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livwritesstuff · 1 month

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Tommy POV, wc: 2890, full version on ao3

Tommy Hagan is not jealous of Eddie Munson.

He’s not.

There’s nothing to be jealous of, in his opinion, and Tommy probably wouldn’t be thinking about him at all if Eddie wasn’t the most publicly well known member of his graduating class – well, he hadn’t actually been in his graduating class, Tommy supposes.

They had been seniors at the same time, though.

If Tommy happened to be jealous of anything – and that’s a big if – it would probably have something to do with the famous thing. Everyone has a small part of them that wants to be famous at least in some capacity, he’s pretty sure, even if Eddie isn’t really, truly famous – not like the red carpet celebrities. He’s a writer. Even the most well known writers never get all that much attention, but Munson has his own Wikipedia page, and that’s more than anybody else from Hawkins, Indiana can say. Hawkins itself barely even has a Wikipedia page, and it’s only because of all the atrocities that happened in town in the mid-eighties.

Tommy hadn’t been around for the end of it all – the earthquake-slash-serial killer situation that never made any sense to him. He remembers his mom calling him at his college dorm when the deaths first started. He remembers her asking, “You went to school with that Munson boy, right? Do you think he could do something like this?”

And Tommy had been twenty and a total moron, so he’d said some dumb shit like, “Yeah, he’s into freaky stuff like that. Somebody should’ve put him on a list ages ago,” even though four years of experience told him that Eddie was all bark, no bite. Tommy hadn’t been surprised at all by the statements that later came out clearing Eddie's name, and by then his parents had already high-tailed it out of Hawkins so it all sort of became irrelevant to him.

Tommy never even returned to Hawkins one single time after he left for college (barring his high school reunion, obviously), and twenty years after graduation, he doesn’t really think about those years all that much.

He doesn’t love the person he’d been in high school. He was whiny and immature and had his priorities all messed up. Most of the memories he has of his teenage years, he looks back at and cringes, feels a whole lot of shame and embarrassment, but also some pride at how much he’s grown over the last twenty years. He also knows he’d been kind of a dick in high school, but that he’s less ashamed of. It’s normal, he knows, for kids to be mean, that it’s a standard response to being untreated kindly in other ways. Like, his dad had been an asshole to him as a kid, always on him about his grades and his smart mouth and how he’d no longer been a standout on any of his sports teams after starting high school, and Tommy had coped with that by poking kids beneath him at school.

It’s just the pecking order of high school. It’s normal.

Even now, when Tommy’s son had dealt with some pricks in the year above him shoving him around, he had come home from school and tormented his little sister for a while – it’s normal, no matter how much his wife had tried to convince him it was something that needed addressing. It’s just kids being kids. They grow out of it eventually, just like Tommy had.

Occasionally he wonders where the kids he’d spent all those years with in the Hawkins public school system had ended up, but these days the internet makes that pretty damn easy to figure out.

He’s learned Tina got married and had kids real young. She still lives in Indiana. Carol, who he’d split up with before heading off to college, lives in Alabama now and she’s got kids and a husband too. Jonathan Byers is a photographer in California – Tommy isn’t into all that art-y crap, so he has no clue if he’s any good, but he definitely recognizes some of the organizations he’s worked for and if that’s any indication, Tommy would wager he’s not too shabby. No wife, though, he noted, so he’d either been right about Byer’s being a queer, or women just found him repulsive (admittedly, Tommy leans more towards the former – he’s a photographer). Tammy Thompson still lives in Tennessee, though it doesn’t seem like she does music anymore (husband, kids, blah blah blah).

If he’s honest, the only person Tommy is actually interested in tracking down is Steve Harrington, and he’s the one person Tommy can’t find a single trace of online. No MySpace, no Facebook, no weird blog thing, nothing.

Vaguely, he wonders if Steve might be dead. A truly massive proportion of Hawkins had died over just a few short years in the mid-eighties. Maybe Harrington was one of them.

Tommy doubts it.

He would have known.

Steve’s parents would have made sure everyone knew if their son had died. Funnily enough, Steve’s mom is actually on Facebook, and pretty actively too, but there’s no sign of Steve anywhere on her page.

He hadn’t even shown up for their high school reunion in the winter of ‘04, which is odd because Tommy had been certain he would.

He doesn’t obsess over it – he really doesn’t. It’s just a thought that pops into his mind every now and then – where the hell is Steve Harrington?

In the late spring of 2007, he gets his answer.

“Tom,” his wife says, “That guy from your high school is on the cover of this magazine.”

He knows without asking for clarity that it’s Munson – no other person makes sense – and when he eventually gets his hands on the magazine, he finds that he’s correct.

Eddie Munson is on the cover of a magazine because, apparently, he published another book.

Truthfully, Tommy already knew that.

It’s his fourth book (which, for the record, Tommy hadn’t known until he knew it because it’s not like he’s keeping tabs on this guy or whatever), and it’s been getting a whole bunch of mainstream attention after a controversial landing on the top of all those book charts Tommy doesn’t follow despite featuring a gay love store amidst all his normal fantasy crap. It sparked a whole debate about banning books and everything (dumb, Tommy knows, because if he learned anything in business school it’s that if you really don’t want something to exist, the best thing you can do is not funnel money and attention into it).

Tommy does, in fact, watch the news so he’d already caught wind of all this – it’s part of the reason he can’t shake the guy – and it’s why Eddie Munson is on the cover of this magazine (because, seriously, nobody gives a shit about writers until it hits the news).

He allows himself a moment to look at the cover, to look at Eddie, who apparently goes by Ed now. Tommy is loath to admit it, but he looks good. His hair is normal and he’s grown into his frame, not all long and lanky and gangly limbs like Tommy remembers from school. He looks well-fed, confident, happy.

He looks good.

Tommy thumbs through the first few pages of the magazine until he reaches Eddie’s interview, and, again, he allows himself to look over the photo of him that takes up nearly three-quarters of the first page even if he has no intention of actually reading the article itself because, again, Eddie looks good (and maybe there’s something about the scruff of facial hair along his jaw that Tommy's eye gets stuck on). Tommy’s allowed to say that men look good when it’s true – it’s 2007, as his wife likes to remind him whenever it’s convenient for her, and if she’s allowed to say that Angelina Jolie looked good in that CIA movie, then Tommy is allowed to say that Eddie Munson looks good here.

When Tommy flips to the next page, he’s met with a photo that stops him in his tracks, has his feet frozen to the floor because –

Jesus Christ, that’s Steve Harrington.

Fuck, okay, so he’s reading this fucking article.

It takes Tommy a long time to get through it, honestly. Eddie comes out in the article, which might be a big deal, might not (and he doesn't care to be enlightened, thanks). He keeps getting distracted by the pictures scattered throughout it.

The pictures of Steve, mostly.

Because, well, if Eddie Munson looks good, Steve…

Steve looks alive.

Tommy didn’t realize it until this exact moment, but Steve had existed in his head for the last two decades as the eighteen-year-old he’d been the last time they were in the same room together. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Steve’s been aging this whole time too, just like Tommy has.

It’s undeniable that Steve is older.

His hair is starting to go gray at his temples (it’s the only thing that’s changed about his hair since he’s still styling it the same as he did in high school – because why mess with a good thing, Tommy supposes) and he’s got just the hint of crow's feet around his eyes when he smiles. He’s smiling in all the photos – every damn one – and it has Tommy struck by how unbelievably happy Steve seems. It’s an effect that somehow both takes years off the age Tommy knows he is and shines a light on just how good those years must have been for him.

There’s no solo shots of him like there are for Munson – though according to the article, it's actually Harrington now – and only half the photos are in color. The rest of them – the more candid ones – are smaller and left in black-and-white.

The one that caught Tommy’s eye first – because it was meant to, he’s pretty sure; it takes up half the page – is right in that sweet spot between staged and candid where Steve and Eddie both know that they’re being photographed even though neither of them are actually posing. Eddie is grinning at Steve in a wicked way that still feels familiar to Tommy even two decades since he’d last seen it on him (probably swaggering around the cafeteria like a total jackass – not that Tommy would know anything about that). Steve is grinning right back at him with a smile Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Or maybe he has, but not on this version of his face, not since Steve was as young as his oldest daughter.

Just as the author of the article said, the photos don’t show the faces of Steve’s children, either leaving them artfully out-of-focus or choosing shots where they’re turned away from the camera, but they’re still present, and it makes the whole spread almost feel like a photo album in a way, like it should be private but instead was published for the whole world to see.

Steve has three of them – kids, Tommy means. He didn’t know that Steve was a family kind of guy. It makes sense though, when he thinks about it. Steve’s parents were kind of a nightmare — present in the worst ways, and absent in the worst ways too (though it hadn’t seemed that way when Tommy was a teenager looking for a failsafe party house). He'd always felt kind of bad for the guy. Like, Tommy's dad had been a total piece of work, but they'd at least been around, and he'd stuck around long enough for them to sort out their issues at least most of the way, and these days he's a pretty kickass grandpa to Tommy's children.

Tommy wonders about Steve's parents now, wonders if they maybe came around like his own parents had, but then he remembers Mrs. Harrington's Facebook page and how there's not a damn trace of her son on there, never mind three grandchildren.

Tommy isn't sure he wants to touch that.

Steve is probably a really good dad, Tommy decides. He’d been kind of that way when they were friends — Steve used to say he wasn’t all that bright, but he always had a freaky sixth sense for reading people, for caring about them in exactly the way they needed.

There's one photo where Steve is managing to holding his youngest daughter — a tiny little baby still — and her bottle in one arm (that's a level-three dad hold, Tommy knows). The bottle is angled in a way that obscures her face, and Steve's other hand is being tugged on by another daughter, this one with a mop of curly brown hair remarkably similar to Eddie's when it was still long.

That's another thing Tommy won't let himself think about, (because he knows if did he'd start wondering if any of those kids were half-Steve).

Anyways, Tommy doesn't need glance to see that Steve wears fatherhood like a favorite sweater.

There’s something about this, about seeing these pictures, about the way Tommy is getting an answer to that question he’s had for years about where his childhood best friend has been all these years, that is making him feel like his ribcage is being split open, bones splintering and shattering as everything vulnerable inside his chest in suddenly out for display.

He probably should feel uncomfortable, right? Like, a guy he’d been seriously close to growing up — sleepovers and gym locker rooms and all that shit — had turned out to be gay. If his own son came home from school saying that his best friend came out or whatever as gay…well, again, it’s 2007, and Tommy doesn’t think his wife would allow him to denounce the friendship entirely, but there certainly wouldn’t be any sleepovers anymore. He thinks that’s pretty reasonable.

What was the likelihood that Steve had been, like, into Tommy?

And that should be an uncomfortable notion too, and in a sense, it kind of is, but not necessarily in the way he would expect.

He just doesn’t understand why all this feels so much like a loss because he knows that he hasn’t really lost anything – not since he got his hands on the magazine, anyways. Steve Harrington hasn’t played any sort of role in Tommy’s life since their final falling out in 1984, and as far as he’s aware, having a falling out with a close friend is pretty much a guaranteed part of growing up. His wife even experienced something similar when her own grade school best friend suddenly stopped answering calls and stopped reaching out after they’d started college – and his wife is basically the nicest person Tommy has ever known, so…it happens to even the best.

It’s just…Steve had always continued to exist in Tommy’s life in a way, even if he wasn't physically present, and maybe Tommy had figured it could be the same for Steve too, that maybe he sometimes wonders where Tommy is, wonders what he’s up to.

This article and these photos makes it pretty fucking clear that Tommy doesn’t even exist in the same galaxy as the life Steve is living.

And that’s not to mention the Eddie fucking Munson of it all.

Tommy had been kind of ignoring the Eddie of it all until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, because he doesn't care about Eddie Munson.

He'd never cared, but he'd spent years seeing the guy's face and his name everywhere, and now it feels like a sick joke, like he's the piece of Steve left in Tommy's life.

If the article is accurate (and he has no reason to believe it isn’t), Steve and Eddie have been together for longer than Tommy has even known his wife. Steve has been with Eddie for longer than Steve was ever friends with Tommy – not by a lot, but still more. That’s a long fucking time, and it’s clear as day on both of their faces that they’re just as in love with each other fourteen years in as they were on day one.

It’s not just Steve, and it’s not just Eddie, and it’s not one more than the other. It’s both of them.

There’s one photo in particular – a small black-and-white one that keeps pulling Tommy’s attention.

It’s another candid shot, taken from a bit of a distance. In it, Steve has Eddie boxed in against the counter in what has to be their kitchen. Eddie is leaning back against the edge of the granite countertop and looking at Steve with something sappy and fond on his face, and Steve’s hands are this close to grabbing Eddie’s waist as he looks at him the exact same way.

It’s shit out of a fairy tale or something, and sure, maybe someone could argue that they’re laying it on thick just for the sake of the magazine or whatever, but Tommy knows Steve Harrington and that look on his face is more real than Tommy had ever seen in all the years he'd known him.

So maybe Tommy has a reason or two (or three or four) to be jealous of Eddie Munson.

#unreliable narrator!tommy hagan my beloved #the ao3 version has the interview btw #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan

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anobjectshowguy · 3 months

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I hope people in the OSC (and other fandoms in general) who are ok with or neutral about Kosa realize that not only will we lose a bunch of platforms that allow us to interact with each other (Tumblr, discord, Ao3, Wattpad, Twitter, YouTube, etc) but will also get rid of at least 80-95% of our fandom.

The OSC consists mostly of people between 13-17 who (if Kosa goes through the Senate and Houses of Representatives and gets passed as a law) will most likely no longer have access to YouTube and other social platforms which actively kills almost all the people who read and watch Object Shows!

By visiting and sharing animated shows like II or BFDI those creators make money which gives them the means to keep making their shows and paying their animators, voice actors, writers and so much more. This bill will actively get rid of most of the people who watch these shows which will cause a large loss in support and revenue for these creators and will most likely mean the end for any smaller object show.

Object show comics rely on people sharing them around in fandom spaces since they’re not animated and put on YouTube like animated object shows are. By losing these spaces and the people who support their content these creators will no longer be able to reach a large audience and get the support they need to continue their comics. This means that we will lose a lot of the comics that the OSC has!

Most of the content you see in the OSC is made by minors, which this bill will actively destroy and thus kill this fandom and many others!

So I am begging of you OSC and other communities, Please please please sign petitions, tell your senators and representatives that you don’t want this bill to pass, and tell anyone that you can reach about how this Bill is a violation of privacy and minors' rights! Re-blog anything you see with helpful information about what Kosa is and keep talking about it! We need to tell people about it so that this doesn’t go through the Senate. Remember, the final day is February 26, we don’t have that long!!!

Here’s some helpful resources:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/07/you-can-help-stop-these-bad-internet-bills

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infraaa · 10 months

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KOSA 101

Let’s talk about this. This is something I haven’t seen a lot of in my end, and this new bill may be troubling to not just us as a whole, but content creators. So, this isn’t just exclusive to AO3 anymore. This can go as far as places like Wattpad, Quotev, DeviantArt, and here.

So, to put it bluntly, if you give a fuck, listen.

What is KOSA?

KOSA (Kids Online Safety Act,) is a bill within the United States that was initially created last year with the aim of protecting youth (considerably age 16 and under,) from viewing harmful content online. It has since been updated and reintroduced by Richard Blumenthal (D-CT) and Marsha Blackburn (R-TN.) Now, on surface level, it may seem like this has a good outlook, right? Not in the slightest. This bill, while it may not be passed yet rather introduced, may take an extreme to protect youth and monitor all. Yes, I said monitor.

Not only is NSFW content bound to be flagged, which may totally censor a lot of creators not just on this platform but others, a wider band that is under this new bill is LGBT+ content. According to Senator Blackburn of Tennessee, who is KOSA’s co-author, even education on race discrimination was viewed as “dangerous to kids,” and this soon branches out to race, gender, and sexuality discrimination. This also extends out to anxiety, depression, eating disorders, etc. The bill puts itself in the hands of State Attorney Generals in order for them to use tools of censorship against our rights and safety— not just for the youth, but for adults too, as we may face (giving an example,) hurdles trying to obtain things like legal documents.

How does KOSA work?

KOSA works by acting as a censor and self filter for the internet. By the hands of Attorney State Generals, they ultimately decide what is harmful to kids online. Though, this is a dual edged sword. This would also present the loss of access to information that a large sum of people may not deem dangerous. This again extends outward towards things like depression, substance abuse, etc— complex topics without a clear agreement on causes or solutions. This means that it could also filter, and possibly censor medical information, extending outward to trans medical care as well, which may lead on to silence the transgender community further. This is a very bad thing.

There would still be features like Age Verification, but it also filters legal speech. What I mean by “there will still be features,” to give an example, Tumblr has a tab in settings where you can add your birthday, which in turn verifies how old you are. Tiktok has this feature as well. About filtering legal speech, any kind of media or information that has to do with societal ills that is held on a platform, for example, Tumblr, will enable that platform to be held liable for holding that information. But… it may seem like I’m getting off topic, aren’t I?

So let’s swing back around…

KOSA has the ability to hurt creators on several different platforms. This gives the United States Government unlimited range of control over the internet.

This linktree has at least four different petitions open for you to take action against the bill, and to contact your congressmen and women. There’s also a discord server that’s dedicated to stopping KOSA from passing.

By doing this, you are spreading your voice. You are helping millions of people nationally— creators, artists, writers, everyone.

And finally, don’t just like this post. Reblog it— it helps it spread and gain exposure.

Let’s put an end to KOSA.

#infrawrites #infraspeaks #kosa bill #kosa act #kosa #stop kosa #kids online safety act #lgbtq community #lgbtqiia+#wattpad #a03 down #a03 #writers on tumblr #artists on tumblr #I’m sorry for the tag overload and the cookie run tags are irrelevant but that’s the community I’m in #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #cookie run overbreak #crob

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randomshyperson · 2 years

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Cherry Wine - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Sometimes a glass of wine is all it takes to see someone who has always been in front of you. Or the one where Wanda is getting divorced, and you two are best friends.

Warnings: (+18), brief drunk making out, friends to lovers, lots of teasing and sexual tension, reader is a simp, semi public, a bit of roleplay, fingering (r giving), oral (r giving). | Words: 7.058k

A/N-> This idea has been on my drive for months, but I only finished it last week. Here it is, I think I've got all the warnings, but let me know if I'm missing anything. Good reading!

General Masterlist || AO3 || Wattpad

--//--

It was official.

Exactly 3 hours and 8 minutes ago - and Wanda knew that because she was timing how long she could hold her breath under the short water of the tub - she became officially a divorced woman.

She had just returned the cell phone with the lawyer's confirmation that all papers delivered had been read and the process was finished as she placed it beside the tub and was about to return to her childish challenge when the bathroom door opened.

You frowned at your best friend's posture, but there was a little smile on your lips.

"You have strange habits, Wanda. I worry sometimes." You commented humorously, getting a weak chuckle from the other woman. You had two towels in your hands - one for body and one for hair - which you left on the sink. "Natasha said, for the twentieth time, that she's very sorry to miss the girls' day, but she's going to try to bribe Fury with bagels to see if she could switch her overnight duty to tomorrow."

Wanda nodded in understanding but said nothing about it. If she was one hundred percent sincere, although she also loved Natasha, you were more than enough. You had planned a surprise day with just the girls on the same day the divorce papers were filed because you figured Wanda would need company. She expected to arrive home from the court to do household chores that were sure to make her cry, but she arrived at the clean and organized place, a hot bath waiting for her and your companionship.

"Are you ready to get out or should I leave the music on? You look like you're pretending to be a music video, and I wouldn't want to disrupt the creative process of the best writer in this country." You joke, and this time Wanda laughs with flushed cheeks.

"Stop it." She grumbles, but you just shake your head with a chuckle. "What did you say we were going to do anyway?"

"Cooking." You retort with one hand propped on the sink. "I know it's the only thing that helps you relax as much as writing, but since you hate writing when you're upset, Sokovian food will have to do." You reply and Wanda sighs heavily.

"Okay." She says. "Can you give me five minutes?"

You smile. "Honey, I'll give you all the time you need. Meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready." You said before leaving.

Wanda hugged her legs trying to get up the courage to leave the bathroom. Today would be a good day, she was sure. All the days around you were good, or at least, they were better than the days without you. These were not so common. Ever since the two of you met, so long ago in high school, you haven't been apart. Same high school, same college, same group of friends when you started your careers. While Wanda became a writer, you followed the same career as your mother and sisters in the medical field.

Today had to be a good day because Wanda had been needing these lately.

And while she was getting dressed, you walked casually down the stairs toward the kitchen.

Pietro called next and you put him on speakerphone as you moved to start getting the pans out.

"What do you need, my least favorite Maximoff?" You answered the call with a tease and heard laughter on the other end of the line.

"Please, everyone knows you are secretly in love with me." He returned, making you chuckle and shake your head. "Only that would explain why you lived at my house all the time in high school."

"Of course. And here I thought it was because your sister is my best friend, how silly of me."

Pietro laughed, and before you could continue you heard two childish voices joining the call, and you left the pans on the countertop to look at the twins trying to fit into the camera view.

"And how are the cutest boys in the whole world doing?" You asked, making them smile.

"Aunt Y/N, Tommy and I got a new video game!" Billy said excitedly. "Uncle Piete gave it to us as a present!"

"Yes, because they were very well-behaved on the trip, and they promised they'll remain just as quiet while I'm driving home." Pietro advised, rubbing his forehead lightly and making you smile.

The twins were spending the weekend with their uncle on the other side of the state, and you had asked Pietro for a few extra hours because of girls' day - which he promptly agreed to, because besides adoring his nephews, he figured Wanda needed some break.

"What time are you getting on the road?" You asked.

"After lunch. We should get there around six, and with any luck, those little boys will fall asleep halfway, right, kids?" Peter tried, but seeing the way Billy and Tommy were jumping around excitedly, that seemed far from the truth. You laughed at Pietro's tired expression. "Hey, how's Wanda?"

Before you could answer, Wanda had come downstairs - her hair slightly damp and her posture relaxed as she put on a sweatshirt set - she looked good. Quiet pretty.

"Y/N?" You blinked in confusion, realizing that you were staring and hadn't said anything for a long moment. Clearing your throat, you picked up your cell phone and turned to Wanda - who smiled at the sight of her brother and children - and approached.

"Mom, look at our new video game!" The twins started talking quickly, and you smiled as you watched Wanda's face light up as she spoke to them. You left your cell phone with her and went to organize things in the kitchen.

After a few minutes, Wanda ended the call with 'Love you, see you all later' and a nod, and then approached you, sliding the cell phone into the back pocket of your pants.

"Don't put it away, we're going to need it." You warn, putting down the plates you took from the top. "I need to look up the recipes online, I have no idea how to cook anything, Wands."

"That's what I'm here for." She retorts with a smile, taking the plates from your hands. "Everyone knows that following recipes is like cheating."

"That doesn't make any sense." You try but she just shrugs her shoulders and moves to leave the dishes on the countertop, and you laugh, seeing that this argument you will not win.

Except that, many minutes between jokes, touches, and playful nudges - from grabbing an ingredient before Wanda can, gently pushing your shoulders against hers when she was measuring something, or tickling her when she goes to reach for something on the highest shelf - whatever Wanda was cooking sure wasn't going as planned.

"There's something missing." She commented thoughtfully as she tasted the seasoning, and you crossed your arms as you leaned your back on the countertop beside her.

"Sorry, miss we don't need a recipe, did you say something?" You teased playfully, and she rolled her eyes with amusement.

"Okay, Y/N, renowned chef from nowhere with impeccable skills in making instant noodles and ice, can you please check the ingredients for me?"

"Hum, I didn't sense much sincerity in your request, but I will overlook it because you are cute." You joke, and since you are distracted by picking your cell phone out of your pocket, you don't notice that despite her shy chuckle, Wanda's cheeks turn pink.

With the recipe, it was definitely easier to finish lunch. And the food was delicious. You and Wanda took the dishes into the living room - because it was a quiet day, and since the kids are not here, you could do it just today - and turned on the TV.

Wanda wasn't even surprised that you had sorted out her favorite sitcoms, but she was certainly pleased. You were good to her. Always so good to her. And now, watching you out of the corner of her eye as you giggle at one of the jokes on the television, Wanda has to remind herself that she shouldn't feel her heart racing this way. It's not how friends feel.

"When do you have to go?" That is the question she lets slip almost four hours after you both have finished lunch. The dishes were carried into the kitchen by you at some point, and this must have been the only time you guys got up from your empty cushions besides bathroom trips. Wanda thinks that her anxious brain came up with this because she hasn't heard a word of the episode since she stretched out her legs on the sofa and your hands began to massage her feet.

You raise an eyebrow at her, surprised at the sudden question.

"Are you kicking me out, Maximoff?" It's ironic and humorous, and Wanda giggles, letting her head fall back on the couch as she looks at you.

"Of course, I'm so tired of relaxing and having fun all day." She retorts in the same tone making you smile. However you stop your caresses to check your watch, and Wanda regrets asking.

"I have the night shift, so I should leave before Pietro gets back with the boys." You mutter before returning your gaze to her. "But we have enough time to bake some cookies for them."

The suggestion makes Wanda smile. "Can we bake a pie too?"

You laugh, pushing her feet gently to get up. "Anything you want, sweetheart."

Wanda must have the flu. You always use affectionate nicknames, but now, it makes her heart skip a beat. She follows you into the kitchen lazily - even a little hesitant - somewhat confused about her own reactions. You don't notice anything.

Baking is different for you two - you are better at it than she is. Wanda helps with the dough though, and you have fun when you need to wash your hands in the sink, several playful pushings until you're done.

"Now we wait." You say as soon as the last tray of cookies is in the oven. Wanda decides to sit on the floor, her back resting on the countertop behind her, and you laugh at the scene, but sit down beside her, both of you staring at the cookies baking. There is a moment of silence, just your quiet breaths. Wanda hugs her legs and you sigh. "How has it been today, sweetheart?"

Wanda knows you are asking about the divorce, precisely about the absence of Vis around the house now. But to be fair, it's not as if he used to be around anymore anyway. And that is exactly what she tells you. Despite offering you a hum of understanding, you complete with a quiet "I'm sorry."

She raises an eyebrow. "Why? You never liked him."

You let out a short chuckle, looking at her with almost surprise. "I'm sorry you're going through this, I mean. And that you're sad. It doesn't matter how I felt about him."

Wanda nods, resting her face on her arm. "I'm not sad, Y/N." She murmurs. "I'm somewhere between relieved and angry. Probably both."

"Yeah, I'm sorry." You repeat and Wanda lets out an almost impatient sigh, turning her body toward you.

"You know what, Vision is no longer my husband. You can be honest, okay?" She practically accuses, and seeing your confused and surprised expression, she completes, "About him I mean. You two never got along. You don't have to hide what you really think about him anymore. You can be honest, I won't mind."

"Wanda, I really don't think that talking shit about your ex-husband is the appropriate thing-"

"Stop it." She cuts off gesturing a bit. "Vision was all about the appropriate thing, remember? So please, Y/N. Let's just, for today at least, be honest. I need this."

You sigh, looking at her with some hesitation. "Promise you won't be angry?"

"I promise."

"Even if I'm mean, or rude?"

Wanda laughs. "Yes."

You giggle too, but then let out an almost excited exclamation. "Okay, I've kept these things since college when you first met him, but let's do it." You stated in a fake serious tone that made Wanda chuckle slightly. Theatrically you made a thoughtful face and cleared your throat before beginning. "Okay, first of all, Vision was the most idiotic guy you could have chosen to marry, and these are the reasons: He is crude, hugely arrogant, and manipulative. I always hated the way he talked to you. He treated you as if he were somehow smarter or more talented, and he was never either." You began to state and Wanda's eyes widened slightly. "And also, he couldn't read the room. I lost count of how many times he made you uncomfortable with some inappropriate comment. And the worst part is that he didn't have the slightest clue that you were bothered because even though he was with you, he seemed to know nothing about you!"

Wanda swallowed dryly, watching you vent. The worst part was that you were right about everything, and she remained silent as you opened up:

"And that was just the beginning, you know? You two started going out, and he didn't even know the basics about you! And then you got engaged and he bought you a really expensive ring and all I could think was 'what a stupid guy'. You don't even like blue, he could have spent less on a red stone and Wanda would have loved it even more." You comment and Wanda lets out a chuckle that you share. "And then you got married, and the party was beautiful I admit, but he drank too much and almost ruined what was supposed to be the best day of your life."

"Thanks for moving the cake, by the way." Wanda muttered remembering the day clearly, and you laughed, nodding.

"It didn't get any better after that, Wanda." You continued. "He was a terrible husband to you. He didn't go to any of your events, and I know that because I was at all of them. And remember the twins' anniversary and the wine accident? The jerk was more concerned about a damn bottle than an injured son. It was a good thing I already knew how to do decent bandages." You joke about the last part, but Wanda can't give you more than a short laugh.

You keep listing - days and more days when Vision was a terrible father and husband - and you keep being right. But mostly, you were the one present in her life all the time. Attending her writer's publicity events, at family parties, gently picking the kids up from school, caring for this family as if it were your own. Wanda feels a lump forming in her throat. She wants to cry, especially if it means you are the one going to hug her.

Noticing her silence, you interrupt yourself mid-statement, looking at her with concern.

"See, Wanda, I knew I shouldn't have said anything!" You declare seeing the tears in her eyes, your face almost desperate. "I take it all back. Forget what I said, it was insensitive and foolish to say it at this moment."

Wanda gives a tearful laugh, shaking her head. "No, Y/N, don't worry." She says trying to push the emotion away, "You're right. Vis was an idiot, but that must mean I am too for believing him." She declares sadly and you deny frantically, but Wanda looks down at her own lap. "Maybe all of this is not for me, you know? I'm just not a good wife."

"That's what I mean, Wanda." You begin as you raise a finger to her chin, making her look up at you. Your hand doesn't pull away, fitting comfortably on her cheek, and it takes all of Wanda's mental control not to lean in or melt at the touch. "He made you feel like you weren't enough when he should have made you feel like you were everything." She knows she is blushing, and she knows that because your hand is on her face you are feeling the warmth of her cheeks. So she thinks it best to smile and nod, pushing her face away before she loses control of her own body.

"I have an idea." She declares because she doesn't want you to think she has rejected your touch or that she is angry, and is getting up. "Vis has carried most of his things away but left a bottle of wine from our wedding. I'm sure it was the last shot to try to make me feel guilty, but he's not going to have that victory. I want to drink that whole bottle with my favorite person, which is you."

Wanda didn't see the silly grin you had on your face because she was getting the glasses and the bottle from the cabinet under the sink. You checked on the cookies before you got up and Wanda brought the items to the countertop behind you.

"The saddest part is that your wedding wine is terrible." You commented, making her laugh.

"I know." She says as she opens it. "But it will have to do. One sip for the symbolism of the moment?" She asks, making you chuckle before nodding.

But time aging has improved the drink. You and Wanda share a surprised look as you taste the cherry, hum of satisfaction after the first sip.

"While it's not bad, I can't go to work drunk." You warn as you return the cup to the countertop and Wanda laughs, shrugging.

"More for me then." She says and turns your entire cup over in a single gulp, making you giggle and shake your head.

You go into the living room to get your cell phone, and when you return to the kitchen Wanda is sitting on the countertop. She has given up on the glasses and decided to drink straight from the bottle.

"Natasha apologized again, and said that the attempted bribe ended up getting her an extra shift." You say as soon as you read the message from your cell phone, and Wanda lets out a hearty giggle.

"Damn, now I feel bad." She retorts. "I think I'll save some of my pie for her."

"My pie you mean."

Wanda laughs, rolling her eyes. "We split the work!"

"Yeah, yeah, you can take five percent credit." You tease as you move closer, leaving your cell phone on the countertop next to her where you stop.

"Five percent?" She repeats with false indignation.

"And I'm being generous."

Wanda lets out a short laugh, pushing your shoulder playfully but you are looking at her in a way that makes her legs go weak. Your cell phone vibrates the same second Wanda starts to lean in, and it breaks the moment completely. She decides to take another long sip while you check the message.

"It's Harley. She wants to know if I can come in early because an appointment popped up." You count as you type. "Sorry, Wanda, but you just lost another hour with your favorite person."

Wanda chuckles. "You're never gonna let that one go, are you?"

"Not a chance." You retort with a mischievous smile, looking at her for only a second before you go back to typing.

Wanda takes another long sip of her wine, and the next words are coming out before she can hold them back, "How come you never got married?"

You blink confusedly away from the phone at the sudden question, but you shrug. "I don't know. I guess I haven't met the right person yet."

Wanda is no longer smiling. She thinks she should, though. It would be the appropriate thing to do: smile relaxedly for a casual conversation with her best friend.

"Not even Harley?"

You chuckle at her phrase, putting your cell phone in your pants pocket, and she makes a surprised face. "You haven't heard? I think Natasha was waiting for the opportunity to tease me in the most efficient way about it." You begin. "We haven't been going out in almost a month now. We were doing well, I think, and I thought about asking her to be my girlfriend during a picnic. I set up a romantic date at the Municipal Botanical Garden, even took her to see a butterfly exhibit. And guess what? She fell in love with the flower girl."

Wanda stared at you in shock. "Sorry, what?" she asked, but you laughed, shrugging.

"There was a woman supervising the exhibit, a biologist. When it was over, Harley took my hand and said `Sweetheart, this has been lovely, but we can't go out anymore. I think I just found the love of my life because of you." You recount. "I particularly think it was a funny way for the universe to say it wasn't meant to be."

Wanda let out a nervous laugh, "Oh my god, I'm sorry." She said but you chuckled, shaking your head.

"Don't worry, I don't think it would have worked out anyway." You say. "Sorry for not saying anything too, I guess I ended up blocking that humiliation from my memory and forgot to tell you." You joke, making her laugh. You reached over to pick up the bottle she had left between her legs. "A sip of courage to face a twenty-four-hour shift."

Your next sip of wine was miscalculated, and you downed a few drops, laughing at your own clumsiness. Wanda definitely must have been very drunk to be noticing the drop running down your chin, blushing as she realized the urge to taste it straight from your skin.

And maybe because she was drunk, she thought it was an incredible idea to do exactly what she wanted.

While you were scanning the place for a cloth to dry yourself, Wanda wrapped her legs around you before you could move away, ignoring your confused giggle as she pulled you closer by the shirt.

Your question about what she was doing turned into a gasping sigh when her lips met all the drops of wine falling between your chin and neck. You closed your eyes tightly, tensing up at the same moment, your hands gripping the counter as you try to keep your balance.

Wanda pulled away, licking her lips and her eyes so dark you couldn't see the green as you opened yours and faced her.

"There you go. Delicious." She spoke in a hoarse voice, and her gaze went down to your lips at the same moment.

"W-what are you doing?" You stammered affected, your face burning and your heart racing. Wanda threw the consequences out the window, her brain screaming at her to kill this curiosity that had existed since high school, and she did. She closed her eyes and broke the distance, meeting your lips in a firm and deep kiss.

You choked in surprise, pulling back. Wanda blinked, mortified, and suddenly very sober.

The apology died in a groan as you grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her for real the next second, tongue and teeth and with all the passion you had hidden for so many years. She matched the intensity, and as your mouths pressed together, her hands went to the back of your neck and yours went down to her thighs, encouraging her to wrap herself even more around you.

In the kitchen, all that could be heard was the sound of panting breaths and moving lips, until one of your hands went boldly inside her blouse and when your palm wrapped around her breast, Wanda gasped in a whimper, arching her body toward you. Something changed in you at the sound, your kisses grew harsher and your hands began to mark her. Wanda felt like she was burning from the inside out, so many years of buried feelings surfacing all at once and all she wanted was for you to release the hot knot in her belly.

Just as she felt your fingers work to pull up her blouse completely, the oven alarm beeped and awakened you.

Wanda grunted at the lack of your lips, but you were stumbling backward in shock, and she had to hold onto the counter to keep from falling when you did, one hand on your chest and one in your hair, your breathing as out of rhythm as hers.

"Fuck, what we were..." You started practically panicking, only now noticing the wine bottle that fell on the counter with the movement, and exclaimed sweatily as you rushed to grab the item and a cloth, frantically preventing further mess. Wanda was busy trying to control her own breathing and ignore the waves of arousal and alcohol in her brain.

But as soon as your gazes met again, she began:

"Y/N, don't panic."

But you grunted, shaking your head. "Wanda, we're just-"

Your speech was cut off by the sound of a car parked in front of the house.

Shit.

"Oh, no, no, Shit." You muttered to yourself, and Wanda almost took it personally, but she could barely think about anything really, every cell in her body begging you to kiss her again when you moved closer again. But you were only trying to help with her messy appearance, letting out a gasping sigh as you raised your hands to smooth her hair and caught a glimpse of her swollen lips from the kiss. "God, so pretty..."

Wanda felt her face warm but you swallowed dryly, shaking your head and pulling away with a grunt. She would have complained but you adjusted your clothes and turned off the oven, and before she could comment, the front door was opening and lesser beings rushed into the room.

She heard your quick excuses about being late for work, and the promise of cookies in the oven was enough for neither Pietro nor the boys to question your hasty departure.

Wanda would have run after you, but she thinks her legs were still a bit wobbly.

–//–

You haven't spoken to Wanda in four days.

That's a record that impresses anyone who is part of your life - even Dr. Cho, who until last week though you were married to Wanda so many times she saw you leave the hospital for some family engagement with them. It was embarrassing to clarify that you were just a friend of the family.

Friend.

You had a few. None like Wanda. And maybe that's why you're avoiding her.

The kiss hasn't left your mind since it happened. You had been running on automatic for days, and basically hiding at work to avoid the Maximoffs.

On the fifth day, Natasha had enough.

"This place is not a hotel, Y/N." She reminded as soon as she found you in the empty locker rooms again. You grimaced as you arranged the sheets on the bunk bed.

"But this has my name on it." You justified, gesturing with your head to the labels on the lockers.

Natasha crossed her arms.

"The lodging is for on-call doctors. You were on call days ago. You have your own apartment, stop running away from your girlfriend."

You blush deeply and look away from the bedding in an attempt to hide it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You mutter, but Nat gives a dry laugh.

"Please, you've been working here for ten years, and for ten years Wanda has been making lunch boxes for you. Suddenly, she gets divorced and you start eating snacks from the machine and hiding in the dormitories. What, Vision finally found out that you were sleeping with his wife?"

“Nat!” You exclaimed embarrassed, but the redhead laughed and shook her head. "Don't say that! You know very well that Wanda and I, we never..."

"My god Y/N, you're still sleeping here?" Someone interrupted, coming to Nat's side. You sighed loudly at Harley, clearly arriving for her shift still in normal clothes and the lab coat inside her bag. "Did something happen to your house?"

Natasha smiles mischievously, leaning on the door. "That's what I'm trying to find out, and I'll bet you fifty bucks it has something to do with the hot Milf."

Harley raises an impressed eyebrow, her hands busy opening her own locker.

"What about Miss Maximoff?" She asks but you're sighing loudly and putting the covers away before walking away.

"Go mind your own business, Romanoff. And a good day to you two." You say as you leave in irritation.

But your escape from your colleagues is short-lived. Before lunch, when you've seen a few lovely patients that have improved your mood a bit, Natasha appears in your office.

"Hey, can I ask you a favor?" She asks leaning on the door, while you are checking the upcoming charts.

"Not if it's related to me staying in the dorm." You grumble grudgingly, managing a small laugh.

"I have found spiritual peace for that matter." She says mysteriously, and before you can clarify, she continues, "I'm going to take a little while at lunch, Maria and I are going to go over some adoption stuff. Do you think you can take over some General Practice patients? I can swap Pediatrics with you later."

You looked at your calendar before confirming, and Natasha smiled in appreciation, muttering that you were the best before you left.

In the afternoon, you were almost considering telling your long-time friend about what happened, but soon realized it was all her plan when you read Maximoff's name on the next appointment form.

In shock for a good few seconds, you almost considered faking a faint or escaping out the window, but both actions seemed very childish to you.

It was just Wanda. Your best friend of a lifetime. You could have a conversation with her.

With trembling fingers, you pressed enter on the computer for the next password call and stood up to spend the next few minutes rehearsing exactly what you were going to say.

All the words went awry when Wanda's upset face came into your field of vision.

"H-hey." You greeted hesitantly, resisting the natural urge to break the distance and approach her, wrap her face between your hands and ask if everything was okay as you had done a thousand times. And Wanda missed that.

"Hi, doc." She greeted with a slight tease as she closed the door, you swallowed dryly wiping your soft palms on your pants.

"W-what are you, um, doing here?"

"Well, I figured if I made an appointment with the boys, you would have moved on to someone else. Given the way you're avoiding me." She replies without any ceremony, and you lower your head in shame, shifting the weight of your feet. "So I had to ask Nat for help."

You let out a humorless laugh. "Great plan." You mumbled before looking back at Wanda - who had taken off her coat. You cleared your throat. "Well, why don't you start by telling me what's wrong, Miss Maximoff?" You ask and Wanda tilts her head slightly, seeming to decide whether she was going to go through with this little theater or leave the room. Fortunately, she chooses the former.

With a soft sigh, she leaves her coat on the support besides the door and unhurriedly takes off one at a time the sandals she was wearing.

"I've had such a tough few weeks, Doctor." She begins, your eyes catching every movement of her hands taking off her sandals and causing your breath to hitch to the dark tingle that takes over her green irises. "With my divorce being finalized, I've been so stressed."

"That...I'm sorry to hear." You manage to say in a hoarse, affected voice, watching Wanda gently pushing her sandals to a corner of the room and starting to work the buttons on her red blouse in a tortured slow manner. Your heart leaps as you begin to see more skin. "W-what are you doing..."

"Oh, doc, I should be more comfortable, shouldn't I?" She asks with a false innocence that makes you swallow dryly, half her buttons open now. "So you can check me properly."

You choke softly, your face burning but your gaze mesmerized on the woman in front of you, who sighs softly as she removes her blouse, letting it fall down her arms to the floor.

Of course, in so many years of friendship, you had seen Wanda in lingerie a few times. But never like this. Not with her deliberately offering the image to you.

Your brain short-circuits, and she bites her lip, a hidden little smile as she watches your reaction.

"All this stress has left me so sore in so many places, doc..." Wanda begins, approaching in slow steps that make you hold your breath, the image of her cleavage covered only by a black bra making it impossible to concentrate on anything if not this. "Can you help me with that?"

You nod frantically, licking your lips to try not to look like a complete mess.

"W-where does it hurt, Miss Maximoff?" Your husky question makes Wanda smile even wider. She moves her hands to yours and pulls the first one until your palm is over her covered breast, drawing sighs from both of you.

"They are so sore since you touched me in the kitchen." Wanda confesses in an equally affected sigh, and you resist the urge to close your eyes, gasping a little. "Kept missing the feel of your hands around me, playing with them. It makes me tingle, unable to sleep. And thinking about that makes another spot hurt."

You blinked a little confused because of the liquid lust in your brain, but Wanda wasted no time in guiding your other hand to her belly and pushing down until it slid into her pants, past her panties.

You sighed deeply as you felt her wet pussy, instinctively squeezing her breast and making Wanda close her eyes tightly, her hands going to your shoulders for support.

"Fuck, Wanda." You grunt but Wanda is throwing her hips against your hand gently, urging you to start moving inside her.

"Please doc, only you can help me." She declares, and you shudder at the meaning behind her words, not resisting the temptation to slide your fingers through her folds, collecting and spreading the moisture that only seems to grow and makes Wanda whimper. "In-in-side, please... I need..."

You interrupt her with a kiss, overpowering with ease because Wanda is twitching at the feel of your fingers. She tries to match your hungry, intense kiss, but as soon as you push two fingers inside her cunt, she moans loudly, hands gripping your shoulders tightly to keep herself from sliding to the floor.

You hum in approval, your body burning with desire at the sensation of the soaked and tight walls of Wanda's pussy squeezing your digits. When she can no longer kiss you back because you have begun to thrust harder inside her and she can only rest her forehead against your shoulder, clinging to your body to keep from falling to the floor as your free fingers stimulate her nipple, you whisper in her ear, "You have such a greedy pussy, Miss Maximoff. Taking my fingers so well, so wet and tight for me. You know If you wanted this, you could have told me sooner."

Despite the closeness of her orgasm - Wanda could feel her legs wobble, the knot in her belly tightening, and waves of hot heat spreading throughout her body - she managed to retort:

"Would you have...helped me...if I had asked you before?" She said between breathless moans, and you almost flinched at the hidden meaning behind the question. But instead, you switched the rhythm until Wanda began to whimper, her hips moving against your hand in search of relief.

Leaving Wanda's breast, you moved your hand to her face so that she would look up at you. Dark, dreamy eyes with very red cheeks. Wanda was absurdly beautiful, a mess on your fingers.

You make her cum before you say what you want. And she has to close her eyes for it, and you swallow the deep groan she lets out as she gets deliciously tight in your fingers, and soaks your hand with her juices.

As she recovers, you wrap an arm around her and draw patterns on her swollen clit.

"Look at me, Wanda." You call out in a whisper and wait until she does. "I would. Any time."

She swallows dryly, lowering her gaze to your mouth. "Even when..."

"Any time." You interrupt as you assure, sliding your fingers inside again and making her choke on her own breath. "I've loved you since high school, Wanda. If you had told me how you felt, I would have said the same. I would have kissed you in your dorm room, or at the church door. It could have been me screaming when the priest asked if anyone had anything against that union."

"Dorogoya..." Wanda starts out affectionate but turns into something like a whimper when you curl your fingers inside her. "Y-yes, just like that... chert vozʹmi, eto tak khorosho." she gasps in her native tongue, and you smile with a wave of pride in your chest as you watch her roll her eyes to the back of her head.

"Do you realize how many times I wanted to fuck you in that kitchen, Maximoff?" You continue, appreciating the way Wanda throbs in your fingers. "Or on your couch. Or my bed, when you and that asshole were fighting and you were going to cry on my shoulder?" You question, fingers stroking harder now. Wanda whimpers, shaking her head. "He never knew how to love you right, Wanda. Fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name. Good thing best friends know each other so well. I know exactly what you need, pretty girl."

Wanda was about to complain about the lack when you suddenly remove your hand from her pants, but you are kissing her hard and spinning her around until she is placed on the table. Your hands work to push her garment out of the way, and Wanda grunts when you break the kiss with a tug on her lips, only to feel her whole face burn when you start to get down on your knees.

Of course, she knows what you're going to do. And of course, you know that she has never received this before. You learned about it in a very awkward conversation on girls' night out, where Wanda had to confess that she was the only one in the group who didn't know what it felt like. Nat and Monica were too drunk to remember, but apparently you - from the victorious smile as you kissed her legs now - remembered very well.

Wanda tensed in anticipation, and you kissed her thighs before looking at her.

"Relax, Maximoff. You'll love it." You say trying to reassure her, but Wanda swallows dryly.

"You don't have to." She murmurs embarrassedly surprising you a little, "If you don't want to. Vision used to say it was weird and even unnecessary and I understand if you-"

"Oh, baby, you have no idea how much I want it." You sighed in solidarity. Ten damn years without decent sex. It had to be a joke. "Trust me, Wanda. I'm going to make you feel good like no one ever has."

She smiled shyly, and you kissed your way up until Wanda jumped softly with the first kiss against her clit. Your original plan was to go slowly, but as soon as you had a taste, your eyes rolled and you dove in.

Wanda cried out in pleasure and a little surprise, her hands gripping the table tightly.

“Oh, malysha… that feels-ah-really nice.” Wanda gasped with her eyes closed tightly, her hips trying to match the rhythm of your mouth. Your tongue moved masterfully, in and out in a breathtaking rhythm as you spread her last pleasure all around. Wanda cursed in Sokovian as you sucked on her clit, arching her back and squeezing the table until her fingers turned white.

She was close, so tight in your mouth that you could feel how ruined your own panties were, but you didn't stop - grabbing her thighs to keep her open and continuing to eat her out even after she came hard in your mouth.

"Chert vozʹmi, dorogaya, eto slishkom" She babbled in ecstasy, falling with her elbows on the table, her whole body spasming deliciously. But you kept licking hungrily until her rambling words turned into cries of pleasure and she came again even more intensely.

You would stay there forever if you could, but the appointment time alarm began to sound and you grunted impatiently.

Licking her clean, Wanda blinked affectedly before she felt your hands wrap around her and help her stand properly, your lips dancing on hers and turning her into an even bigger mess as she felt the mixed taste on your tongue.

"Go on a date with me, Miss Maximoff." You say between one kiss and another, and Wanda chuckles softly.

"Is that an order, doc?"

"It's a request." You clarify even though you know she is only joking. "One that I should have made the second I laid eyes on you."

Wanda blushes, smiling shyly before kissing you again, slow and deep.

"I would have said yes." She confesses breathlessly. "Before or now. I didn't know, Y/N. If I had known-"

"It's okay." You interrupt her before she gets more anxious, kissing her mouth once or twice. "We have all the time in the world."

She smiles in agreement. "My place or in yours?"

You rub your nose against hers gently. "Is there a difference?" You retort getting a giggle in return.

You helped Wanda get dressed between kisses and stolen touches, and even after she left, your heart was still pounding inside your chest.

Wanda loved you back. And even though you had been friends for years, part of you felt that your story with her was just beginning. It was somehow terrifying. The possibility of screwing things up, of course. Good thing you would have your best friend by your side.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines

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redr0sewrites · 9 months

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can all the aaravos writers and stans wake tf up and start posting again i cant keep reading my own fanfics or im going to go insane even ao3 is dying out WHERE IS THE AARAVOS CONTENT I WAS PROMISED??? IS THE FANDOM JUST GONNA GO DORMANT AGAIN UNTIL NEXT SEASON???? EVEN THE VIRAVOS SHIPPERS R STARTING TO DISAPPEAR COME ON GUYS DONT LEAVE ME HERE TO WRITE FOR AARAVOS ALONE 😭😭😭

#tdp #the dragon prince #aaravos #tdp s5 #aaravos x reader #tdp aaravos #tdp x reader #aaravos tdp #aaravos smut #viravos #aaravos x viren

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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months

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aida the gata' masturbata'

this pun brought to you by the genius mind of @messessentialist (i'd be so good to ya babe).

IT'S TIME FOR THE WEEKLY FIC REC, where i pick top 3 (to me) fics from some of my favorite authors! as always, please check the tags before indulging and go through their entire works/masterlist (especially this week, aida's blessed many fandoms with her talent). like, kudos, reblog, and comment on works when you can; it keeps writers writing!

this week is @aidaronan! aida was one of the first steddie authors i read, but apparently forgot about until everyone was like 'go reread' and now i have and it's all even better the second time. also was a big fan of her stucky work back in the day of not steddie times, and maybe when my brain take a day off from these two idiots in situations, i can go relive those two idiots in situations. aida nails dialogue, like perfect characterization for everyone, and also. also. monsterfucking.

aida's tumblr | aida's ao3

Critical Hit Rated E | 7,102 words This entire fic was a critical hit. Steve getting spanked to hell and back after speed-running a sexuality crisis? Sign me up. Put me first on the list. Make me a VIP. Favorite part: “Jesus, Steve, this better not be a one night stand. I’m, like, fucking obsessed with you right now.” Eddie pushes his legs apart enough to get between them. He can smell Steve’s musk, his arousal. “Gonna suck you off. That cool?”

Cut and Changed and Rearranged Rated T | 10,856 words It's very rare that I rec anything with a rating lower then M or E, not because I don't read those stories, but usually because they just don't stand out as much to me. But with this one, it would be a disservice to every person in this fandom to not read it. A fast slow-burn love confession through a mix tape!!! Favorite part: He wants to be someone they can all lean on, and people can’t lean on things that might break.

Bow to the Beast Inside: Monsterfucker Anthology Rated R | ongoing series I don't think I need to go into detail about monsterfucking. We all know how I feel about monsterfucking. The series is all standalone fics, so you can choose your monster, or do what I did and choose all the monsters. Favorite fic in the series: Gotta go with the one that started it all. The Prettiest Boy in Hawkins, Indiana. It really hit every checkmark on my monsterfucking to-do list.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fic rec

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young-royals-confessions · 1 month

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Ao3 authors:

disruptedthesky

Sour_Candy

thatgayprince

LoveIsGolden

unfortunate17

(I can't find their usernames but the person who's writing Royally Whipped and the person writing the fic where they're enemies to lovers but also fake dating and simon has a shitty dad and his mum has died and it's linked to constellations)

Ily all. I've recently read ur fics and they're keeping going rn. Thank you.

(All the other fanfic writers r awesome, but these r just ones I've read fairly recently)

Love for 💌 @omar-rudeberg 💌 @prince-simon 💌 @sunshine-rudberg 💌 @unfortunate17 💌 @bigalockwood 💌 @simons-purplehoodie 💌 !!!

#young royals #yr fanfic #love letters #could not find an author named sour candy

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officialfeysandweek · 9 months

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AO3 Collection・Event Masterlist

📝Fics:

Where The Spirit Meets The Bone by @ultadverb

Stars Eternal and Death Incarnate by @shallyne

Just Stay This Little by @reverie-tales

This Love Is Alive Back From The Dead by @itsthedoodle

Drop of Starlight by @stay-forever-sunday

A Court of Trials and Tragedies by @theanonymousopossum

Mess Is Mine by @azrielshadowssing

Night Triumphant and Stars Eternal Headcanon by @harperbrynne

Beach Shenanigans by @shallyne

Buried Alive Inside My Dreams by @separatist-apologist

The Dust of the Stars in Her Eyes by @rosanna-writer

Queen of Thieves by @the-lonelybarricade

Starry Eyes Sparking Up My Darkest Night by @itsthedoodle

The Stars, The Moon by @darling-archeron

🎨Art:

No Going Back Feysand Art by @separatist-apologist, @the-lonelybarricade, and @krem-does-stuff

Night Triumphant and Stars Eternal Art by @whettpaint

🎶Misc:

Night Triumphant and Stars Eternal Moodboard by @starfall-spirit

Night Triumphant and Stars Eternal Collage by @dreamlandreader

Dreams That Answer Playlist by @areyoudreaminof

Night Triumphant and Stars Eternal Headcanon by @harperbrynne

Feysand of the 70's Playlist by @popjunkie42-blog

Night Triumphant & the Stars Eternal collage by @theflyinvelaris

Feysand fic recs - i am no god, only woodworm by @ultadverb

Night Triumphant, Stars Eternal Playlist by @demarogue

Incorrect quote by @velidewrites

Incorrect quote by @shallyne

R H Y S A N D + F E Y R E | High Lord and Lady of the Night Court Moodboard by @bloomingdarkgarden

Night Triumphant and Stars Eternal Moodboard by @highqueenmorrigan

If we missed one of your contributions, kindly reach out to us!

🎨: @dreadart

#feysand #pro feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #feysandweek2023 #prompt: night triumphant and stars eternal #feysand week 2023 masterlist

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flagbridge · 4 months

Text

A Bunch of Underrated POTO Fics I Like

There are some really great Phantom fanfics on AO3 from @wheel-of-fics and @catcorsair and others getting a lot of traffic. But there are a few out there that I've read where I've though "holy Hera, why do these not have more hits?" Here are some of my favorite fics with 5,000 reads or less (and one that has more but it's honestly one of the best fics I've ever read). All are rated E or M. I also have a major pet peeve in the fandom which is character assassinating one of the boys so Christine can choose the other. Most of these do not do this.

A Deal with the Devil by Lunescape. Raoul and Erik have fallen into an enemies-with-benefits arrangement that, so far, has kept Erik from Christine. But when Raoul makes a bargain with Erik to stop him taking her, he finds that a deal with the devil is not so easily evaded. Complete.

Notes: This is the one on this list that blessedly has more than 5K hits, which is a very recent spike since it was completed in December. A friend and I were both reading this from when the author started first posting and were screaming pretty much every chapter. Gothic horror and smut, really well developed non-self-insert OCs who interact with the main trio (and Philippe) quite well.

2. A Little Menagerie series by Lunescape. Erik/Raoul/Christine throuple series. Well written dynamic on each of the pairings and all three of them. Complete.

Notes: Why on earth aren't there more trio throuple fics? Ive read these ones multiple times, I have no idea why they are so under-read.

3. L'Apparition Initiale by Xanadian_Sled. The Angel of Music reveals himself before Christine as a mortal man for the first time. This is the story of that initial appearance and the whirlwind of remarkable events that followed. WIP.

Notes: Leroux-accurate what-if-things-went-differently to pair E/C together. The only thing I don't like about this one is my personal pet peeve of character assassinating Raoul in order to have him not be viable, but it's at least sort of believable and E/C have a nice dynamic.

4. Etudes by @or-what-you-will. A series of "seriously how is there not more smut about these scenes from the ALW musical that are begging for a smut fic to be written?"

5. Just Enough Rope by @or-what-you-will. In which Raoul learns something about himself during the events of the final lair. Complete.

Notes: E/R breathplay fic.

6. Only if For a Night by @obliobla. It was only right that it happened here, now—the furious mob quelled, the gendarmes' search abandoned. Raoul, recovering from the punjab lasso, secure in his victory, in theirs. Tomorrow, she would be his before the world, in the full and pure splendor of day. But tonight…Complete (short, one-shot)

Notes: Superb mostly-Lucifer fic writer Obli's first foray into our POTO brainrot and she crushes it.

Also, please read my stuff.

#phantom of the opera #poto #fanficton #phanphic #ao3 #other people's work #phanfic #fic recs

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happiness-of-the-pursuit · 19 days

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks to @kiwiana-writes for the tag!! I did this back in like... October, and a LOT has changed since then lol

How many works do you have on ao3?

What's your total ao3 word count?

299,988 (though this includes 110,000 from the co-written PJO AU and 2,000 words from Manu's fic that I podficced to)

What fandoms do you write for?

Only RWRB for now, though never say never to others. I recently read Check, Please! and I've had some thoughts, but I have far too many WIPs for RWRB to write them rn. Also I have some ideas for The Pairing, but again, I have... so many RWRB wips...

Top five fics by kudos:

Longer Than Most | 26K, trans Henry accidental pregnancy (also this is how I found out it had become my top kudos-ed fic AH)

The Super Six Take a Lie Detector Test | Vanity Fair | 7K, YouTube interview

Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) | 6K, epistolary roommates

Claremont 2008 | 28K, canon divergence where Ellen gets elected in 2008, childhood friends to lovers

(Dil)Do It Yourself | 17K, meet cute at a DIY dildo workshop

Do you respond to comments?

I really try to. But. I have gotten quite behind recently. I would love to catch up but it's just a bit overwhelming at the moment.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really have any angsty endings?? but a fic @affectionatelyrs and I are working on is going to have an ambiguous ending and my joke is that someone should the version of it where things take the angsty route

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mostly write happy endings, but I am going to say that Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) is the happiest because it's kinda the tropiest

Do you get hate on fics?

Not hate, but I've gotten one or two weird comments, or comments asking about updates.

Do you write smut?

I do! (this is one of the things that's changed since the fall)

Craziest crossover:

The closest I've gotten to a crossover is the PJO AU, but that's not even an actual crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!! Super Six and the Siren's Call with @inexplicablymine and @read-and-write- was the first, and then I wrote Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) with @affectionatelyrs. I also did the podficcing of the voice notes for love has a voice (and it's yours) by Manu. I've also got a couple more projects coming up with Jamie also.

All time favorite ship?

Well that I've written for, FirstPrince :)

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Unfortunately I don't know if I'll ever finish Baby's First Pride because I've grown a ton as a writer since then and I would want to redo the old chapters and that just isn't all the compelling to me anymore...

What are your writing strengths?

I fucking hate this question. But I am going with dialogue and humor (and humorous dialogue) which has been co-signed by others so I feel less weird about saying this.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I would like to be able to keep smut more concise at times, because it always turns into a Big Scene but it doesn't always need to be a Big Scene. And I've been trying to work on a particular style of writing which is a bit more uhhh snappy? I don't know how to describe it. But that's still a huge work in progress, because I always get more rambly than I want.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I definitely try to include it for the characters in RWRB who speak other languages, and when I do I lean on my friends who speak those languages as a native speaker.

First fandom you wrote in?

Officially: RWRB. For myself: HP.

Favorite fic you've written?

Honestly it's always whatever I'm working on at the moment, which is a couple of WIPs: Fire Island WIP, Parasocial Relationship AU with @affectionatelyrs, and my Big Bang fic come to mind.

But really I want to know what y'all's favorite fic of mine is!!!!

I'll tag 20 people, sorry if anyone's done this recently, but in case anyone wants to go again: @mainstreamelectricalparade @14carrotghoul @anincompletelist @littlemisskittentoes @gay-flyboys

and @songliili @gayrootvegetable @leojfitz @welcometololaland @rmd-writes

and @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @captainjunglegym @cactusdragon517 @cricketnationrise

and @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @bribumblebee @nocoastposts @magicandarchery @itsmaybitheway!!!

#20 questions for fic writers #tag game #happinessofthepursuit writes

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messrmoonyy · 9 months

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thinking ab ‘holiday spirit’ w jackson! tess where r sees decorations cause maybe they decorate for the holidays and its cute and sappy and romantic and maybe a private proposal (SAPPYYY))

ur writing makes me shrivel into a tight little warm ball AHHHH much love!!

Christmas in Jackson

Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader

A/N- messrmoonyy being soft again????? Not writing filthy smut???? Oh???? Lmao look. I wanted this to be a drabble. I got carried away. Though it is still short but. This absolutely helped me kick my writers block in the ass so thank you for that! Hope you enjoy this sickeningly tooth rotting fluffy fluff of my beloved Jackson Tess and hopefully this little thing will give me the motivation to go back to my other requests

This is a ‘ follow on ‘ kinda to my fic holiday spirit but it can be read alone

Warnings- none. Other than Tess is slightly OOC because she’s very. Very. Very. Soft.

Word count- 3k

Navigation | TLOU masterlist | AO3

Reblogs and comments are always welcome and encouraged. Support your fic writers <3

You loved Christmas. You always had done for as long as Tess had known you. Always forcing her to celebrate it with you in that dingy little Boston apartment, using the handmade and ancient decorations she had gotten from Frank, and a few other things she had picked up on the market of Boston. She still hadn’t fully admitted to you the things she had traded for a few of the items. In fact she’d threatened the people she had traded with that if they dared breathe a word of it she’d come for them in their sleep.

She didn’t need people thinking she was soft after all.

But that had been then. And now? Well. Now she didn’t care if people thought she was soft. She would happily let people think that cause who cared now? She had no one to be tough for. She had no reason to hide her emotions for you away from prying eyes.

Of course she hadn’t let herself go so easily but you had been in Jackson nearly 4 years now. And she had managed to shake most of her QZ ways.

She hadn’t really liked Jackson at the start, couldn’t get used to the new way of life. Too familiar with running things her way back in the zone. But seeing you safe easily brought her around to the idea of staying there. Seeing you happy and not having to constantly fear for your safety… it was a relief to say the least.

Though the generosity of the people felt alien to you both, you seemed far more willing to accept it than she was. She didn’t like the charitable gifts left on the porch. The breads and pies and even a casserole once. The shirts the boots. You had always had a gentler heart than she, had always been so much more… hopeful for peace.

You were the reason any of your little group was there. The reason Ellie was a part of that group in the first place. It had been your willingness to hope and think positively that had convinced her to take Ellie to the fireflies. And you two could make Joel do anything you wanted so he followed without much convincing when you all agreed to head for Tommy in the process.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise when you accepted the gifts. When you tried to mingle in with the town, telling Tess it was beneficial. And she supposed it was.

And of course, what seemed to be the most important thing to you, was that Jackson didn’t go half’s when it came to Christmas. Maria and the council went all out, string lights and multiple decorated tress. Handmade wreaths on doors and Christmas cookies. They even had Christmas movies for the weekly movie night.

Tess didn’t understand the hype. Didn’t understand why anyone would want to celebrate Christmas in the current climate. But she loved you. And you loved Christmas. So it had grown on her over the years. And she guessed there were worse things to celebrate. A holiday to celebrate peace. And joy. Something she had so been lacking.

The first Christmas in Jackson you had actually cried at the sight of the town, eyes watering as you’d walked down the Main Street of town and saw the lights, saw the tree. She’d almost welled up herself just watching you. Which was stupid.

She’d never quite understood why you loved Christmas so much, she didn’t know what past memories you were holding onto that made it so important to you. She’d never asked either. If you’d wanted to tell her you would’ve by now. You were nearing 2 decades in each others company and you both still had things you kept from the other, that was how things were now. People had new life’s and they had to keep their old ones to themselves. For their own piece of mind and sanity at least.

Her own Christmas memories were fuzzy. She didn’t remember much from her childhood, had blocked it out as much as she possibly could. And the Christmas memories she had from before the outbreak that she could remember? Small hands decorating the low branches and silly little kids toys that flashed and beeped and that she more often than not forgot to purchase batteries for… she didn’t like the think about those ones.

But the ones with you she liked. The ones with you making her dance to Bills mothers ancient cassette of Christmas songs, kissing you in the flickering glow of the string lights, trawling through every damned abandoned building in the zone she could get to with the excuse of looking for stuff to sell. Only to be searching for a gift for you. A book you might like. A piece of jewellery that wasn’t entirely rusted or broken.

She liked those memories.

So she indulged you. She let you get giddy like a little kid, let you yank her around the whole town each year to see the decorations. Once Maria had found out of your love for the holiday she’d enrolled you in the decorative committee and you took joy in showing which wreaths around town you had made. And she followed you happily, a smile on her face, noting how she had never seen a smile like that back in Boston.

Year 4 in town was no different, she had let herself be given the tour around town, had commented on every wreath you had pointed out. She’d even let you drag her into the Bison for dinner and watched in amusement at Ellie as she tried and failed to hide the fact that she was head over heels for Dina.

The walk home was peaceful. There was that fine misting of snow in the air, the kind that told you a heavy snowfall was incoming. It seemed to sparkle under the lights as you both walked, arms linked with your gloved hands trapped between your bodies in an attempt to keep them warm. She’d told you fingerless gloves were a dumb idea. But Ellie had given them to you two years ago for Christmas and so you wore them every winter since.

You had always been Ellie’s favourite. Maybe it was because at first you had been the only one that’s immediate response wasn’t to shoot her in the face. Had tried to see reason in why Marlene would hand over an infected kid. You had been the one to grab Ellie’s arm and pull her along, Tess’ own deeply buried ability to hope and see the positives of life worming their way out as she followed.

Ellie had stuck to you like glue. And even now that she had grown into that stage of being a teenager where she was almost an adult, moody and acting as if she didn’t need her pseudo family around her… she still let the childish side of her out around you.

But maybe you had that affect on everyone. Made them happier. You certainly made her happier. She would never let herself be so pathetically sappy and soft around anyone other than you, the kind of soft that made Joel tease her and made a younger Ellie wrinkle her nose in disgust at the affection.

It was almost annoying actually how easily you did it.

“ heavy snow on its way “ you mused, looking up at the sky “ gonna make that mountain patrol hellish “

“ I can ask Joel to swap with us? “

“ no no it’s fine. The mountain routes have to pass through that village with the library. I wanna find a new book “ maybe that would be a good idea. Maybe she could find a little extra something to give you for Christmas.

The pile under the tree in your living room was growing bigger by the day, you’d had to move some of the lower hanging ornaments up a few twigs to stop them catching. You’d organised it perfectly. A pile for Joel. A pile for Ellie. A pile for you. A pile for her.

She was growing ever curious on what exactly you had gotten for her. And where you were finding them too. You were incredibly sneaky. You could go on patrol together and bring stuff back she’d never even noticed you pick up.

Like the monstrous singing Santa that sat on the fireplace for the last two Christmases you had found in a store in one of the towns on patrol. It had been well preserved, still in its box in the back store room with a bunch of other things you had told Maria about to be collected for town. But you had taken a small stowaway into your bag

Tess despised it. She hoped and prayed each year you’d plug it into the socket and it’d stop working. One of its eyes was slightly off centre and more than 20 years in a store cupboard had meant the voice box was a little off. It was creepy. But you liked it. So she put up with it, but it was always the first thing to go away.

Maybe one year she would gift you a hammer with the precise use being to smash that fucking Santa to pieces. Not that that would ever happen.

Maybe she could find something else to replace it.

Tess watched you as you walked together, the fine snowflakes catching on your eyelashes and sticking to the woolen material of your scarf. Eyes practically sparkling as you looked at all the decorations along the street.

Some kids had built a snowman, others had pushed piles of snow together and had clearly been sliding down it. She looked back down at you again, the smile on your face as you passed the snow creations.

The cool air had kissed at your skin, redness glowing on your cheeks and nose. She never got bored of looking at you. In 20 years she hadn’t. And she knew another 20 could pass and she would still be no closer to being tired of how you looked.

“ sweet “ you said softly, knocking her from her admiration, and she looked down to follow your line of sight landing on an old couple also returning from the bison. They had stopped to kiss under the mistletoe hung above their door frame, the sweet small kisses that old couples did. The familiar kind “ that’s gonna be us “

“ old, married and tipsy on Tommys questionable mulled wine? “ she teased, though deep down it did make her heart swell. She’d never thought about getting old with you before Jackson. She didn’t think she’d last that long. Thought she’d be infected or dead in a ditch somewhere, or laying with a bullet in her skull because she had lost you. She’d never thought you’d get old together. But now she did. Now she thought about it. Thought about dying from old age and not infection.

Thought about being safe and content for the rest of her days. With you right at her side.

“ weird to think about getting old huh?” You asked as if reading her mind

“ I’m already old “ she sighed. She wasn’t much older than you she could count the gap on her fingers, but she seemed to be taking it harder than you were. She felt ancient some days. The cold affecting her aching bones. Back in the QZ that would have scared her. Now it didn’t really bother her that much. Only when she thought about the possibility of leaving you behind.

“ shut up. I’m trying to be romantic “ she gave a small laugh and shrugged

“ okay. Forget the old. What about the marriage part? “ she asked, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop herself.

Marriage had been on her mind for a while. Which was absolutely ridiculous. The world had ended and she was imagining what it would be like to call you her wife.

God she had gotten so soft. Joel would never let her hear the end of it.

Marriage wasn’t really… a thing anymore. But there were ways. Maria and Tommy were married after all. And so many other couples in town. And she didn’t want it to be a big deal. She wasn’t the sappy romantic type. Not the type for big crowds watching her display her affections so openly.

But she wanted you to be hers. In more so than just words.

She even had a ring. Had done for months. She had found it when snooping around the lockers in the Lodge on patrol with Joel. Only rich, fancy ass people went to fuckin ski lodges. She knew she’d find something interesting left behind. She didn’t even know if it would fit you. Or if you’d like it. Maybe she could find an old necklace chain for you to wear it on instead. It’s not like the rest of the marriage would be traditional anyway, so why should the ring?

But it was stupid. Of course it was stupid.

You gave a small laugh at her words and shrugged.

“ careful there Tess. Almost sounds like you’re asking me to marry you “

“ maybe I am “ she heard you stop in your tracks at her answer, slipping out of her embrace and she came to a halt too, a step or so ahead of you. The words had left her mouth before she could stop them, her brain forcing her to voice her desire to have you as…. Hers. Properly.

“ Tess “ she turned around to face you, your cheeks and nose were even more rosy from the cold, or was it blush? Your eyes wide and watery. She couldn’t tell if it was from the cold air or your emotions either. Maybe it was both “ are you serious? “

She shrugged in some attempt to appear nonchalant about the entire thing in case you thought it was stupid.

“ nothings really… ‘ legal ‘ anymore. But Maria told me about what they can do here and… it was stupid I’m sorry. Too much of that shitty Christmas ale. Come on let’s go home it’s cold “ she held her hand out to you but you didn’t take it. Still standing there shell shocked.

She was embarrassed and didn’t exactly know what to do in the situation. Her old self would never have ended up in a position like that. And for the first time in years she craved Boston again. She wanted to be back to her stern and hard self, the self that could hide her embarrassment easily. That wouldn’t have been asked the question in the first place.

“ you didn’t drink anything “ was all you said, grabbing onto her hand finally and yanking her towards you.

Your lips were freezing as you kissed her, your fingers the same. Icy fingertips slipping to the nape of her neck as she melted into you, tugging you closer by your waist. She’d happily shake off her embarrassment by kissing you. Even if your cold hands did feel like they were giving her frostbite.

She let you kiss her until you had to pull away, your breaths coming out in small white puffs between you both.

“ ask me again “ you whispered

“ I don’t remember asking you in the first place “ she teased, earning her a slap to the arm from you. But she was cold enough that she was certain she was numb from the neck down and didn’t even feel it.

“ ask me “ she scanned her eyes over your face. Your beautiful, beautiful face. The face that had been looking back at her for 20 years. The face of the only person in the world she trusted more than herself. The face of the woman she loved, the face of the woman that had made her realise love was possible even in the shitty disgusting world she lived in.

Your face. You.

“ you wanna marry me? “ your smile was brighter than she’d ever seen, your eyes watering again. And that time she didn’t tease. She meant it. She did.

“ sorry I didn’t quite.. didn’t quite get that what was that? “

“ sweetheart- “

“ I’m sorry? “ she couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips, shaking her head at you in amusement. Her embarrassment had vanished, knowing you weren’t making fun of her. You genuinely wanted to say yes. To agree to her stupid little idea.

“ marry me? “ she asked again, cupping your face in her hands your face was as cold as the rest of you.

“ what was that? “ she pressed kisses across your face with a smile, grabbing you by the waist again and pulling you back when you tried to squirm out of her grasp as she kissed every inch of your face she could get, pulling you back against her as you giggled.

“ marry me “ she said against your ear, voice soft and gentle “ as good as you can right now. Marry me? “

“ I’ll marry you “ you whispered, turning around in her arms and holding her face in your cold hands again “ in whatever fuckin way you wanna “ she kissed you again before she could do something pathetic like cry, holding you tight against her and wrapping you into the warmth of her jacket with her.

She wondered what a sight you both looked like. Standing there, kissing in the snow like a pair of lovesick teenagers. And she wondered what her past self would’ve thought. What 10 years younger Tess would’ve said about kissing you in public, the thought wouldn’t have even crossed her mind. What 15 years younger Tess would’ve said if she knew the woman she was pretending to have no feelings for was now agreeing to marry her. What would pre outbreak Tess have said. That Tess that had a son and had married her husband because it was expected. Because she had fallen pregnant young and it was what seemed like the best thing to do. That had loved her husband so much but deep down had known it wasn’t what she wanted.

If 10 year old Tess, that proudly declared to everyone she met that she was never going to get married. That marriage was for idiots and love wasn’t real. If she knew… If she knew that even in the face of a fucking apocalypse, she would find you. And would learn that yes love might still be for idiots, but it was real. So very real. And that you would make living in the middle of hell bearable. That you would make her carry on. Make her live.

She couldn’t help but wonder.

#I’ll be back to my regularly scheduled h word posts soon lmaooooo #tess servopoulos #Tess servopoulos x reader #the last of us #tlou Tess #tlou hbo #tlou #x you #fluff #the last of us fanfiction #Anna torv #other characters for exposure:#joel miller #ellie williams #sapphic

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 1 year

Text

Here, Kitty Kitty (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnlingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Just came down off a stomach virus. Lemme tell you...whoever had this virus first in Philly, FUCK YOU!! Enjoy the chapter! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

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

TWO.

Aizawa has always had trouble sleeping.

Whether it be because of stress over his students, haunted memories of villain attacks, or the memory of his beloved childhood friend Oboro.

But tonight, and for the past few nights since September when the school year began, his sleep troubles can be contributed to you and your damn cute ass self.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, practically slamming his hand down on his phone to stop the sound of ocean waves.

This usually does wonders to help him sleep, but all he’s been envisioning since he laid his head down to sleep hours ago is fucking you on an island, your luscious thighs spread and cute little tummy exposed as his dick strokes the inside of your wet, tight, utterly amazing pussy, your cute little ears and tail twitching as he strokes those with his hands, making you dumb with the pleasure.

“Fuck!” He growls, frustrated. He sits up in his bed, soaked in sweat despite the cool spring air coming through the window to his apartment. He looks at the clock: 12:23 AM. At this rate, he’ll be up until 6. Thank God it’s the weekend though.

But sleep is very important to Aizawa. He needs it to function, which is especially needed to deal with the public, his coworkers, and his snot-nosed students. He can’t do that if he’s here lying awake in bed, wondering why he’s still alone and not in your bed instead.

So what does he do when you’re running through his mind like this? He takes a walk.

He rises from his messy bed with the covers askew, clad in his briefs. He walks over to his clothes closet where he changes into a simple, black tracksuit. He doesn’t wear his usual jumpsuit for fear of dirtying it up, but he does pack his scarves and goggles since, as Mic put it, “a hero’s job is never done”.

After gathering his phone and keys, he meanders in his living room for a while, eyeing the closed bedroom door covered in painted pink flowers and cats that Mirio insisted on doing for his “little buddy” when they set up her bedroom. That was a year ago. How time flies when you’re a single dad, a professor, and a pro hero at the same time.

Aizawa smiles at the door before locking up his apartment and heading down the quiet hall to the elevator to take him downstairs. Once there, he swipes himself out with a key card given to all UA staff to get in and out of campus buildings and heads out into the quiet, spring night.

Before he heads off on his walk, he plugs his AirPods into his ears and chooses his R&B playlist. He begins nodding along to Troop’s “All I Do Is Think of You” as he begins to walk… probably not the right song choice because he instantly begins to think of you.

The campus is quiet. All are either asleep or out in the city, enjoying this nice Friday night. Spring is in full bloom, though the early chill is still in the air and the cherry blossoms that surround the area are still budding.

He walks along the walkway leading towards one of the many entrances to the UA campus, walking away from the apartment complex that houses many of UA’s teachers and staff.

Including you. He hasn’t seen you much around the building since you live on different floors and have such different schedules, but while in school, he runs into you in the elevator, stairwell, or hallway from time to time.

And each and every time, he’s dumbfounded by your attractiveness. His mouth waters every time he gets a look at your plump lips as they form the words “good morning” and your pretty, brown eyes he wants to stare into forever. Not to mention your gorgeous skin his fingers itch to feel, but not as much as they do your ears and tail that, unfortunately for him, go along with your quirk.

Goddamn, your ears and tail! He has to duck into empty classrooms every time he sees you down the hall because his hands start aching to stroke the adorable little things coated in fine, black fur.

His cock takes the worst of it though. It seems to have a mind of its own that you control. Every time he gets a glance at you in some cute little skirt with your ears relaxed as you sit in your office, he’s so tempted to find a nice, quiet place somewhere and bust several nuts at the thought of you…and he has.

At first, he wasn’t sure how he felt about you working here because of your cat quirk. Not because he disliked any person with an animal quirk (he isn't a prejudiced dick), but because you were so goddamn cute and knew he would never be able to focus. Throw in your compassion for the UA kids, your sweet and genuine personality, great taste in fashion, and your general niceness, and he’s ready to jump you.

He’s a fucking mess for you. Why the fuck did God or your parents’ genes have to make you so goddamn cute, pretty, and nice?

He’d never tell you any of this though. He knows logically, someone as pretty and as sweet as you would never return the same feelings to someone as awkward and as rough around the edges as him. You deserve someone who doesn’t scurry off when they see you and isn’t a complete introvert. Someone who doesn’t have secrets or a chip on their shoulder. You deserve so much better.

But fuck, does Aizawa want to be that “better”. He wants to be your man so bad, he can barely think straight. But that’s all it can be: want. Nothing more.

“Nothing more,” he whispers to himself, his breath fogging slightly in the chilled air.

As if validating the state of his complicated life, his phone begins to go off. He checks the caller ID, finding the number of the MPD aka the Musutafu Police Department hitting him up. Principal Nezu cut a deal with the chief a year ago for pro teachers to volunteer to do nightly patrols to clean up on street crime around campus and in the city. Aizawa volunteered since he’s got nothing else better to do.

Plus, kicking some ass certainly beats grading papers and stroking his dick nonstop to the thought of you. “You rang, chief?” he answers.

“Good, you picked up,” the chief sighs in relief. “Sorry to bother you so late. Were you sleep?” Aizawa nearly laughs. “Nope, you caught me at a good time. What’s up?”

The chief gives him the rundown: “We just got a report in from an overnight staff member about a robbery at the International Pro Hero Museum. According to him, there are four individuals in black jumpsuits and ski masks who broke into the place and took the overnight staff hostage. The one who put in the report managed to escape and called 911, but these individuals have their own quirks they’re using to their advantage to rob the place.”

“Did the staff member mention anything about what kind of quirks they have?” Aizawa asks, switching into gear. The wheels in his mind begin turning, already analyzing the situation.

The chief lets out another exasperated sigh, which is a no. “None at all, so just be careful, Eraserhead. We know you’re highly skilled in this department, but it doesn’t hurt to say it.”

Aizawa smirks to himself, already moving behind a building to change. “Thanks, but I think I’ve got this,” he chuckles. “I’ll be right there.” After hanging up, he immediately straps on his goggles and winds his scarves around his neck. Without another thought, he shoots one arm out and loops his scarf around a street lamp before latching on and leaping onto it.

He does this with every street lamp, traffic light, and building he sees, the world darkened by his goggles. He likes doing nighttime missions because he’s not noticed nearly as much as in daylight, but he gets the occasional “Hey, it’s Eraserhead!” yelled at him from a window or a car. He usually spares a wave or a nod, but this time, he’s too focused on his mission to pretend to like the attention.

He manages to make it to the museum quicker than he thought, but he doesn’t immediately act. He first crouches on the neighboring building, looking out at the museum. He doesn’t see a vehicle of any sort, which means the robbers came on foot. What he does see, however, is a broken window. At least they were smart to not try to break through the front door, meaning there is also an alarm that they probably disabled.

After analyzing the distance from the building he’s perched on to the museum, Aizawa wraps his scarf around a nearby tree and swings from the branch, like Tarzan. Then he latches himself onto the branch and, after securing his goggles, leaps from the tree and through the open window.

He lands perfectly on his knees, using a hand to steady himself on the ground into what Mic calls “a superhero landing”. He then asses his new environment: a dark storage room filled with dusty supplies, hero posters, and a group of museum staff gagged and bound against the wall. The hostages.

He quickly springs into action to help them, taking the makeshift rope and gags off of them. As he does, he looks down and finds tiny thorns in his gloves that protrude from the textured, green rope that tightly bound the hostages together. ‘Vines,’ he realizes.

“It’s Eraserhead!” one of the hostages shouts in glee. Another, wearing a janitor's uniform, hushes him.

“Hush, stupid!” he whispers harshly. “They might come back for us!” Aizawa helps each of them stand on their feet. “It’s alright, I’m here to help,” he calmly says. “How did you all get here?”

“Those four fuckers put us in here!” the janitor angrily replies. “I was just cleaning the floor in time for tomorrow’s shift and next thing I knew, I was being shoved to the ground and tied up in these damn vines.”

He kicks at the vines that lie on the ground. Aizawa stares at them questionably. “So one of them has a plant quirk,” he realizes. “Anybody know about the other three?”

Another hostage–a young security guard–steps forward. “One of them has webbed feet and can walk on walls,” he answers. “He jumped on my back and attacked me. Scared the shit outta me.” A sudden crash pierces the air, making the hostages freeze in fear. Aizawa quickly gears into action.

“Nobody move from this spot,” he orders firmly. “I’ll come back for all of you. The police are on their way.” Before anyone can say anything more, he is quickly leaving the storage room and slinking through the dark museum as quietly as possible.

Each room he stalks through is dedicated to its own hero according to each part of the world as well as dark and empty. Nothing seems out of place until he makes it to the front of the museum where he finds broken glass littering the tiled floors. Warning signals blare in his head, his body warm with adrenaline as he carefully walks on the glass, using the fox walk technique.

His eyes trail over the glass to the broken case of All Might’s first hero outfit. Obviously, the robbers were trying to snatch it. What he doesn’t expect is to see three of them tied together near the door, back to back and unconscious. “What the fuck?” he whispers in bewilderment.

He gets a little closer and inspects the work: they are wrapped in one of the robber’s own vines with bruises and black eyes ruining their faces and slight tears in their black clothes. Someone seriously fucked these guys up. ‘But who?’ he thinks, confused. ‘Who the hell was here before me?’

He suddenly freezes, sensing something. Something that feels like danger according to his twirling gut.

With a deep inhale, he shoots his hand out to the right, earning a strangled gasp in response. He turns, finding a kid with unruly, burgundy hair and black clothes in his grasp, his bare, webbed feet dangling like a rag doll.

He gives Aizawa a toothy grin. “Eraserhead,” he croons. “I should’ve known you bein’ an old fart wouldn’t have fucked with your sense of hearing.”

Aizawa glares at the kid. “First of all, I’m thirty-one,” he deadpans. “Second, what are you doin’ with these fools? Shouldn’t you be at home sleep, kid?”

The kid’s wolfish grin drops, replaced with a look of rage. “Don’t call me that!” he snarls, wriggling around in Aizawa’s tight hold. “I’m not a fuckin’ kid! And I do what I want!”

Aizawa tightens his grip on the kid. “Jeez, anger issues much?” he huffs. “Something tells me your dad never spanked you when you were younger.” He tries to get a look at the kid’s face, preparing to wipe his quirk for a few hours so he’s easier to handle.

The kid surprises him by looking right at him suddenly. “What, you gonna do it for me?” he taunts before giving him a smile. “You could try!”

Suddenly, he pulls out a canister ball and slams it against the ground, causing a burst of smoke to explode from it. Aizawa drops the kid and begins to cough as the smoke fills his lung, his vision now obscured by the fog. He tries to look for the kid, tapping into his senses to find him. When the smoke finally clears, the kid is gone.

“Hey, old man!” someone shouts from the ceiling. Aizawa looks up and finds the kid hanging from the ceiling with his webbed feet. “Shit!” he growls, but he’s not quick enough. The kid jumps from the ceiling with a shout and lands on Aizawa’s shoulders.

“Perfect distraction,” he snickers. “Now you can say this “kid” is the reason to meet your end. Goodnight, Eraserhead.” Before Aizawa can try to rip him off, the kid wraps his arms and legs around his neck and begins to squeeze hard. Suddenly, Aizawa can’t breathe. He grunts, trying in vain to rip the kid off of him, but he has a fucking koala grip on him.

‘Air,’ Aizawa thinks. ‘I…need…air!’ He drops to his knees, desperate to get some air in his burning lungs.

But the kid just keeps on squeezing, desperate to kill the pro. Aizawa can feel his eyes fluttering shut, the darkness beginning to eat at his vision.

Suddenly, the strangling sensation stops and the kid lets out a grunt as he falls from Aizawa’s back. Aizawa sputters and coughs, gulping down as much air as possible. “That could’ve ended very badly,” an unfamiliar voice says behind him.

He turns, finding someone equally as unfamiliar to him. She stands above the now-unconscious kid, an All Might paperweight from the museum’s gift shop in her hand.

Aizawa’s eyes trail over her form, beginning at her black knee-high boots to her black bodysuit, the leather and slashes of glittered silver glinting in the flashing lights overhead. The black mask she wears over her head obscures the top half of her face from him, only showing him her nose and her glossy, plump lips where he just sees two fangs jutting out. Her braids hang at her waist where her hands are, placed confidently on her hips. Aizawa notices the same glittering, claw-like slashes there too along with some across her thighs he knows could crush someone’s head.

He wouldn’t mind being in between them himself.

He continues to gape at her for a moment, wondering where the fuck she came from. “You alright?” she asks, concern in her voice. She puts a gloved hand out to him where he can see long, makeshift claws attached to the tips of her fingers. Snapping back to reality, he refuses her hand.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, standing. “Who the fuck are you?”

The stranger blinks at him with those yellow, feline-like eyes. “Well, nice to meet you too,” she scoffs. “I thought you would’ve already seen me in the newspapers, but I suppose cameras can only work so well in the dark.” She juts a hand out, giving him a fanged smile. “Night Claw. Nice to meet you, Eraserhead.”

Aizawa blinks at her. Her name sounds familiar to him. “You know me?” he questions, raising a brow at her. Night Claw giggles, moving her braids behind her shoulder. “You’re kiddin’, right? Anyone who’s anyone knows you.”

His eyes trail up to her mask, noticing the two pointed ears poking out of it. Now he knows why her name sounded so familiar. “I know you too,” he says, earning a wide-eyed stare from her. “You’re the new vigilante who’s been going around at night fighting street crime. I’ve seen your name pop up on Twitter.”

Night Claw grins with pride. “I’m her, exactly,” she chirps. “I was around, so I figured I’d stroll the streets. Then I came across the museum and saw them tryna make a hustle out of a steal.” She nods at the kid and his three partners. “The hostages okay?” she asks worriedly. “I couldn’t get to ‘em fast enough. Needed to make sure these dumbfucks didn’t steal nothin’ else.”

“Yeah,” he grumbles, still sizing her up. Who is this girl? Where did she come from? “You know, I would’ve handled that myself. And them.” He nods at the robbers.

Night Claw just laughs, irritating him. “Oh, yeah,” she replies sarcastically, “‘cause it looked like you were doin’ a great job, to begin with. Ya know, being that I saved your narrow behind, I think I’m deserving of a thank you.” She crosses her arms over her ample chest that Aizawa has to force himself to look away from.

Aizawa clenches his fists, feeling incredibly pissed that she’s mocking him and that she ruined his mission. This was his arrest, not hers. And he certainly didn’t need any help from someone who isn’t even an official hero. He despises nothing more than people who feel like just because they have quirks, they have every right to become a hero without putting in the blood, sweat, and tears to do so.

But he doesn’t say all that. He only looks at the bright-eyed vigilante and sucks his teeth at her. “You’re not gettin’ one,” he growls. “And my ass isn’t narrow.”

Night Claw just smiles at him, almost taunting him. “I’m guessin’ you don’t have a license for this?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. Night Claw’s smile doesn’t falter. “A girl never tells her secrets,” she hums, which he takes as a no.

“You know, I have every reason to take you into custody and hand you over to the cops for impersonating a hero,” he cooly states, fixing the vigilante with a hard stare. But even with the possibility of going to jail, Night Claw’s confidence never wavers.

She instead raises her chin and looks at him through the eye slits of her mask. “Are you though?” she purrs.

The air around them grows tense and thicker than fog. Before either of them can say anything more, the sound of police sirens begins to fill the air. Night Claw looks startled all of the sudden, but quickly bounces back and gives Aizawa a playful smile. “Guess that’s my cue to leave,” she announces briskly. “They’re all yours.”

Aizawa watches in silence as the vigilante turns towards the front doors of the museum, her ass looking way too good in her bodysuit. As if forcing him to be a good person, his throat burns from the kid’s attempt on his life. “Hey, Night Claw,” he says in his deep, baritone voice.

Night Claw stops and turns to him, the moonlight illuminating her skin and braids, making them appear like twined silver. Aizawa swallows down the strange lump in his throat at the sight of her. “Nice boots,” he mutters.

She gives him a joyful smile. “You’re welcome,” she giggles. “I’ll be seein’ you around, Eraser.”

Then, without another word, she struts out of the museum and into the darkness, leaving Eraserhead alone, confused, and very, very aroused.

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