#confessions au.

[maximotts]

𝙻𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛: 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝙰𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

a/n: anddd we're back! I'm loving how this series is going so far and with this chapter posted, we're halfway through unless I decide to add a chapter or two, we'll see. Anyways, welcome to the Beginnings of Smutty Content for smol babie Wanda

✎— priest’s daughter!Wanda x college student!reader ✎— confessions AU; in which Wanda ponders over her growing feelings for you, tries her hardest to deal with them and, when asked out to a date night at the local Fall Festival, she tests out Agatha's advice ✎— warnings: this is an 18+ series, minors DNI; fluff, smut; morning after deep thoughts, brief-ish make outs, a lot of kisses bc Wanda said so; masturbation; ice cream debauchery; thigh kisses and our favorite soft, flustered Wands

✎— words: 6.2k

series masterlist. || main masterlist.

It was almost noon when you woke up the next morning, groggy and disoriented. As your brain caught up with your body, you registered warmth under your cheek, a gentle hand lazily stroking your hair; Wanda. The gentle rise and fall of her stomach could’ve lulled you back to sleep, might have too, if a traitorous yawn hadn’t given you away. “Look who’s awake.” 

You turned over with a groan, hiding your face in Wanda as she giggled at your display. “You could’ve woken me up if you weren’t sleeping.” 

Wanda pretended to think it over, not once planning on giving away that she’d be a fool to pass up the chance to commit the sight of you peacefully asleep on top of her to memory. “You needed your rest.” 

Quiet moments like these happened to be Wanda’s favorites; where anything was possible and she could pretend that when you finally did awaken, she’d smother you in kisses and the two of you could roll around in bed for a lazy Sunday morning together. Where eventually, when she somehow pries you off of her, she’d stroll to the kitchen on shaky legs and make the apple cinnamon pancakes she remembered you telling her your mother used to make you as a child; the breakfast you missed most. And after a quick shower, you, not wanting to be anywhere else in the world, would sit at her small IKEA kitchen table and tell her all about your alcohol induced dreams. 

All of that was possible until you woke up and you, the real you, sat up and stretched with an even louder yawn, casually reaching over her to grab the glass of water she knew last night you’d need right this minute. You drained the cup’s contents in one long gulp, setting it back on the nightstand before perching on the edge of the bed, one leg folded under you while the other dangled. 

Wanda wished she could be the type to coax you back to bed, insist you sleep more and if not that, at least lay with her a little while longer, but the words sounded silly in her head and your imagined rejection stung her heart enough not to chance it.

You regarded her properly after a few slow blinks, taking in the sight of Wanda still half propped against her pillows, blankets now askew after you got up and tossed them aside. She looked smaller now, nestled amongst her plush bedding and looking up at you expectantly. The previous night’s events came back to you in a flash; the party, the game, the kiss that ended it, and the other that started something new. You cast a risky glance downwards, spotted perfectly patterned silk shorts and wondered whether the night’s hours alleviated any of that ache Wanda had tried subtly rubbing away with her legs as you fell asleep. Instead when you opened your mouth, a completely different line of questioning came out. “I shouldn’t be surprised you wear matching pajama shorts to bed.”

She knew you didn’t mean anything by it, but you were also blissfully unaware of the skimpier white one-piece she’d originally planned on luring you to bed with. The further away it got, the more Wanda wanted to hit herself for thinking she could ever stage such an after-party for you, on your first night out together no less. “I like to match! I shouldn’t be surprised you wear your street clothes to bed.”

Wanda was referring to your wrinkled t-shirt, the outstretched fabric and your underwear being your chosen sleepwear. Typically you did only wear a shirt, some old things you’d retired from your wardrobe and relegated to being strictly house wear until you officially wore it to shreds, “Well I didn’t have much choice, did I? You’re the one who asked me to stay, or would you rather I sleep naked?” 

Laughter erupted from deep in your belly when the brunette’s jaw went slack, eyes wide as saucers, “You know that’s not what I meant! I don’t care what you wear!”

“Hey, your bed, your rules, princess. Just let me know for next time.” Next time, you’d said with a suggestive wink; if Wanda wasn’t already stunned into silence would surely send her rambling on.

Beside her earlier fantasies, she hadn’t factored in clothing, much less the absence of it. That train of thought sent her spiraling; she could see your legs in their entirety, goose pimpled from the cold air, but devilishly soft looking, but she was more curious to what lay under where you were covered— what you felt like, where you were most sensitive, if anywhere else made you shudder like Wanda discovered you did whenever she trailed her short nails over the nape of your neck. 

“Think any harder and steam will come out of your ears,” you chuckled, getting up to uncover wherever you’d tossed your jeans. Messing with Wanda never failed to be an impeccably funny start to your day, but here, now, you had to put a stop to it. If you continued, you worried Wanda really would blow a gasket or worse, you’d push her so hard you’d break. “Don’t worry, I’m going off to go shower. I’ll leave you alone in a minute.”

Curious as Wanda was, you were exponentially so, wanting to snatch her up and take her and discover every place that made her tick. But Wanda was still drowsy, evident in the tiny yawns she hid behind her hands and how her head lolled against the headboard once she’d calmed herself down, and you needed her wide awake for everything you wanted. 

So, admittedly, you were a little shocked to turn around after slipping on your shoes to find Wanda not only sitting fully upright, but with a very obvious forlorn look across her features. “You’re leaving?”

You shrugged, so casually her frown only deepened, “I know you like to clean on Sundays, don’t want to be in your way.” Not the real reason, but true enough to be believable. Wanda was notorious for her Sunday cleaning, preferring to start her week out as organized as possible. You told yourself to stop, not to tease her anymore, but she looked so akin to a kicked puppy you couldn’t help it, “What’s wrong, miss me already?”

Maybe she hadn’t fully coped with the loss of her fantasy day, or she’d lost her patience altogether, but whatever it was, Wanda wanted to cry. Again. She hated it, despised that instinctive response, and wanted to do anything to deflect that energy. So she picked up an unused pillow and launched it. The fluffy object flew at your face before you could catch it, smacking you with a dull thud. “Not with that attitude, I don’t.” 

Her outburst gave Wanda enough time to wipe her eyes, ensuring there weren’t any tears that couldn’t be passed off as sleepiness; by the time your vision returned, she was sitting with her arms folded defiantly over her chest, pointedly avoiding having to look at you. Wanda was strangely huffy, but instead of catching her genuine disappointment, you wrote it off as morning crankiness and tossed the pillow back to her side. “Just for that, you’ve forfeit your goodbye kiss.”

You were joking really, having not even thought about giving her another kiss because she’d had yet to mention the others, but Wanda didn’t know that. She shot up in an instant, shuffling over to where you stood at the end of her bed and flinging her arms around you in an apologetic hug. “No wait, I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me I just-”

One gentle finger pressed against Wanda’s mouth, silencing her until all she could do was gaze up at you with pleading eyes from where she’d planted her chin on your chest. “You don’t want a kiss right now anyways, I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

Wanda shook her head, brushing off your excuse, “Neither have I…” If you were going to leave, she wouldn’t let you without the one thing she knew she could have. She’d make peace with her boring Sunday cleaning alone in her apartment, the lack of you, all of it, if she could face the day freshly kissed. 

“Just one. We’ll make it quick,” You couldn’t deny her, not when you felt envious of her own teeth, biting down on her pink lower lip like you’d briefly done last night. Your thumb pried the flesh away from her grip, promptly replacing it with your mouth. It was meant to be a simple peck, short and sweet, but when the tip of your tongue accidentally brushed Wanda, she gasped— a tiny, quiet thing that sucked you right in. 

Wanda parted her lips as you nudged against them once more, let the rough surface of your tongue slide over the straight row of her teeth and surrendered herself to whatever this new blissful feeling was. She could taste the last bits of alcohol on you, much less than the times previous, and having fully sobered up, your lead was more sure, more insistent, and it made Wanda’s legs tremble. 

Somewhere in your embrace, the brunette’s arms fell from around your midsection and you pulled away, allowing you both air and her to fall back to her seated position. She touched her fingers to her lips, tried to ignore the tingling in her core that begged her to press just a little bit harder into the mattress for the friction it so desperately craved. 

You had to leave Wanda there, her wildly lost expression too much for you to handle. “Text me when you’re free, princess.” You ruffled her already messy hair before leaving, the action coming across way too platonic for the intensity you’d just shared. 

She heard her apartment door click, signaling she really was alone, and she planned to get up, honestly. But as her legs parted to move, a thick fold of her comforter dragged over her clothed center and Wanda couldn’t talk herself out of doing it again.. and again… and again until the lace underwear she’d picked to hopefully show off to you when she got home were thoroughly soaked. 

It was all too easy to sink back into her fantasy land, the one where you hadn’t left, deciding instead to stay and waste the last half of your weekend kissing her instead. Eyes screwed shut, she imagined it was your bare leg she mounted instead, offering your thigh up to her as long as she let you have your way with her mouth. It was slightly uncomfortable, damp fabric pulled taut against her, but shaky fingers came to tug them to the side, pretending they were yours as her fingertips momentarily played with her clit before she forced her hips down swiftly. 

Wanda didn’t know what you’d say, if you’d say anything during her frenzied display, but she hoped you did; something less practiced than the videos she’d seen. You’re so gorgeous all worked up for me, princess, a name you’d called her before and each time her heart latched onto you a fraction more, I want to see you cum now, will you do that for me?

She nodded her head as if you were still right there with her, mouth falling open as she rut her bare cunt over her comforter at just the right angle. If she focused enough Wanda could see your sly grin, that look you gave when you knew you’d gotten her right where you wanted, pretended her fists were balled tight into your shirt instead of her wrinkled sheets, “Yes, yes… I’ll do it! I-I’m gonna…!” 

Wanda came with a whimper, weakly jerking her hips until she could no longer hold herself upright and fell forward. Dull aftershocks pulsed pleasantly through her body, but her pussy clenched around nothing, begging for something more Wanda never worked up the confidence to give it. The shame she felt having ruined not only her new undergarments, but also her shorts and sheets, laying limply in the cooling wet spot she’d made in her dalliance, was more than enough to leave her cheeks burning hot and she let out a loud, dramatic groan into her pillow. 

Luckily, it was already laundry day. 

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

That evening, once Wanda showered the last of yesterday’s events away, washed her dirty clothes, and carefully remade her bed with new sheets, she flopped down on her couch in exhaustion. She pondered texting you, but the mere thought made her brain fly back to earlier activities and she wasn’t quite ready to face you yet. Instead she pressed Agatha’s name, thumbs hovering over the keypad as she tried to figure out how to even start the conversation she wanted to have. 

So we kissed… three times…

The text barely read as delivered before Wanda’s phone buzzed, Agatha clearly having been on her device already, Three times where?

She fought the urge to toss her phone as she read the message punctuated with a suggestive emoji. Of course Agatha would think the worst. On the mouth, obviously! We’ve only been out once! 

Once is more than enough, even nuns like you have to know thatWhat happened?

Wanda detailed the last twenty-four hours as positively as possible, leaving out the game context for what was technically your first shared kiss. She smiled as she recalled your little bedroom fall, your sleepy scramble to rejoin her; maybe she’d be willing to face another party in the future if it meant spending the night with you.

She stayed over and she didn’t try anything? Did you scare her off or something? Wanda sunk deeper into the couch, having convinced herself your restraint was more because you were drunk than her putting you off. But she was well aware you’ve slept with Carol before, much more intoxicated than last night and haven’t spent even half the time together she had with you; it wasn’t the setting or the timing that was the problem. As her thoughts wandered again, Wanda hoped she wasn’t the issue.

Unfortunate turn of conversation aside, it gave Wanda the perfect opening she needed to talk about what she texted her friend about in the first place. I don’t know how to tell her I’m interested in her in.. that way…how we talked about? But I don’t want her to think I’m too forward.

So what if she thinks you’re a bit of a slut, that’s hot!

Aggie! Be serious!

Even as Agatha assured her that she would never joke about something as serious as someone’s awakening, Wanda groaned; maybe she should’ve texted Natasha… she’d tell her roommate anyways. Just tell me what to do.

Take the opportunity when it comes and when it does, go with it.

The advice was easier said than done, Wanda first needing to know what an opportunity looks like to even have a hope of seizing it. Trading her phone for a pillow, she dropped the plush object over her head, squishing it to her face just enough to muffle the anguished sigh she couldn’t hold in one second longer.

The two of you were… terribly normal after that weekend. Still inseparable in your classes, you continued to come over in your free time, flirted with her until she shook— now though, Wanda quickly grew addicted to your kisses. Never as intense as Sunday morning, but whenever there was a quiet moment, walking behind a building or before you went back to your respective rooms, if she tugged at your hand and waited, you’d give her what she was after. Anyone else, you’d call them childish or brush the behavior off after a while, but each time you felt that shy pull on your sweater, you melted. You were falling for her so fast, so hard; if you ever crashed, it’d hurt like a drop from a skyscraper.

It was always private though, Wanda treating each touch or smooch as illegal levels of scandal. You tried not to think about it too much; she wasn’t ashamed of you, just introverted. When you tried to think of a time where you’d been so intent on secrecy, you were thrown back to your first girlfriend; everything was so special that you’d been obsessively possessive with keeping those butterflies between you and your partner, where no one could ruin them. Considering Wanda and what she’s been through, you couldn’t blame her for hoarding her joy. Besides, there’s something undeniably hot about sneaking around.

Nonetheless, however much time you spent with her, you always wanted more. Maybe that was your own greed amidst Wanda’s; as long as she’d have you, you’d keep her. “So Wands,” you whispered to get her attention, not wanting to scare her or disrupt your professor’s impassioned monologue on the global impacts of the evolution of the written world, “do you have any plans this evening?”

Wanda looked up from her detailed notes long enough to let you know she was listening, her pen still writing, “You know I don’t.” 

“I’m just checking!” You nudged her gently, winding your arms around her until your head rested on her shoulder. “Since you’re not busy, would you be up for checking out the fall festival with me?”

Wanda stopped writing then, turning to you again as your lips kissed her shoulder. You were looking at her in that peculiar way again, where your eyes got so wide they started to shine, the barest hint of a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of your mouth; she doubted you knew how often you gave yourself away like that. “Is this a date? Do I need to dress up?”

“Yes to the date, no to dressing up.” Last weekend, she’d gone so far out of her comfort zone for you; now you wanted to take her somewhere she could hopefully relax and have a more familiar type of fun. Wanda mentioned in passing her dad used to bring her and Pietro to the fair nearly every year and while she hadn’t outright said she wanted to go, you were sure she’d want to go. 

“Hm..” When Wanda returned to her notetaking, you figured she was just thinking it over, but she didn’t write anything, held her pen too tight, and chancing another glance at her face, her teeth worried her bottom lip how she did whenever she fell too deep in her head. A few days after Carol’s comment, Wanda dressed differently; it started with her party outfit, black and fitted, and while she’d gone back to her patterns, her dresses now were shorter, thinner. Today’s choice was a dark pink slip dress, adorable but modern, and while you wouldn’t complain or tell her what to wear, her pointed refusal to bring her favorite cardigan to classes made you wonder if Wanda felt like she had to make a change. 

You thumbed over the curve of her hip, pulling her close enough to nuzzle into her neck. It was the furthest she’d let you go in class without pushing you away; as long as you could reassure her somehow. “Wear exactly what you are right now. I’m just excited to take you out, silly.” 

“You look very pretty today, sunshine.” Wanda sighed long and deep, relaxing her shoulders and trying to absorb your reassurance. She loved the fair, missed not going the past couple of years, and she knew she was bound to have a good time if you were there; her nerves just wanted to eat her alive. “I’ll win you something soft and get you all the fair food you want?”

“It’s really not smart to keep offering me things before I’ve even said no.” She turned quickly, pressing a small peck to your warm forehead before scribbling away yet again, “Now I’ll make you win me the biggest teddy we can find.”

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

The fair was pretty much how Wanda remembered it, same layout, same variety of vendors, same rigged carnival games. You were happy to let her show you around, not that this small county fair was anything innovative, but Wanda was so thrilled to point out her favorite booths, it was only polite to let her guide the way. 

True to your word, after a dozen tries you’d conquered the bean bag toss, winning the brunette a pink bunny rabbit who she immediately dubbed Carrot. You’d paid for that thing at least twice over by the time you won, but Wanda snuggled it so lovingly, cooed over the object so sweetly… money well spent. “He’s going to sit right on my bed all the time so I can remember your perseverance!”

“Oh I’m honored, a coveted bed post for my little thing!” Your gasp was way too dramatic, a few people close by turning their heads to find the source of the sound. Wanda swatted at your arm before pulling you along, but you stopped her as soon as you felt her chilly hand in yours. “Are you cold?”

Wanda shrugged, taking her hand back to fold her arms over her chest as a gust of wind blew by. “A little, but…well…”

“You didn’t bring a jacket.” Wanda’s sweater rejection strangely carried into your date and the further into the afternoon it got, the worse of a choice today’s dress was. Usually she’d pull on a sweatshirt as soon as she settled into her apartment or you could persuade her to bring an outer layer if it wasn’t during school, but tonight she’d insisted three times not to worry about her. “I’m starting to think you’ve stopped wearing sweaters just to steal my jackets.”

“Would you be mad if I did?” A playful grin grew on Wanda’s expression, teeth biting her lower lip as she waited for you to give in. If there was one thing she loved more than her own collection of thick cotton knits, it was your hoodies. None of them braced against the cold as much as hers, but the embedded smell of you kept Wanda plenty warm. 

You sighed and shed your jacket, momentarily taking Carrot from Wanda’s arms before helping her into the sleeves. It was a little too big for her small frame, extra material slouching over her shoulders and to her wrists, and as she took her precious stuffed animal back, snuggling it to her chest, your heart leapt. “Not when you look as good as you do in them.”

Wanda didn’t know where to go with the compliment, still painfully lost on how to reciprocate such a comment, but she knew she didn’t want you to spot her blushing from something so small. In a panic, Wanda spun around, darting to the nearest stall and practically leaving you in the dust. “Come on, I want ice cream!”

“Are you sure you want something that’s gonna make you colder right now?” You went after her of course, catching up only when she paused to take a spot in line. Wanda really could run fast when she wanted to.

She nodded, pretending to study the menu that only gave her three different choices of soft serve, “You promised all the fair food I wanted. Right now, it’s ice cream.” 

Once she’d gotten it, she only took a few licks, taking much more interest in walking and talking with you than eating. You noticed and, figuring she might be the type that prefers to sit and eat rather than realizing her diversion for what it was, found a set of hay bales just off the beaten path of fair traffic. 

Wanda didn’t mind, let you help her onto the middle row of the haystack and tried not to visibly stiffen when you sat below her… between her legs. It’s just a convenient place to sit, she tried reasoning, willing herself to focus on anything besides the warmth of your back on the inside of her calf. Lost in thought, she missed the small drip of ice cream over her fingers until it fell onto her knee, “Great…I forgot napkins.”

Without thinking, you ducked down and licked the melted mess, your tongue making quick work of where she’d spilled it. You should’ve been even a bit more ashamed for the forward action, but in your head it was harmless. An easy and helpful fix for a lack of napkins, was all. “Finish your ice cream quickly, Wands. You’ll make a mess.” 

The brunette was stunned at how casually you’d licked her, having gone straight back to mindlessly scrolling your phone without a care in the world. Meanwhile a thin coat of your saliva cooled on her leg, prickling at her skin and daring her to wonder what that same action would feel like elsewhere on her body. You weren’t paying her any extra attention, giving Wanda ample chance to run through her options: act outraged and warn you not to do it again, something that was so big of a lie Wanda wasn’t sure she could believably play it off, or allow herself a stint of not so innocent curiosity. 

Her hand tipped before she’d rationalized it any further, a larger drop above her knee this time.  Wanda needed to see if you’d do it again; what she would feel if you did it again. “I’m trying, but it’s cold..”

Her whine from above caught your attention, turning around to see Wanda’s once again sticky leg and sighing. “You’ll ruin your dress and then I won’t hear the end of it-” You licked it off, forcing away your suggestive thoughts… until you looked up. Her face gave her away instantly, cheeks pink and eyes alert; she did it on purpose. 

The current position wasn’t wasted on you, perched perfectly in between her legs, just above eye level to her bottom half. To what extent Wanda caught on, you didn’t know, but you’d be a fool not to at least try, “Careful…” You shifted enough to place both hands on her legs, sliding the hem of her dress a few inches up as a small test of her comfort. If she pushed you away, you wouldn’t have been surprised, the public setting making this all more scandalous than you ever thought Wanda would agree to. 

But she didn’t move a muscle, not one utterance of protest; Wanda kept her eyes locked on you. The hay bales were faced away from any crowds, far enough that nobody walked directly past you; if someone knew the back of Wanda’s head they could spot her, but whatever lust clouded her brain, that was enough security for now. Another set of drops fell, purposeful now that you both were on the same page. Wordlessly, she watched as your tongue made another appearance, licking away her self-made mess. 

Each time she spilled the cold treat, you lapped it up with a slow sweep, lingering longer the higher you got. Wanda doubted you noticed you’d begun a series of low groans, fully leant over as you kissed each area you cleaned. Everything she knew taught her to be ashamed of both of your behaviors, overtly passionate and so very inappropriate, but honestly it only turned Wanda on more. If she had to be penitent for the rest of her life over this, so be it.

You had none of the same moral dilemma Wanda had, more than willing to play this little game all night. You’d yet to speak aloud how much her legs lived in your head, every sighting of them driving you just that little bit further into the depths of your growing need for the girl now leaning back to let ice cream fall higher. When you’d slept on her, you’d done so with thoughts running wild of how to touch them again, how sensitive she’d be if she allowed you even five minutes to focus on her impossibly smooth skin; never in your wildest dreams did you think Wanda would offer herself up like she was now.

At mid thigh, she was visibly twitching, either from damp skin exposed to the cold, arousal, or a combination of the two. “You just had to go and get yourself all wet and sticky?” Her ice cream trick, yes, but as you spoke, your eyes were trained under Wanda’s hitched dress, the barest hint of her underwear visible in the dim light of dusk. It was torture to only just be able to see her, restraining your urge to dive closer and confirm what you’d bet money on was a dark spot on the white cotton fabric.

Wanda was breathing so heavily her chest heaved, both mortified and flattered by your shameless ogling. She nearly snapped her legs shut, instinct screaming to hide and deny the effect you had on her; a louder voice remembered Agatha’s go with it advice and she had to admit, this proved a lot more fun. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I swear…”

It was a fake apology, accented with the largest spill yet, a heavy glob of her near fully melted dessert landing on her inner thigh… right next to where you were already staring. Countless times she’s asked for kisses; same principle, different area. “First my jacket and then wasting my money on something you had no intention of eating properly, what a naughty girl you’ve been.”

She thought sure her eyes would roll back into her head as you cleaned her up again, your tongue making slow, languid strokes Wanda vowed to commit to memory. When the last of the chill was gone, Wanda assumed you’d pull away, but if you had to give something up today, you’d grant yourself the reward of adding your own piece to her game. Lips making noises Wanda would only ever describe as obscene, you sucked a hickey into the sensitive skin of her thigh; a not-so-gentle reminder of what you could do should the other girl let you. 

When you backed up, it was to sit straight on your knees, hands glued to Wanda’s hips where you still had her dress pinned. She looked terribly disheveled, poor thing, free hand clutching her stuffed rabbit for dear life while her mouth hung open far enough to let you know she was seconds away from outright panting. “Think you’ll bring napkins next time or will you let me lick you clean forever?” 

It was those devious circles your thumbs rubbed into the join of her hips that did her in, so close to where she was scared she was now dripping, an unexpected shudder forcing Wanda to drop the entire cone, the sugary mixture splattering across her dress and your jacket. “Oh! I promise I didn’t want to do that!”

You remained unfazed, one track mind set on kissing lips bit so hard they’re now slightly swollen. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” And you were so close too, less than an inch from the trembling girl in front of you— Carol calling your name was the one thing that ruined it all.

It took you a moment to register you were on the ground, Wanda having shoved you back as hard as she could the instant she heard. You watched from below as she righted her dress, your ass stinging from the heavy fall while Wanda tried looking as normal as possible. She turned to see Carol approaching with barely contained laughter, having witnessed Wanda knocking you off balance. The blonde only wanted to ruin your moment, she had no idea her classmate would actually push you; that just made it all the more funny. “Might be pushing your luck after that one kiss, buddy. Think that was it for a lifetime!”

Wanda shot you an apologetic look as Carol passed, the shock and confusion on your face darkening her mood further. “I’m so sorry. It’s just, I heard her and panicked and I…” She wasn’t ashamed to be with you, not in the slightest; she was forever in awe of you being so willing to be seen with her. Maybe not for much longer, if she kept up her habit of sneaking around and shoving you off, “What if she tells? Oh god, it’ll be awful-”

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I get it.” You cut her off before she could spiral out of control, jumping up a little too fast for how much your back hurt and brushing the dust off your pants. Truthfully, you didn’t get it, you’d never had to experience anywhere near what Wanda grew up with, couldn’t imagine the lasting impact that might have on someone. Reminding yourself to be patient was hard but doable, picking up Wanda’s stuffed rabbit and placing it into her shaking hands at the same time you pressed a comforting kiss to the crown of her head. “We should get you home anyways, it’s getting late.”

The sun was nearly completely gone now, far off on the horizon, a deep purple sky replacing its bright light. Wanda wanted to ask you to stay, to try again and see if she could revive the moment she and Carol broke, but large globs of ice cream were soaking into her dress, splattered from when she’d dropped her cone and darkening the pink color; both she and her outfit needed a wash. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry…”

“I didn’t ask you to apologize.” Wanda took your hand when you offered it, let you zip up your hoodie around her to somewhat cover the large stain; no matter how lighthearted your tone was, she couldn’t shake the embarrassment scratching at her, filling her head with now way too familiar thoughts of how stupid she’d been. 

You kept your arm around her the whole way to your car, constantly checking over to see if her slumped posture and shy mood improved; it didn’t. Every day you spent around Wanda, each time the two of you danced a little closer, your need for her grew. It was harder and harder not to just take her, especially when she came out of her bathroom freshly showered, shuffling over to her bed in yet another too sweet set of pajamas. 

She cuddled up to you wordlessly, choosing not to comment on how presumptively you’d settled into her bed because this time, it fit her needs. Natasha taught her the subtler way of flirting, close contact, small touches, things felt rather than seen. But even after wrapping her arms around your middle, fingering the edge of your shirt, letting her nails graze just barely over your hip, you didn’t make a move. In fact, you were notably less touchy than usual and Wanda hoped to god she hadn’t ruined her last chance back at the fair. 

In reality, you were just barely hanging on to the last bits of your restraint, rationalizing to yourself Wanda’s touches meant nothing more than absentminded fidgeting. You hadn’t bargained on how badly she could affect you, not her floral scented shampoo or whatever body wash she used that made her skin heavenly soft, but all of it was dangerous. You’d resolved not to try anything further tonight, wanting to give Wanda ample space to recover from whatever she felt with Carol’s sudden appearance; she made it nearly impossible to do the right thing. 

“So..about earlier?” You asked, giving in and pulling one of her legs until it lay over your lap, greedily demanding more closeness from her you didn’t know she was more than willing to give. 

“Yeah, I…I liked it.” Liked was a grave understatement, a laughable comparison considering how the mere reminder of it all made her thighs tense up all over again. This was where Wanda expected you to make some kind of move, anything really, some hint that gave her an ounce of reassurance that you wanted to try again. 

But your hand stayed still splayed over the curve of her hip, unmoving while a billion thoughts ran through your head. You didn’t even kiss her like she’d come to be accustomed to, what you knew full well she was expecting once you’d gotten her home. Whether she was aware you could feel every squeeze of her legs around your abdomen or not, you refused to speak up about it. If you had to be tormented by her fingers still scraping your warm side, Wanda could handle a little torture herself. No, you’d stay quiet as a mouse, just to see what leaving her wanting more would do. “Right, I’m glad.”

Wanda wanted to shake you, to sit on your lap, push you back, pin you down, and just… yell very explicit words until you understood how much she needed you to fuck her. Maybe it wouldn’t be the sexiest thing in the world to have to ask someone to take her virginity, but she’s never wanted it gone so badly. Something new had washed over Wanda in her time with you, some obsessive need whose intensity might’ve worried her if it didn’t always feel so damn good.

She knew you’d done it plenty of times before, last week you told her you’d have sex with her if she wanted to. Well, Wanda wanted it and she was determined to get it sooner rather than later, preferably before she exploded from sheer frustration.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff series #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel imagine #confessions au. #motts writes. #maximotts

[zosanbrainrot]

part 2 of Zoro in WCI

01 02

I tried to write something to sum up my thoughts on this, but then it got longer and longer and tbh I'm itching to write a fic set in this AU djjdkf I think I could develop on their inner feelings more than in the comic form

Before posting the first part I didn't realize people had such strong opinions on how this would play out lmaooo

imo, of course Zoro wants to fight Sanji, not with actual intent to harm (they threaten each other on the daily, come on), but because that's how they are together, how they communicate. He respects Luffy's decisions and their goal here, which is to learn what's really going on with Sanji, but he's gonna be pissy about it all he wants. They both have so many intense and conflicted feelings about this and neither has any idea how to resolve them. So they fight.

ofc yall are free to headcanon this interaction any other way you want <333

#hope you can hear the moment Sanji's heart shatters #you're walking the painful path you chose and then even this stupid marimo instead of playing your usual game of threats and violence #instead of making this easier for you he pierces right through your heart with the tiniest confession #I never hated you #but even if he didn't use to #he sure as hell despises every inch of you now #he must he has to #but this is what you chose #it is what you deserve #ANGST #PAIN #wci zoro au #obvi if I were to write it wouldnt write first person this just got out of hand #i love angst can you tell #zosan #i love keeping them in the 'what if maybe no he would never' hell #roronoa “i love you but I will take these feelings with me to the grave” zoro #blackleg “I need you to hate me because I simply don't deserve to be loved” sanji #rorona zoro #black leg sanji #sanji #zoro #my art #whole cake arc #whole cake island #one piece #one piece fanart

[lunarcrown]

Starting the year off right w some rancher goodness ft their “only one bed” moment from from eden part III

Jitties so confy…….tango so panic……

#obv this is from before they confessed their feelins and tango is like OH GOD WE REALLY IN IT NOW #or more like ON it… #trafficshipping #team rancher #rancher duo #solidaritek #my art #hels to pay au #haha remember when everything was just giddy feelings and first kisses……

[ponpasta]

criminalized for being too slay

#guys i have a confession #in 2019 i drew a prowlermiles au do u still love me #💔 #miles morales #atsv art #atsv #atsv spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #spider man across the spider verse #my art #spider man across the spiderverse spoilers

[artistmarchalius]

Broppy Capture AU, where Branch didn’t confess after World Tour, but a love confession when all hope seems lost is just what they need to free themselves from Velvet and Veneer.

A version without text can be found under the cut.

#dreamworks trolls #trolls fanart #broppy #trolls Poppy #trolls branch #trolls au #trolls band together #tbt #trolls 3 #I was listening to Julie and the Phantoms in the car and had ✨thoughts✨ #someone’s probably already done this but here’s my spin/contribution #broppy capture au #where branch didn’t confess after World Tour and then they get captured by V&V #but when they don’t think they’re going to get another chance to do it they confess #via song obviously #which is Perfect Harmony from Julie and the Phantoms #and their duet breaks the diamond because they’re each other’s family #they’re in love your honor

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #one shot #secret admirer #fluff #a tiny bit of angst #friends to lovers #feelings realization #feelings confession #pining eddie munson #oblivious steve harrington #mutual crushes #high school au #eddie is in love with steve

[anne-is-confused]

saw @teamingmate 's terror au pathologic posts and uh i may have started spiralling a bit

#hope you dont mind me tagging you hhh :') #my art #pathologic #artemy burakh #daniil dankovsky #clara saburova #patho terror au #burakovsky #i think thats the tag #do i put it in the main tag.......fuck it #the terror #gotta confess i only know patho classic from videoessays #i did start playing patho2 recently but thats gonna be slow going because. im bad at videogames lol #also a scaredy cat #clara's uniform is probably not rank appropriate but i just really wanted to draw her in hickey's grave digger fit

[raiiny-bay]

summer '93

#ts4 #simblr #ts4 edit #ts4 render #sims 4 #myedits #AUverse #kelly #dhestyn #something came over me when i made these man #i don't know #AUverse is the new tag for all of my miniAUs btw. so it encompasses multiple AUs #this one is what i'm currently calling the 90sAU (ideally it will have a real name eventually. it just. doesn't yet) #uh i have a confession which is that i haven't actually written anything for this particular AU yet #like. not even bullet points or anything #but i am completely obsessed with it #something about the boys traveling around in their lil van is just so fun to me #i love the idea of kel just being some punk ass kid who ran away from home #& dhes sees him on the side of the road one day & is like. oh. yea. that one's cute. sure. i'll pick him up. #& they literally just travel the states together #like originally dhes was only gonna drive him to this one concert in a nearby city but #since they had a few days to spare dhes convinced kel to let him take him on a small detour & go sight seeing #& they ended up having a lot of fun!!! #i haven't decided for sure yet but i think they're like... 19 or 20 in this AU #i'll figure out the details once i actually start writing it though

[zimthandmade]

Can't believe this is happening but @mihaelkeehl and I did a little collab for an M2 confession recently hehe I'm still really giggly about this

What a time to be alive 💛💜

----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi!

#authors 🤝 illustrators #death note #my art #fanart #comic #mello #matt #m2 #dn au 2.1 #mellodramattic #mello x matt #matt x mello #mihael keehl #mail jeevas #kiss #confession #dialogue #fanfic #did i go a little overboard with the rendering #yes i did #gay #lgbtq #first kiss

[astraystayyh]

Young and beautiful

hyunjin x reader. mutual obsession. lots of fluff. they are in love your honor (but still haven't told each other).

feedback is highly appreciated <3

You never really understood the difference between loving someone and being in love with them.

That is until you met Hyunjin.

You didn't love him the way you loved sunsets or the smell of earth after the rain.

You were in love with him. You were so submerged in Hyunjin's love that it was all you could feel within you at times.

Other emotions come and go in you, like tidal waves lapping softly at the shore. But the love for him stays- it echoes inside you like the distant ringing of a cathedral bell.

You imagined that your love for Hyunjin slowly seeped into your body and intertwined itself with every atom that formed you. That loving him became a certainty for your being, just like your name or the lines stretching across your palm.

Still, despite all those grand feelings you harbored, you never dared to confess to him. Those five words were stuck in your throat, and you had to force them down each time Hyunjin existed near you.

You didn't want to scare him off. But most importantly, you didn't want him to feel forced to reciprocate your feelings.

So you didn't say it. But you kissed the mole under his eye whenever his face was close enough to you. You sent him daily reminders to drink water because he tended to forget it. And you slipped encouraging notes in the pockets of his jackets, so he'd find them randomly throughout his days.

Those were wordless confessions you sent his way in the hopes that he'd understand. That he'd feel your love and he'd store it inside him, keeping it safe until the day you finally found the courage to say it.

And on mornings like this one, it was especially hard to not shout your love for the whole world to hear.

You rose before Hyunjin, and the sun was streaming through your curtains- its golden rays casting an ethereal glow on his sleeping figure. You slowly trace the outline of Hyunjin's face, sliding your finger down his eyebrows, his eyes, his nose and his plump lips. His lips reminded you of soft cushions, rosy and yours.

"Morning, angel," he whispers, eyes still closed, and you bury your head in his neck, "Morning, baby."

His arms instinctively wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough with him. You wished you could crawl inside of him and build a home for you to rest in there.

Hyunjin places a soft kiss on the top of your head, and you retaliate by kissing his neck. Once, twice, and then you stop counting.

"I think the rest of my body is getting jealous of my neck," he giggles and you lean away, smiling cheekily. "Really? We can't have that, can we?"

"No, that'd be sooo unfair," he pouts playfully and you laugh, before straddling his lap. You start with a kiss to his forehead and he smiles at you so brightly, you feel sorry for the sun shining outside, for it could never rival with your Hyunjin.

You then kiss his eyes- the left one first, then the right one. The tip of his nose is next, his rosy cheeks follow, and finally, his mouth. His lips move against yours slowly, his hands finding your hair and gently threading through it. There was no rush- you had the rest of your life to love him.

When you both inevitably pull away, panting for air, Hyunjin grabs your hand and places it on top of his wildly beating heart.

"You feel it?" he asks breathlessly and you nod timidly in response. Sometimes you couldn't believe the effect you had on him.

"Whenever you laugh, I feel as if my heart is in the palm of your hand. And you are squeezing it to the beat of your laugh," he speaks quietly, making your breath hitch in your throat.

"When you kiss me, I feel as if my skin is on fire, tingling all over from your lips. But it's not a burning sensation, it's more of a warm one. You make me forget all the days I've spent feeling cold before you." He clasps your hand in his tightly, as if holding it gave him the force to speak.

"And when you look at me I feel as if you are the answer to all my prayers. Even the ones I haven't made yet." He pauses, gazing deeply into your eyes, "You are everything to me, yn. And I don't- I don't mind if you don't feel the same. I love you enough for the both of us."

"You love me?" you question, eyes wide staring into his. It felt as if your heart was leaping out of your chest, leaving you dazed in its trail.

"I do."

You start to giggle, bewildered by his words, which then morphs into a fullblown laugh. Hyunjin simply looks at you, a confused smile adorning his face.

"So you're telling me," you try to speak through your laughter, "I've been torturing myself for the past weeks so I wouldn't tell you and you love me?"

"Wait. You love me too?"

"Do I love you?" you repeat incredulously, "Hyunjin you are everything I've ever loved and more in human form."

"Say it," he whispers breathlessly and you beam at him.

"I am in love with you, Hwang Hyunjin."

"Say it again," he grins, as he grabs your body and spins it around, until you are laying on the bed and he's hovering over you.

"I am in love with you."

"Again."

"I'm in love with you," you giggle and he sighs happily, leaning his forehead on yours.

"I think your laugh just gained a strong competitor."

"What do you mean?"

"You saying I love you has just become my favorite sound," he explains, kissing your forehead gently.

"My poor laugh was dethroned?" you ask and he nods sadly, "Unfortunately. But you know what my favorite favorite sound will be ?"

"What?"

"You saying yes when I ask you to marry me."

"Who says my answer is yes?" you tease, even as an evident blush creeps up your neck.

"I'll keep asking until you agree."

"it might take time."

"I'll still ask even when I'm seventy."

"Yeah? even when I'm no longer young and beautiful?" you joke, referencing to one of your favorite songs to listen to together.

"Nonsense, you'll always be beautiful. And I...", he leans down, bopping his nose with yours, "I will love you till my last breath."

"You do love me," you whisper in relief, any hint of teasing gone from your voice and he smiles softly at you.

"More than you'll ever know."

#hyunjin this is me confessing my love to you #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids fluff #skz au #skz fluff #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #kpop imagines #stray kids imagine #skz headcanons #stray kids recs #stray kids headcanons #stray kids fanfic #skz hwang hyunjin #skz hyunjin #skz scenarios #stray kids fanfiction #skz imagines

[maximotts]

𝙻𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚠𝚘; 𝙰 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏 𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝

a/n: Wanda, you sweet baby bean, I'm sorry people suck. That's all I've gotta say about this chapter uhm... please don't yell at me too much, I promise it's all going to be So Fine

✎— priest's daughter!Wanda x college student!reader

✎— confessions AU; a surprise over lunch leads you to spend a lot more time with Wanda. You like her and she does as well, but not everyone is happy about your new friend

✎— warnings: this is an 18+ series, minors DNI; I've said before since turning this into a series we're going to have a slower, more subtle corruption kink so: mentions of handsiness/groping, Wanda being a shy yearning gay, R being a terrible student, bullying, jealousy, Wanda shedding a tear because my friends seem to think I need to make that a warning

✎— words: 5.5k

series masterlist. || main masterlist.

Even with your lunch offer, Wanda couldn’t bring herself to let you do all the work; after picking up sandwiches from her favorite deli, she directed you down the block to her -and apparently, your- apartment building. When realization set in, the two of you had a laugh until you suggested going to your unit. 

“You’re serious?”

“What, afraid I’m luring you into my apartment to have my way with you?” Wanda didn’t respond to that, just shook her head as you quickly discovered she did whenever she was talking herself out of a thought. Oh what you’d give to see what was running through that imagination. “Such a good girl, not trusting strangers, but I don’t bite, I promise. We can go to yours instead?” 

She had to have told you her apartment number along the way because you’d gotten there with ease, guiding her down the hall with a hand on her back, but two simple words made her forget the whole walk. Wanda was a good kid, an amazing student, she’d heard words of encouragement so many times over the years— none of it affected her how it had earlier. 

If you noticed her nerves, you were gracious enough not to point them out even as she carelessly dropped her bag to the floor and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door tight. Wanda calmed herself with a splash of water and a quick talking to, reminding to keep it together. This wasn’t a date, it wasn’t anything, it was lunch. All this meant was you were a decent enough human not to stoop to the level of an overgrown schoolyard bully and feeling bad doesn’t make them a friend. Certainly didn’t mean she had a chance with you. 

That rationale didn’t stop her from talking out her nerves in the form of oversharing.

From that, you learned a lot about Wanda. She’s a twin, the younger one as her brother Pietro so often loved to remind her. They were close, but when it came time to choose colleges, he decided on another university in the next state over— mostly because of a very generous track scholarship he was offered. She nearly went with him, wanting to take advantage of their massive literature program, but their father said it’d break his heart if both of them left and Wanda, darling daughter that she is, caved and attended a more local school. 

Part of her compromise was being allowed her apartment. Leaving home to live off-campus by herself was an instant no, but for once, Wanda pushed. It was around the same cost of any room and board fees and she had the freedom she insisted on having. Partially to live away from home, but mostly because the possibility of rooming with one of her childhood enemies was high and she’d rather go without college than deal with that stress.

“I raised such a fuss that night, Pietro thought I’d lost my mind. It’s worth it, I think. I like it here.” Here in what turned out to be your shared building, blaming different schedules on why you’d never run into the other. In the end, her dad could rarely hold firm against Wanda’s puppy dog eyes and constant pleas and she won the small space now filled with various plants and cozy furnishings.

“Well, I for one, am very happy to find out the cute girl I’ve been wanting to talk to only lives a few floors away.” You said it so casually, like it was easy as chewing your ham and cheese sandwich to call her cute. It wasn’t helping that she’s just being nice mantra Wanda had going in her head to keep her calm.

While you ate, Wanda searched for any other reason you’d be so flirtatious and came up empty. Still, she couldn’t discount her inexperience for how she perceived your wanting to have lunch, your compliments, even the comment about asking her to dinner could’ve just been a passing joke she hung on to too seriously. She’d never been allowed to date, not that it mattered with how she got treated like the plague, and she didn’t know the first thing about well, anything. Somehow Pietro fared much better in that sense, sneaking out and rebelling any chance he could. 

Some nights when she couldn’t sleep, Wanda would catch him stumbling out of the woods that bordered their backyard and tired as she was, helped him climb through the window, questioning him all the while about his disheveled clothes and the glittery lip gloss smeared along his neck. “Stop being dad’s golden child and maybe you’ll find out one day.” Wanda never was bold enough to try nor did she like the options to try with. None of her classmates were interesting enough to be worth getting in trouble for.

The few times she did go out, the situation got the better of her and she had more anxiety than rowdiness. Wanda tried, really she did, there was just so much to remember: how to drink, who to drink with, the perfect things to say and no matter what, she always came up short. Then came that dreadful night after junior prom; her fatal mistake— distressed to the point of tears, Wanda called her father to pick her up, not thinking how not parent-approved the activities swirling around were. His appearance and the subsequent adult discourse at church the next morning solidified her status as Westview’s pious snitch. Ultimately, as much as she hated talking about it, even after Pietro took her side and offered to take matters into his own hands, she didn’t regret it for one day.

Opportunities to act out quickly dropped to zero after that incident. College was supposed to be better, new people and new surroundings, maybe a whole new her if she could figure out how to upgrade, but the proximity to her hometown made the past three years an extended high school. And then, there you were, shiny and brand new, straight out of her prayers— but they got to you first. 

Wanda resigned herself to staring at you in class, watching you text under the table with Carol Danvers who’d given you her number almost as soon as you’d first sat in your chair. If you’d been in the front of the class, she’d have slipped you her number instead; that’s what she told herself at least. Everyone else was too fast and forward, and Wanda didn’t stand a chance when everyone’s classes overlapped as much as they did. Each time Wanda caught you looking back at her, she turned away so fast she missed your smile or the silent waves you tried sending her way, too afraid to see if you’d regard her with the same disdain your new acquaintances offered. 

There weren’t a lot of people in class today; the middle of the semester meant burn out was creeping in, students skipped more now, but you were there in your usual spot, empty seats all around. If you weren’t always cutting your arrival so short, Wanda could’ve moved next to you, but class began and, not wanting to disrupt, she stayed put. Those next ninety minutes were the most distracted she’d been her entire college career, solidifying exactly how she’d introduce herself, act cool and collected while she gave you her handwritten phone number, written and rejected countless times over so Wanda could draw the little heart at the end just right. She’d been so close too, just feet away from your desk; Brock always had a way of ruining even her best laid plans.

“Earth to Wanda, where’d you go?”

“Huh?” The poor girl had been staring much too intently at her crumpled sandwich wrapper for the last few minutes, having decided she wasn’t listening when she didn’t react after your suggestion to run away and buy an RV. Wanda was adorable when she zoned off, playing with her rings absentmindedly and spinning them around her fingers, but you did wonder where she flew off to. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

“Clearly…” Gathering any lingering trash gave Wanda a task away from your watchful gaze, wiping off the table with another mumbled apology before skipping off to the kitchen. She took a deep breath, steadying herself against what to do now that she’d gotten this far. Her plan only went as far as exchanging phone numbers, maybe putting the digits in your phone if she was brave enough, but you’d skipped that stage and gotten straight to the apartment hangouts and she was… lost. 

Luckily for Wanda, you had no problem taking charge. The moment she returned to the living room, you took hold of her arm and pulled her down until she was finally sitting right next to you instead of her far off spot. All of lunch she’d been far away and selfishly, you missed how close you’d been when you walked earlier. Now with Wanda’s thigh brushing against yours, you could see each one of her little reactions intimately. “What’s going on in that head?”

“I was thinking about earlier and got carried away, nothing important.” Wanda shook her head again, hoping to settle at least a fraction of the blush that’d overtaken her face, but when she tried to pull her hand away from yours, you held tight. As much as she loved the feeling of your warm, steady hand wrapped around her cold and shaky one, Wanda feared growing too used to it too fast and having to fight not seeking out your touch from then on.

“If it’s got you this frazzled, it’s gotta be some kind of important. You can tell me, I promise.” You almost wondered aloud who you’d tell, but she didn’t need to be reminded of who you talked to. Not that you’d ever say anything, no, mostly you just wanted to see Wanda all sweet and flustered, committing the sight to memory on the off chance she kept her distance after today. 

She stared hard, judging your sincerity before deciding whether or not she’d lie or divulge the truth. Unpracticed as she was with this, Wanda wasn’t an idiot; this afternoon was nice, but she couldn’t blurt out her crush only a few hours after your first official meeting. She could tell half-truths, thoughts buzzing in her brain that ranked lower on the exposure scale to hopefully not scare you away. “Well.. you know how I tried talking to you in class?” 

You nodded, politely letting her continue, and Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, trying painfully hard not to think about your thumb rubbing over the back of her hand. It was a small gesture, obviously, but it meant everything to Wanda who’d never been on the receiving end of such gentle reassurance. “I’d been waiting to do that since the first week of class.”

So you weren’t imagining her sneaking glances at each class; good to know you could still sense when someone was into you. Most girls tended to talk way before Wanda did and you started wondering if your attraction to her made her small acknowledgments into something a lot bigger than it actually was. “Why didn’t you?”

“Someone else always got there first.” The truth was embarrassing. As isolated as Wanda had been, she didn’t actively dislike most of her peers. It was that one particular group you hung out with that seemed to go out of their way to not only make Wanda’s life hell, but also warn anyone they possibly could away from ever giving her a chance. She grew up being taught hateful behavior only bred more hate, that it wasn’t polite or productive, but if there was anyone she hated, it was them.

When she saw you with Brock and Carol and the rest of their tiring friend group, she nearly cursed aloud, strangely mad that of all the transfers, they had to get you too— it wasn’t fair. In her defense, Wanda gave ignoring you a good, honest try, but every time she saw you wander through the door, she wanted to be the one who waved you over, who sat with you and leaned in close or put a flirtatious little kiss on your cheek. “You seemed..busy.” 

Finally, once the jealousy threatened to consume her alive, she did change course, ignoring you wasn’t working so why not try talking? Worst case scenario, you tell her to shoo or get lost; painful, but nothing she hadn’t heard before. When she heard Brock talking about her, the brunette swore she felt her heart drop into her stomach, any hope she had of possibly getting close to you just… dashed in an instant. She had to pack her stuff quickly, not because she was afraid, but because she felt so embarrassed she knew she’d cry if she heard another word of that conversation. 

“I’m not stupid, I know they talk about me. They don’t really try to hide how they feel.” Wanda’s laugh held a bitter edge, laced with the defeat of someone who knew what to expect when trying to make new friends. “I just- I didn’t want to interfere or get you involved with any of their weird… whatever and.. I don’t know, it didn’t seem like it’d go over well to talk to you when you’re already friends with them.”

At first you laughed, disbelieving Wanda could ever think you were off limits just because you’d spent a month or so interacting with people who, admittedly, weren’t the greatest, but one look at Wanda’s troubled face showed she was all too serious. “I can talk to more than one person, you know!” 

You weren’t the type to blindly follow everything someone said, preferring to make your own judgements, and after a few hours with Wanda you could tell that, just as expected, she truly wasn’t as bad as everyone made her out to be. Shy and reserved, sure, but you couldn’t count those as bad qualities. Not when she was just as gentle, funny, and kind as you’d imagined she’d be. 

“It’s always more than just one person talking or inviting you somewhere or shoving their phone in your face asking you to text them…” The last part was mumbled, but you caught it all the same. Her earlier confirmed watching combined with that last comment had the last piece sliding into place so perfectly in your head, you’re sure you heard a snap. 

Wanda didn’t just want to say hi, she wanted what she saw; flirtatious texts, low-spoken promises of naughty after class activities— not that Wanda knew that’s what she was asking for. Sweet thing… you’d show her how it all worked.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You beckoned her closer with a finger and she leant in with innocent curiosity, shivering as you came to whisper in her ear. “I’d rather text you so I’d like your number, if you don’t mind.”

It was the truth; sure you messed around with one of two girls since being here, but none of them stopped you wanting the darling girl in front of you. The longer you sat with her, the more you wanted to know and not just to sleep with her. Not that Wanda would probably let you right away; she didn’t have to say it for you to know she was virginal as a little lamb.

Your lips brushed against her cheek, the barest hint of a kiss, but it stunned Wanda all the same. She pulled back, searching for her phone much more intently than needed to play off how affected she really was. “Does that mean you want to have lunch again?”

“I want to do a lot more than just have lunch with you but..” Eventually you gave Wanda your own phone to give the poor girl something to do where she was not so subtly scrambling. When she handed you hers, you punched your number in and as she took it back, you watched her sign your name off with a set of hearts. How precious. “Yes, if you want to?”

Wanda agreed perhaps a little too eagerly, but she couldn’t stop herself planning your next lunch date complete with food she made herself. She really hoped you liked homemade things. “Absolutely!”

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

And so it went like that for the following weeks, walking around campus with Wanda and having lunch together when you were both free, going to her apartment multiple times a week to collaborate on school things or just to talk to her. Whatever you were doing, Wanda was a pleasure to be around and she never complained when you copied her answers on homework or came over just to lay on her couch and watch movies.

For Wanda’s part, she might as well have been in heaven; having someone to spend time with regularly was nicer than she remembered. Of course, growing up, she had Pietro, but this was different. You made her laugh just as much as he did, but you didn’t torment her nearly as much, and the big difference, obviously, was that she most certainly did not want to kiss her brother. 

When she showed up to your apartment door with a box of heart-shaped sandwiches, she felt silly, but the moment your face lit up when you laid eyes on them… she wanted to drop the food and kiss you until you fell to the floor.

But she’d always wanted her first kiss to be special, memorable and at least pleasant; it couldn’t be over a stupid sandwich in a doorway. So Wanda waited until.. well, until she felt the time was right to politely ask.

You made her nervous, not in the frightened way others had, but with a giddy, butterflies in her stomach feeling that left Wanda always wanting more. If you’d asked Wanda a few months ago, she’d say her ideal romance was to be blissfully swept off her feet like she’d seen in movies, brought flowers, chocolates, and lovingly courted until she finally says yes— meeting you through all of that out her balcony window. For the first time in her life, Wanda wanted what she’d seen her peers get ever since hormones descended over her sixth grade class. She craved casually possessive hugs and touches, that anticipated first kiss… special private time she’d stumbled upon during late-night internet browsing.

The first one thankfully Wanda didn’t have to wait for. 

Startling as it was the next day when you not only walked with Wanda to class, but traded your spot in the back of the class to coax her to sit off to the side, she didn’t complain. How could she when you insisted sitting next to her made class more bearable; whether it was true or not, Wanda couldn’t know, but she didn’t care, the compliment made her blush every time.

A chair next to the top student should’ve meant you paid more attention, but it was the opposite. Before you’d watched Wanda from afar, now with her close, you couldn’t help but stare longer, much more intrigued with how she bit her tongue whenever she concentrated than anything your professors taught. 

Even more since you’d begun vying for her attention during class, Wanda liked to ask questions of them after lectures were done, getting clarification for anything she couldn’t pick up in the discussion. Jokingly, you called her a nerd, but you took her notes to study from all the same so you figured the least you could do was hang back and wait for her— the perfect opportunity for Carol to strike up a conversation. 

“She wheeled you right on in, didn’t she?” The blonde also went to school with Wanda and while she wasn’t ever directly antagonistic towards your new friend, she’d never made an effort to include her either. To you Carol was nice enough; if you were being honest, you hadn’t given it much thought whenever you fell into bed with her.

Hanging out with Wanda meant abandoning your typical seat next to Carol in your Wednesday morning class and while you missed her sharp banter and the silly drawings she snuck in the corners of your notebooks, nothing beat sliding your arm around Wanda and toying with her skirt under the desk. She didn’t fully know what you were up to, grew squirmy as she felt the room’s chill on her thighs, but even when you pinched at her hips, Wanda didn’t want to cause a class disruption by protesting. 

Not that you and Carol hadn’t done the same, but Wanda’s reactions were so pure and sweet, just like her. Carol was fun, but Wanda was something else entirely and you actually wanted to get to know her. The brunette was easy to be around in a way you couldn’t remember experiencing and where Wanda didn’t go out of her way to mention your first friend group, you didn’t miss the judgemental looks Carol shot Wanda’s way whether the brunette’s back was turned or not.  “It’s easy when you’re not an asshole. Try it sometime.”

She brushed off your comment, sliding further in your line of sight until she blocked your view of Wanda at the podium. What you two shared might’ve not been serious, but losing your situationship to someone like Wanda was an ego hit Carol refused to believe was actually real. “I’m having a party on Saturday. You’re coming.” 

“Guess I’ll cancel my plans…” The singular party of Carol’s you’d been to was a riot. Admittedly, you didn’t remember much besides large hits from shared pre-rolls and waking up in her bed the next morning with a pleasurable ache between your legs, but even after stumbling back to your apartment with a throbbing headache, you were more than excited at the prospect of going to another. Coincidentally, that particularly reckless night was days before you first talked to Wanda and now, only a few weeks later, you hesitated. 

“Is anyone invited?” You searched over Carol’s shoulder to find Wanda still chatting away, dutifully scribbling down something your professor was referring to. You couldn’t imagine she’d be upset if you went at all; Wanda might even appreciate a Saturday night to herself after you’d wormed your way into her plans week after week. It was you who didn’t want to go to the party without her.

Both of you knew the singular ‘anyone’ you were referring to, and Carol’s expression soured. “I said I’m having a party, not bible study.” 

Sam walked over then, the large guy you’d met at orientation having also made fast friends with the people who threw the best after hours get-togethers. He was nice enough, louder than his roommate Steve, but always a fun time. “Come on, Danvers, she can’t be that bad. Besides, isn’t her dad like, an hour away now?” 

Word really did travel fast on this campus. Even new kids retained personal facts about the girl who didn’t know the first thing about them, but Sam was another one who hadn’t bought into the group verdict on Wanda and for that, you were grateful. If you did bring Wanda along, you thankfully wouldn’t be the only one looking out for her. Not that you planned on letting her out of your sight. “I doubt she’d call the police.”

“Doesn’t sound like something I’d want to chance.” She wouldn’t get grounded like she had back in high school, but violating the lease on the house she and her friends rented wasn’t in the cards either. Catching sight of Wanda making her way back over to where the three of you gathered, she nudged your shoulder and you felt a heavy lump in your throat. The last thing you wanted was to be caught talking about her, much less make her believe you were plotting anything malicious. 

Carol was well aware of your growing soft spot in the past few weeks, taking note how you instantly shifted focus away from Wanda whenever someone dared bring her up in your presence; it’d almost be sweet if she didn’t hate her. And so, instead of cutting the chat short, Carol waited until she was sure Wanda was within earshot, “If she ruins anything, it’s on you.” 

Wanda, reticent as she was, strolled right up to you with a smile, but your stunned face made her brow furrow. She knew she’d been the topic of conversation, both having caught the tail end of Carol’s conditions and gauging the apprehension you regarded her with. 

“Look who it is, missionary of the hour…” Carol mumbled, Sam only getting a fraction of his snicker out before you shut him up with a warning glare. 

With a nervous breath, you tried playing it off, but the blonde’s icy temperament was impossible to mask, “We were just talking about this thing Carol’s got going on Saturday, but it’s a party so…”

Wanda nodded, ignoring the other woman completely, which only made her stew further. Honestly whatever was said wouldn’t be anything new; she did have a terrible reputation for disrupting parties and she was far past expecting to be wanted there. The hesitation didn’t bother her, but Carol did; if she could come out on top just once, she’d die happy. 

So this time, instead of being forced to watch Carol flirt with you and exchange texts in class, Wanda was the one who’d spent hours getting to know you and the last lecture blushing through your teasing, pushing you away when you got too handsy, giggling into her hands when you told her something especially funny; she knew, on some undescribed level, you liked her better. 

Maybe that’s where the confidence to link her arm with yours and press a chaste kiss into your temple stemmed from, “Well, I love parties! We have to go!”

If your eyes weren’t already wide enough to fall out of your head, they certainly were now. The blonde’s eyes narrowed, darting between the two of you while Sam, loud as ever, laughed at the clear and present tension between the two women on either side of you. “Last thing: Don’t let her wear anything like…” Carol gestured to Wanda, dressed in a light floral dress and one of her favorite cozy sweaters, “that. I’m not having a church social.”

Wanda’s grip loosened at the insult, brief confidence struck down as fast as it’d come, but you didn’t let her fall away completely, winding your arms around her midsection. “I told her she should wear this sweater today. But don’t worry, she’ll look even cuter than she normally does.” Scooting the stunned girl closer until she was snug between your legs, you kissed her cheek and gave her a squeeze of reassurance. 

When Wanda didn’t move a singular muscle, shoulders still slumped, you wished there was a hug tight enough to say I’m sorry I let them hurt you again. “See you Saturday!”

You never did thrive amidst conflict, preferring to sit back and let any drama go by far away from you, but it wasn’t fair staying silent when Wanda could barely stand up for herself. Whether it was your defense of Wanda’s outfit choice or your protective hold you kept, your defense was enough to get Carol to roll her eyes and back off for now, “Fine whatever, I’ll text you the details later.” 

Sam left you with a pat on the back, shaking his head at the tension he happened to stumble in on and couldn’t wait to tell Steve and Bucky, “Way to stand up for your girl, kiddo, well done.”

“Don’t call me kiddo! You’re maybe six months older than me, and she’s not my— fuck, whatever.” He was jogging out the door before you could correct him, but you dropped your arms anyway and Wanda tried to ignore the loss she felt. She longed to admit she needed at minimum five more minutes of that hug to truly keep her tears at bay, but she couldn’t ask. 

It was bad enough you had to lie about picking her sweater; Wanda threw it on not only because it kept her warm in the often chilly lecture halls, but Pietro bought it for her years ago for her birthday and the familiar fabric kept her calm. She wore the sweater and her current dress often enough for the outfit to be considered a wardrobe staple, Carol saw it constantly; there was no way she didn’t know how pointed her insult was. “Sorry about that…”

Wanda half expected you to run after Carol, trying to smooth things over with her for the sake of preserving whatever you two had that Wanda threatened. Instead she found her hand loosely caught in yours, thumb rubbing over it just as you had the first day she shared her anxieties, and when dim green eyes traveled from your touch to your face, she saw concern so genuine Wanda wanted to fall back into your arms and sob. Not only for herself, but for you and how much of a burden she feared she was already becoming. Her family always dubbed her the crybaby and she couldn’t deny it; of the three of them, Wanda was the first to let her eyes go watery. The only thing worse than dealing with what you’d just witnessed would be having to console the crying mess of your new friend.

But you wouldn’t have minded, not one bit. “Don’t apologize when you didn’t do anything wrong. That’s not fair,”  You spotted her frown and longed to ask her what you could do to help, but as soon as you opened your mouth, Wanda pulled away.

She was quick to replace her sad expression with another smile, pushing your forgotten books into your now empty hands. If you didn’t watch her so much, the sudden change wouldn’t mean anything, but the smile she was trying so hard to pass off didn’t reach her eyes— it wasn’t real. “You’re going to be late for class again, get moving.” 

“Well yeah, but…” Clearly, Wanda was deflecting again, you’d be a fool to miss the nervous way she hugged herself tight as if she could hide the knee length dress she’d walked out of her apartment in so happily just hours ago. Choosing the sweater wasn’t a lie, but what you thought about her look wasn’t; Wanda dressed in a comfortable yet sweet style you found wholly endearing. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean for all that to happen, I only wanted to ask if I could bring you along.”

The brunette scoffed loudly and in the interest of not making the situation any worse, you ignored how her voice cracked, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Right okay, I just- I’ll see you later then? If you’re up for it?” If Wanda didn’t want to talk about it now, maybe this afternoon she’d be up to discuss and unfortunately, she was right. You only had about ten minutes now to rush across the courtyard to your next lecture; no time to argue with her. It was too early in the semester to routinely skip all of your classes.

Wanda joined you to the door, hands tight around her backpack strap. The walk was short, too short; you hated leaving her to fend for herself when she was obviously still upset. You’d make it up to her later, maybe ask her favorite movie and bring over pizza to watch it with her. For now, resolved to be on time, you left her with a hurried wave and a clumsy sprint that admittedly did make her chuckle just a little, “You know where to find me!” 

With you gone, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and Wanda wiped them away with the knit sleeve of the sweater she couldn’t stand wearing right now. It was too cold out to only have her shoulders exposed, but she tore it off anyways, bundling it as small as she could in her clammy palms. 

She walked briskly, destination clear, but for once, she wasn’t going home. Any other time, Wanda would’ve been polite enough to text ahead and assure she was welcome, but the harder it got to hold back a full cry, the less she worried about etiquette. If anyone could tell her what to do, how to proceed, anything… it was them. 

From the class schedules they’d shared with her at the beginning of the year, they should be in; Wanda hoped their ‘you’re welcome whenever you want some company, no questions asked’ sentiment held true just this once.

The route home seemed endless, late summer breezes stinging her blotched cheeks; she looked a mess and she knew it, her frazzled appearance driving her to practically run down her apartment floor hall. Wanda knocked on the door just a few doors down from her own, the one she hated to bother but loved being in all the same, “I know it’s the middle of the day, but I really need your help, please?”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff series #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel imagine #confessions au. #motts writes. #maximotts

[ineffable-suffering]

The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie

Otherwise known as (*takes a deep breath*): A completely inflated close-up look at various dialogues and events of Season 2 that prove that the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Meeting Cotillion Ball was supposed to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley

Look, the point's been made before but that's never kept me from making it myself again, still. In fact, even I made it before, at the end of one of my other metas. But I feel like it's absolutely worthy enough to get its own soppy, way-too-long post. And I do love it so very much to write ridiculously long essays on something that could easily be condensed into a short paragraph.

So, here we go! Snuggle up, get cozy, settle in and, most importantly:

(Word count: 3.177 | Reading time: ~13 minutes)

As I already said above, I laid out a similar case in my meta about why Aziraphale is somewhat of an unreliable narrator. I'll try and recycle it here briefly, so I can further make my point.

When Aziraphale arrives back in London from his Edinburgh journey, he seems oddly happy and giddy for the fact that he just had a rather odd and threatening encounter with Shax. I explain in my other meta that this is because he just spent the last hours of his drive reminiscing on the thrilling and romantic magic show adventure of 1941 and also the fact that he just found out that Crowley has been replaced by Shax and no longer works for Hell.

Ergo: We have a hopelessly lovesick Principality at our hands, who's practically swooning over his serpent who saved him, his books and his magic show all those years ago.

Ergo:

✨This✨

Realistically, Aziraphale should probably be a tad worried about the eery encounter with Shax, in which she definitely had the upper hand on him. But well, if you spend many-a hours driving across the serene countryside (Edinburgh is about an 8-hour drive from London), pondering on one of the craziest, sticky-sweet romantic adventures of your not-life life, well ... things tend to turn a little rosy around the edges. Head in the clouds and all that. Light shades of grey!

Alright, onwards: Once the angel, filled to the very brim with fond memories and butterflies, gets out of the Bentley, he's kindly met with a face full of verdant plants and a very in-character-grumpy Crowley.

Fhwack! Way to burst the rosy bubble.

Seriously, the absolute lightning speed with which Crowley storms out to vacate the bookshop the very second Aziraphale arrives makes me giggle every time.

Let's make a first small (who am I kidding) diversion into analysing the following conversation in unnecessary detail ...

... simply because I enjoy quoting dialogue as an accurate reference in my metas. I'll also highlight certain passages I want to comment on in individual colours so I can back up my thoughts with them below. Alright, their little chinwag goes as follows:

Crowley: "They you are! I was worried something might have happened to you." Aziraphale: "No, nothing happened to me. Very uneventful journey indeed. No strange things at all." Crowley: "Good. That's what we wanna hear." Aziraphale: "Um .. everything okay with- ah.." *nods to the bookshop* Crowley: "Oh, yeah, fine. He's singing to himself. I think he must have been asleep. I heard snoring coming from his bedroom–" Crowley, to the Bentley: "Did you miss me? I bet you did." Aziraphale: "... I'm sure it did." Crowley: "So, any more clues from the mystery of the missing archangel?" Aziraphale: "Not exactly. Or, if there are, I haven't yet cracked the case. But I'm certainly hot on the trail of something." Crowley: "I'm sure you are. Oh, by the way, the whole sudden rain and awning thing was a complete washout." Aziraphale: "Sorry?" Crowley: "You know, project making Nina fall in love with Maggie. I failed, it's your go." Aziraphale: "I see. Well then, Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Monthly Meeting, here we come!" Crowley: "You're really hosting the meeting?" Aziraphale: "Absolutely! And I can guarantee you, it will be a night to remember."

At first glance, this has little to do with the plot of this meta but actually, it folds into my point very nicely! However, it's not time for that yet, so we'll just state the facts as they are for now and then bring them back 'round later when we need them. That being said: For the love of Someone, will these two ever manage to simply tell each other the truth of what happened instead of thinking they can protect each other by lying about it all the time? Hrmpf. As a big fan of open communication myself, I'm close to developing a stomach ulcer with the amount of false truths being spewed here. (Then again – and yes, that is another, way larger meta I'm currently cooking up – it plays so very perfectly into the whole Jane-Austen-Pride-and-Prejudice tragic miscommunication theme that this entire Season has, so I understand the point of it.)

Very uneventful journey indeed, Aziraphale, except for the fact that you were ambushed by a demon who told you she was Crowley's successor, knows about the rumors of the two of you being an item as well as what went down in 1941 (that almost had both of you exposed) and also seems to have figured out where you and your demon boyfriend are hiding Gabriel, all in the span of about a minute. No strange things at all, nooo!

And Crowley's "Oh yeah, fine" is a total lie too. Again, we see him make an absolute run for it before Aziraphale can even enter the bookshop. After all, he just once again witnessed Jim have a Gabriel-flashback, speaking of the Second Coming, while Crowley was alone with him. As fumingly angry he is with the amnesiac archangel – he's also absolutely terrified of what might happen (to him and Aziraphale) should Jim regain his memories. So, no wonder he's quick to vacate the premises after witnessing Jim's rather eery memory flashback (and was, just like Aziraphale, threatened by Shax mere moments later, lol).

But no, nothing out of the ordinary happened to either of them. Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-fucking-boo.

Alright, let's get back on track with the actual topic of this meta. Certainly hot on the trail of something, hm? At first glance, it might seem like Aziraphale is talking about the fact that Gabriel was in company of someone whenever he went to the Resurrectionist Pub. (The clue!) However, I don't actually think he is talking about that. Why? Because, and this slipped my mind too at first, he never actually follows any of this information up, does he? Yes, sure, he went to Edinburgh, found the capital-c Clue and then returned to London. But what does he do with it? Nothing. He doesn't keep investigating this hot trail because that's not the important thing he realized during his journey. No, the more important clue Aziraphale found during his trip, is that Crowley no longer works for Hell and that he is also very much irrevocably in love with him and must confess this at the earliest given chance. (The latter part isn't necessarily a new discovery for Aziraphale, but it surely is fuelled by the fact that he just realized Crowley's out of a Hellish job and simply hasn't told him yet.)

This exchange just the perfect indicator for the fact that Aziraphale, at no point during his drive back, was thinking about the Maggie and Nina mission. He has no idea what Crowley is talking about once he mentions it and seems surprised, even, that he would. Even though they just talked about it on the phone when Aziraphale was still at the graveyard. Which is another important piece of evidence because it means that the last status update Aziraphale got of Mission Lovebirds, was that Crowley had sensed an opportunity to make them fall in love – and had then hung up on him. Why is this important? Because it means that until that very point of their conversation, Aziraphale did not know that Crowley's attempt had failed! There would have been just as much of a chance of Crowley's weather miracle actually working out and Maggie and Nina already having skipped into the sunset happily ever after.

So, riddle me this:

Why would Aziraphale spend the entire ride back from Edinburgh plotting "a night to remember" (because clearly, he already had the entire Ball planned out down to a T in his head since he goes into action right away after arriving) if he didn't even know yet that Crowley's attempt had failed?

To be very clear here: We're not talking about Aziraphale driving on the M1 to London, having a silly little idea for putting on some good music, miracle-ing Nina and Maggie to dance to it and watch them confess their love–

No.

He planned an entire actual Cotillion Ball with very particular location design that involves re-arranging the entire bookshop, specifically designed individual outfits for (almost) every single attendee, topped off with a live band, hors-d'œuvre, drinks and an actual choreographed group dance.

During one car ride.

Where's the party planner Aziraphale AU? I'm waiting!

Now, sure, we know that it's still quite important for Aziraphale to convince Heaven of the faux-reason they gave for their accidental ✨25-Lazarii miracle✨. But if we're all honest, this all seems to be a tad much just to make two random humans fall in love, even for that.

Glittery ball gowns and suits? Red and gold wall curtains? A modified language filter? Bloody vol-au-vents?

Talk about over the top ...

Once we start S2E5, Crowley is still surprised at the mere fact that Aziraphale is actually planning to organize the Monthly Meeting – and he doesn't even know yet that it's gonna be the most extravagant ball-boogaloo that the Whickber Street Community has ever seen! Aziraphale wanting to organize the meeting alone, is enough to render Crowley incredulous, because Aziraphale never mingles with the other shopkeepers. He usually actively avoids them and any sort of social encounters as much as he can because he doesn't care about the bloody Christmas lights, alright?

These things seem mundane and uninteresting to him, obviously, since all he really cares about is hoarding his book collection in peace like the little hedonist he is and drawing as little attention as possible to his none-business business.

Oh, right, speaking of books:

Let's take another unnecessarily detailed look at the whole Whickber Street invitation scene:

Aziraphale realizes very quickly that he's not the only one who's quite unenthusiastic about the blessed Chritsmas lights. And despite his very persuasive methods of temptation ...

... he has to take some more drastic measurements. And those are?

That's right: Giving away his books.

I'll repeat it again, slowly: Aziraphale is willingly (!) giving away or lending his books to pretty much complete strangers to, allegedly, make two other humans strangers fall in love.

Seriously, who is that angel and what has he done with our prim, fussy, hedonistic Aziraphale that protects his books with the vice grip of an eagle carrying his precious prey?

Believe in the importance of Mission Lovebirds as much as you will, but we're talking about Mr. A.Z. Fell here who, over the past millennia, has pretty much spent every day actively working out methods to stop people from purchasing as much as a single paperback from his holy shelves.

And yet: the 1965 September Dr. Who Annual? Given away. The first edition of Expert at the Card Table that was S. W. Erdnase's personal copy? Lent away to grubby human hands to fondle around with.

Let's do another coloured dialogue diversion (don't worry, it's not as extensive as the last one):

Crowley: "You just did what I think you did?" Aziraphale: "I'm not prepared to talk about it." Crowley: "You gave away a book." Aziraphale: "I had to! Maggie and Nina are depending on me. They just don't know it yet."

Crowley backs up my point: This is a huge deal. Aziraphale does not sell his books – let alone give them away for free. We're all shocked! Flabbergasted!

And the explanation Crowley and us get just ... doesn't satisfy. Something and someone sure is depending on this Ball and doesn't know it yet. But it's most definitely not Maggie and Nina, folks.

You know for whom Aziraphale would give away his books in the blink of an eye, though?

Mhm, that's right.

This pretty old serpent.

I want to take a minute to show you the reaction again that Aziraphale has upon entering the very same magic shop him and Crowley went to in 1941 to acquire the Bullet Catch:

You ... you need a minute there, angel? You're sure looking a little ... affected.

And I mean, well, no wonder. He reminisced about that very memory four hours last night. To him, this shop is where the most turbulent, ecstatic, adrenaline-fuelled and romantic night of his life began. And it shows.

I've made my point in my other meta series about how Aziraphale is an incredibly nostalgic character. He romanticizes so many things in his memories – especially the parts that feature Crowley. So, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that he's once again willing to loosen the tight grip he has on his book collection to get the successor of Will Goldstone's Magic Shop, the shop that started it all for him, to come to his fancy Ball.

As we watch Aziraphale and his little lap dog demon pat around Soho, I'd like to take another second to point out that he goes to seven or more establishments before he even invites Nina.

... and he only does so because she starts talking to them on the street. Almost like he'd forgotten about it. Why not ask her at the very beginning? To establish whether or not he'd have to book-blackmail her too?

"Perfectly ordinary invitation with no hidden agenda of any kind", except that he's using you and Maggie as a pretence to resolve his own clusterfuck of a relationship-miscommunication Jane-Austen-style so that he can then hopefully confess his undying love to his demon not-boyfriend boyfriend.

Marvellous!

You'll forgive me another short diversion but my God, the whole exchange at the Marguerite's restaurant with Crowley literally cat-call-whistling Aziraphale over to him (and Aziraphale checking if he meant someone else first, I–)? I am weak. So, so weak and

However, this is also when we get a snippet of Crowley finally revealing the truth in place of his "Oh, he's fine"-lie earlier and telling Aziraphale that he's actually pretty scared Jim might turn back into Gabriel and smite him altogether. And Aziraphale's response is, in a cosmic sense, (remember the pink paragraph now) so hilarious:

"Have you thought of just talking to him?"

Yeah, have you? Have any of the two of you? Just thought about talking? To each other? About anything?

'pparently not. But hey, it's all good because remember what the ultimate remedy for star-crossed lovers simply misunderstanding each other is?

Bish, bash, bosh, problem solved!

Back at the ballroom bookshop, Aziraphale sends Crowley to invite Maggie in order to, in my opinion, not spoil the Ball-y surprise for him. (Inviting Maggie only now?! Wouldn't she be one of the only two guests who really should attend? Why the short notice? If she's really that important for the Ball you're planning, hm?)

On top of this, we see Nina almost not attending the Ball meeting after her partner broke up with her and Crowley being the one who coincidentally runs into her and ushers her into the bookshop before Shax and her "legion" of demons start creeping up on them. Again, if this hadn't happened by pure coincidence, Nina would have left to go home and this whole Ball would have taken place without her, rendering the apparent sole purpose of making her fall in love with Maggie useless.

Why doesn't Aziraphale care more for both of them to attend and be there? Why is he instead busy fussing over everything looking perfect and wonderful and doesn't even seem to notice that both Nina and Maggie are really late to the meeting?

Well. Well.

The answer's in the title, babes.

Alas, Crowley safely gets Maggie and Nina to join them, Mr. Brown is the only one who doesn't get a miracled outfit (fussy, petty angel, you just don't like him, do you?), Jimbriel stuns with glamour and flirt (and whatever sexually suggestive thing he does with his cheeks) and the Whickber Street Ball is a-go!

Sorry, I just had to chuck this in again because Crowley's face here absolutely kills me every time. He looks so confused, I am hollering.

And the heart eyes Aziraphale is making at Nina and Maggie now that they're actually here?

Oh, bless it, angel.

He's all like "Oh look, it's working! Jane was right! It's all going to be resolved, all the misunderstanding and quarrels! Crowley, where's Crowley–"

Ah yes, there he is.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is an angel who is not listening to a single word being said right now. No, in his head, Aziraphale is already down on one knee, pouring his heart out to Crowley after they just danced the night away.

Oh, yes, right. The dancing.

Parallel much?

But well, as marvellous and beautifully romantic as her stories tend to be, it turns out that Jane Austen isn't always right after all. Because before we know it, the perfect night shatters into many-a tiny pieces (literally).

And once again, fhwack:

... the rosy bubble bursts.

Let's take one more deep breath so I can make my final point:

In S2E2, Aziraphale explains to us very exactly what Jane's Balls (hrhr) used to be about: Solving miscommunication and confessing love to one another.

During his car journey back from Edinburgh, Aziraphale:

doesn't know Crowley's Mission Lovebirds had failed

remembers 1941 and just how badly he's in love with Crowley

and also realizes that they seem to have been wildly miscommunicating for quite some time now. (Crowley didn't even tell him he basically got let go!)

So, what does maddeningly strong love plus a want to resolve all the miscommunication equal? That's right: A night to remember! A Ball to change it all! A dance, a vol-au-vent, a confession. And, ideally, a happy ever after. Because:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man angel in possession of a good fortune Jane Austen collection, must be in want of a wife demon husband.”

The Ball was never for Nina and Maggie. As a byproduct, maybe, yes. But the whole rest of the glimmer and glamour, the careful, romantic planning and set up of it all, the book-bating the other shopkeepers– that was for Crowley and Crowley only.

And oh, if only it were as easy as in the books.

*whispers* I'm sorry, I had to.

***

Your honour, the tinfoil-hat crackpot defence rests. Feel free to share thoughts (and prayers) if you want to!

Au revoir! 💗

#good omens season 2 #good omens #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens s2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #my own meta #the bloody vol-au-vents made me do it #aziraphale has balls #truly #jaune austen ball #it is a truth universally acknowledged that this show is going to drive me out of my mind #azi just wanted his silly little love confession #but then he had to surrender the angle #bummer

[loud-recesses]

MDZS au where everything is ok, and WQ is here too.

how hard is it to read your old handwriting? very hard, it turns out.

#mdzs #ok i confess i was trying to decipher an old ghost au doc and my handwriting is...wow #anyway have this <33 #digital art #fanart #makings #wen qing #wei wuxian #the untamed #comic #sort of

[mblue-art]

once again i was fueled with coffee (did not sleep the whole night) but this time i doodled college au to cope bc ofc i did (also did not feel like sleeping wooo)

#self insert #cross!sans #epic!sans #mblue art #cm #m rambles #(that tag is needed bc hoo boy u can tell i did not get sleep and is fueled by caffeine) #(do not be like me!!!!!!!!! do not deprive urself of sleep 💀💀💀) #(get a good 6-7hrs a day if u can. if 4-5hr works better for u then im not forcing u to sleep more 😤😤😤 as long as u rest well 😁👍) #(AND HYDRATE... if ur reading this try to take a sip rn 🥤) #campus au #(college au scenarios will be tagged that heehoo) #not colored just lines bby 😎😎😎 #idiots to lovers type shit where they both confide in epic n he's just chillin #waiting for the time when these dummies will finally confess to eachother themselves #(look i think it's rlly funny seeing cross be all cool calm collected in public but when he talks to epic abt his crush) #(he goes insane with a million different flustered/blushing emojis) #( 'they told me good luck on my test and gave me the nicest smile ever how was i gonna live after that' goofy ass. idiot /aff) #( 'DUDE THEY GAVE ME A MOTIVATIONAL NOTE. IN /PINK/ PAPER. ON CHOCOLATE. DOES THIS...... 😳' guys i love silly dorky cross to bits so much) #(man fucking explodes w his simping n epic just goes LMAO but he's v supportive for his bruh 💪😤) #(on the other hand my sona thinks he's sooo cool and awesome and smart and honestly fucking charming HHELLO THE TIMES WHEN HE LAUGHS AND) #(AND SMILES HELLOOO MR HANDSOME I MEAN WHATT) #( 'stars if he likes me back i wouldn't know what to do with myself. fucking EXPLODE? YIPPEE CONFETTI??' lots of flushge ) #(going ueueue at big bro epic bc they got a super massive crush on his bestie but) #(but the head is entertaining 'what-if's BUT i think kuya epic knows how to steer the thoughts away from those and smack em w teasing 😎✨) #(ultimately distracting and successfully reassuring them 😎😎😎) #(tsundere mblue no way not in here im down bad astronomically full on simping my guys) #(he might be a dumbass sometimes but he's my dumbass) (ok i'll shut up now fr) #anywayz campus au is the my highschool au but we're all adults and more tired yippeee

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Am obsessed with the double trouble au with 2 readers and 2 königs <3 <3 It got me thinking, how do you think younger reader would interact with recruit könig? I feel like she'd honestly be terrified of him at first; he'd seem borderline psychotic (because he's practically drooling over her, always lingering around her and she might not be used to that kind of attention) but she might grow into liking him more once she discovers that she's into his annoying (maybe cocky?) antics.

CW: dubcon groping, dubcon kissing, dubcon everything

Hell yes she’s terrified.

This guy stalks her on social media, gropes her thigh under the table when they're out to eat, tries to move himself on top of her in the car when he leans to kiss her good night. Tells her the sweetest things before plunging his tongue in her mouth, one time he even flattens the passenger seat from under her so that she’s basically trapped.

Luckily he stops when she puts her hands over his chest and pushes him away: the drooly makeout session was getting out of hand, she sort of likes this crazy guy but she doesn’t want their first time to be in a car. Even if the said car is a nice black Hummer :(

He laughs when she escapes the vehicle – his little heartthrob is playing hard to get and it only makes König spiral further in love. He has an odd way of showing it though: sends her breathy voice messages in the middle of the night, so creepy, and one time she even hears a soft, slick sound in the background – is he fapping over there??

Young recruit König could be mistaken for a sadist but he really is just trying to make reader feel appreciated. Like… 24/7 appreciated… Fucked raw appreciated… Crying tears from overstimulation appreciated…

To König, love is not love if your partner isn’t shaking all over after you’re done with them and so the sex is bound to be a bit intimidating too, especially if reader is not that experienced. Poor young thing will be in constant fight or flight mode with him, and because König does the fighting, what else is left for her but to run? He always catches her though, and it takes months before she understands he’s not going to actually *hurt* her. Besides, König only enjoys her tears if they’re born from multiple orgasms.

If she’s crying because she’s scared, recruit König will become confused and oddly caring. So caring that she has to fawn or fake dead next because even this young man’s attempts to be nurturing feel like suffocation…

He asks, what’s wrong, did he hurt you, Liebe? There’s no need to be scared, little mitten. Shit, was he playing too rough…? Ah, you poor thing. Here, let him kiss it better…

…And before you know it, you’re squirming again, trying to get away from his mouth because there’s too much stimulation. König won’t let you go, hell no, you sound too cute when you’re squirming. Are you even trying to wriggle away or against him?

Then there comes the beautiful day when König is so tired from work he can’t even bother to chase her around the house and she’s like...

Do you even love me anymore?!

#wonder what colonel König and our other reader are doing in the meantime #just mowing the lawn outside? tending the garden and letting kids play? lol #maybe they don’t live in a commune but still! it would be fun <3 #double trouble au #I have to confess some of young recruit bled into stalker!König #they’re both such feral dogs ^^

[nekogaaaaaaa]

LOVE IS WAR❤🔫

I started to warm up with their human version and decided to make an au based of the best romcom anime

#the roles kinda switch as Charlis is the student council president #while Alastor is the assistant #so it will kinda fits with the canon roles #having so many ideas with this au #ngl it's fun #They will be idiots fall in love #no one wants to confess first #aka literally the plot of the anime #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #charlie morningstar #charlastor #charlie x alastor #radiobelle #au