for a ride from her coworker as her car was in the shop, and she had gone out to wait for her at the same time you were outside.
She asked how your research had been going and you spoke a little about that, but you spoke more about the flowers you were planting and Wanda’s tips on how to take care of them.
The conversation ended abruptly though the both of you had plenty more to say when a brunette older woman around Wanda’s age pulled into her driveway — and in a rather gorgeous vintage car.
A few times, Wanda saw you walking around town with Dottie, a teacher at Tommy and Billy’s school and a member of the town council, and Wanda sometimes saw her at the meetings when she occasionally stopped by.
They interacted a handful of times during events, but first met when she was Tommy and Billy’s teacher. She came off as condescending, at least to Wanda, but got along just fine with Vision.
She didn’t think there was any particular reason that Dottie would dislike her, but she understood that it did sometimes happen that some people just didn’t get along by nature. But she seemed to be getting along with you just fine — quite well actually, for how often she saw you walking together.
Over time when she had begun to hear from you less, Wanda figured that perhaps you had only just wanted to make a friend in Westview, and Dottie was around far more than she was.
Wanda supposed that Dottie was perhaps a bit more enthusiastic also. She was younger than her too, which Wanda guessed was something that you might like more — perhaps you had more in common with her.
It seemed like the only thing that aligned well between you and Wanda was where you lived.
“Ms Maximoff!” you called from your driveway, and Wanda turned to see you waving at her.
It was around six in the morning, and Wanda had to head to the shop early to receive some shipments.
“Hi, Y/N,” she answered and waved back with a pleased smile.
The two of you bridged the gap between the two driveways and met in between.
“Good morning,” Wanda greeted, her smile wider upon seeing you much closer.
Your eagerness to speak with her was refreshing and quite nice.
“Morning,” you replied. “Are you heading to work?”
She nodded and explained, “I have a few shipments coming in today that I need to be there for. And you? Are you heading to your professor’s office?”
“I am, yeah,” you said, a bit wearily as if feeling sheepish.
Sometimes you felt a little shy bringing up things that made the age difference between you and Wanda all the more obvious, like how you were basically going off to school just like her kids would while she was heading off to work at a shop she owned.
Wanda was about to ask why you seemed to lack enthusiasm about heading there, but then you asked: “Can I drive you to work? I can pick you up when you’re off.”
The offer took Wanda by surprise. You were so considerate of her, and without even a second thought to it. “O-Oh, really?” she stuttered. “You don’t have to do that. I’ve been coming home late recently; I don’t want to keep you up or bother you with waiting for me.”
“I know,” you said. “I hope it’s not stalkerish — it’s by complete coincidence, I promise — but sometimes I do see you coming home a bit later. But I have some things to read for my professor today that I’ll take home to do tonight, so I’ll be up.”
“That’s… really sweet. But why go out of your way?”
She couldn’t tell because you were facing away from the sunrise so your face had casted shadow upon it, but it seemed like you were blushing as if having been caught in an act.
Wanda only regarded you with curiosity, squinting a little against the sun so she could see you better.
“I don’t want to come off as pushy, I apologise,” you quickly explained. “It was just something that came to mind.”
“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” Wanda replied, waving her hands in front of her and placing a hand on your arm reassuringly when you looked unsure of yourself. She tried to conjure up something to explain why she was so confused and surprised by your kindnesses, but was quickly shut up by her own hand at the feeling of your still arm under her palm and the meeting of your eyes with hers.
She dropped her hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to sort through her thoughts for you.
The more Wanda thought about why it was so difficult to navigate your personality, the more she came to the realisation that aside from friends, and coworkers — which category, for whatever reason, Wanda didn’t think you fell into in that same informality — the only other experience she could call on was that which she had with Vision.
He was very formal and docile, and never took risks or said or did things out of what was expected. It seemed often that he was filling a role or going through the motions of things, which had never been very much of a problem for Wanda, who had thoroughly appreciated how static and steady he was.
As such, Wanda found herself often flustered and surprised by your affectionate gestures that told her you were interested in spending time with her, and spared no subtlety.
“I just feel a little guilty for having no time lately, and I haven’t really done you any favours,” she explained. “I think I just feel surprised when you take the time out of your day to think of me.”
Wanda worried that she might have embarrassed you, and she stayed silent, trying not to fuck anything else up by rambling in the way that she always felt like doing. She forgot that you had just finished your undergrad and that she was, in stark comparison, thirty-two years old, divorced, and living in a small town in New Jersey with two young kids.
Maybe she was struggling to view you in the casual way that anyone else in her shoes ought to, to see you like a neighbour or a passerby or a temporary renter of the house she lived beside.
But if not any of those came naturally to her, how did she see you?
Why did she keep thinking of how you saw Dottie?
“I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t sound like I was rejecting your kindness,” she added, unable to keep quiet for even a moment.
“Why do you feel like you have to do favours for me?” you asked. “It’s okay if you do nothing for me ever, actually. I think I just like your company.”
Did you like consistency, a stable presence?
Did it bother you that she had introduced herself to you, then didn’t talk much afterwards?
Was trying to see her more a form of seeking consistency in a new town, rather than out of an actual desire of seeing her?
“I would love to get a ride from you,” Wanda told you and smiled. “Thank you. And I don’t think you come off as pushy at all.”
You and Wanda talked a lot on the drive to the shop.
She told you that she’d been extremely stressed with balancing everything and getting everything prepared in time, and always tried to finish most if not all of her work before the weekends so she could spend the most of it with her sons.
Thankfully, she’d been able to catch up with everything as the orders had died down, and she predicted that she may be finished before the upcoming weekend.
“Um, I don’t know if maybe you might not want to — so feel free to say no, since I know you have stuff going on,” you said once you parked in front of Wanda’s shop. “But I went to this really nice garden a few days ago and saw that next weekend there’s a Spring festival event, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”
Before Wanda could answer, you added quickly, “Again, also, I don’t wanna add to your stress.”
“Y/N,” Wanda said, softly, before reaching over to place her hand atop of yours where it laid on your thigh. “I would love to go with you. I don’t think you’re a bother, and it wouldn’t add to my stress to see you at all. In fact, I think I would thoroughly enjoy taking the weekend to relax with you.”
“Really?”
Wanda nodded and smiled. “Westview has the Spring festival every year — it’s one of the reasons I’m quite busy at the shop at the start of the season.”
“Would your kids like to go?”
“Their father is taking them to New York City this weekend, so it’ll be just you and I, if that’s okay.”
The enthusiasm written on your face at her answer made Wanda giggle.
—
“What’s got you so jolly at six in the morning?” Agatha asked as she was unloading the shipment of glass vases from the delivery truck.
“What?” Wanda asked, looking up from her bag that she had placed in the backroom to start helping her unload.
The two women had been friends since Wanda moved into Westview with Vision years ago. She was there for her before they divorced, during it, and after, and helped Wanda open her business.
In fact, Agatha was Wanda’s right-hand woman in the shop, and they worked closely in terms of their job position and responsibilities.
Agatha stood up straight and put her hands on her hips, surveying her best friend.
“What are you looking at?” Wanda inquired hastily, leaning over to try and lift up a rather large securely-wrapped vase — it was for a new store’s grand opening for this upcoming weekend, so they ordered a rather large ensemble. “Can you help me?”
She ignored Wanda’s request for help and pressed on. “Are you seeing someone?”
“What? No! I’m not seeing anyone.”
Agatha squinted and her fingers tapped distractedly against her hip. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Agatha, I’m sure. Please–”
“Did you sleep with someone last night? A one-night stand, then.”
Wanda stood up straight and put her hands on her own hips defiantly. “No!” she answered with finality. “Why are you asking me all this?”
“You just look like…”
“Like what?”
“You look smitten.”
She never used the term smitten in thinking about how she felt about you, but to have someone else call it that made Wanda reevaluate her feelings toward you.
Is that how she felt?
“It’s just nice to be noticed… and-and taken care of,” Wanda said as she and Agatha started restocking the inventory room, with Wanda checking things off their checklist and taking inventory count — albeit distractedly.
“Honey,” Agatha started, setting down a planter on the table Wanda was leaning her hip on and standing in front of her. “I’m so happy that you’ve met Y/N, and she seems really sweet, but I hope you know what you’re doing with someone younger than you.”
She added, “It’s not like this is something familiar to you. The only person you’ve really been with is your ex-husband, and you were the younger woman.”
Wanda looked down at the checklist, thinking. “I don’t think I’m really expecting her to… to want anything. I don’t think she could even be interested in that,” she said. “I think maybe I should just see things from a black-and-white perspective — see things as they are.”
“Don’t get me wrong — I don’t want to deter you from pursuing who you’re interested in, Wanda,” Agatha told her. “I just don’t want to see you hurt. I know you’ve been married and that you have kids, but you have a wide-eyed view of the world. I don’t want to see you get hurt or let down.”
—
“Were you busy today?” you asked as you held the passenger door open for Wanda.
“Thank you,” she said with a grateful smile as she slid in. “No — Agatha was working with me all day.”
When you got into the driver’s seat, you asked, “Who’s that?”
“She’s a good friend of mine, and we opened the shop together,” Wanda explained, buckling herself in. “How was your day?”
The conversation was so casual and almost domestic, and the comfort of being able to see you after work felt a lot like coming back home after a long day.
“I guess not so bad,” you answered, making your way home. “I was reading and taking notes all day.”
After a moment of trying to garner some confidence, Wanda spoke. “Y/N, I want to say that I really appreciate your company, and how kind you’ve been to me,” she said honestly, playing with her fingers with her hands tucked between her thighs. “I don’t have a lot of time to meet new people, and Westview is rather small, so it’s also rare for anyone to be as thoughtful as you.”
She added, “I thought I should be honest, and I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate the time you take for me.”
You shifted a little in your seat, and Wanda thought maybe you were just taking a moment to choose your words carefully.
“I didn’t think you were unappreciative,” you reassured. “I was just trying to be friendly.”
Friendly.
Wanda looked at you for a few moments, studying your face, until you turned and smiled at her. She returned the smile and looked back to the road silently.
Had she embarrassed you this morning?
Was she misreading things?
She wanted to sink into the seat and fall right through to the core of the earth.
The rest of the drive was filled mostly with small talk, though it didn’t feel very awkward. However, Wanda felt like she was on edge, like she had some responsibility to be more direct or open, and she didn’t quite know how else to be anything but hesitant and unsure of herself.
She felt disappointed when you pulled into her driveway, now having been unable to communicate her affection for you properly throughout the drive.
“By the way, uh…” You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly and Wanda looked at you, anxious about what you might say.
If you were going to apologise for being so forward and open with her, she wouldn’t know what to do next. She wanted to keep becoming closer with you, and to spend time with you like you’d discussed, and she wouldn’t know how to take that up on her own if you decided to apologise for everything.
“I made you dinner,” you said finally and turned around to reach in the backseat to hand Wanda a tupperware of pasta that was still quite warm. “You’re always coming back late, and I’m sometimes having dinner later because I just get caught up with the work I’m doing, so I thought I’d just make you some since I was gonna pick you up.”
You had an awkward, nervous smile on your lips and your thumb kept tapping against the lid as you spoke.
Wanda melted, her hand coming to her chest as she leaned forward to take a look at what looked like spaghetti. “Y/N, I don’t know what to say… You didn’t have to…”
She felt truly a loss for words, being entirely unable to remember the last time someone had been so considerate of her.
Since her divorce, most of Wanda’s life had been occupied by her job and her children. It wasn’t anything to complain about, and she very rarely ever did, but your kindness and attention the past little while reminded her of how infrequently she had anything new happen in her life.
“You’re so considerate of me,” she said as sincerely as she could communicate, looking up from the food and at you, who met her eyes with a soft blush before looking away.
The bashfulness of your reaction made Wanda take her bottom lip between her teeth, a small grin forming on her lips, equally as nervous but also fueled by her intrigue in you.
“Thank you for driving me and making me dinner,” Wanda said after unlocking her front door.
When she turned, you were standing on her porch looking at her expectantly, the tupperware in hand. She thought you looked so sweet… and young — just innocent.
There was something so delicate about the respectful distance the both of you kept, a lingering interest in one another, and something that just felt tense.
It made Wanda ache in ways she couldn’t quite explain.
Even with Vision, the excitement she’d felt with him was different from what she was feeling now. She was so young back when they first met, and the pull she’d felt towards him was similar to that of a lighthouse’s to a stranded sailor.
There was so much she’d yet to learn or live through when she first met him, and she often wondered how things might’ve been if she hadn’t spent so much of her time tied down.
But at the end of everything, there were the twins, and Wanda could never truly wish for anything that had happened up until now to change if it meant not having them.
If she thought about it, it seemed that most of what she did was settle for a lack of other opportunity; nothing very new or exciting happened in her life nor in Westview, and by the time she was no longer who she was when she first moved to America, she was engaged with plans for children and a future with the first man she’d met when she came here.
She suddenly felt quite determined to become close with you, for it certainly wasn’t very often that anyone paid her any mind.
Especially not someone like you.
“I really enjoy your company, Ms Maximoff, and I know you think I’m always going so far out of my way for you, but honestly, I like to be able to help,” you insisted.
Wanda felt a surge in the depths of her lower stomach and up to her chest at the polite tone of your voice and the way you looked in the warm orange of her porch light. She stepped forward and took the tupperware from you. She wrapped an arm around your upper back and pecked your cheek.
“The effort isn’t lost on me, I assure you,” she said, then pulled away with a soft smile to find your cheeks slightly flushed and your eyes darting around nervously. Her smile could only widen in response and she laughed a little, pulling away from you to head inside.
She bid you a goodbye with a wave of her hand which you returned, and Wanda closed the front door behind her.
Almost immediately once she closed the door, the twins called from their father’s phone to talk with her before they headed to bed; sometimes they called in the evenings when they were away, and especially if they’d done something fun with their father earlier.
They greeted her together: “Hi, mom!”
“Hi, boys,” she replied with a widening grin as she set her things down, balancing your tupperware in the other arm. “Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”
Then there came the excuses of wanting to stay up to speak with her. She thought they were cute when they were making excuses, so she pretended she didn’t catch on.
It wasn’t until after the call ended and Wanda was in the middle of eating the dinner you’d prepared for her that she finally had time to reflect on some things.
Firstly, the dinner was delicious, and so that made a marvellous impression in her mind about you as a well-put-together student who knew how to cook for herself.
Then she wondered — worried, even — if the kiss was going a bit too far. But you didn’t seem uncomfortable, and there was something about you that made Wanda think you were–
She frowned at herself, rubbing her forehead with the hand she was holding her fork in as she nearly came to a thought that she wouldn’t be able to decipher between projection and reality.
And if it were projection, that must mean there was some sort of intentionality behind it.
Maybe Agatha was right, and she really was smitten.
What would anyone else call it — a crush?
That made her nose wrinkle up as she poked at the pasta, deep in thought; older women didn’t get crushes. Older women were presently married or they got divorced.
But a college student, for crying out loud…
What was she thinking?
She took her bottom lip between her teeth and stared at her phone, trying to repress the urge to text you about dinner as if she hadn’t just been scolding herself for the complicated feelings she was having about you.
Giving in, she set the fork down and texted you, telling you that the dinner was delicious, and moreover, that she would certainly have to find a way to pay you back and buy you a meal this weekend.
She thought she was acting ridiculous for having just previously been feeling conflicted for how she was feeling and now itching to hear a response from you.
Wanda moved her empty bowl away and hid her face in her arms, feeling helpless for the fluttery way she continued to feel in her stomach in spite of how her mind desperately tried to come up with ways to reason her thoughts of you away.
She knew what anyone would call her — a divorcée desperate for attention from a younger girl who wasn’t as caught up with life as people her age were and so, predictably, Wanda clung onto you.
But it wasn’t like she couldn’t get the attention of other people.
Once Wanda had signed up for a dating app upon Agatha’s advice, and she thought it was rather easy to find people interested in her, though often attracting men she didn’t feel very invested in at all nor whom she ever enjoyed seeing enough for a second date.
Not very often, but here and there, Wanda would be approached by men in public too.
She always thought her lack of interest was because she was too busy, and even entertained the idea that perhaps she just wasn’t cut out for any kind of relationship after her marriage.
But she didn’t feel that way at all about you. She thought you were sweet and rather cute and though she had to admit there was something about your age that enticed her, she also really enjoyed talking with you when she could over text, and often looked forward to passing by you in the driveway.
She was curious about things like your schooling and what you thought of Westview, and more about where you’d come from and how you decorated the inside of your place.
And there was a feeling deep within her chest and rising up her belly when she was around you or when you spoke with her, blushing around her or smiling in the shy way you did, that she couldn’t recall if she felt with Vision at all.
As Wanda got ready for bed and pretended like there wasn’t a reason she carried her phone with her to the washroom, she thought more about how she felt about Vision when they first met, and questioned her attraction to him.
There were times when she certainly felt attracted, though most typically when they were about to have sex and more frequently after they got married, but she couldn’t recall if the interest she felt with you this early into knowing you was ever involved in how she regarded Vision.
She just couldn’t stop thinking about how unsure and confused she was during the time of her life when they’d first met, and how that differed greatly from the place she was in now.
While getting into bed, Wanda’s phone buzzed. She picked it up faster than she’d like to admit.
You texted: Yay! Glad you like it!! I’m really looking forward to this weekend :)
A smile came to Wanda’s face as she read your text and she slowly descended into the comfort of her sheets as she replied. Perhaps she should’ve just liked the message and headed to bed, but after thinking of you for so long, she couldn’t help but want to talk a little more.
She replied: Are you still up doing work? Or are you heading to bed soon?
The response was read almost immediately and Wanda felt her heart race.
Just one more thing I have to do, then bedtime.. I hope you sleep well, Ms Maximoff <3
Wanda felt a rush surge through her and she inhaled sharply after reading the message, feeling her fingers partially frozen for a moment.
It was at a time in her relationship with you that you could start calling her by her first name, and really, the formalities made her feel a little old.
But also, there was something she liked about how polite you were — the shy smile on your face as you called her Ms Maximoff, how well-mannered you were.
And if she really thought about it… Wanda thought it placed her in a position of some authority, implying not only an age difference but a power dynamic when you addressed her.
It was new for her.
Don’t overwork yourself, Y/N :) Sweet dreams.
Wanda set her phone down and stared up at the ceiling. She wondered if you’ve ever been interested in an older woman before. Her cheeks immediately warmed at the thought — calling herself an older woman, carrying with it some sort of scandalous implication, and imagining you, someone so innocent and sweet, involved in it.
Her thoughts wandered before she could stop them, thinking of what that dynamic might be like.
Did she suit the ‘older woman’ character? Didn’t someone young like you need someone older and experienced, and confident about their sexuality? Isn’t that how these things normally went?
But she hardly knew anything, and only had one very short fling with a man since her divorce.
She’d never even been with a woman, let alone a younger girl.
Wanda turned onto her side and brought her plush blankets up to her face, the cold surface of it cooling her flushed cheeks.
But she couldn’t help but really think about it… As in, the kind of relationship and dynamic the two of you might have together if it really did happen, and if, maybe, she wasn’t making it all up.
If you had the capacity to like an older woman, that must’ve meant you had been with other girls before.
The thought of it made Wanda’s heart race.
She’d heard from Agatha the difference between being with a woman and with a man, that women were softer and smarter, knowing how to touch another woman as if she were herself, never thinking of imposing herself upon her like men did.
Sleeping with a woman is a form of masturbation, she’d said, for how women knew each other like they knew themselves.
Wanda wondered if you were as gentle with a lover as you were by your nature, for she knew that some people were vastly different in the bedroom than they were outside of it.
The thought of you exploring her body with your open palms and curved fingers, just as considerate and kind as you always were with her, a shaky ‘Ms Maximoff, is this okay?’ spilling from your lips as you moved closer–
Wanda squeezed her eyes shut and turned onto her other side, her fingers tightening around her blankets as she felt an undeniable ache growing between her thighs.
Daring to act defiantly against her sense of shame and dignity, trembling fingers slipped beneath her pajama shorts, not daring to go farther than her hips.
Her nails sunk into her right hip, scratching lightly at the skin as she held herself back, only for her thoughts to wander to the idea of your clumsy hands grabbing at her hips, your nails pressing into her skin as you pulled her closer, your breath shaky.
She took one of her pillows and lifted her blanket up, tucking it between her thighs and up against her clothed centre.
Taking her bottom lip between her teeth and hiding the top half of her face with her hand, she dared to roll her hips forward to satisfy the pressure between her thighs. But it was too dull for how her clit throbbed, desperate for further contact.
Frustrated at both how she was giving in and with how she had grown so desperate to the point of hastily pushing the pillow out of the way, she slipped her fingers past the waistband of her shorts and underwear.
The pads of her fingers met with the warmth of her sticky folds and Wanda whimpered into her pillow, turning her head and hiding from some invisible presence that she imagined was looking down at the display she was putting on.
She circled her middle finger against her clit and she shuddered, goosebumps running up her thighs as she tightly wrapped an arm around the pillow she’d previously pushed away, and she pulled it to her chest.
When she felt she was wet enough, and at the feeling of how she began tightening around nothing, her eyebrows furrowed together as she entered herself with two fingers, her thighs parting to allow her wrist some room.
She couldn’t help the way her mind went to you, not when her body urged to feel more; her thoughts summoned the thought of you, daring to imagine you beneath her, your hands running up her bare hips and up to hold her waist, the look of your face contorted with pleasure, your eyes meeting hers.
She’d never considered herself very assertive, especially not in the bedroom, but there was just something about you that awoke something in her that was completely foreign.
The idea of it excited her.
She’d never felt so… aroused.
Her thoughts gradually became more shameful, thinking about how you sounded like when you orgasmed, and particularly enjoying the idea that you’d be shy to make noise, prone to begging, and one to be eager to please your lover.
Wanda felt herself inch closer to her climax.
Maybe you’d be nervous to be with an older woman, hesitant to touch her and worried about being disrespectful. The thought of herself encouraging you, no longer being unsure and passive about things, sent a thrill through Wanda that she was certain she’d never felt before.
All this she associated only with you, and as she felt herself begin to tighten around her fingers, Wanda’s mind was full of you, shamelessly, and her heart pounded against her ribcage.
She came, crying out partially-muffled with half her face buried in her pillow, her wrist sore and her fingers numb to the repetitive speed at which she fingered herself.
When she fell back down from her height, her previously-arched back met the damp sheets beneath her and she felt momentarily anaesthetised as she caught her breath.
She groaned at how fatigued she felt, not having had such a tiring orgasm in a while, much less with just her fingers.
While she was washing her hands, she thought of you, wondered if you’d ever touched yourself to the thought of her, and soon squarely came to the decision that she would pursue you.
She’d made quite a mess of herself, and decided to also change her underwear before heading to bed.
The next few days before the weekend approached, Wanda felt increasingly encouraged every time she interacted with you, especially after having kissed you on the cheek that night. She still felt that she’d gone a little too far, but you still seemed to really like her.
She realised that she didn’t know as much about you as she’d like, and became increasingly enthusiastic about thst weekend when she’d be able to spend more time with you.
On Friday, you and Wanda made plans for the weekend, and it was agreed that she would drive the both of you to the festival then back home to repay you for a few nights ago.
Dressed in a sundress that reached below her knees and deciding to go with her hair down, Wanda nervously crossed the strip of grass that divided your two driveways and walked up to your front door.
It was convenient that you were neighbours, but the space between the two of you left very little time for Wanda to soothe her own anxiety as she prepared for a day out together.
You opened the front door and stepped through as if not trying to waste a moment to head out.
“Hi,” you said with a smile as you stepped onto the porch before turning to lock the front door.
“Hi,” she answered and returned the polite smile when you turned back around, slightly nervous with her hands held in front of her body, holding her purse.
Wanda was suddenly overcome at your momentary undivided attention, feeling that if you scrutinised her just enough, you’d be able to read on her face what she had done to the thought of you that first night it happened, and nearly every night since.
It was the first time she was seeing you since then beyond some short conversations in the driveway, and some paranoid part of her thought you secretly knew all she’d been doing.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you with your hair down,” you noted as we drove to the town square where the festival was taking place. “Did you curl it a little?”
Feeling suddenly self-conscious now that you’d noticed, Wanda took one hand off the wheel and played with the ends of her hair. “Um,” she hesitated. “I did — a little.”
“No, I mean, it’s really pretty, Ms Maximoff,” you quickly said in case she got the wrong idea.
Feeling that perhaps you might’ve been teasing, for whatever reason, Wanda looked over at you momentarily and found you looking over at her. You met her eyes with a small encouraging smile and Wanda looked back onto the road.
“Thank you,” she replied, a smile of her own slowly growing. “I don’t usually do anything with it because I’m either working or at home, and don’t often dress up for anything.” She kept her hair short for functionality reasons, partly, and also because she’d cut it after her divorce just to try something new and found some comfort in keeping the same hairstyle.
Once or twice, she tried to grow it out again, but it just seemed impractical for how often she kept her hair up or had it pushed back with a headband during work, and even at home.
It made her feel rather flattered that you paid mind to something like her hair, since for the most part Wanda saw herself as blending in with the rest of Westview’s docile and placid background, which was to say that she didn’t think there wasn’t anything particularly interesting about herself.
To have a fresh pair of eyes focus on her so much made sparks flutter about in her body.
Her polite smile wavered slightly as more perverse thoughts overcame her. She wondered what lay beyond your still gaze that was both polite as your eyes crinkled at the sides and slightly girlish as your face seemed to glow when you smiled.
Surely, no one suspected that she’d done all that she had to the thought of you — how wet the thought of you made her, the amount of times she moaned your name with her back arched or with her body sprawled across the cool sheets of her bed.
But she had done them all.
Could the same be said for you, beyond an externality that no one else would suspect such things about?
Wanda felt a wave of shame course through her — what was she doing, assuming such things about a college student, and projecting her own desires onto you?
But even that thrum of shame made her ache and she pressed her thighs together in her seat; she should’ve felt humiliated and ashamed for the thoughts she was having, but instead, she felt… thrilled, and in a way she hadn’t ever felt before.
Upon arriving at the festival, and finding a good parking spot in a closer area designated for employees due to Wanda owning the shop that had provided so many of the booths with their bouquets and flower arrangements, the two of you decided on getting lunch first.
Truthfully, Wanda had been so anxious about the upcoming day out with you that her nerves had been far too frenzied to allow her to stomach any food, or to feel any hunger to begin with. It was only until she passed a booth of fresh buttered corn that she’d realised she hadn’t eaten a thing all day, and that she was finally hungry.
Deciding on some deli sandwiches, you and Wanda took your food and drinks to a seating area beneath an oak tree at one of the parks.
For a Spring day, it was particularly warm — likely because there was hardly any breeze at all.
For the weather, Wanda was glad she was wearing a dress, and maybe she was just making it all up, but she could swear she’d seen your eyes running over her exposed legs, and even peeking down her dress.
Maybe you were just curious about what she was wearing, but still, Wanda couldn’t control the way she felt her heart thump at the prospect that you were checking her out.
The eyes of men had only ever made her feel preyed on, and whether she was anything less than mildly annoyed depended on whether she had enough patience to tolerate any of it.
Sometimes she thought it was strange for her to feel so abhorrent towards men when she’d been able to marry Vision. She hadn’t felt this impatient and bored around him, and not even when they’d first met.
She certainly wouldn’t call it abhorrent, but with how often women her age spoke about fantasies or fooling around with younger men or their handsome coworkers — even Agatha had a tendency to do this — it wasn’t uncommon for some to question her interest in remarrying or at the very least, finding a new partner.
All this she told you as you ate together, aside from how the train of thought started with her realising how aroused she felt at the thought that you were checking her out. She was interested in sharing much more about herself and learning that much more about you.
“Maybe you haven’t met the right guy yet,” you suggested helpfully. “A lot of people say the right one comes along when you’re not really looking.”
Seriously, though, for whatever reason, the idea of going through the motions of meeting a new man was a process Wanda felt herself dreading whenever she thought about it. She could imagine nothing worse than inviting a man into her home and introducing him to her children, him meeting her friends, being touched by a man, waking up next to one.
“I don’t think I’m looking for any guy right now,” Wanda replied, pushing a tomato that had partially slipped from her sandwich back in between the bread. She looked up and found you were looking at her, perhaps trying to interpret what she was saying.
While she had your rapt attention, she couldn’t help but suddenly ask, “Where did you meet your boyfriend?”
The question made you blush a little but you also laughed, as if what she was asking could be interpreted as irony.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you answered, replying politely for it had been a serious question albeit with the intention to probe into your love life.
Wanda tried not to show any expression at your answer, and instead tapped the tip of her shoe against the grass beneath her seat idly as if to pace herself. The thought that you might have a boyfriend was one of the ideas that Wanda let float around in her head to rein her mind back to chastity when it wandered off, and she felt herself take in a small breath when you said you didn’t have one.
“I presume it would be far too much to balance now that you’ve moved away and are now doing work in a new town,” Wanda said then finished the last bite of her sandwich.
You made a noise like agreement, but also as if you had more to say on the topic, and when Wanda looked at you, you seemed to be gauging whether to say more. You bit your tongue after taking too long to choose between asking if she herself was seeing anyone or saying that you weren’t interested in men at all.
‘I suppose that’s true,’ is all you ended up saying.
After lunch, you and Wanda decided to walk through the corn maze attraction because the both of you were interested in talking much more and moving your bodies without being distracted by the booths and festival games.
It was quite fun to go through the maze with you. It was really rare that Wanda got time to do fun things like this with someone other than the twins — not that she didn’t enjoy spending that time with them, but she herself felt a little more like a child spending this kind of time with you, which wasn’t a liberty she very often had the chance to experience.
A maze was the perfect thing to do with you, Wanda thought, for even taking the wrong turn meant spending more time with you as you walked back to the fork to try a different path, and neither of you were in a rush to finish, so it was more like a fun walk.
You also said that though the research position was interesting so far, it was a routine that didn’t allow for much enjoyment unless you went out of your way to do something new.
Wanda sympathised, saying that much of her new milestones in life had come about that way — marriage, having children, and starting her business with Agatha. After saying it, she realised how depressing it sounded and even felt a little embarrassed talking about such things with you. You were young after all, and here she was rambling about how all of her life was a comfortable endless routine as if she were Sisyphus.
“You must think I’m rather boring,” Wanda said, looking down at the mess of hay, flattened onto the grass from all the people who’d trekked through the maze. Her tone sounded almost apologetic to her ears though she didn’t think she was trying to apologise for anything in particular.
“What?” you said, shocked. “What do you mean? No, I don’t.”
She laughed a little at your shock, but couldn’t help but feel that your response was a little naive. Once you grew up some more and experienced more of the world and met far more interesting people, Wanda was sure she’d only be a memory you’d look back on with some kind of pity, thinking, ‘What a sweet woman she was — such a shame she lived in such a dull town. After all, I could only stand living there for so long until my research period was over.’
“Well, I’m always doing all the same things,” Wanda explained. “I’ll probably be doing it for much longer too until the twins grow up and go off to college. I love the shop but I think I’d rather move elsewhere once they don’t need me in town.”
There was silence and Wanda looked over to you as you both turned a corner, and you looked to be a little confused, or at least thinking.
“But,” you started, “how does that have anything to do with you being boring?”
“How does that not mean I’m boring?” Wanda replied though acutely aware of how strange she was sounding, arguing for self-deprecation. “I just mean there’s nothing particularly interesting that I do.”
Then she added, perhaps rambling out of a place of deep belief, “It’s different from you — you’re still young and pursuing your passions.”
The images of you and Dottie walking around the few times that Wanda had seen the two of you came to mind again. Even if there was a chance that you would be interested in women, and women that were older than you, Dottie seemed to be a better match for you. She was more talkative and though she was an elementary school teacher, she was still working in some form of schooling, which might interest you far more than flowers and single-motherhood, and she was younger than Wanda and, from the looks of it, seemed to have more free time to spend with you than she did. Plus, she hadn’t yet been married and didn’t have any children.
Wanda could’ve been way over her head in two respects, and suddenly she felt a little foolish for how she’d been thinking of you — all this build-up in her mind when she didn’t suit you at all to begin with.
“But I think you’re interesting,” you reasoned. “I don’t think I’ve ever really put a lot of thought into what you do work-wise. Or your daily schedule.”
Then after a moment, when Wanda didn’t respond immediately, you added hesitantly, “But is that… something you’d expect people to consider? Or is that something you consider, usually?”
Wanda felt a kind of whiplash from the jelly you’d turned her legs into and the shame she then immediately felt for how shallow she must’ve seemed to you. “N-No,” she stuttered, speaking right away to not seem idiotic and just hoping to find the actual words she wanted to say while she was rambling nonsensically.
Truthfully, you didn’t think Wanda was being shallow at all, or that she was being overly concerned with hers and other people’s professions. You were also aware of the age difference between you and her, and how preferences and paths of life differed between ages; you were embarrassed at first, thinking that maybe you sounded far too naive, like a child with no grasp of real life or what really mattered to someone busy and with their own lives like she had.
Often, you thought you were way over your head, crushing on and fantasising about an older woman with her own business and family, with her own priorities who was now settled down and likely too busy to think about any romantic partner.
Much less with a college girl.
And wasn’t Wanda’s ex-husband a lawyer?
College girls weren’t her type.
“No,” she started again, “I just thought… We’re different in that respect, so I thought it might have maybe… bored you.”
If Wanda hadn’t also been looking down at the ground, listening to the muffled sounds of hay and grass beneath her shoes, she would’ve looked up and been able to see that you looked slightly flustered, for you felt that you were in a position of being confessed to.
It didn’t go over your head how Wanda seemed rather concerned about how you viewed her, and worried that you might think that she was boring. The very idea, whatever its context was, that she thought so often about you and your perspective of her made your knees feel a little mushy.
“But… You think I’m interesting?” Wanda then asked, raising her head and looking at you.
You had been so adamant to prove her wrong that you’d sort of just blurted it out. You thought you’d gone a little too far, but you looked over to Wanda and met her eyes.
It could’ve been the way the sun peeked from above the hay maze and cast its light upon Wanda’s face, but her eyes seemed particularly lit up, her expression looking even a bit hopeful as she asked you for confirmation.
“Um, yes, I do,” you confirmed with a smile. “I think you’re really nice and interesting and sometimes I see you out in the driveway with your twins and you seem like such a sweet family, and I’ve been curious about you since you said you owned a floral shop and brought me flowers.”
Well, now you were rambling.
Then you said something really stupid.
“Also, um… I think you’re a really pretty woman. I mean, ‘gorgeous’ is a better word. I hardly ever hear ‘pretty woman’ as a compliment, though I meant it to be true. It just sounds odd as a word combination.”
Wanda felt cheeks heating up and she was grateful that the two of you had finally found the end of the maze, for she felt like she needed to take a breath. But she couldn’t not respond to something like that right away. She swallowed and reached for your forearm and brushed her fingers against your skin to reassure you when you looked away, then dropped her hand.
She knew she should be saying something in response, especially now that she’d gotten your attention back by touching your arm, but she couldn’t come up with any words, just staring into your eyes with lips slightly parted but completely silent.
“Can we play one of the games?” you then offered, and Wanda blinked out of her stupor, remembering where the two of you were.
“A game?” she asked, still slightly disoriented.
You continued walking away from the maze exit and headed towards the festival, Wanda following beside you.
“Maybe I can win you a stuffed toy,” you suggested, looking around at the game booths.
Wanda smiled at the glint of determination in your eyes and stepped closer to you. “Maybe I’ll win you a toy first,” she challenged lightheartedly, looking for any excuse to interact with you more.
The rest of the time you moved between different games, and you and Wanda didn’t talk so much about things other than the games you were playing and some lighthearted memories that came up as you played.
Both of you were enjoying your time, but Wanda particularly, who’d never really done anything during such town events aside from help organise and sometimes take the twins out for them.
Her cheeks were sore from smiling and laughing by the time you were the one to win a prize first.
You handed her a stuffed blue jellyfish, with thin curly tentacles and a soft round body, spotted with white and pale blue.
“It’s so cute,” Wanda said with a tiny smile, squishing the soft body of the jellyfish gently and running her eyes over it in detail as the two of you walked to her car.
She insisted, “I was really close to getting you the giraffe… It was luck that you won first — not skill.”
“Maybe I can win you the ability not to be a sore loser next time,” you poked.
Then as she raised her head, seeing her car come into closer view, it dawned on her that she’d be dropping you off at home and your time together would be over, but she wasn’t quite ready to end the day.
She stopped at the driver’s side and spoke to you over the roof of the car, “Do you want to take a look inside the shop? Maybe I can help you put together a bouquet, or any kind of decorative piece for your place.”
She added, to ensure she didn’t sound pushy, “Only if you want to and if you have time. I’m sure you had other things planned for the day.”
You beamed at the suggestion and nodded with a smile. “I’d love to see the shop,” you said enthusiastically.
“I’m excited to see more of where you are and what you get up to for so much of your day,” you confessed, your hands folded in between your thighs. “I remember when I visited, and it was gorgeous at the front of the store.”
Wanda thought it was so sweet how you thought her little shop was so fantastical. “It’s a bit more of a mess in the back and less presentation-worthy, but I’m also looking forward to showing you around,” she replied, looking over to you and feeling flustered at how genuinely happy you were.
The feeling that you were truly eager to spend more time with her made Wanda all but melt in her seat.
It was beginning to darken, a soft purple-pink tint coming over the sky as the sun began to set. It was still a little light outside, and the pink hue of the sun cast in a nice way against your skin.
Wanda was feeling nice thinking about the fact that you’d been out together for a while now, and that you’d be out for longer still.
“I don’t do this for just any old neighbour, you know,” Wanda teased, looking at you from the corner of her eye as she unlocked the front door.
“Just a few?” you joked back.
Without hesitation, Wanda replied and looked over at you with a little grin, “Just you.”
She didn’t seem to think very much of what she said, though it struck you as rather flirtatious and made you feel like a special figure in her life, since she walked ahead right after saying it, leaving you to follow behind after breaking from your momentary stupor.
It felt so peaceful to be at the shop in the evening with you, telling you about things like how to store freshly cut flowers and how she kept them preserved upon shipments and how they did deliveries.
Wanda had indeed been interested in flowers and plants and owning a floral shop when she first opened it with Agatha, but much of the passion had turned into businesslike concern, and oftentimes Wanda didn’t have much time to take a step back and enjoy what she was doing.
But your fresh pair of eyes and genuine curiosity, asking her questions like how she knew she wanted to open a shop and how long she’d known Agatha for, made Wanda see everything like she had when she first opened the shop, and your curiosity and interest reminded her closely of the kind of passion she’d gotten distracted from once she got used to Westview’s repetition.
Wanda kept viewing herself from the shoes of Agatha if she had also been in the shop somewhere, watching as she giggled at your playful jokes and blushed at your undivided attention, which didn’t necessarily have to be interpreted as flirtatious for Wanda to feel flustered by.
Sometimes all you had to do was look at her while Wanda wasn’t looking so when she turned to look at you, your eyes were on her rather than on whatever she was trying to show you.
She kept thinking of Agatha especially because Wanda wondered whether she was making all of it up, and if all of it truly was platonic, and she wondered what her closest friend would say about all of this.
But the more Wanda felt herself stuttering around you or making some excuse to stand close to you or brush against you, she could no longer trust even her interpretations of what a third-party might say about things.
But the most delusional of it all, Wanda thought, was that she kept thinking of the image of you with Dottie walking down the shopping district during the times where Wanda was too busy to spend time with you and talk with you as much as she wanted.
She kept recalling the feeling of how tired she’d been coming out of work, the sun just about to start setting, and looking forward to getting home after picking up the twins. She had been at a stoplight thinking of what to make for dinner when you passed in front her along the crosswalk, Dottie at your side as you spoke with each other.
She was always wearing something pretty, her taste in clothing professional and delicate as an elementary school teacher, her blonde hair always curled or put up.
From what she’d heard from the few times she attended the town meetings — not that Dottie was so infamous but rather because she was friends with some of the mothers who attended — Dottie was the daughter of old-money parents who owned acres of rural farmland a few hours away from New Jersey.
Dottie was everything Wanda wasn’t.
Were you doing things like this with her too?
Were you only being polite?
While the two of you were putting together a little vase of different coloured roses together for your living room, Wanda quietly spoke up. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…” she started quietly, kind of hoping you might suddenly change the topic, leaving the question forgotten.
But instead you looked up from trimming a stem of a white rose, your curiosity piqued as you anticipated her question.
Wanda felt your eyes on her and she kept her hands busy carefully removing the thorns of the roses as she continued. “Not to sound… strange…” she said, trying her best to keep her voice steady and unsuspecting. “But a few weeks ago I saw you with Dottie, and I was just curious about how you knew her.”
She took a risk and looked up from the flower she was holding.
“She was Tommy and Billy’s teacher once, and they still go to that elementary school, so I sometimes see her around when I drop them off and pick them up,” she added, to sound like she was asking for a practical reason.
“Oh,” you said, sounding a little surprised to hear her name brought up. “She’s a friend of the professor I’m doing research with. I… can’t really remember how they know each other. I think it might be through Dottie’s parents.”
A wave of cool relief washed over Wanda and she looked back down to the roses and started dethorning the other one to keep her face down in case she accidentally looked a bit elated.
“I see,” she answered as nonchalantly as she could, though she could hear a waver of relief evident in the way she breathed out. “It’s a small town.” But Wanda still couldn’t help but press on a little, feeling not yet fully satisfied by your answer.
“But… You don’t see her… often, do you?” she asked, looking up again just to see your expression, and hoping you didn’t seem suspicious about why she was asking.
You shook your head, just focused on trimming the stems the right length and carefully placing them in a pleasing way amongst each other in the vase Wanda provided. “No, not often at all,” you said. “Usually I see her when we’re meeting up together to have coffee with my professor.”
“So it’s a professional relationship?”
To that, you finally looked up from the flowers in your hands and looked over at Wanda, who immediately internally cursed herself for not watching her mouth; she’d gone a little too far, just asking you whatever came to mind.
“I don’t even know if it would be considered professional, per se,” you answered, your hands lowering a little as you focused on giving an answer. “She doesn’t have anything to do with my research. I think it’s just circumstantial — that’s a good way to describe it.”
Wanda swallowed and looked back down to the roses, immediately ready to drop the subject and move onto something else after realising just how overly curious she’d been sounding.
Suddenly you were feeling a little awkward that Wanda had been talking about professional relationships and networking and all. All of that felt like a different world, and there was still a lot that Wanda considered in life that you didn’t.
You didn’t even think you had professional relationships, really, aside from your professor.
It felt like every time she brought up something you didn’t understand, the difference in age between the two of you became all the more evident, and you felt yourself becoming more and more childish and inexperienced in her eyes.
“Um, by the way… Ms Maximoff, I wanted to say that I felt kind of nervous to ask you to go out this weekend,” you confessed, and from the corner of your eye you saw Wanda raise her head and look at you. “I thought it might’ve been… I don’t know, like, a little stupid, even.”
“What?” she asked, surprised. She set her rose down and turned her body a little to look at you. The tone of her voice made you raise your head and meet her eyes. “Stupid? Why?”
You weren’t exactly sure what you had hoped to accomplish by confessing that, but you almost just felt like apologising somewhat for doing something stupid or childish before Wanda could realise it for herself.
Maybe you’d seem a little less naive if you just admitted to it right away, because honestly, you really did think you had been sounding a little stupid to ask her out for the festival, and often wondered if she only ever said yes to you out of pity because of how young you were.
Sometimes when she apologised for seeming standoffish or distant, you couldn’t help but feel that she was just trying to tend to a child’s tantrum.
But her response wasn’t as you initially thought it would be, and she seemed truly shocked at your confession, so you felt a little flustered and you now felt that you had been overdramatic.
“I-I just mean… Well…”
As you stuttered for a response, you realised you had no excuse to make, and honestly, Wanda had only ever been kind to you, so you had no reason to try and lie. So you thought to tell the truth.
“It sometimes feels like I don’t really have a grasp on your life, and like you may just be too busy or disinterested to do stuff like go out to a festival to get driven to work or…”
You trailed off to find the rest of your words, and you saw Wanda continuing to watch your face from the corner of your eye. One of her arms was resting on the counter beside her, her hands fidgeting with each other’s fingertips in front of her stomach.
“I think maybe I didn’t really consider that you might feel more comfortable not knowing your neighbours so much, and that even though it might be true you don’t mind when I do you favours or ask to do things in our freetime, I know that you’re also busy and preoccupied with things and… Just more comfortable with how things had been.”
Well… Dottie certainly didn’t get any of this kind of confession from you.
Wanda took a tiny step forward. She knew what you were trying to get at; there was an age difference between the two of you and sometimes the difference casted doubt on whether you were both thinking the same thing, always wondering how you were perceived by the other.
“I know how you feel,” she reassured, reaching out to brush her hand against your arm against the better half of her mind telling herself it was a bad idea to move closer to you. She fidgeted with her fingers again and took a little breath, wanting to be open and honest like you just had been.
She confessed, “I think that sometimes I might be projecting myself onto you.”
The words shocked you and you looked up and met her eyes, surprised to see her looking a little nervous as she spoke. You didn’t think anything about your relationship with Wanda had the power to make her nervous; she always just seemed like she had everything so well-structured.
She owned a business with a close friend and was a single mother of two young boys and lived in a nice house. She was beautiful and kind, and the idea that she might be nervous in any sense while interacting with you surprised you greatly.
“Sometimes I can’t exactly tell if I’m… understanding things correctly…” she added, swallowing hard. The momentary silence between responses thrummed against her eardrums, and the light from the ceiling became strangely brighter and looked as light often did when she was down with a terrible flu.
The implication was heavy, and she was worried about how you would take it. She tried to immediately relax herself by thinking that you’d only pick up on what she was implying if you yourself had been thinking similar things, but there was always a chance that you’d understand what she was saying and not feel the same way.
She could hardly bear the thought of confessing unreciprocated, for she foresaw absolutely no way to come back from that kind of rejection… She would look like such a fool, and she wouldn’t know how to handle the kinds of things she did and felt because of you.
The things she felt for you had been different from anything before, and if you rejected her, there was no way for her to deal with this new kind of awakening, and she was certain there’d be no other chance to be attracted to someone in the way she was with you.
“I think maybe I’m in over my head, Ms Maximoff…” you said quietly.
Suddenly Wanda was overcome with the possibility of what you were also implying, and the very possibility that you meant what she thought was overcoming the fear of being rejected or being wrong.
All she’d been doing was fantasising and mulling over possibilities and uncertainties about how she was feeling and how you might be feeling, and now the possibility that you might feel the same way, that she wasn’t just making it all up the whole time, seemed more real and tangible than it ever had been before.
She knew she was thinking irrationally.
There were better ways to do this.
But she could only really think of doing one thing.
She placed her hand atop the counter at the midway point between the both of you and she stepped forward, tipping her head to the side ever so slightly as she moved closer. Her breath felt warm against her own lips as her exhales reached your upper lip, and your eyes looked lidded and your face slightly flushed before she closed her eyes and met her soft lips with yours.
You immediately put your rose down and placed your hand on Wanda’s lower back, pulling her closer, and Wanda felt like she could collapse into your body at the gesture.
You really did want her. She hadn’t been making it up.
Though she’d been married before, this felt like the first time anyone truly reciprocated her feelings. Maybe that was because what feelings she had for Vision weren’t anything like the ones she had for you.
She was thirty-two and feeling this way for the first time; she felt like she’d really been missing out.
It didn’t take very long for the slow and hesitant kiss to grow heated, perhaps due to its confirmation of mutual attraction and interest. Your arm wrapped around Wanda’s waist and your other hand moved up the curve of her spine, up to where her sundress exposed her upper back, your fingers entangling themselves in her hair as they moved up her neck.
Wanda sighed into your mouth, listening to the way it merged with your tiny moans and exhales. She had her own arm wrapped around your waist too, but with her other hand caressing your cheek, her thumb brushing against your soft skin, encouraging you.
She felt her lower back press against the edge of the counter and she realised you were pressing your body flush against hers.
Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest, her body feeling warm all over.
In her sundress with her arms and upper back and chest exposed, every brush you had against her skin sent shockwaves up her spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake as a familiar ache began to form deep in Wanda’s lower stomach, causing her to roll her hips forward, knocking them gently against your own.
Maybe when her mind was less fogged up and she could think of a world past the soft caresses of your hands and your delicate moans, she would think about how right Agatha was about being with women.
You were so delicate and gentle, and not only because she thought that that was just the kind of person you were, but also because of the smooth slope of your shoulders and how your arms slotted perfectly beneath hers. Your face was smooth and free of stubble and your lips were so soft, your sweet moans were enough to make Wanda weak in the knees, and you smelled so nice.
And it did really feel like you were touching her as if she were an extension of yourself.
“Ms Maximoff…” you sighed, sounding desperate as your hand fell away from cradling the back of her head and sending a wave of throbbing arousal down between Wanda’s thighs. Her eyebrows furrowed together and she pulled you closer, grasping at the hem of your shirt as her fingers tightened around the fabric, feeling just as desperate.
Then suddenly you yelped and pulled away from her lips, your body unwrapping from Wanda’s. Wanda’s eyes darted across your face and she worried for a moment that she accidentally bit your lip.
“Y/N, a-are you okay? Did I hurt you?” she asked, panicked as she looked at you. Then she noticed that you had brought your hand up, surveying it under the light of the ceiling. “What happened?”
“U-Um, I accidentally put my finger down on a thorn,” you said, looking up at her sheepishly and showing her the curved thorn deep in your index finger.
Wanda stepped close again and wrapped her fingers around your wrist to get a better look at it. “Oh, dear… That’s quite deep…” she said, her voice low as she turned your finger around in the light to get a better look at it.
“Don’t worry — this happens quite often,” she reassured, looking over at you with a smile. The eye contact made you blush and you couldn’t help the way your eyes flickered down to her lips that now looked slightly swollen with how frantic your kiss had been.
The same flushed expression came over Wanda’s face but she looked back down to your finger and carefully laid it against her hand. “Don’t move,” she said. “I’ll take it out, but I want to make sure it doesn’t break off in your finger.”
Inching your hand closer to her eyes and into the light, her other hand came up and carefully pulled out the thorn, pulling it in the direction of its curve. A tiny bead of blood came from where it had pierced your skin.
“Just a moment. Keep your finger upright,” she said, letting go of your wrist slowly so as to not move it from its place midair. She then turned and bent over a little to rummage under the counter.
You couldn’t help the way your chest fluttered at the sight of her so focused on taking care of you.
She straightened again, now holding a bandaid, and laid the back of your hand against her fingers. With slightly furrowed eyebrows, she unwrapped the bandage and carefully secured it around your finger.
“There we go…” she said softly. “Not too tight?”
Heat rose to your cheeks when she looked back up to you again and you looked away with a shy smile and shook your head. “No, it’s just perfect.”
“Good.”
Then she threw the garbage out and brushed the thorns off of the countertop and into a nearby garbage can she lifted to the edge of the counter. She set it back down on the ground then turned back over to you nervously, brushing down the front of her dress.
She bit her bottom lip awkwardly, then quietly reasoned, “Maybe it was time we headed back home, anyway.”
You looked up from the floor and met her eyes with a little nod and a polite smile.
But neither of you moved from your spots, and Wanda felt a familiar impatience and gnawing urge pulsing inside her again.
Wanda was right in her observations of you — you were rather shy, and a submissive lover. You were nervous and hesitant, and after kissing you, she was sure you’d been with women before. That excited her, and she heard her own soft trembling exhales through her parted lips as she observed the hesitant look in your eyes, anticipating her next move.
You were still nervous, Wanda could tell.
So young and hesitant and innocent and polite…
All she felt then and there was that she needed your hands on her, and Wanda stepped forward again, kissing you with immediate heated passion as her hands ran up to the sides of your face, caressing you gently.
Your hands came to her hips and you attempted to wrap your arms around her waist until Wanda stumbled forwards, pushing you into the back room where it was more spacious.
“Mmm, Y/N…” she sighed into your open mouth, pushing your lower back against one of the counters in the back room.
Your hands were on her hips, slowly rounding to her lower back, but it was still not enough. She took hold of your wrist and brought your hand to her breast, and you squeezed as if partial to the feeling of how soft her breast was in your hand, mindful of the way her body arched into yours, her body pressed against your hips.
She felt herself throbbing when your other hand found its way beneath her dress, groping her ass and even tucking two fingers past her underwear to feel the soft, pliable flesh beneath the fabric.
“Ms Maximoff, is this okay?” you asked, your words trembling for how you spoke them between heated kisses. The hesitant tone spoken with your soft voice juxtaposed the way you groped her ass, and Wanda felt like she was already practically nearing orgasm.
“That’s just fine, sweetheart,” she replied, her fingers snaking down your jawline to hold your head in place as she tipped her head to the side and deepened the kiss.
Your fingernails pressed into her ass and she gasped, her body tensing momentarily.
Your tongues briefly brushed against each other and at the sensation, Wanda couldn’t get enough. She ran the tip of her tongue over your teeth then delved past your lips.
Warm exhales and breathy sighs echoed between your open mouths, meshed together in the exchange of saliva as your thumb tugged down the neckline of Wanda’s dress along with her bra so you could thumb at her hardened nipple, your other hand taking another handful of her ass.
Wanda had never felt more sexually desired, your hands on her body making her feel that you were thoroughly exploring her out of deep interest and pulsing arousal.
It was no obligation or passive act.
It was desire and craving, and you wanted her.
Then she felt the urge to have her mouth on your cunt, to feel you pulsating around her tongue, to feel your warm, slick folds against her lips. She wanted to taste how wet she made you and how badly you wanted her, to swallow your cum and have your flavour spread across her tongue.
She’d never pleasured another woman before, but all she felt was hunger, so much of it that it was painful, and that desire surpassed any need for prior knowledge.
In a few moments your thighs were wrapped securely around her head, Wanda on her knees beneath you as she noisily ate you out. The intermingled noises of her moans and the sound of your soaking pussy made your heart race.
She was far messier and dominating than you’d initially imagined, and you could hardly catch your breath. Each moment you thought you’d caught up, she’d want more, grabbing at you, delving her tongue into your opening or rubbing her flattened tongue against your aching clit.
She gripped at your hips, pulling you down onto her face so desperately you worried you might hurt her.
She opened her eyes and you saw her meet your gaze behind the mess of her dirty blonde hair, and you reached down and carefully brushed strands of her hair away from her forehead, revealing green eyes darkened by carnal desire.
The way she stared at you sent chills up your spine, causing you to roll your hips forward and bump your clit against the tip of her nose. She looked wildly predatorial, her relentless tongue and hot breath paired with a melody of deep groans and light girlish moans almost animalistic.
Wanda saw your hand reach down, fingers twitching in hesitation, before she interlaced her fingers with yours and brought your hand to the back of her head. She felt very literally… hungry — she craved you.
You nudged her mouth against your cunt and Wanda mewled in pleasure, feeling caressed as if she were being pet. Her hair was smooth, and feeling it now, you found she truly had thick hair and it wasn’t just the way she styled it in the mornings.
There were a lot of things you were newly finding about Wanda, new ways of viewing and understanding her that would make her different from how you had understood her before.
You’d never be able to see her without knowing how she looked on her knees, eating your pussy in her shop in the early evening, never being able to unfeel how her hands were firm and confident as they rubbed your thighs and squeezed your hips. But her fingers were delicate and careful, likely from her profession handling flowers.
You knew her touch.
Wanda knew exactly when you came — she felt it first before she heard it with how your thighs were wrapped around her ears. She could feel you contract and begin to pulse against her tongue, felt the way your hips chased her mouth and how your hands grasped at her desperately. She knew you had reached your peak because it reminded her so much of herself, and she helped you through your orgasm and through its aftershocks as she had for herself during the times she had come to the thought of you.
She carefully licked around your cunt and your inner thighs, cleaning you up as she blindly felt for your pants and underwear before sliding it back up your thighs while you caught your breath above.
When she buttoned your pants you helped her stand up and you adjusted her dress for her. Wanda leaned flush against your body with a little smile, watching your face as you straightened her dress, feeling your gentle hands rub against her.
Then you met her eyes and wrapped your arms around her waist, returning a smile.
She leaned forward and kissed you chastly, just feeling your soft, warm lips against her own, one of your hands moving up her back and rubbing softly.
“Was I good…?” Wanda asked a little nervously as she pulled away and looked at you. The tip of her nose brushed against yours lightly.
You nodded.
“It felt amazing…” you answered honestly, your fingers making shapes against her lower back through her dress. “I think, also, that I’m really attracted to you.”
Wanda laughed, feeling her cheeks heat up, and she buried her face in your neck.
After a moment, she added shyly, “That was my first time.”
Shocked, you turned your head a little to look at her but Wanda kept her face hidden in the crook of your neck and in the curtain of your soft hair.
“I couldn’t tell,” you told her.
“Are you being sarcastic…?” Wanda asked, looking down to play with the ends of your hair. “I can’t see your face.”
“I’m not being sarcastic.”
Wanda blushed, uttering a small ‘Thank you’ before she raised her head, fidgeting with your shirt a little.
“Shall I drive you back home now…?” she asked, looking up hesitantly.
You swallowed, feeling an ache of disappointment and longing at the thought of ending the night without getting to talk with Wanda more or even make her feel good. But if that had been her first time, she’d already done quite a bit.
You didn’t want to push her further or pressure her, so you nodded once silently in spite of how badly you wanted to be able to touch her too.
During the drive back, Wanda felt a dull ache behind her exhilaration, forcing her to admit that she was still not entirely satisfied. She’d underestimated the significance behind how much she fantasised about you, and how much desire truly went behind how strongly and how often she thought of you.
She nervously tapped against the steering wheel with her index finger and she bit down on her bottom lip.
“Was that…” She swallowed and carefully picked out the right words as she saw you turn to look at her from the corner of her eye. “Were you looking for… just a one-time thing…?”
Wanda couldn’t stop herself from turning and looking at your expression when there was perhaps a millisecond’s worth of silence after her question.
You felt a weight drop in your stomach and your fingers pressed against the flower vase sitting in your lap.
How would you come off if Wanda had been looking for something casual and you told her you weren’t? You would look childish and naive and disrespectful of her busy life.
You considered lying or perhaps answering nonchalantly, but tonight was the first time she’d ever gone down on another woman, and you felt you owed her honesty.
And… after all, it was still Wanda. She wasn’t someone to be scared of.
As Wanda turned into the neighbourhood, you answered, “I want to be closer to you than that. I don’t think I would want something like that to be a one-time thing.”
Wanda took in a sharp inhale when her chest tightened and filled with adrenaline, and she squeezed her hands around her steering wheel. She pulled into her driveway and parked the car.
Worried about the silence that would come over the both of you if she turned the car off, Wanda kept the car running as she ran her hands down her thighs as she gathered her confidence to speak again.
She turned to you and felt her heart pounding against her chest, threatening to suffocate her, when you turned to meet her eyes.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked directly.
Wanda’s hands laid in fists atop her lap as she regarded you, her posture straight and her shoulders rising and falling in tiny rhythmic motions as she steadied her breathing. From the dim lighting of her driveway from the light above her garage, you could see her eyebrows very slightly furrowed and her eyes gleaming with a nervous vulnerability, her expression patient and waiting for your answer.
You nodded once.
You stuttered when you tried to speak, then tried a second time, uttering a tiny, “Yes, I’d like that.”
The motions of following behind Wanda as she walked up her porch and unlocked the front door were mechanical and you watched her from behind, wishing desperately to know what was running through her mind.
There was a soft warm light coming from the living room that grew slowly brighter when the front door was closed behind you and your eyes adjusted to the gentle lighting of her house. This was the first time you’d ever been inside.
You looked around at the decor and the evidence of Tommy and Billy’s presence that remained even when they were with their father — their shoes were put away on a rack, some of their schoolwork on the small table by the front door, and their jackets hung on the coat rack.
“Are you thirsty or hungry for anything?” Wanda asked, evidently a little nervous.
You saw her take a breath and hold it when you set the vase down on the table where she had placed her keys to hold her hand. “I want to be with you, Ms Maximoff,” you said sincerely.
She swallowed and squeezed your hand and gave a little nod.
“I want to be with you too,” she replied, a little smile coming onto her face when you seemed to respond positively to her answer. She led you upstairs and you walked up beside her for how nervous she still seemed, and so you wanted to be close with her rather than following behind.
Wanda closed the bedroom door behind her and with the bedroom curtains left open enough to have the room illuminated by the evening, none of you turned any other lights on. She turned around to face you once she came to her bed, and her hands nervously came to the waistband of your pants, fidgeting a little.
“Are you nervous…?” you asked her quietly, stepping closer so her hands were caught between your bodies.
She looked up and nodded silently.
Then she said, her voice small, “What if I’m not good at this?”
You ached at her evident insecurity and unfamiliarity around being so vulnerable.
Your hand reached up to brush her hair back and you kissed her temple and murmured, “Not good at what?”
“At… this — making you feel good and being close with you, and connecting with you. I’ve never felt…” Wanda’s breath trembled and she swallowed.
She took a little breath.
“I really like you, Y/N,” she explained, her gaze falling to your shoulder and your body pressed flush against hers. “I want to be good at this…”
“No,” you protested softly and pulled your head back to look at her. “That’s not really how it works, Ms Maximoff…”
She explored your soft gaze, curious about what you would say but also caught up in how kind and patient your eyes were.
“You don’t really know how to do these things,” you reassured softly, “you just feel it.”
Wanda has always known what to do with things, and if she didn’t, there was someone who did know. Her marriage was all about expectation and filling roles as parents and as spouses, and her life, more or less, was about living through a planned schedule, doing things in order to be good at them and doing them right.
Was it okay to mess up?
Was it okay for her to do something just because she wanted to? She’d never been well-acquainted with the feeling of wanting something for herself to begin with.
“Can you call me by my first name?’” Wanda asked.
You nodded and smiled at the humour of her request.
She smiled in return and blushed before stepping back and allowing her hands some room to begin taking your clothes off.
You laid Wanda onto her back once her dress slipped from her shoulders, revealing her smooth skin and the contours and curves of her body.
Wanda felt extraordinarily sensitive to your every touch, unable to take her eyes away from the way your hands moved across her skin; it wasn’t enough to just feel the way your palms glided across her sides, your thumbs pressing into the contours of her obliques as you kissed down to her belly button, then her thighs, her calves, and her ankles when you bent her legs slightly moving back up her body — she had to see it too.
“Can I take your bra off?” you asked, looking up at her.
Wanda nodded and guided your hands to her back where her bra strap was, her back arching from the bed to allow you some space. She felt a surge of nerves course through her stomach when you took her bra off.
It had been so long since she was intimate with anyone, and even longer since she was with someone she felt engaged with, but it was the first time she was with someone she was truly interested in and attracted to.
For the first time, with your eyes running over her naked body, Wanda felt insecure about herself in a way she hadn’t previously; she was much older than you, and she started thinking about the other girls you must’ve been with.
None of them had ever been married or had children, and Wanda suddenly felt a dread come over her, feeling that she and her body were less attractive because of her age and what she’d done that neither you nor your previous sexual partners had.
But in spite of her anxiety, what she worried about wasn’t indicative at all in the way you continued to kiss her and caress her.
Your lips wrapped around one of her nipples, your hand coming to massage her other breast, and Wanda’s head lolled to the side atop her pillow, overcome by the feeling of being ravished and spoiled.
Then you moved up and began kissing her neck, and if you bit her, you did it softly, taking just a little of her skin between your teeth and nipping softly. She laughed breathily when you tugged at her earlobe with your teeth.
She loved the feeling of your weight on her body — a physical, tangible reminder of your presence, symbolic of how she had surpassed the period of fantasy and yearning.
“Get on your back,” Wanda told you, running the tips of her fingers down the curve of your spine.
While you adjusted your position, Wanda sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed and rummaged somewhere you couldn’t see. She sat back up and laid beside you, a translucent purple dildo in her hand.
Heat immediately rose to your cheeks and you imagined Wanda rolling her hips into it, slowly slipping herself down, and moaning as she fucked the faux cock. You even dared to imagine she fantasised about you.
“Can I use this on you?” she asked, holding it up for you to survey the size.
The very sight of Wanda holding a dildo in her hand, asking you for your permission for her to fuck you with it, her green eyes curiously exploring your expression, her naked body pressed against yours so her breasts brushed against your upper arm…
You had to blink a few times to make sure you weren’t just dreaming it all up, napping on the couch of your place before heading out to the festival.
Wanda moved closer and kissed your cheek. “I can be gentle with you,” she reassured. “If that’s what you’re worried about…”
“I’m not worried.”
“Really?” she asked, teasing, lifting her head to meet your eyes. “You haven’t said yes yet.”
You immediately nodded, heat rising to your cheeks.
“Is that a yes?” Wanda pressed, feigning curiosity with furrowed eyebrows.
“Y-Yes,” you practically choked out, stunned at her sudden display of playfulness.
She leaned back to where she had reached down before and came back up with a bottle of lube. Placing the dildo between your hips, Wanda asked for you to lather it on, holding herself up beside you and kissing up your shoulder and neck as you pumped your hand around the faux cock.
“As much as you want,” she purred. “I want to make sure you feel comfortable.”
You shifted your positioning a little so Wanda could have a better range of motion. One of your legs was perched up and your legs were parted, and you were laying back against a pillow for just a little elevation.
“Tell me if it hurts or if I should slow down, okay?” Wanda asked, nudging the tip of her nose against your cheekbone softly. She was taken by the urge to take care of you, to keep her body as close to you as possible, to feel your bare flesh against her own.
She really did think you were so sweet and precious, and the urge to care for you came stronger than it ever had before.
She wanted to make you feel good.
“Is this feeling okay, Y/N?” she asked, her other hand rubbing up and down your upper arm.
Your eyes were shut, allowing you to fully take in the scent of Wanda’s laundry and her hair and her perfume. The soft sounds of her little moans and noises as she made careful efforts to enter and tease you sent chills up your spine and made you throb.
“Th-That feels really good, M–”
You corrected yourself: “Wanda.”
A little flutter resounded in your chest at the feeling of calling her by her first name — it felt so personal.
“That’s good, Y/N,” she cooed softly. “You’ve nearly taken half. It’s a big stretch, huh…?” You hesitated to nod; it was a big stretch, but it wasn’t too much, and you didn’t want Wanda to stop.
“But you’re a big girl, right…?” she asked, and you immediately opened your eyes at her wording and the soft coo of her voice.
“I- Yes, I… I am.”
You watched as Wanda took her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes running down your body as her wrist curled and twisted back and forth, each time slowly pressing further into you. Her forearm muscle flexed with each movement and you could hear her breaths begin to quicken.
“Can I confess something a little embarrassing…?” Wanda spoke after a few moments of intimate silence, and you looked up from her forearm to her face.
When you met her eyes with patient curiosity, she continued. “I’ve pleasured myself to the thought of you many times, but I’ve never used this,” she told you. “I suppose I couldn’t imagine you in its place. It feels far more fitting to hold it.”
Heat rose to your cheeks and your breath hitched.
Wanda’s eyebrows raised and you felt a slightly forceful thrust, causing you to whimper. “Did you like hearing about that? I pulled out just a little and you’ve made quite the mess around it…”
The way her eyes scrutinised you, the focus in her expression, made you feel like she was observing you in great detail, feeling that her interest was sincerely piqued as much as she was aroused.
Then, with one more thrust, you felt the coolness of Wanda’s fingers pressed against your warm folds, and you knew she was entirely in.
“Does that feel good, Y/N?” she asked, settling herself more comfortably beside you so she was sitting up, your head lying in the crook of her neck. Her arm was wrapped around your head with her elbow keeping her up, her hand stroking your head softly.
You felt like you were struggling to get words out with the size of Wanda’s cock inside of you, along with the gentle and tantalising way she entered and pulled out. She was practically cradling you against her as she maintained steady motion, and you felt as if you were being babied.
“Th-That feels really good…” you mumbled.
“Oh, I’m so glad, sweetheart…” She began petting the side of your head and you mewled.
You watched through hooded eyes Wanda’s focused expression as she continued her soft thrusts, the positioning of your bodies making the act look almost masturbatory with how your bodies laid together, meshed.
“I had a feeling this would be the pace you preferred, Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice a soft mumble, her voice now sounding raspy with how low she was speaking. “If I’m honest… I thought a lot about what kinds of things you might like… I always enjoyed thinking that you were a careful lover, and shy…”
Even though she spoke at a hushed volume, you could hear her soft laboured breaths from her stern efforts to keep her arm at a steady pace, and often you looked down to see her forearm muscles flex subtly beneath her smooth pale skin.
“I thought about that all the time,” she confessed, a little moan passing her lips as the recollection. “I thought about how… polite and delicate you were, and your sweet smile and how kind you were to me. I thought that must mean you were quite accommodating in the bedroom, but I just wasn’t able to allow my mind to wander that far, thinking about what you might be able to do for me. I just kept thinking about what you’d let me do, and that soft little blush on your cheeks…”
She looked up at you and met your eyes. Hers crinkled at the sides when she looked over your expression, and when she smiled, the faint hints of dimples on either side of her smile made your heart skip about a dozen beats.
“The kind of blush you have right now…” she whispered.
“I wish you could see how you look,” she added, and you could feel her speeding her thrusts up, a new desperation in her efforts as you felt her move closer to you. Her hips knocked against the side of your thigh and her hardened nipples grazed against your upper arm.
Her breathing became laboured, and you felt yourself in a trance just looking into Wanda’s eyes, feeling pressure steadily build between your thighs she quickened her pace.
It was almost a little embarrassing hearing how wet you were, listening to how you stretched open each time Wanda thrusted her cock into you, and how you sounded when she pulled out, your tiny moans and whimpers building, seemingly encouraging Wanda to speed up.
“You look so cute, looking up at me, just waiting on what I’ll do or what I’ll say,” she said. “Do you feel cared for, baby…?”
Slender fingers brushed your hair out of your face.
“Y-Yes, I-”
Wanda interrupted you — not that you would’ve had anything very substantial to say anyways with how you started to speak and stutter without really knowing what you were going to say. “I knew it was wrong, fantasising about someone so young… But I couldn’t help it…”
She moaned softly and you could see her rub her thighs together just below your eye line.
Your eyes were beginning to flutter shut, for you were feeling the pressure in your lower stomach begin to coil, and you felt yourself tightening around the faux cock, suddenly sensitive to every noise and brush of Wanda’s hair against your skin.
Her arm unwrapped from around your head and Wanda suddenly leaned her head down and wrapped her lips around one of your nipples, causing you to moan out at the feeling of her warm tongue flicking over you, her teeth gently nipping at you before switching to the other.
“You’re doing such a good job, honey,” she reassured, trailing her kisses up to your neck and beginning to run her warm tongue up your skin. “So close, aren’t you?”
You nodded, trying to respond with intelligible words but only getting so far as a little whimper of affirmation.
From beyond distracted hooded eyes, your eyes flickered between Wanda’s fafe and her soft breasts, still pressed warm against your upper arm.
“You’ve gotten so wet,” Wanda purred, biting at the corner of your jaw. “My fingers are slipping from around the base; I have to keep readjusting my grip. It doesn’t help that you’re so tight…”
“If I had a cock of my own, baby, I’d have you on your knees, bent over with your face in the pillows…” she mumbled against your ear. “You’d be so tight and warm around me… You don’t know how wet it makes me to think about fucking a young thing like you… Hearing your little sounds and your pleas…”
Your eyes squeezed shut and you reached out to take hold of her hip. “W-Wanda, I’m-”
She moved her other hand down and interlaced your fingers.
“Come for me, Y/N,” she cooed.
Wanda was entirely captivated seeing you come, feeling the resistance around her dildo as your walls squeezed around it, your body arching from the bed while you cried out squeezed her hand. You came on the very bed and sheets she had to the thought of you countless times before, but the way you came was different.
It was more delicate than hers — from what she could recall from her own self-perception — your moans fluttery and broken into tiny whimpers, your body combed over with tiny tremors and involuntary twitches.
"That's a good girl," she whispered against your temple as you came, her other hand squeezing and stroking your shoulder. "Just like that, honey..."
She was careful when she pulled out of you, and couldn’t help but bring the dildo up to her lips and clean some of your mess off of it with her lips and tongue. Then she set it down somewhere on the bed and moved down to be able to wrap her arms around you, bringing your head against her chest.
Her arm that wrapped around the underside of your head stroked the side of your temple while she kissed your forehead, her other arm wrapped around your torso, rubbing your side soothingly.
After a while of Wanda rubbing your hip and your stomach, your upper arm, and anywhere she could reach while kissing your face gently, you caught your breath and cuddled close to her.
“I really do like you, Y/N,” Wanda said after the moments of silence. She pulled away a little to be able to look at your face in its entirety, and she smiled down at you softly. “I think you’re very kind, and very sweet. It’s really been a long time since anyone thought or cared as much about me as you do.”
Then she added, a bit shamefully, “I know it just sounds selfish, but over the last while since you moved here, I’ve been thinking of you quite a bit. And I was always very nervous to pursue anything, or even allow myself to feel anything like this for you.”
You didn’t want to speak up and interrupt her, especially since she seemed a little nervous confessing her feelings.
“Not only was it my first time regarding someone of your age in the way that I had begun to, but I think there were just a lot of things I was used to that I had to try to unlearn, and find confidence in diverging from.”
Then she looked away from your eyes and began fiddling with her fingers. Sensing her nerves, you squeezed her hand softly and rubbed your thumb against the back of her hand. Though she didn’t look back at you, she acknowledged your gesture and squeezed back.
“And there was also my age…” she hesitantly mentioned. “I felt… insecure, and unsure of myself, being how old I am and not knowing what to do. I felt… late to everything I was feeling for the first time, and thought that everything I was feeling was some desperate fantasy.”
Hesitantly, she met your eyes again, and looked relieved when you were already looking at her.
“You have no idea how good and happy it makes me feel that you’re sincerely interested in me…” she told you, a tiny shy smile spreading on her face. “I’ve never felt this way before, even with Vision… and I feel really lucky to be able to be with you like this.”
A realisation suddenly came over you hearing Wanda’s confession — did she really think it was all luck? You had been so shy about everything that you had failed to tell Wanda much of how you felt and how you saw her, and it wasn’t even your first time with a woman.
“I mean… it wasn’t really luck,” you said, fidgeting a little with her fingers, which Wanda thought was really cute. “I did ask to drive you home and visit you and work and… asked to see you this weekend.”
“Oh. That’s right, isn’t it?”
She looked like she had a moment of deep pondering as she looked off to the side. Then she looked down at you again and smiled.
“I guess I just didn’t really allow myself to accept the possibility that you were doing it all because of that,” she admitted bashfully.
You let go of her hand and brushed your fingers against her hip, drawing nervous shapes against her soft skin. “Can I touch you too, Wanda?” you requested.
For a moment, she looked surprised that you would even offer; her lips parted and she blinked, before closing her mouth and nodding slightly.
“What will you do?” she asked, curious and sounding a little insecure in a way that you couldn’t entirely understand.
The two of you shifted positions and Wanda laid on her back, looking up at you with eyes that made your chest ache. She looked vulnerable and almost a little anxious.
Being intimate with women wasn’t the same as being intimate with men — Wanda figured this quickly. It wasn’t the same kind of mutual pleasure, but rather, rooted in a kind of selflessness, a deep and involved desire to please the other without receiving explicit pleasure of one’s own.
Sex with Vision and any of the scarce intimate encounters she’d had since her divorce all seemed rather mechanical — it wasn’t so much about desire and interest as it was about fulfilling a role and doing what you knew you were expected to.
Vision hardly ever went down on Wanda, and she was never quite interested in asking him to nor was she interested in connecting with him in that way.
It wasn’t that she held any bitterness or negative reservations about him that confined their sex to duty or seeing it as an impulse of nature, as in having sex as one would eat when one was hungry, or sleep when one was tired.
It was more so that their marriage was not the kind to be seen as based on passion or desire; that hadn’t been how Wanda had seen him when they first met nor how he had seen her.
The idea that anyone could desire her to begin with, but moreover that one could desire her selflessly, whose justification was solely self-determined desire, made her anxious and uncertain.
It was, paradoxically, a selfish form of selflessness, where Wanda had only ever known duty and expectation.
“What you did for me before,” you told her, now settled between her thighs, on your knees. “Is that okay?”
Wanda nodded, looking at you. She adjusted herself a little, but you settled her by placing your hands on either side of her outer thighs.
You firstly moved up her body, making Wanda think that for a moment you changed your mind about all of what you’d said, but instead you started softly kissing her, laying your body flush against hers as Wanda’s legs parted before squeezing her thighs around your hips.
Her arms came to wrap around your torso. She stretched her fingers out so she could feel more of your skin, feel the way your back arched and curved as you kissed her lips, then her cheeks and then her neck.
“You’re beautiful…” you muttered, making Wanda open her eyes and turn her head a little to look at the way you had your face buried in her neck, your hair sprawled out a mess across her chest.
“Your skin is so smooth, and you’re so warm when you hold me,” you said.
All Wanda could do was whisper a small, “I like holding you, Y/N.”
You slowly descended back down, your palms running down her sides as if to hold the shape of her body and the frame that made it up in your hands, caressing her.
You massaged her breast, making Wanda loll her head to the side and let out a soft moan, her own hand coming to the back of your head and tightening her grip when your lips wrapped around her nipple.
Your tongue was soft and teasing over her hardened bud, and you sucked with a gentle force that wasn’t hesitant, but careful, treating her delicately.
Her hand stroked the back of your hand with her fingers, gently massaging your scalp and readjusting her hand’s position often to keep combing through your hair.
Moving further down, you pressed kisses to her stomach, beneath her breasts, down to her belly button, watching Wanda’s expression intently as you looked up at her.
She looked beautiful with her eyes fluttered shut, lips parted as she sighed and made little noises of pleasure.
You hoped she felt taken care of.
Your fingers began tugging at the waistband of her underwear and you looked up to her, expecting Wanda to feel a little hesitant, but instead she breathed out telling you to take them off, even reaching down and tugging at them.
Wanda’s heart raced when she felt your breath brush briefly against her pussy. A shudder ghosted across her skin and up her spine when your tongue flattened against her, pushing through her folds as your lips wrapped around her.
Her thighs squeezed around your head and she shut her eyes; the gentle curls and prods of your soft tongue set her on fire, and the way you rubbed at her thighs, squeezing gently, made goosebumps run up her skin.
She really was quite sensitive, for you could tell exactly how her body would react each time you dragged your tongue up her cunt, pressed against her clit, or secured your lips a little tighter around her.
You were gentle and intentional with how you ate her out, and Wanda could tell obviously that you certainly weren’t as inexperienced as she was.
When opened her eyes and looked down, she met your gaze and immediately felt that you were too far away, and she quickly came to prefer not to come without you much closer to her.
She loosened the grip of her thighs and reached down, her hand coming to the side of your head.
“I want you up here,” she said.
You couldn’t exactly hear what she said, but you could tell she wanted you to stop, so you lifted your head and Wanda guided you back up her body.
Quietly, you asked, “Are you okay?”
“I want you with me,” Wanda told you, wrapping an arm around your torso and pulling you close so your chest was flush against hers. Her other hand found your wrist and she led it down between her thighs.
You felt that you previously didn’t understand Wanda the way that you now did after being intimate with her. She was sensitive and a bit shy, and you hadn’t expected her to be so loving and attentive when it was your turn before.
There were things like the way she squeezed her arm around your torso when your fingers entered her, sighed into your chest, her head tucked under the crook of your neck, and took every opportunity to keep her body pressed against yours, that made you begin to reshape how you saw her.
You liked to hold her, to kiss the top of her head. You liked how she kept pulling you against her.
“Is this okay?” you asked.
She nodded quickly.
“Am I going too fast?”
Wanda shook her head.
She felt warm and tight around your fingers, and you were beginning to feel a sort of intimacy feeling the way she squeezed around you, and how she fluttered subtly when she moaned and arched her back to adjust herself.
“Say you want me, Y/N…” she whispered softly.
You lowered yourself to kiss her temple. “I want you, Wanda,” you said. ”You feel so good around my fingers. You’re so wet.”
She whimpered, eyes squeezing shut again as she lolled her head to the side to lay against your chest.
“You feel so warm,” you told her, lips brushing against her forehead. Her hand squeezed at your side. “I think you’re so pretty, and sensitive, and I want to take care of you. I want to make you feel good. I really… want to be with you.”
The words nearly made Wanda want to cry, and she lifted her head, meeting your lips in a gentle kiss. She’d never felt so much connection and longing for another person before.
It frightened her, at the back of her mind, feeling the way she began to cling at you. It was only you who she’d felt all this for, and she wasn’t sure what she’d do if suddenly none of this worked out. She felt an overwhelming sense of passion, felt it as it filled her chest and forced her to take big breaths to soothe the feeling.
You sped up, mostly curious to hear how wet she was, and Wanda yelped a little, her back arching and pressing her stomach against yours. Her knee bent and she parted her legs further.
You ran your eyes across her naked body, the way she was spread beneath you and clinging onto you, listened to her deep groans and little yelps and whimpers, watched her breasts rise and fall.
When Wanda came she was much quieter than you were. She hugged herself close and cried out into the crook of your neck, her sweet-smelling hair filling your nose. Her other hand grasped at your shoulder, and you paid close attention to how she pulsed around your fingers.
Suddenly her hand came down to wrap around your wrist, and she kept your fingers in place while her body shuddered with the aftermath of her orgasm.
Keeping your fingers deep inside of her and moving them not even a little let you feel her every movement while Wanda’s body slowly relaxed. She wanted to keep feeling you inside of her, just to feel that intimacy for a few moments more.
Then she nudged your hand away on account of how tired she was to speak, and you carefully pulled your fingers out of her.
As you looked at her beneath you and listened to her tired sighs and pants, you thought about how you’d seen Wanda as a woman on a platform for much of your time with her. Though you liked her and were attracted to her, you thought you’d always seen her and felt a little intimidated; she felt far away and greater, bigger, than your own life.
But now she seemed sensitive and delicate, panting, her chest rising and falling, her body coated with a sheen of sweat, her closed eyes fluttering gently. She looked incredibly vulnerable, and in this state it was far easier for you to tell that it truly had been her first time with a woman, and with anyone she felt very interested in or close to in a while.
You thought of her in more detail, your hand rubbing against her lower stomach, her own hand wrapped loosely around your bicep, her arm other around your waist.
Wanda had been married and divorced before, she had children and a business and years of her experienced life that you hadn’t yet lived. It still remained true that there were things you didn’t quite yet know about her, and things that would always indicate a difference in your ages and experience, and a general difference in how you lived your lives.
But in spite of all that, she had chosen to be here with you, and wanted you here with her.
At the moment her cheek was pressed against your chest, and she adjusted herself and guided you so you could wrap both your arms around her shoulders. She intertwined your legs with hers and tucked her head beneath your chin.
You wondered the kinds of things she must be thinking.
The truth was that you wouldn’t know unless you asked or she told you, but sometimes even that wouldn’t be able to capture exactly the way she might feel — when words and language couldn’t bridge the gap of Wanda being unable to word how she was experiencing a romance and an affection that she hadn’t ever before.
You thought a little about what Wanda said about her marriage before, and you wondered if you really made her feel seen and taken care of.
You felt her breathing in your arms, listened to her soft inhales and exhales, held her body, and were the only one she wanted to be with and share this time with.
“Can you sleep over, Y/N?” Wanda asked, lifting her head and meeting your eyes after adjusting her body to allow you to hold her more comfortably. She looked sleepy.
You laid onto your side fully so your head was on the same pillow as hers. “Do you want me to?” you asked.
She nodded. “Can you, please?”
“I’ll have to leave early in the morning since I live so far.”
A smile spread on her face and she nudged at your shoulder softly.
“I want to stay over,” you then told her seriously, kissing her forehead and eliciting a little sigh of pleasure from Wanda.
She said quietly, “I think I should get up and get ready for bed. I might still have a little makeup on.”
Before you could nod and ask if she had any clothes you could borrow, she sat up and looked at you. Her face was shadowed and her hair, now having lost the curl she had given it this afternoon, was a bit messy, and looked very soft.
You reached out to touch her hair, just to smooth some stray strands down, and make her face more visible. She tipped her face into your caresses, the back of your fingers brushing against her cheekbone.
While Wanda brushed her teeth and you were about to change into the pajamas she let you borrow, you suggested that you might shower together before bed. For most of the night there was minimal talking — not because you had nothing to talk about, but because both of you were far more occupied with just being together.
Wanda’s hair was nice to feel when you lathered shampoo into it, and her fingers were strong when she washed yours. Her lotion smelled like the tiny whiffs you sometimes got around her but were certain wasn’t her perfume — it was her lotion.
On the bathroom counter were her earrings she sometimes wore and her glasses, and her makeup and face wash and hairbrush.
You liked seeing everything, and you liked being able to touch her whenever you felt, feeling your arms around her waist and being able to kiss her face and her exposed shoulders.
“Do you think… you’ll regret doing this?” Wanda asked quietly after some moments of silence while you laid together, the tone of her voice trying to communicate a space for you to be open and truthful with her. “You can be honest. It’s okay.”
You immediately looked over to her. She was on her side, her hand tucked under her pillow as she looked at you. The blankets were pulled up to her chin, making her look tiny. “No, not at all,” you told her. “I really want to spend more time with you, and I really like you. I’m interested in you.”
Then you wiggled a little closer to her so your knees bumped against hers, making her laugh at how you moved yourself into her personal space.
She wiggled close too until your noses were all but touching, and you could tell Wanda was trying not to giggle.
“I want this,” you said. The serious tone of your voice sounded silly with how close you were to her face, and Wanda couldn’t hold herself back from laughing just a little.
“Okay,” Wanda replied with a determined little nod once she stopped laughing. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the sides. “Good. So do I.”
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