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malleleothreesome · 1 year ago

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Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)

🌟 summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED ༶༶༶ 🌟 song: Carousel - Melanie Martinez "And it's all fun and games... 'til somebody falls in love"

Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.

“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.

“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand.

“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property.

“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”

You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”

You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. “Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”

You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?

Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."

"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.

You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic?

Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."

Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."

His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.

"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."

Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.

Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.

"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.

"Fine," you finally whisper.

Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater.

You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”

“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous.

Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air.

The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.

You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."

Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.

"Would you like to try it on?"

The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.

"Wh-what?"

"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.

"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."

You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?

"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.

Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."

You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.

You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.

Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this.

Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest.

Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined.

You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor.

Fellow feels his pants tighten.

You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will.

Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.

After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show.

He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks.

You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful.

"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream.

He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.

"I'm ready."

"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.

Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.

He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.

"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.

"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.

Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.

"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.

Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."

God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.

He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.

You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.

Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.

You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.

"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes.

He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.

You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.

You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."

"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.

"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.

"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates.

He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront.

Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.

"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.

"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."

Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.

Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.

"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.

"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.

"Yes." You answer without reluctance.

Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.

Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.

"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."

Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.

"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."

You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.

"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."

Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.

"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll."

You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.

You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.

Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."

His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.

He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.

"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.

"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.

"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.

Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.

"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.

You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours."

He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.

Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.

Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.

Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.

He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.

You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.

"What are you thinking about, Darling?"

"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.

Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.

You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.

"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.

You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.

He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.

"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.

As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.

Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.

Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.

Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome

#Fellow Honest #Fellow Honest Smut #Twisted Wonderland Smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #twst fellow honest x reader smut #twst fellow honest smut #ferro honest #ferro honest smut #twst fellow #twst ferro #fellow honest x reader #ferro honest x reader #twisted wonderland fellow honest #stage in playful land #my writing

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sirfrogsworth · 1 year ago

Text

These folks watched a whole ass movie not realizing the main character was transgender and it was a 2 second kiss between men that made them lose their ever-loving minds.

It's amazing to me that if it weren't for those 2 seconds, many of these folks would have given this movie a 4 or 5 star review. But two seconds of the most vanilla, non-sexy, yet genuine and loving kiss somehow ruined every moment of enjoyment the previous 90 minutes brought them.

Imagine if they realized the trans allegory. I wish I had a way to tell them. I wish I had a way to make them realize they related to a trans character. That they rooted for them. That they accidentally empathized with a trans story.

This was a beautiful movie. In every sense. I really hope between this and Spider-Verse, we can have a moratorium on every 3D animated movie using this style of character design.

It's time to let go of the rubber toy look.

I love Toy Story, but its success kind of doomed 3D animation to never take any risks. I thought maybe it was just a limitation of the medium, and perhaps it was for a time... but after seeing Love Death + Robots and Arcane...

I realized they can make 3D animation look however the hell they want now.

The rubber people were just risk avoidance.

"That's what people are used to and so we're sticking with it."

But the real beauty of Nimona was the story. I won't spoil it but the plot is pretty much, "If you get to know a trans person, you probably won't hate them anymore."

Not knowing any trans people is one of the biggest factors in anti-trans bigotry. And so this movie uses allegory to let an audience get to know a trans person. And you get to experience someone slowly start to understand what it is to be trans from an outside perspective.

It's sad that will probably be lost on those folks above because all they will remember is the kiss. Seriously, it was such a harmless, mundane, blink-and-you-miss-it kiss. But I'm hoping that others will take the lesson of this movie to heart. That you should get to know people before you judge them.

Part of me does wish we could tell trans stories without allegory. That we could just have overt trans characters. But I think this is the best representation possible right now.

It's crazy that Supergirl was one of the bravest shows as far as modern trans representation. It wasn't an edgy HBO drama trying to push boundaries. It was a family-friendly superhero show and they were just like, "Here is a transgender woman with superpowers and it's fine." And I loved that it was part of the character but it wasn't all the character was. Though I think they just missed the manufactured "moral panic" window where that choice would have been extremely controversial causing boycotts of Warner Bros. and whatnot.

My only complaint about Nimona was a small penis joke. It went by very quickly and many may even miss it. But I was surprised to see it in this movie in particular. Especially since those jokes can have collateral damage toward trans folks. With all of the positive messages, wasting a joke on body shaming was a tad disappointing. I mean, it was a fairly lighthearted "Is it cold in here?" joke. I don't want to make it sound worse than it was. But it still registered on my Richter scale of things that bother me.

Anyway, I wholeheartedly give Nimona a 5 out of 5. It helped me understand my friends on a deeper level and it was warm and funny and entertaining. There was a scene at the end that was so beautiful and heart-wrenching and I was crying my eyes out. The animation and the symbolism and the acting were just so perfect.

It's a shame Disney tried to kill this movie. But I am so glad it was allowed to exist despite that.

#long post #nimona #homophobia

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muffinpink02 · 6 months ago

Note

Lucy and Ona 🥰 the Lucy padel vid got me feeling things and the big O made me desperate for more jealous Ona

So maybe Lucy takes up padel, has a hot instructor who clearly fancies her, Ona happens to be watching her once and overt jealousy ensues. And smut obv, always smut

Feel free to not do that if it’s a terrible idea 😂 I don’t have the most creative of minds, I won’t be offended 😶‍🌫️

Many Shades Of Green

Anon request - Thank you beautiful anon! Loved this idea! I haven't really read it through so you may see changes if you ever come back for seconds. Dom Ona

Warnings - smut 18 public sex,

And @lucyandalexiafan thank you ALWAYS for reading my several pages off notes and always being there for the fics chats and the deep chats. My tumblr bestie, I appreciate you a whole lot ❤️

“You sure you don't want to try it out? It's really fun” Lucy asked her girlfriend.

“No, it's okay. I’ll be happy reading and watching.” Ona smiled playfully.

Lucy chuckled shyly as she looked at her paddle.

The girls were waiting for Lucy’s paddle board trainer. She had been interested in the Paddle sport for some time now, but hadn't had a chance to get into the activity with her schedule being so tight. But finally with a rare day of freedom she finally got round to booking a trainer of the sport.

“I wonder where she is? Oh that might be her.”

Ona looked up to see a tall blonde woman approaching them at the side of the court. It was like she was walking in slow motion, the girl had legs for days. She had bright blue eyes and a Hollywood smile, she looked more like a model than a trainer.

“Hey you must be Lucy? I’m Katie.” The blonde put her hand out for Lucy, her bright smile almost blinding.

Ona didn’t miss the way the blonde eyed up Lucy’s body.

Lucy smiled politely and took Katie’s hand. “Hey Katie, nice to meet you. This is my partner, Ona.”

The vogue looking model then eyed up Ona, a small smirk crept on her face.

“Gosh, you’re so little, I almost didn’t see you down there.” She laughed.

Ona had to laugh it off, it wasn’t the first time someone had mentioned her height and it wouldn’t be the last. But it still annoyed her.

“Ha, yeah, luckily I won't be in your way. I’m just watching.” Ona rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

Lucy gave Ona a small smile, the younger brunette knew Lucy loved her height, she constantly told her how cute she was, or how she fit into the crock of her neck perfectly when they cuddled. But it didn't make her any less self conscious when someone mentioned it in such a way, especially if that someone looked like a catwalk model.

Katie gave Ona a fake smile, but didn’t reply, she turned to Lucy with her bright smile back on her pretty face.

“Anyways, shall we get started, Luce?”

Ona raised her eyebrows at the blatant rudeness of the blonde and the new nickname for her girlfriend.

“Ahh yeah sure.” Lucy smiled back at Ona as she walked with the blonde to the centre of the court. Ona rolled her eyes as she took a seat in the stands. She pulled out her book and began to read.

The Spaniard was close enough to hear their conversation, so she didn’t miss the obnoxious laugh Katie gave everytime Lucy said something. Ona loved Lucy, but she wasn’t that funny. She shook her head and tried her best to get into her book, but she couldn't keep her eyes from wandering up to the pair in front.

Katie was showing Lucy how to swing her paddle, she stood next to the brunette and grabbed her arm.

“Wow, you’ve got some power in those arms, I bet you could lift me without blinking.” Katie chuckled, her hand still on Lucy’s biceps, squeezing her muscles.

Lucy laughed politely. Ona knew Lucy wouldn't know what to do in a situation like this, she got it all the time. So much so that she didn't even notice the difference when someone was flirting or just being polite with her.

“Let me just get behind you and show you the right form.” Katie said.

“Ahh, okay yeah.”

Ona watched as the blonde put her hands on Lucy's waist, moving her into position, she tried to not let it get to her, it was sports after all, her trainers had done similar things and she knew there was nothing behind it. But Katie had been flirting with Lucy since her foot touched the court.

“Okay, that's great. Put your back out a bit more. Yeah,that's it, now stick out your bum. Perfect, that's nice.”

Ona watched as Katie shamelessly checked out Lucy's arse. The Spaniard could feel her jealousy starting to creep up, but she tried her best to ignore it.

Katie stepped a little closer, pushing herself against Lucy's arse.

That's when Ona lost all interest in her book,

“Okay now back up with me, I won't let you fall.”

Lucy was completely oblivious to Katie's gross tactics. When it came to any kind of sport Lucy had her head game on, she had been looking forward to the training for some time, so she was locked into concentrating on her instructions, not realising what Katie was doing.

“Beautiful. Just like that.” Katie bit her lip as she felt Lucy press into her. Ona watched as she placed her hand on Lucy's back and pushed her slightly forward. “Perfect, good.”

Ona couldn't ignore the angry heat that crept up her spine, she was pissed. Ona’s teeth gritted so hard she was close to breaking a tooth. She wasn't a violent person, or even an angry person but she was close to dashing her book in Katie's pretty face.

“Okay, good. Let me just show you how I position myself. So you can try that way.”

“Okay.” Lucy nodded.

Katie stood in front of Lucy. “Now just watch how I bend.”

Ona watched as the blonde bent over in front of Lucy, her mini skirt was sitting just below her arse cheeks, but she bent so far forward you could practically see the outline of her lips in her underwear. Ona couldn't believe the way this girl was throwing herself at Lucy, It was completely over the top.

The girl was clearly into Lucy, and my god, she was trying her hardest to get some kind of attention. Ona couldn't help but laugh at how tacky she was.

“See how my knees bend?”

Lucy was trying her best to not look at the girls in front of her. She looked over at Ona to see if she was doing okay, but that's when she saw the anger flash across Ona’s normally gentle face. Lucy looked at her, trying to mouth ‘what's wrong’ but before Ona could respond Katie was there, again.

“See what I mean, Luce?”

Lucy looked back at Katie. “Oh yeah, yeah I see.”

Katie stood up and faced the brunette again. “Great, I know not everyone can bend as much as that. You have to be flexible.” She took a step closer to Lucy and whispered “I do a downward dog every morning and every night.” She purred as she winked at the brunette.

“O-Oh yeah, good to keep the muscles going.” Lucy awkwardly rubbed her nose.

“You would know, I bet you’re always at the gym.”

“Yeah, part of the job.” Lucy awkwardly played with her paddle.

“Yoga is really good for the body. I do private classes, if you were ever interested. Just one on one. It really helps in the bedroom, I can be put in so many positions.” She smirked at Lucy.

“Ah y-yeah. I’ll let you know.” Lucy stuttered, she was slowly starting to catch on to why Ona had a face of thunder.

“Great, I’ll keep you to that promise. Let's play a round, I wanna see your form.”

The girls played 3 rounds. Katie had actually kept the flirting down a minimum, aside from taking off her t-shirt as she was ‘So hot’ and was now in a tight sports bra that held little to the imagination. But Ona was still pissed. She had heard the majority of their conversation and wanted nothing more than to drag Katie by the hair and stick her paddle where the sun didn't shine.

As I said before, Ona wasn't an angry person, or a violent person, she was normally calm, cool and collected. But now and again Ona could maybe, sometimes be a little jealous.

Yes, it might have bugged her when the barista girl gave Lucy doe eyes every time they got coffee. And yes of course it annoyed her when girls would throw themselves at Lucy when they were out at a bar or restaurant. But, Ona was only human, of course she would get annoyed when someone flirted with the taller brunette, Lucy was hers, for as long as Lucy wanted to be of course.

And someone as shameless as Katie always brought out the little green jealous Ona.

Finally, the game was done.

“Okay, let's leave it there. Good job, Luce.” Katie patted the brunette on the back.

“Yeah, it was good, it's a lot of fun.” Lucy smiled.

Katies blue eyes roamed over Lucy's body. “Let me help you stretch, your thighs will be tight.”

“That's okay, I can help her with that.” Ona was suddenly standing by the fence.

Lucy and Katie both jumped at Ona’s sudden appearance.

Katie gave Ona a particularly bitchy look, clearly annoyed to have been caught out. She gave Ona another fake smile. “I think I might know how to work her muscles a bit better than you, it's my job.”

“I think I might know a little bit, I am a professional athlete. Also I think I know Lucy's body a lot better than you.” Ona gave her own fake smile.

“Of course.” Katie snarled. She turned back to Lucy who hadn't missed the blatant passiveness going on between the girls. The blonde put her winning smile back on.

“You have my email. Let me know when you can do another session next week, and that yoga class.” Katie smirked.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know. Thanks again.” Lucy waved.

Katie watched Lucy walk away, her blue eyes locked with Ona’s brown ones. She gave the younger brunette a wicked smile and walked off the court.

“Hey, you ready? How was your book?” Lucy asked.

Ona hadn't read one single sentence of her book, but Lucy didn't need to know that.

“Good, but I was a bit distracted.” Ona gave Lucy a tight smile.

Lucy knew that tone, she knew that smile, she had seen it plenty of times before, it was no secret Ona was a jealous person. It was never a problem, it didn't cause Lucy any stress. It was never serious enough for her to find it uncomfortable or controlling, it was just a trait that Ona had. Lucy saw it every now and then, she couldn't help but find it cute, and even made her feel special.

Being seen as the more dominant one in the relationship Lucy sometimes felt like she couldn't be in that position where her partner was the more jealous one but with Ona she always made her feel wanted and?

“Can we go to the showers? I wanna wash and get out of these clothes.”

Lucy grabbed her shirt, dabbing the sweat that dripped down her face, flashing her hardened abs that flexed from her breathing.

The Spaniard had seen Lucy’s abs more times then she’d had hot meals, but no matter how many times she had her eyes, hands, mouth or other regions of her body on those muscles, they always managed to leave her speechless.

“Y-yeah.” Ona cleared her throat.

They headed towards the showers, Lucy spoke about their plans later but it fell on deaf ears, Ona wasnt really listening. She was thinking about all the ways she would fuck Lucy when they got home. The younger brunette couldn't stop the hot desire she had bubbling up in her stomach, her jealousy had sparked a mix between anger and pure want for her girlfriend.

They made it to the showers.

“I won't be long.” Lucy kissed Ona’s cheek.

“Okay. I’ll wait here.” Ona smiled as she sat round the corner.

The older brunette made her way into the shower room, she entered the cubicle and began to wash her sweaty body. Little did she know Ona was sat outside, thinking about what strap to use on the girl, but her thoughts were interrupted by that irritating laugh she heard earlier.

“Yeah, I just finished my session with her. She’s so sexy! She definitely wanted me, if it wasn't for her pixie girlfriend being there she would have definitely given her number to me.” Katie spoke obnoxiously on her phone. “Yeah, I’m going to shower now. I'll talk to you later.”

Katie couldn't see Ona sitting behind the corner but Ona had heard enough to know exactly who she was talking about, she heard the door to the showers open as Katie walked inside.

That's when something snapped inside Ona. The calm, cool and collected side of her had all but disappeared and was replaced by a red hot anger that erupted inside of her body. She had done her best at holding it in, but Katie had pushed her a step too far, she couldn't hold it in any longer and that green little monster had finally come out to play. She gripped the arm chair as she waited a couple of seconds before following Katie.

Ona entered the hot shower room, she just caught the back of Katies head entering a cubicle. Then she noticed Lucy's unmistakable Barcelona towel, hanging over a door.

She knocked on her girlfriend's cubicle door. “Lucy.”

Lucy heard Ona’s voice, she unlocked the door to see if the younger brunette was okay.

“Hey, wha-” To Lucy's surprise the door was pushed open by the short Spainiard.

Ona roamed her hungry eyes over Lucys naked wet body, she looked so fucking good. The Spaniard smirked dangerously at her girlfriend, loving the confusion on Lucy’s face. She stripped her clothes off with speed she didn't know she had. Throwing the clothing on the dry bench next to Lucy's own clothes.

The shorter girl wasted no time as she pushed Lucy's naked body hard against the cubicle. The taller brunette let out a grunt as her back hit the wall.

“Ona, whats wro-” Lucy’s words were cut off by Ona’s mouth suddenly on hers.

She didnt have time to explain to Lucy that she wanted to fuck her exactly where she stood, or that Katie had created a angry, jealous, horny side of her.

Ona’s kisses were deep and rough, Lucy easily melted into her touch. She was slightly confused about the sudden intrusion but when Ona kissed her like this she didn't really see a need to stop and ask questions.

Ona forcefully pushed her tongue into Lucy's mouth, causing the taller girl to let out a surprised squeak as Ona sucked hard on her tongue. The Spaniard's hands glided up the girl's neck, allowing her short nails to scratch her skin, Lucy hissed at the slight pain but it was silenced with Ona’s hungry lips, Lucy couldn't ignore the arousal that came with the sting on her skin.

Her fingers entangled in the older brunette's wet hair, just before she gripped onto the back of Lucy's neck, pulling her closer to her face, making the taller girl bend. She was controlling every move of their kiss, every break for air, every angle was controlled by Ona.

She moved her hot mouth along Lucy's jaw, taking small bites after each kiss. Lucy's hands gripped Ona’s hips as she brought her closer to her wet body, she could already feel her core wanting to be touched.

Ona lips reached Lucy's neck, she could taste the salty sweat that Lucy hadn’t washed yet. She couldn't get enough of the flavour, she wanted more. She greedily traced the whole length of her tongue over her wet salty skin, wanting to taste every part of her. She felt an almost animistic side of her kick in, she wanted to make sure everyone knew Lucy was hers, especially Katie.

Ona moved her thigh in between Lucy's legs, she pushed herself hard against the taller girl's body, pinning her to do the wall. She was never normally so rough, she could be dominant now and again but that jealous flame in her only grew the more she heard Lucy’s sweet moans.

Lucy's hips moved desperately along Ona’s thigh, but the shorter girl didn't allow her the friction she needed, she moved her leg ever so slightly away, not giving Lucy and her throbbing clit what she wanted.

Ona couldn't stop herself as she sunk her teeth into Lucys wet skin. Lucy winced as she let out a shaky breath from the sharp pain. Ona wanted to mark her girlfriend’s body, she wanted to make Lucy and anyone who was in touching distance know she was hers.

The shorter girl hungrily moved her mouth down to Lucy's chest, kissing Lucy’s tight nipple. She gently bit at the bud, capturing it between her teeth as her tongue flicked hard against her flesh. Lucy’s hands tightneed around Ona’s hips, causing the girl's mouth to clamp down around her skin. She couldn't help the smile when she heard Lucy whimper above her, she could tell she was trying to be quiet, but that wasn't part of her plan.

“Onaaa.” She husked.

Ona gave a particularly hard suck before she moved her mouth away. She began to kiss down Lucy's abdomen, biting and sucking at the beautiful abs. She lowered herself to her knees in front of Lucy.

Lucy couldn't hold the groan in when Ona kneeled in front of her. Her beautiful girlfriend looked up at the Northerner, her brown doe eyes were full of desire but also a hint of anger, that Lucy didn’t miss. Ona kissed Lucy's stomach with a hunger that made Lucy's knees weak, she could feel her clit throbbing as she watched Ona move lower to her already wet cunt.

She laced her fingers in Ona’s hair, urging her to move to the spot she needed her most, but Ona grabbed her hands and pinned them to the wall.

“No touching.”

“Ona, baby please.”

Ona loved feeling Lucy’s hands in her hair in any state, but right now she wanted to be the one in charge, she wanted to have full control of this situation, even if Lucy's begging made her want to give her everything she wanted.

“Are you desperate Luce?”

Lucy looked down at the girl on her knees, she could feel Ona’s breath on her, her insides melted at the site. Ona’s hooded eyes were looking at her with so much lust, it made her throat dry.

She nodded. “Yeah.” She whispered.

“Louder, I can't hear you.” Ona gently bit Lucy's thigh.

The older brunette bit her lip, she wanted to scream.

“I’m desperate Ona, please.” She picked her voice up a little but not enough.

“More.” Ona giggled, she knew Lucy was holding back, it made sense, they were in a public space but she didn't care, she wanted someone in particular to hear exactly what she was about to do to her girlfriend.

She clearly needed a little push, Ona dragged her tongue along Lucy's thigh, stopping at the crease, between her thigh and lips, kissing her lightly. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, as she felt Ona tease her.

“Ona. Please.”

“You’re mine aren't you Lucy? Hmm?”

“Yes. All you-, aah fuck!”

Ona swiped her tongue through Lucy's throbbing folds.

“Say it again. Louder.” She kissed Lucy's wet lips, tasting her girlfriend's familiar taste.

“I’m all yours On-aaa! Yes, please don't stop.” Lucy half shouted.

Lucy’s head hit the cubicle wall as the girl on her knees began to eat her out. She knew Ona was pissed off with Katies constant flirting, but she didn't realise just how pissed she was. Ona wasn't slow, she wanted to make Lucy scream. She picked up her tongue with a fast pace, hitting Lucy's swollen clit. She hadn't seen this kind of side to her before, this possessive side, but fuck, she couldn't get enough of it.

“Fuck, Ona.” Lucy whispered.

Ona wasn't having that.

The Spaniard moved her mouth from Lucy's core. “Sorry, I didn't hear you?” She looked up, her lips already wet with Lucy.

“I….fuck, Ona please, please. I need your mouth. Please!” The girl moaned, loudly.

Bingo.

That's exactly what Ona wanted to hear. She couldn't stop the devilish smirk that pulled at her lips, she knew Katie would have heard Lucy, and whoever else was in the room.

“You need my mouth?” She kissed her sensitive lips. “Why Lucy?”

Lucy's hands flexed under Ona own, still pinned to the wall. Her head was dizzy.

“Becu- ahh. Because you make me feel good” Lucy pleaded.

“How good?”

“So fucking good. Your mouth was made for me, Ona.” Lucy's hips rolled, trying to get across how much she wanted her. “I love you, and your perfect mouth.” Her words were softer this time.

“I love you too.” Ona husked.

The younger girl ducked her head back between Lucy's legs picking her pace back up, tracing her talented tongue all over Lucy's sensitive flesh. Lucy let out a loud groan, finally feeling Ona’s mouth work on her properly. She wanted so badly to entangle her fingers into Ona’s hair, so scared that she would move away again.

Lucy’s not so soft whimpers were loud enough to hear two doors down, Katie could hear every moan, groan, whimper and even the wet sucking from Ona’s wet lips. She huffed as she washed her desperate sweat away.

The younger girl worked her mouth on her girlfriend, her own cunt throbbing at the noises Lucy was making. The older brunette had clearly forgotten her worries of being loud, she was completely lost in the feeling of Ona, pleasuring her with so much desire.

She began to move her hips, gently into Onas face, her clit felt so good finally being sucked the way she loved, between Ona’s perfect lips.

“Please Ona, I want to touch you.”

Ona pulled back, licking her lips as she eyed up Lucy, almost annoyed that she had been interrupted. “No.”

She moved back gripping Lucy's wrist tighter, making a point that she wasn't allowed to touch.

The older brunette looked down at Ona as she gently rolled her hips into her girlfriend's mouth, her warm brown eyes burning into her own. She loved looking at Ona while the girl ate her out, she always looked amazing as her head bobbed between her legs, especially when she watched Lucy.

Lucy gapped as her head rolled back, her body melting as the Spaniard's tongue danced on her clit. The younger brunette could see and hear Lucy getting close, her breathing picked up, her groaning became louder, bouncing off the tiles in the room.

“Ona,” Lucy gasped.

This was another thing Ona loved. Lucy could speak multiple languages, she could give a speech to thousands and not stutter, her brain was full to the brim with facts and information. But when Ona was between her legs, the only words that fell from her lips was her girlfriend's name.

Her strong thighs began to shake, Ona moved her hand up Lucy's thigh, teasing her entrance with her finger. Lucy panted as she automatically opened her legs for Ona. The younger girl couldn't stop the groan as she dipped a single finger easily inside her girlfriend's wet cunt.

“Fuckkk. Yes, Ona… fuck.” Lucy gasped.

Ona began to fuck Lucy with a rough steady pace, she easily slipped in her second digit. Her own eyes closed in pleasure hearing the way Lucy took her fingers. She couldn’t take her eyes off Lucy, her face was pure bliss. Ona loved having Lucy like this, at her complete mercy.

“You’re mine aren't you Lucy?”

“Yes, yours. I’ll always be yours.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

“Good.”

Her cunt started to tighten around Ona’s fingers, Ona could feel she was about to come. Lucy couldn't hold in the loud gasps that fell from her mouth. Ona fucked and sucked her girlfriend as Lucys hips rolled with more purpose. That’s when her orgasm began to bolt through her body with a few more thrusts and the steady movements of Ona’s tongue Lucy was sent flying with Ona’s name bouncing off the walls in the room.

Her groan was loud, she shook against the thin walls making it rattle. Even Ona was shocked at how loud she was, but hearing her name fall from her girlfriend's lips was always a turn on, with or without trying to prove a point to Katie.

Lucy panted hard, her eyes were closed as her body tried to keep up with the pressure of her release. Ona licked the taller brunette gently, allowing her to feel her soft tongue as much as she needed to. Lucy's hips finally came to a slow stop, her eyes looked completely hazed as she smiled down at Ona. She finally released Lucy's wrist, she would have definitely left nail indents in her skin.

“You okay?” Ona whispered as she stood up.

“Are you really asking that?” Lucy chuckled breathlessly.

The Spaniard smiled as she eyed up the dark marks that littered Lucy's neck and chest.

“Just checking.”

Lucy brought her mouth to Ona’s, she groaned as she tasted herself on the shorter brunettes tongue. The kiss had started out slow but quickly turned heated and messy again, and Ona still held all the control.

The Spaniard was still feeling that hot green jealousy sitting in her stomach, and Lucy could feel it, she wanted Ona to know that she was the only girl she wanted, she wanted her to feel as wanted as she made her.

“Show me how much you want me.” Ona whispered against Lucy's lips.

Lucy felt her head flood with arousal, she wasn't sure if it was her the mind blowing orgasm or Ona’s words that made her legs feel like jelly

The taller girl got to her knees, and in between Ona’s legs, never once taking her eyes off of the younger brunnete. Lucy wouldn't admit this to many people, but she loved being dominated by the shorter brunette. There was something about Ona being in complete control that made Lucy completely lose herself to the younger girl.

The warm shower water ran down her face, as she felt Ona’s fingers lace through her dark hair.

“Show me, Luce.”

Lucy barely heard the words, but just by Ona’s desperate eyes she knew what she wanted.

She allowed Ona to guide her head to her dripping sex. She slipped her tongue into Ona’s wet folds, a deep groan rumbled in the back of Lucy's throat as she gathered the taste of her girlfriend's essence on her tongue.

Ona let out a sharp hiss, as Lucy's strong tongue glided across her bundle of nerves. She had felt her clit throbbing since watching Lucy play, she could feel the pent up frustration and anger run through her veins, thinking about Lucy being with someone else. She knew Lucy didn’t want Katie or cared for her antics, but it didn’t mean she didn’t get a little hurt and self conscious.

Lucy craned her neck, lapping her tongue through her lover's lips. She closed her eyes as Ona’s nails gently scratched through her scalp. She flicked her tongue over the peaking clit, then softly wrapped her lips around the sensitive flesh, earning her a delicious moan from above. She looked up at the younger brunette, her abs flexed as her body reacted to the sensation between her legs. Ona was already starting to pant above her.

Ona was already losing her nerve, she dipped one hand into Lucy's hair, placing the other against the wall above her leaning herself forward, pining Lucy’s head against the cubicle wall.

Ona felt Lucy groan at the movement, she was in Ona’s complete control, she just had to kneel and watch as Ona used her mouth.

“I love it when you do that with your tongue.” Ona gasped.

Lucy had moved her tongue as deep as she could into Ona’s cunt, pushing at her sensitive muscles, then slowly stroking it back up to her awaiting clit. It was a move that always had Ona drenching her mouth, and today was no different. Lucy swallowed Ona’s juices as they dripped onto her tongue, drowning her taste buds.

“Lucyyy.”

Ona’s hips began to pick up pace, Lucy’s tongue was already nearing her to her peak. Ona gritted her teeth as she felt her climax rise, her hand in Lucy’s hair got tighter as she began to feel her orgasm.

Lucy groaned as Ona pulled her hair, fucking her face, the hot shower ran over their bodies but the cold chill that ran over Ona’s skin gave her goosebumps all over her body. Ona held Lucy's head, snaking her hips into her face, gently fucking her head against the cubicle wall. They were definitely making a lot of noise, they sounded like a porn set, there was no way they were going to be able to show their faces at this gym again.

“Lu…Lucy, keep sucking. Please.” Ona begged.

But a loud banging on their door interrupted them.

“This is a public space. It's really gross what you’re doing.” It was Katie's annoying voice.

Lucy’s eyes widened in panic, her hands gripped the younger brunette's thighs. But Ona didn't care, smiled dangerously down at Lucy, she didn't even stop her movements in Lucy's mouth, even if they were being called out for the public indecency.

“Sorry, Lucy can’t answer you right now, her mouth's a little busy.” Ona groaned.

Lucy felt a rush of excitement crash through her body, she finaly put two and two together, her jealous girlfriend had done this on purpose, she wasn't even mad, she would have probably done the same thing. She winked up at Ona, knowing it would only push the girl further.

“That's it, keep going baby.” Ona smiled wickedly down at Lucy.

Lucy did exactly what her petite lover asked, she sucked on her throbbing clit just the way she liked. They stayed like this for a couple more minutes, Ona’s movements rocked gently against her mouth, until she started to feel Ona’s body shake against her face, she could tell she was close.

“Lucyyyy!”

Lucy’s head was forced against the wall as the Spaniard’s orgasm took over her body. Ona’s hips fucked her mouth, causing a pornagraphic thudding noise with the back of Lucy's head. Lucy couldn't stop the groan as she felt Ona’s clit pulsate in her mouth. She stayed on Ona’s clit, gently sucking as her abs rolled above her.

“Oh Déu meu.” Ona groaned.

She stroked Lucy's hair as she slowly backed away, a dopey smile plastered her face as she looked down at the brunette.

“Fuck.” Lucy chuckled.

“Lu-,”

“Excuse me, can you please gather your belongings and leave the premises, before we call the police.” The security guard shouted.

Both girls' eyes widened this time.

“Y-yeah, leaving now.”

The girls had never put clothes on quicker in their life. They grabbed their bags and walked out the shower room. They were greeted by a pissed off looking security guard and Katie, who looked even more pissed off.

“I’m sure you’re aware you're banned from here.” He grunted.

“Yeah.” The girls said in unison.

“Okay, please leave the premises.”

The girls nodded, and began to walk away.

“What? That's it?” Katie gasped.

The security guard nodded, already bored of the situation. Ona looked back at Katie, she looked like a toddler that was about to have a breakdown, she stomped her foot and pouted.

“Bye, Katie. Try not to think of me fucking my girlfriend when you’re next in the showers.” Ona blew the blonde a kiss as she grabbed Lucy's hand.

Maybe Lucy could pick up a new sport.

#woso soccer #women’s football #woso community #woso #lucy bronze #woso fanfics #woso smut #ona batlle #lucy bronze smut #ona batlle smut #barca femeni

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redroomreflections · 21 days ago

Text

What's Good For The Heart

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

A Family of Her Own Series

7/9

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 6k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

This Chapter: R returns to New York and gets a visit from Ross.

Flying always made you feel a bit restless. As you sat back in the plush leather seat, rubbing your temple, you sighed, thinking about the coming days. The hum of the engines, the slight turbulence—everything seemed more pronounced now that you were alone. Without Natasha or the kids to keep your mind distracted, the anxiety simmered just beneath the surface, creeping into every quiet moment.

Your eyes drifted over to Ricky Mason, who sat across from you, tapping away on his tablet. He wasn’t as talkative by any means, which you were grateful for, but even in his silence, you could pick up on something. A glance here, a subtle shift there. It wasn’t bold or overt, but you could read people well enough to know Ricky's admiration for Natasha went beyond simple friendship. He'd been utterly dumbfounded to know you existed and that you and Natasha were married.

“So,” He said finally, breaking the quiet, “I’ve gotta say, getting this whole thing set up… fake flight logs, the new identities—it’s pretty impressive, even for me.”

You hummed in response, half-listening as you gazed out the window, watching the clouds drift by. "You've outdone yourself," you replied absently, not really in the mood for small talk.

He chuckled, shifting in his seat as if he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure how. "You know... Romanoff’s a hell of a woman," he added, his tone casual but not quite neutral.

That caught your attention. You glanced over at him, studying his face, the way he avoided looking directly at you now. "Yeah, she is," you replied evenly, not giving much away.

Ricky cleared his throat, pretending to focus on his tablet again, but you could sense the undercurrent in his words. He wasn’t being bold, not openly flirting, but there was something in the way he brought her up. A hint of admiration that went beyond simple respect for her skills.

"I mean, not to get personal or anything," he continued, his voice carefully measured now, "but it’s impressive. Everything she’s done. Everything you’ve both managed to pull off." He gave a small, nervous laugh, his bravado dimmed just enough to make you notice. "Takes a special kind of person to handle all of that."

You leaned back in your seat, keeping your gaze on him. "It does," you said, your tone soft but pointed. "And she’s a lot more than what people think."

Ricky nodded, perhaps sensing that he’d treaded into sensitive territory. "No doubt," he replied quickly, his eyes darting away again. He seemed to catch himself before going any further, shifting the conversation back to logistics. "So, we’ll be touching down in Jersey soon. I’ll make sure the rental car is ready when you land."

"Good," You said, letting the tension ease out of your shoulders. You didn’t need to make a scene, but you wanted to be sure he understood the unspoken boundary. Ricky wasn’t dumb, and he probably felt the shift in the air.

The rest of the flight passed in relative silence, with only the hum of the engines and the occasional click of Ricky’s tablet filling the cabin. You tried to focus on the plan ahead—getting to your old apartment in Jersey, preparing for the next steps—but your thoughts kept drifting back to Natasha and the kids. You pictured them on their way to the Lake District, hidden away in the quiet beauty of the English countryside.

Natasha would be in disguise, of course, her dark wig and brown contacts making her almost unrecognizable. Stella would be chattering non-stop about sharks, and Nicky, ever serious, would be watching everything with wide, curious eyes. It comforted you to know they’d be safe, at least for a while. But the weight of Ross’s ultimatum hung over you, pressing against the fragile peace you had tried to build for your family.

Soon, you’d be back in New Jersey, driving to Brooklyn, New York, to the old apartment you still kept as a backup. It felt strange, being separated from Natasha and the kids, but you knew it was necessary. You’d regroup soon, and until then, you had to trust that Natasha could keep them hidden.

"Landing soon," Ricky said, breaking the quiet again as he checked his watch. "You ready?"

You nodded, forcing a small smile. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

*********

The familiar scent of dust and stale air hit you as you stepped into the lobby of your old apartment building. The place felt both foreign and strangely comforting. You took a moment to absorb your surroundings, noting the brand-new carpet, the fluorescent overhead lights, and the chipped paint on the walls. You could feel the weight of time pressing down as you walked towards the elevator, your suitcase dragging behind you. Your mind was racing with thoughts of Natasha and the kids, imagining them nestled safely in the Lake District while you braced for whatever Ross had planned. You had spotted the strategically placed black SUVs parked outside, and a couple of suited men standing in the lobby, their eyes scanning the room like hawks. You turned with a look over your shoulders to see Ross sitting, sifting through a magazine, as if he'd been here before.

You stepped over to him with a frown. “Ah, you’re home,” he said nonchalantly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“I don’t need a welcome committee,” You shot back, crossing your arms over your shoulders. “Nice job tailing me from the airport. Stalking is a new low for you.”

Ross set the magazine down, a smirk playing on his lips. “You know, I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t hiding Natasha. You’ve got a lot of connections. It’s no wonder you managed to evade us for so long.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling annoyance flare within you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I've been right here this whole time."

“Is that so?” Ross leaned back in his chair, feigning casual interest. "So, what have you been up to then? Any good stories?"

"No, and even if there were, I wouldn't tell you."

"Well, I suppose we can catch up later," Ross said, his tone growing more serious. "Does your wife have anything to do with the underwater prison being broken into? I'm missing a few fugitives."

"Underwater prison?" You repeated, keeping your voice steady. "What are you talking about? Is that ethical?"

"Oh, please," Ross replied, rolling his eyes. "We both know who you're protecting. Don't play dumb. Coming from seeing her?"

“I’m flying home from seeing a family friend who’s sick,” You replied, trying to sound convincing while suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. You knew he’d probably try to verify your story, but you were counting on his arrogance. “If you want to waste your time interrogating me, fine. But I don’t have any information for you.”

“Really? You expect me to believe you don’t know where she is? The way you’ve been so careful, it’s obvious you’re hiding something.” Ross’s tone shifted slightly, the menace lurking beneath his words bubbling to the surface.

"Hmm," You tilted your head. "You're grasping at straws."

Ross let out a dry laugh, irritation flashing across his face. “You know, it’s funny. I would’ve expected you to be smarter. You can’t keep hiding her forever. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll go down with her.”

“So, you gave me a week to what? Come and threaten me in person?” You crossed your arms defiantly, refusing to let his intimidation tactics rattle you.

“No, not really. I came to give you a warning,” Ross replied, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “You can either turn over the location of your wife or face the consequences. Do you think she would be happy if you did time for her?”

“Is that your big threat? Jail time?” You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Because if that’s all you’ve got, Ross, then you really are losing your touch. I know exactly what she would want me to do, and it wouldn’t involve betraying her.”

Ross’s expression darkened, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “You’re playing a dangerous game, y/n.”

“And you’re still failing to realize just how far I’m willing to go to protect myself. You think you can intimidate me? You think you can scare me? You’re mistaken,” You shot back, your voice steady and confident.

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, a vein twitching at his temple. “You don’t know what you’re up against. You’re just a pawn in a game far bigger than you can comprehend.”

“Maybe,” you said, leaning closer, matching his intensity. “But I’m not the one who’s seething with frustration because I can’t find my target. How does that feel, Ross? To be outmaneuvered by someone you underestimated?” You could see the anger boiling in his expression, the way his hands clenched into fists.

Ross glared at you, seething, but you pressed on. “Every second you waste on me is a second closer to you losing your grip. I may not know where Natasha is, but I know how to keep you off balance. You're here because you’re afraid of what might happen if you push too hard. I’ve got everything to lose, and you’re just a cog in the machine.”

“You’ll regret this,” he spat, his voice low and threatening.

“No, Ross, I think you will,” you said, your gaze unwavering. “You’ve already lost, and the more you pursue this, the worse it’s going to get for you. You’re not just after Natasha; you’re threatening her family. That’s a game you’ll never win.”

You turned away from him, leaving him with nothing but his seething anger and the echo of your words hanging in the air. You had taken the upper hand, and for now, that was enough to give you a bit of hope in this twisted game. You finally took a deep breath as you stepped into the apartment you hadn't been in years.

Your footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as you moved further into the apartment. The familiar scent of dust and stale air drifted around you, mixing with the lingering scent of old books and lavender. You'd asked the housekeeper, courtesy of your own connections, to light candles and make it smell as lived-in as possible. As you moved further into the room, the sunlight streaming through the windows cast long shadows on the floor, and the memories came flooding back.

The apartment was smaller than the one you'd shared with Natasha, but the space was still comfortable and well-appointed. You could remember the first time you'd brought Natasha here, the way her eyes had widened as she took in the view of the city from the living room windows. She'd looked at you with a soft smile, the warmth in her gaze taking your breath away. It had been a simpler time then, before the chaos of the Avengers, the Accords, and all the pain and suffering that followed.

You moved further into the apartment, glancing around at the sparsely furnished rooms. A small kitchen with a worn countertop, a living room with a single sofa, and a bedroom with a queen-sized bed. The furniture was basic, and the only real decoration was a vase of flowers on the kitchen table. It was a far cry from the luxury of your home in Missouri or even Versailles but it would do for now. You just needed to spend a week here and things would blow over.

You dropped your bag on the floor and moved to the bedroom, flopping down on the mattress. The bed was firm and the sheets were clean, which was all that mattered. You closed your eyes, letting out a long sigh. The past few days had been a whirlwind, and it was finally catching up to you. The weight of the situation was sinking in, and you could feel the tension mounting.

You lay there for a moment, taking stock of everything. Thoughts of Ross crept back into your mind, that encounter still fresh. You could still see the way he had leaned forward, his anger barely contained. You’d managed to hold your ground, but the threats loomed heavy over you like a storm cloud. The thought of him lurking around, watching your every move, made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to think about what might happen if he managed to uncover Natasha's location.

You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, forcing yourself to breathe deeply. You reminded yourself that Natasha was safe for now, tucked away in the Lake District with the kids. As long as you could keep Ross off their trail, they’d remain untouched. That was your priority, and it had to be enough to keep you focused.

You pushed yourself off the bed and walked back into the living room, taking a moment to assess your surroundings. You needed to make this place feel like home, at least for the time being. You moved to the kitchen, rifling through the cupboards to see what you could find. It was mostly empty, but a few essentials remained—some instant coffee, a box of cereal, and a half-empty jar of peanut butter.

With a shrug, you grabbed the coffee, thankful for even that small comfort. As you prepared the drink, the familiar aroma began to fill the air. You went through every nook and cranny of the apartment to ensure it wasn't bugged. The last thing you needed was Ross listening in on your conversations. When that was done, you settled down on the couch, cradling the warm mug in your hands. You let your mind wander, trying to process everything that had happened. The Accords had turned heroes into targets, painting them with a broad picture of distrust. What did this mean for Natasha? Would she be forced into hiding for good? You could picture her, always the fighter, her fiery spirit undiminished, but the constant pressure of being hunted was a different kind of battle.

The thought of her being pursued simply existing as herself—an agent, a devoted mother, and your wife—made your heartache. She had always been so committed to her beliefs and her teammates, but now that loyalty had come with a price. The idea of being forced to choose between her family and her duty as an Avenger gnawed at you.

Would she even want to return to that life? The thrill of being an Avenger seemed to dim when it came to family safety. You could imagine Natasha standing at that crossroads, the weight of her choices pressing down on her.

As you sipped your coffee, you wondered about the future. The world seemed to be changing around you, shifting like unstable ground. You hoped you would find a way to navigate this storm, but the unpredictability of it all was unsettling. You thought about the time you spent together, the laughter and love that filled your shared moments. Would you still be able to create that kind of life with all this looming over you?

Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glanced down to see a message from Natasha, and a wave of relief washed over you. You opened it eagerly, wanting to hear what she had to say.

Hey love, just checking in. We’re settling in nicely. Stella is already asking about the sheep! How's everything?

You smiled at the message, imagining Natasha sitting in the peaceful surroundings of the Lake District. Everything's fine, just got settled in. Ross showed up at the apartment, but I managed to handle him. Keeping an eye on things, don’t worry.

A few minutes later, a new message popped up. That bastard, I can't believe he tracked you down.

I'm surprised he hasn't shown up at the lake house yet, you joked, trying to keep the tone light.

You're right, he must be losing his touch. Or I'm a really great spy.

You chuckled, the brief moment of levity feeling welcome. So, how are the kids doing?

They're excited. Stella says it feels like home. Btw the number of tantrums she's had in the span of two days has been baffling.

Ah, I miss them and you already, you typed, the longing for your family bubbling to the surface.

I miss you too, Natasha replied, and you could hear the sincerity in her voice.

You bit your lip, knowing you probably shouldn't but pressing the call button anyway. She answered on the first ring. "Hey, y/n," Natasha's voice was warm and soft, like a gentle caress.

"Hi," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. "I needed to hear your voice."

"I'm glad you called," Natasha replied, a hint of playfulness in her tone. "I was just thinking about you."

"Oh?" You teased, "What were you thinking?"

"Hmm," she hummed, and you could practically hear the smirk on her lips. "Just about how much I missed you, and how I wish we were curled up together."

You sighed softly, leaning back on the couch, "Me too."

There was a brief pause, the tension crackling in the air between you.

"How are you feeling?" Natasha asked. "You just got off a long flight."

"I'm fine," You breathed. "My breasts feel incredibly full. I should pump soon. I hope what I left is enough for Nicky."

"I'll make sure it's enough," Natasha reassured. "He's doing well too. Just a little teething."

"That's good," You nodded even though she couldn't see you. "So, you get to see Stella's tantrums live and up close."

"They're impressive," Natasha chuckled. "She's a bit like me in that regard."

"Oh?" Your eyes widened in surprise. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you admitted to being a brat."

"Hey," She said, her tone indignant. "I can admit when I'm being a brat."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Okay, fine. I can't wait to see it myself."

"Don't worry," Natasha assured a note of mischief in her voice. "We'll put on a good show for you. Seriously though what do you do when she's misbehaving?"

"I spank her," You replied.

There's a pause on the phone where you can tell Natasha is trying to process whether or not you're being serious.

"Oh my God," You couldn't help but laugh. "Natasha, I'm joking."

"Oh," She breathed, the relief evident in her voice. "I didn't know. I thought maybe you changed your mind on corporal punishment."

"Nope, she's not quite there yet," You chuckled. "But she does a good job of getting you there. I miss her."

"She misses you too," Natasha sighed, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice. "This is my first time truly being alone with them since they were babies. I'm learning so much."

"Well, we have all the time in the world to learn more," You smiled. "I'm proud of you, Nat. I know it's hard, but you're doing great."

"Thanks," She replied, a warmth in her voice. "I'll make sure the kids are taken care of. Until this blows over and we figure out something."

"I know," You said softly. "We're in this together."

"I should go," Natasha sighed. "The kids are asleep, but I'll call again later, okay?"

"Okay," You agreed. "Be safe, Nat."

"I will," She promised.

You ended the call, and you were left alone in the silence of the apartment. You took a deep breath, your mind wandering to all of the things you could do this week. It's been a year since you've been back in New York. The last time was a booty call for Natasha when she'd been craving your presence. You'd left the kids with Clint and Laura who only lived four hours away at the time.

It felt weird to be back now. You wondered what you'd even do, but the idea of being here, close to the people you cared about, was comforting.

You pushed yourself off the couch and started unpacking, putting your clothes away, and setting up the spare room.

*****

Lunch with Maria Hill was refreshing. She sat in front of you, her hair pulled back in a sleek bun, her blue eyes looking at you with concern. When she sat down in front of you, it was like she noticed every single subtle detail about you that changed. Then she asked you questions as if she was gauging your state of mind. You told her a lot, more than you probably should have. But Maria was trustworthy and had always been a good listener.

“You’ve gotten good at picking these low-profile spots, almost like you’re still in the game,” She teased.

"Well, some habits die hard, I guess," You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. "And it's easier when you're not the target. Although, it doesn't stop me from feeling like a fugitive."

"That's the life of a wanted woman," Maria replied, her tone half-serious.

"Yeah," You sighed, resting your elbows on the table and leaning forward. “Even if I’m not the one being hunted.”

“I’ve heard the underwater raft went belly up a couple weeks ago,” Maria sipped from her mugs. Her eyes flashed around the room subtly.

“You knew about that?” You asked. “Am I the only one that thinks that’s a cruel prison?”

"Yeah, I don't disagree. I think a lot of things have happened that I can't control," Maria admitted. "The only thing I can control is being there for you. We may not have been in contact for years but we're still family.”

"I know, and I appreciate that. But if I'm being honest, this isn't exactly the welcome I was expecting."

"Well, things have gotten complicated," Maria said with a sigh. “Look, I don’t care what Ross or the general public thinks. I think those Accords are bullshit. But… I don’t like being kept in the dark either.”

“You mean Nick Fury doesn’t keep tabs on us after all?” You joked.

Maria chuckled, shaking her head. "He can try, but I'm the best at keeping secrets."

"Well, we can keep each other updated then," You offered. "I want to make sure my family is safe."

"Of course," Maria nodded. "So, Ross showed up, huh? Is he giving you a hard time?"

"He's trying," You huffed. "But I'm not about to roll over and play dead. This isn't the first time we've gone head-to-head. I think he's starting to realize just how far I'll go."

"Damn, you're tough," Maria chuckled.

"Well, I learned from the best," You smirked.

"You certainly did," She smiled.

"So, what are you doing these days?" You asked.

"I'm still with the U.S. Air Force for the time being. My role has shifted a little bit, but I'm still working to keep the world safe," Maria said. “Working with Stark whenever I have free time.”

"Oh, yeah? Any plans for a vacation?"

"Not really, but if you're offering, I'm sure we can figure something out," She winked. “There’s something different about you. A glow.” She mused.

You blushed slightly, shaking your head. "I think it's just the sunlight."

"Nah, it's not that," Maria grinned. "It's nice, whatever it is. Don’t tell me you’re pregnant?”

"That would be perfect timing. Wouldn’t it ?” You chuckled. “I’m not pregnant and don’t plan to be.”

"That's a shame, I think you'd make a good mother," Maria said. "But I respect your decision."

"Thanks, I appreciate that. So, how's Fury?" You asked, curious to know if she was still in touch with him.

"He's good, still the same old Nick," Maria said. "He's a busy guy, but we keep in touch. I think he's worried about you, actually."

"Me? Why would he be worried?"

"Because you're important to him," Maria shrugged. "He may not show it, but he cares."

"I'm not that important, and neither is Natasha," You said, a hint of sadness creeping into your voice. "If anything, she should be the one he's worried about."

"Look, y/n, I know he doesn't have the best track record with being upfront about everything, but he does care. And he'll always look out for those he considers family," Maria said.

"Family," You murmured. "Yeah, I guess we are."

"And even if he didn't show it, he'd always look out for you and Nat," She assured. "Just give him a chance."

"I will," You nodded.

You finished the rest of your lunch and made plans to meet again. You were glad to have Maria in your corner, especially during this chaotic time.

After parting ways, you found yourself wandering the streets, taking in the familiar sights and sounds. New York City was alive, the hustle and bustle a stark contrast to the quiet countryside of your home.

As you walked, the familiar faces and landmarks began to fade into the background. Instead, thoughts of the past began to creep in, memories you'd buried long ago resurfacing.

You thought about the times you'd spent here with Natasha. The early years of your marriage, when everything seemed new and exciting. You could remember the way her eyes would light up as she recounted her latest adventure or the way her laugh would fill the air with warmth. You missed that, the easy way you'd connected with each other, the way your bond had been so effortless.

You could see her, standing on the edge of a rooftop, the wind whipping her hair, her gaze locked on yours. That was the moment you'd fallen in love with her. She'd been so confident, so sure of herself, and yet there had been a vulnerability to her. She'd looked at you like no one else had before, her expression full of longing and hope. It was the beginning of something, a spark that would turn into a flame, a desire that would grow stronger with every passing day.

You could still feel the way your heart had raced as you'd stepped closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She'd been so beautiful, so magnetic, that you'd been helpless to resist her pull. She'd kissed you then, her lips soft and sweet, and it was like everything had fallen into place. You'd known, in that moment, that this was the beginning of something special.

Now, as you wandered the streets, your memories faded and the present returned. The noise and chaos of the city was overwhelming, but you pushed through it.

******

On the other side of the world, Natasha is just finishing up clearing the dinner dishes. The kitchen is small but cozy, sunlight streaming in through the windows. Nicky is glued to her hip, babbling about something in toddler-speak, while Stella is dangling from the couch, engrossed in Peppa Pig on the television.

It's been a quiet day, and she’s was ready to turn in from the night but the calm atmosphere is interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Natasha looked over, frowning as she made her way towards the door. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t say a word. She simply eyed the person through the peephole. When she spots familiar brown hair, she unlocks it.

“You’re awake,” Wanda greets.

Natasha smiles.

Wanda stood there with a backpack, looking a bit nervous.

"Hi," Natasha stepped aside. "Come in."

"Sorry, I didn't call," Wanda said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it," She shrugged. “I just finished up dinner.”

"Oh, I'm fine," Wanda shook her head. "I ate at the station."

"Well, there's leftovers," Natasha said. "So, if you get hungry.

“Thank you,” Wanda nodded.

Natasha turned towards the living room, raising her voice.

"Stella, Wanda is here," She said, gesturing to the girl behind her.

Stella glanced up from the TV, her eyes widening as she spotted the new arrival. Her grin stretched wide as she bounced over to Wanda, her little curls bouncing with each step. She barely paused before raising her arms in silent invitation. Without missing a beat, Wanda scooped her up, holding her close as she’d done a thousand times before.

“Hi, Wanda,” Stella said, her eyes shining.

“Hi,” Wanda replied softly, a smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes lit up with genuine warmth as she held the little girl in her arms.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the air between them surprisingly comfortable. Then, in that serious way only a three-year-old could manage, Stella tilted her head and asked, “Wanda, are you okay now?”

Natasha's breath caught. Stella’s ability to sense things had always surprised her, and this was no exception. She exchanged a glance with Wanda, who looked both startled and touched by the child’s question.

“Yes, I am,” Wanda said gently, her voice just above a whisper. “Thanks for asking.”

Stella’s serious expression melted into a bright smile, and she gave Wanda a small pat on the shoulder. “I’m glad,” she said, her voice full of sincerity. As if Wanda's well-being was the only thing in the world that mattered to her.

Wanda’s gaze shifted to Natasha, the question in her eyes clear without her needing to speak it. How does she know?

Natasha shrugged a faint smile on her lips. “She picks up on things,” she guessed quietly. Stella had always been sensitive, attuned to emotions in a way Natasha couldn’t quite explain. It made her both proud and protective.

“Mama,” Stella piped up, breaking the silent exchange between the two women, “can I play?”

Natasha smiled at her daughter, grateful for how children could easily shift between the serious and the simple. “Yes, you can.”

Without hesitation, Stella wiggled out of Wanda’s arms and ran over to the pile of toys scattered across the living room floor, already chattering to Wanda about which ones she’d play with first.

Natasha watched her for a moment before turning back to Wanda, whose gaze was still fixed on the little girl. There was something soft in Wanda’s expression, a kind of wonder Natasha hadn’t seen in her for a long time. It tugged at something deep in her chest, a feeling that was part relief and part nostalgia.

The sound of Wanda's voice snapped Natasha back to the present.

"Sorry for not calling, I just wanted to check on you," Wanda apologized.

"It's fine," Natasha assured. "I want to make sure you're safe too."

"Thanks," She nodded. "Where's y/n?"

"In New York," She gestured for Wanda to follow her into the kitchen away from prying eyes. She placed Nicky into his high chair, silently cheering when he didn't protest. "Hoping to show her face and throw Ross off a little bit."

"I can't believe he tracked her down," Wanda huffed, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, well, he's relentless. And stupid," Natasha muttered.

"True," Wanda agreed. "Is this all because of me? Right, what I did? He really wants me."

"It's not just because of what you did, Wanda. It's what we did," Natasha corrected. "It's a combination of things, really. He's just trying to regain some power. But don't worry, y/n can handle him."

"I'm not worried about y/n, I'm worried about her," Wanda gestured towards the living room where Stella is still playing. "What if he finds out about them?"

"He won't," Natasha promised. "And even if he does, we'll figure it out. We will have a plan. We always do."

Wanda's expression relaxed a bit, her posture visibly loosening. "You and y/n make me feel like a person."

"Well, you're always welcome here," Natasha said softly. "Or wherever we are in the world."

Wanda gave her a warm smile before changing the subject. "So, how are things going?"

"We're doing alright," Natasha sighed, her gaze falling to the floor. "I know the moving around gets to her a little. It's complicated."

"Of course, I understand. You just need to lay low until this all blows over," Wanda nodded.

"Exactly," Natasha agreed. "I've gotten used to it. I mean, I've been running my entire life, but this is different."

"It is," Wanda agreed. "But you're not alone. We're here for you."

"Thank you," Natasha breathed. "It means a lot. How long are you here for?"

"Just the night," Wanda licked her lips. "I plan to meet back up with Vision."

"Vision?" Natasha smirked, arching an eyebrow.

Wanda blushed. "He's my partner. Is that weird? Since he's kind of older?"

"Well, he's a robot for one. Two, is it romantic or is it..."

"I'm not sure," Wanda shrugged. "There's definitely a connection there. We're friends, but we're more than that too. I'm not sure where it will lead, but I'm curious."

"That's a good place to start," Natasha hummed.

"He's different," Wanda sighed. "He doesn't know how to be a person, but he's trying. It's nice."

"You're a good teacher," Natasha smiled. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I will," Wanda promised.

Natasha nodded, her gaze drifting towards the living room, where Stella was carrying a bunch of her toys to bring to Wanda.

"Wanda, look at what I found," She said proudly, holding out the toy for inspection.

"That's a nice frog," Wanda complimented, a grin stretching across her lips.

"It's a turtle," Stella corrected a hint of mischief in her tone. "His paint has just come off a little bit."

"My mistake," Wanda laughed.

"Come on," Stella tugged on Wanda's hand, leading her to the couch. "We're playing dress up."

Natasha sat back in her chair, a soft smile tugging at her lips. She couldn't wait for you to come home.

The next morning, Wanda is on her way, leaving Natasha with a hug that would last for a while.

"Call if you need anything," She said. "I'll try and keep my ears open."

"Thank you," Natasha sighed.

Wanda smiled, her gaze lingering on the kids before she turned and walked away.

"Wanda," Natasha called out. "Be careful. Stay close. "

"I will," Wanda promised.

Natasha closed the door, watching as the redhead left the home. She needed you to be home.

***********

The house was silent when you pushed open the front door, your movements careful and quiet. You stepped inside, half-expecting to hear the usual sounds of chaos that accompanied a house with two small children—Stella’s giggles or Nicky’s babbling. But tonight, there was nothing but the soft hum of the wind outside.

You tiptoed through the living room, your eyes scanning for any sign of life, but it seemed like the house was asleep. Your heart warmed at the thought—they must have had a busy day. As you made your way toward the bedroom, you paused at the door, gently pushing it open.

There, sprawled across the bed, was Natasha. Nicky lay curled against her side in nothing but a diaper, his tiny fists clutching onto her shirt as if she were his anchor. Stella was draped across Natasha’s chest, wearing a too-small sleep dress that barely reached her knees, and only one sock clung to her foot. Her curls were a wild mess around her face, and every now and then, she would let out a soft, contented sigh in her sleep.

You smiled at the sight, taking a moment to appreciate how peaceful they all looked. You leaned against the doorway, taking in the scene. It was so different from when they were babies when their days were spent crying and needing to be fed or changed. Now, they were growing into their own personalities, their needs shifting to accommodate those personalities.

Your heart swelled with love as you watched them sleep, knowing that no matter how much the world changed, your family would remain constant.

You quietly made your way into the room, careful not to disturb the sleeping pair. As you leaned over to kiss Nicky's forehead, the floorboard creaked under your feet, causing him to stir slightly.

"Mama," He whined.

"Shh," You whispered, scooping him into your arms. Natasha woke at the sudden change of weight.

"Oh, you're back," She murmured.

"Hey, sleepyhead," You grinned. "Did you have a busy day?"

"Yeah," She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Wrangling toddlers is way harder than fighting evil."

"You're telling me," You bounced Nicky in your arms. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Natasha admitted, her voice low.

"Why don't you go back to sleep," You suggested. "I'll be here."

"Okay," Natasha closed her eyes again, the stress of the day catching up to her. "Y/n?"

"Yes?"

"Welcome home."

You smiled.

"It's good to be back."

---> next part

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you #afamilyofherownau

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bakedbananners · 2 years ago

Photo

Intimacy

[ID: art of Alex Fierro inspired by Thomas Blackshear's "Intimacy". He is standing, wearing a magenta robe covered in bright yellow shapes. Alex pulls apart the robe to show his chest, bright and glowing with light. In one hand he is holding a Tlatilco duality mask against the side of his face, covering one eye. On the same arm is a snake-like bangle. He is wearing a filigrana necklace with a milagro corazon attached, and a hoop earring with two long ribbons attached. His dark curly hair flows upwards. Behind him, to the left is a dark starry sky, with three floating pink masks hovering and looking down spitefully. To the right is are bright green small hills dotted with multicolored flowers. End ID.]

(more info in readmore!)

I decided to do a redraw inspired by Thomas Blackshear’s “Intimacy”. The original work shows a woman holding a mask while unveiling her body which is emitting a bright light. It is an interesting piece about how people wear masks to hide their true self, which is shown through the body.

I felt this work really fit Alex’s character, both through the overt symbols and the underlying themes. She is all about being a contradiction, dichotomy, and paradox.

I decided to alter some symbols, wanting to display her dual heritage of both Norse and Mexican descent and the spirituality associated with both. The mask she wears is a Tlatilco duality mask, she pears through the skull-like dead eye, conveying that she herself is dead yet alive. Her necklace has a corazon milagro on it, a strong symbol of Mexican spirituality and its combination of both Christian and Indigenous beliefs. It is meant to represent good luck and faith, with ties to Christ who is often shown with a fiery heart within his chest. In my reinterpretation, the bright light in her chest takes a new dimension of meaning- as she is literally her entire soul rather than human anymore.

The winding bracelet on her arm is of the Urnes snakes. It being on the same arm she holds up the mask connects the two accessories and their meanings physically. The masks that peer over her shoulder are meant to represent Norse masks, the way her mother Loki is always observing her. I altered some of the colors to be brighter neon pinks and greens because those are her trademark colors.

This redrawing is also meant to be inherently queer. The original shows a cisheteronormative portrayal of a feminine body. Here, though, Alex is transfeminine, displaying a transgender body. This also connects her genderqueer self with the divine and beautiful, as it also is in canon (through Magnus’ narration).

Ok, thank u for reading! :D this was very fun to do! I’m quite proud of it lol :3

#alex fierro #magnus chase #mcga #fierrochase #pjo #percy jackson #riordanverse #genderfluid #transgender #trans art #thomas blackshear #my art

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susandsnell · 6 months ago

Note

Re anachronistic feminist characters, you are absolutely right and you should say it.

Maybe people who want to read "write women who sew" type stuff should just go do that instead of trying to make every single female character fit into their worldview. Because I don't want every character to be Eloise, I'm fine with variety, but a lot of people seem like they can't stand even one woman challenging gender norms.

No amount of faux progressive language will change the fact they sound like highschool bullies picking on girls who are too GNC or too "weird."

Thank you so much! Ideally, you'd have feminist characters more representative of the feminist or proto-feminist views of their era where the work is going for historical accuracy to honour the different points of where we were in history and also acknowledge the flaws of the movement at different points in time (1994's Little Women versus the hilariously bad 2019 version comes to mind), and certainly there's an element of repetitiveness in this character type, but this is seldom if ever the criticism I see. The truth of the matter is that in fact many early feminists did denigrate work designated as feminine, but we can acknowledge this as misdirected anger at having one option deemed valid.

Instead, we've somehow arrived at "wanting to be treated with human dignity is internalized misogyny because it really cramps my ability to romanticize the past". As you say, nothing wrong with valuing the labour more frequently done by women, but the fact of the matter is you can do that and show that there were always many people who resisted or did not fit into the tight boxes that society forced them into. Instead of, you know, ridiculing them for wanting to break the boxes while enjoying the fruits of having to fit into fewer boxes than our predecessors precisely because of women who loudmouthed and fought back and didn't fit into certain people's fantasy of being a submissive little princess. The kind of girls you made fun of and ostracized in high school, one might say.

To address a particular point you raise that I think is the most important in this entire ongoing discussion:

No amount of faux progressive language will change the fact they sound like highschool bullies picking on girls who are too GNC or too "weird."

I keep saying it, but a certain type of liberal feminist are now using "NLOG" the way it was socially acceptable 10-15 years ago to call someone a lesbian/homophobic or transphobic slurs because they didn't wear makeup or want a boyfriend. It is absolutely high school bullying mentality and has gone from an imperfect attempt at addressing internalized misogyny to active misogyny and latent/often overt homophobia and transphobia.

This is what the numbskulls making video essay after video essay about the apparent 'NLOG crisis' fail to grasp. The Heathers and the Plastics are not 'demonized for being feminine', they are accurate representations of how under patriarchy, social capital is gained through strict, obsessive adherence to white, Western beauty standards (which corporations can profit off of endlessly by manufacturing infinite insecurities, so bonus to the rich girls) and excelling at heterosexuality and pleasing others, and this system self-reinforces by the 'winners' bullying those who do not conform as easily. Jo March, queercoded dynamo that she was, took nothing away from the sisters who were happier with more traditional lifestyles because she wanted better for herself and the girls of the future, and represents so many women who fought for just that. You're not actually an intellectual for thinking Daphne Bridgerton has more value than Eloise because she was designated the season's Diamond, a literal in-universe (and true to life) Prize For Being Correctly Female, and unquestioningly accepts being paraded around like an ornament and smiling at being auctioned off to the highest bidder while Eloise fought back, criticized, and wanted an education more than any boy until they forced heterosexuality upon her. You are in fact a vanguard of the very patriarchal system the franchise even presents as backwards, because you don't want anyone raining on your arranged marriage fantasies.

There is nothing, and I mean nothing feminist, about snarking girls who do not like or for whatever reason, cannot or will not perform conventional femininity.

There is a certain sour-grapes defensiveness that comes from beig ostracized and punished for Failing At Your Gender if you weren't good at what was expected of you/resisted it. Femininity is derided, but it is also imposed (the two work in tandem to oppress women); and if you fail at its imposition, it's natural to try and gain protection by participating in the derision. Hell, I theorize that people who proclaimed themselves "not like other girls" in the contemporary age often did so out of resistance at the fact that we're supposed to perform (cisheteronormative) sexiness from the time we hit our teens, and of course the panopticon self-reinforcement that is how Other Girls treat you if you, an adolescent girl, shirk performance of femininity in any way. Certainly, I've also read much about GNC girls (of various identities) and neurodivergent girls equally having turned to this, which makes sense, as they're frequently targets for such bullying.

I do also think - and have personally experienced - it was an often imperfect articulation of queerness in many cases. The societal ideal of women under a patriarchy is cisheteronormativity; our value is derived from our appeal to men, and from the time we start maturing, sexual availability and appeal to men is the highest virtue. Therefore, women whose sexuality is not limited to men - or heaven forbid, doesn't include them at all - 'fail' gender, and accordingly often feel a sense of alienation and ostracism from other girls when they don't get as excited about dating boys. Also, in many cases (anecdotal I admit from people I know, but still significant), people who had a phase of asserting they "weren't like other girls" were in the process of discovering that they weren't girls at all!

And in some cases - again, I've mentioned that I was an Eloise for all the handwringing about how girls of that era wouldn't say that or do that and it would never occur to want more than what they had (...okay, so why are things different now?) - it's a frustration from the outspoken feminists and reformers at not being able to get other girls on board with us, because deviation from expectation will make you the weirdo who gets punished and rejected because ugh, annoying! As one historical costuming youtuber I won't name so charmingly puts it in her godawful video essay, "the women who made a big show of fighting back were freaks." (Way to convince us you care about feminism...)

All this to say the anti-NLOG brigade have utterly worn out my patience, and at best seem ignorant of the battles that have won us the freedoms we have today because it's not fun to consider how your escapist fantasy might be problematic (understandable, you don't always have to reflect on this to be aware), and at worst? They're getting the chance to be the mean girl in high school again/that they never got to be, they're just dressing it up in the bastardized language of feminism.

#nlog #not like other girls #thank you for giving me the chance to rant lmao #you say it's internalized misogyny and then you call women who wore pants when it was fucking illegal to do so 'a freakshow'#terfs don't even think about touching you repulsive shitstains

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books · 1 year ago

Text

Writer Spotlight: Elise Hu

We recently met with Elise Hu (@elisegoeseast) to discuss her illuminating title, Flawless—Lessons in Looks and Culture from the K-Beauty Capital. Elise is a journalist, podcaster, and media start-up founder. She’s the host of TED Talks Daily and host-at-large at NPR, where she spent nearly a decade as a reporter. As an international correspondent, she has reported stories from more than a dozen countries and opened NPR’s first-ever Seoul bureau in 2015. Previously, Elise helped found The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit digital start-up, after stops at many stations as a television news reporter. Her journalism work has won the national Edward R. Murrow and duPont Columbia awards, among others. An honors graduate of the University of Missouri School of Journalism, she lives in Los Angeles.

Can you begin by telling us a little bit about how Flawless came to be and what made you want to write about K-beauty?

It’s my unfinished business from my time in Seoul. Especially in the last year I spent living in Korea, I was constantly chasing the latest geopolitical headlines (namely, North Korean leader Kim Jong Un’s big moves that year). It meant I didn’t get to delve into my nagging frustrations of feeling second-class as an Asian woman in Korea and the under-reported experiences of South Korean women at the time. They were staging record-setting women’s rights rallies during my time abroad in response to a stark gender divide in Korea. It is one of the world’s most influential countries (and the 10th largest economy) and ranks shockingly low on gender equality metrics. That imbalance really shows up in what’s expected of how women should look and behave. Flawless explores the intersection of gender politics and beauty standards.

Flawless punctuates reportage with life writing, anchoring the research within your subjective context as someone who lived in the middle of it but also had an outside eye on it. Was this a conscious decision before you began writing?

I planned to have fewer of my personal stories in the book, actually. Originally, I wanted to be embedded with South Korean women and girls who would illustrate the social issues I was investigating, but I wound up being the narrative thread because of the pandemic. The lockdowns and two years of long, mandatory quarantines in South Korea meant that traveling there and staying for a while to report and build on-the-ground relationships was nearly impossible. I also have three small children in LA, so the embedding plan was scuttled real fast.

One of the central questions the book asks of globalized society at large, corporations, and various communities is, “What is beauty for?” How has your response to this question changed while producing Flawless?

I think I’ve gotten simultaneously more optimistic and cynical about it. More cynical in that the more I researched beauty, the more I understood physical beauty as a class performance—humans have long used it to get into rooms—more power in relationships, social communities, economically, or all of the above at once. And, as a class performance, those with the most resources usually have the most access to doing the work it takes (spending the money) to look the part, which is marginalizing for everyone else and keeps lower classes in a cycle of wanting and reaching. On the flip side, I’m more optimistic about what beauty is for, in that I have learned to separate beauty from appearance: I think of beauty in the way I think about love or truth, these universal—and largely spiritual—ideas that we all seek, that feed our souls. And that’s a way to frame beauty that isn’t tied in with overt consumerism or having to modify ourselves at all.

This is your first book—has anything surprised you in the publishing or publicity process for Flawless?

I was most surprised by how much I enjoyed recording my own audiobook! I felt most in flow and joyful doing that more than anything else. Each sentence I read aloud was exactly the way I heard it in my head when I wrote it, which is such a privilege to have been able to do as an author.

Do you have a favorite reaction from a reader?

I don’t know if it’s the favorite, but recency bias is a factor—I just got a DM this week from a woman writing about how the book helped put into words so much of what she felt and experienced, despite the fact she is not ethnically Korean, or in Korea, which is the setting of most of the book. It means a lot to me that reporting or art can connect us and illuminate shared experiences…in this case, learning to be more embodied and okay with however we look.

As a writer, journalist, and mother—how did you practice self-care when juggling work commitments, social life, and the creative processes of writing and editing?

I juggled by relying on my loved ones. I don’t think self-care can exist without caring for one another, and that means asking people in our circles for help. A lot of boba dates, long walks, laughter-filled phone calls, and random weekend trips really got me through the arduous project of book writing (more painful than childbirth, emotionally speaking).

What is your writing routine like, and how did the process differ from your other reporting work? Did you pick up any habits that you’ve held on to?

My book writing routine was very meandering, whereas my broadcast reporting and writing are quite linear. I have tight deadlines for news, so it’s wham, bam, and the piece is out. With the book, I had two years to turn in a manuscript. I spent the year of lockdowns in “incubation mode,” where I consumed a lot of books, white papers, articles, and some films and podcasts, just taking in a lot of ideas to see where they might collide with each other and raise questions worth reporting on, letting them swim around in the swamp of my brain. When I was ready to write, I had a freelance editor, the indefatigable Carrie Frye, break my book outline into chunks so I could focus on smaller objectives and specific deadlines. Chunking the book so it didn’t seem like such a massive undertaking helped a lot. As for the writing, I never got to do a writer’s retreat or some idyllic cabin getaway to write. I wrote in the in-between moments—a one or two hour window when I had a break from the TED conference (which I attend every year as a TED host) or in those moments after the kids’ bedtime and before my own. One good habit I got into was getting away from my computer at midday. I’m really good about making lunch dates or going for a run to break up the monotony of staring at my screen all day long.

What’s good advice you’ve received about journalism that you would pass on to anyone just starting out?

All good reporting comes from great questions. Start with a clear question you seek to answer in your story, project, or book, and stay true to it and your quest to answer it. Once you are clear on what the thing is about, you won’t risk wandering too far from your focal point.

Thanks to Elise for answering our questions! You can follow her over at @elisegoeseast and check out her book Flawless here!

#writer spotlight #elise hu #flawless #k-beauty #beauty #beauty industry #feminism #gender politics #seoul #south korea #journalism #writing advice #reportage #flawlessthebook

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beachlifelez · 28 days ago

Text

Liza wasn’t too sure about taking the movie role of a housewife seduced by her husband’s sister. But the offer was good and the only really risqué scene involved her character finally given over to accepting female love in her shower.

The actress playing the seducing sister-in-law was certainly a pretty woman. Her name was Raven, and she seemed very comfortable, as opposed to Liza, in approaching the shower scene.

And although the scene didn't show any overt nudity, Liza and Raven's bodies were definitely going to be in close contact, for over thirty seconds.

Liza's nervousness matched that of her character as Raven entered the shower. The scene played out, and as Raven rained kisses on Liza's neck from behind, she also surreptitiously slipped a finger between Liza's legs. That definitely wasn't in the script. But the charge Liza felt run up and down her body at the few seconds of stimulation definitely helped her pull off the scene.

So, when, back to following the script, Raven turned Liza around to face her, the kissing that ensued definitely had a realistic look and feel to it. When the director stopped the scene, Liza felt herself disappointed when Raven broke off the kiss. She felt her body unconsciously move toward Raven's as she pulled away. Raven smiled knowingly, retreated into a robe and disappeared to her trailer. Liza, in a bit of a daze, let herself be robed and departed the set.

When the knock came on her trailer door, she was both nervously excited and terrified. Was it Raven? And if it was, what did she want?

It was indeed Raven, still in just her robe, as Liza was.

"I must apologize for my little escapade during the scene, Liza. I guess I sensed your nervousness, and was hoping my actions might help us get 'in the mood', as it were."

"Apology accepted, Raven. You certainly didn't seem nervous. I guess it's good one of us wasn't."

"What's there to be nervous about? I got to be very close to a very beautiful woman. I hope it's not too forward to say I really enjoyed our kiss."

"N-no, it was, um, quite the experience."

"Is it an experience you'd like to maybe experience again?"

Raven undid her robe. It fell open, revealing the lovely body that had recently been pressing against Liza's.

"I-I don't know what to say, Raven."

"You don't have to say anything. Just stand up and open your robe. I'll take care of the rest."

Liza looked at Raven, who just smiled at her. Liza stared into her eyes, and then her eyes were drawn to Raven’s body again. Her amazing body.

Raven motioned for Liza to stand up. And though she had a hard time believing it in the moment, Liza did stand up. And untied her robe. And Raven did indeed take care of the rest.

#bllnew #wlw

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my-mt-heart · 2 months ago

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Putting the "ew" in EW

There are a lot of things wrong with the article, but let's start with the glaringly obvious...

Instead of letting Daryl's and Carol's connection speak for itself and letting fans get excited to see the connection as they've understood it for over a decade, Dalton Ross tries to project his own POV onto us, overemphasizing a platonic friendship as if it's the only right answer and ignoring the core of Caryl's fanbase, who are well within reason to want payoff to a romantic love story between Caryl that was earned time and time again in the flagship show. If his goal was to define the relationship for us once and for all, he completely fails. All he's really doing is exposing himself as yet another deeply insecure and toxic middle-aged white man who can't fathom a middle-aged woman with gray hair as a romantic partner for the middle-aged male protagonist. It's ignorant at best and at worst, it's aiding an effort to hurt Melissa's viewership (worth noting that Dalton Ross is one of Gimple's connections). But sadly, his spin is not even the worst problem...

This has to be one of the most ridiculous exchanges between a showrunner and a lead actor that I've ever read, but to cut to the chase, if the former is so disconnected from Daryl that he doesn't know the first thing about how this character forms attachments with others or why it takes him so long and what that says about his relationship with Carol, he shouldn't be the showrunner. That's been clear since S1 and in every interview he does, so at this point, AMC is shooting themselves in the foot the longer they keep him on or even just let him open his mouth.

In case I haven't made myself perfectly clear a million times, I am here for the Daryl I connected with when he became the most loyal and loving man to Carol and his family in the flagship show. I am here for The Book of Carol because I want to watch Carol rise above her trauma as she's risen above so many challenges in her life and I want to watch her finally claim a love she didn't think she was worthy of before, which is true love/romantic love/soulmate love with Daryl (look, I can overemphasize too). I want to watch Melissa McBride, who has also had to rise above so many challenges as a woman in the industry, give one powerful performance after another after another. I want her to get all the praise from fans and critics that she deserves and I want her to have more creative control since she's the one who really knows how to do Carol's story justice. Imagine if all we had to analyze was her own words...

I am so fucking tired of other EPs trying to turn the beautiful things she has to say and the beautiful things she brings to her show into a footnote because they always have to be so overt in their misogyny, ageism, arrogance, and stupidity first. I am fucking tired of feeling unwelcome to a show being marketed as #TWDCARYL when I am both a Carol and a Daryl fan who also ships them together. The perpetual mess doesn't speak to Melissa's value or to her fans' priorities. I will continue to direct my blame at the other EPs, and I need AMC to start doing the same. Stop giving David Zabel, Greg Nicotero, and Scott Gimple a platform. Stop giving into their need to promote themselves. Stop losing viewers over them. Let's get a showrunner who understands Carol's and Daryl's characters as well as their relationship, and here's a new idea, let's get journalists/reviewers who don't try to shove their own insecurities down our throats to cover the aspects of the show that we actually connect with. Believe it or not, those of us who are loudly complaining do want to be here.

#caryl #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #daryl dixon #norman reedus #the book of carol #twd caryl #fire zabel #melissa mcbride deserves better #caryl deserves better #caryl fans deserve better

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year ago

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Safe Haven [Chapter Twelve]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.6k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: This is a long one where we finally get their first date! And there's angst at the end of it, too... Also big thanks to @loveroftoomanyfandoms for figuring out what Michael is actually reading in Kin! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky @the-nursery @lionalsowrites

Drawing the warm ceramic mug to your lips, you drank down more of your vanilla latte. The hot liquid was surprisingly not too sweet, the bold taste of the roast actually coming through as it passed over your tongue. You decided you liked this coffee shop, and not just because it was now going to hold the memory of your first date with Michael, but they apparently knew how to make a good cup of coffee.

Across from you at the table, Michael’s fingers were tapping against the side of his steaming mug of coffee, his chin resting in the palm of his other hand. His eyes were locked on yours, crinkles forming at the corners of them and that dimple visible just beneath his beard on his right cheek. He sat there silently, continuing to simply smile at you.

He had just been contentedly watching you as if that alone was enough for him for the past couple of minutes. You swore if he kept looking at you like he’d been doing ever since you’d both sat down, you’d end up throwing yourself over the small table separating the pair of you and crushing your mouth to his. Just that look of enraptured interest he had for you so plainly written across his face was alone increasing your arousal–or maybe it had just been vastly too long since either of you had last had sex. Either way, you were getting turned on and you could feel the sexual tension increasing to a palpable level in the air around the pair of you. Didn’t matter that you were both in public in a coffee shop and Michael was wearing a bulletproof vest under his sweater and jacket. Somehow that only added to your increasing desire.

“You just going to stare at me for the duration of this date?” you asked him, lowering the mug back to the table and wrapping both of your hands around it. “Or do you actually want to talk to me?”

Michael chuckled, that intense look of fondness never leaving his face. “Well I have a beautiful woman sittin’ across from me, and it’s quite early in the mornin’. Maybe I’m a bit distracted?” he teased.

That also didn’t help you control the desire to jump him publicly.

“Laying it on thick, I see,” you joked, unable to fight the smile on your own mouth.

“Well I told ya it may be a bit before I can take ya on another proper date again,” he explained. “And it did take me two times to get ya to say yes to me to begin with.” He shrugged. “Maybe I just want to make sure it won’t take ya six times before ya say yes next time?”

You laughed, surprised at how funny he actually was when you got a little bit past the awkward, brooding, mysterious exterior. Shaking your head at him, your eyes dropped down to the mug of coffee before you. On your walk to the coffee shop this morning Michael had been noticeably more comfortable with you than he had been the last time the pair of you had taken a walk together. Although there had unfortunately been no kissing or hand holding, he had somehow still managed to slip in a bit of overt flirting despite the main topic of conversation.

As you’d both walked to the shop for your date, Michael had been explaining how he really shouldn’t be out of his house because of the feud that had been started between his family and their supplier–this Eamon character that Birdy had initially accused you of getting close to Michael for the Serpents for. Apparently anyone selling for Eamon that had a gun was going to be on the lookout for a Kinsella or anyone working with the family. There had been a very high bounty put on Michael’s head and it wasn’t exactly safe for him to be out–even in public. Which didn’t exactly surprise you, considering how he’d walked into a crowded bar himself a few nights ago and shot the man who’d been responsible for Jamie’s death. But Michael had repeatedly assured you the bounty was still such early news that there wasn’t a high risk of anyone tailing him yet. He’d made sure no one was before he’d come to get you from your sister’s this morning.

To you, it sounded like this feud was more of a war. Especially with the way he was wearing a bulletproof vest under his clothes and occasionally scanning out the window to make sure no one suspicious was watching the pair of you. He’d even intentionally picked a table near a back exit in case the pair of you needed to bolt, and he’d positioned himself so he could keep an eye on the door and still be between you and it. Which was a detail you hadn’t missed.

“So you’re a writer, yeah?” he asked.

His question drew your eyes back up from your mug and to his face. He’d sat up straighter in his chair now, his chin no longer resting in his palm. You watched as he drew his mug to his lips, your eyes momentarily distracted by the movement–and his mouth. It had been too long since you’d last had the opportunity to kiss him, and you really had wanted to pick up where you’d left off the other morning.

“Yeah, I am,” you answered, your eyes finally meeting his again.

“What’s that like?” he asked next.

You shrugged a shoulder, mulling over the question. “It’s nice, I suppose,” you told him. “I get to work from wherever I want–clearly,” you said, shooting him a small smile to which he returned. “Other than making deadlines there’s not too much daily stress during the writing part of things. I mean, besides the pressure I put on myself to actually, you know, write.”

Michael chuckled, leaning his elbows onto the table as he drew himself closer towards you. “And what exactly do you write about?” he questioned.

“I uh, have a series about a family,” you began awkwardly, your eyes dropping down to your coffee mug. “And they do…nefarious things to make money.”

“Such as…?” he prompted curiously.

“Drug trafficking,” you answered, eyes still averted. “Money laundering. Blackmail. Murder.”

“Well that’s…rather dark,” he mused.

Your eyes slid up towards his, one of your brows arching back at him. The corner of his lip twitched upwards in response.

“I am aware of the irony,” he replied, grinning. “I take it ya took inspiration from your life?”

“Something like that,” you admitted.

Michael’s dark brows pulled together on his forehead, a crease forming between them. “I’m surprised your ex-fiance allowed that. He knew that’s what ya wrote ‘bout?”

Nodding, you drew your mug back up to your lips for another drink. You swallowed down the coffee before you answered.

“He knew,” you simply said. “My sister had actually gotten in with one of the Serpents back in the day–before I’d ever met Victor. He’d gone by the nickname Lucky. He actually had epilepsy and was the reason why I knew what to do that other night when I…met you.”

“Mmm,” Michael hummed out, his gaze still intently watching you. “Wondered 'bout that.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes dropped back down to your nervously fidgeting hands. Your fingers began to drum along the ceramic mug as you spoke; you didn’t particularly like to think about the outlaw MC.

“I’d started writing the series back then,” you told him. “My sister and I, we didn’t exactly have a great childhood. I’d stayed behind and forwent college just to make sure she’d been safe and taken care of until she graduated. I worked two jobs just trying to pay the bills while our mom just…” you slowly trailed off, shaking your head. “But Megan she–she fell for Lucky when he was still a prospect for the Serpents, right before she graduated high school. She was really serious about him. And I started hearing these stories–in the news and from my sister–and I just…I don’t know, I started writing,” you finished lamely with a shrug.

“So ya published them before ya met your ex?” Michael asked.

“The first one, yeah,” you said, your focus returning to his curious face. “The series name The Road to Hell was a quiet nod to the Serpents of Hell MC. Even though it's not actually about a motorcycle club and doesn’t specifically mention any real crimes they committed–because I’m not an idiot and wasn’t trying to get myself killed. But I was apparently good at it. At writing. And I needed the money because a high school education wasn’t getting me shit. So my publisher picked it up. They loved it and contracted me for more and well, that’s what I do, I guess.”

“I’m assumin’ somethin’ happened to this Lucky considerin’ Megan isn’t with him now?” Michael asked.

“Killed,” you answered with a nod. “He’s the reason why Megan went to school to become a nurse.”

Michael frowned at your response. “’M sorry to hear that.”

You shrugged, bringing your coffee back to your mouth for another drink. Swallowing the warm liquid down, you eyed his handsome face across the table from you. This wasn't exactly what you wanted to talk about.

“Not a very light topic for a date,” you mused as you lowered the mug. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself? Something not depressing unlike what I just told you.”

A small smile returned to Michael’s face, one of his hands sliding across the wooden table towards yours. He reached up, gripping onto your right hand and pulling it away from your coffee mug down to the table with his. The gesture instantly stilled your nervous fidgeting, your eyes dropping down to watch as he slowly entwined his fingers with yours. Your heart beat a little harder in your chest.

“What d’ya want to know?” he asked.

Eyes slowly making their way up towards his face, you felt your breath coming in shallower. That look from earlier had returned to his face, and in turn, so had your previous state of arousal.

How fast can I get you home and in my bed?

Bottom lip slipping between your teeth, you tried hard to fight that question from accidentally falling out of your mouth. Michael’s gaze had inevitably dropped down to where you were chewing your lip, his own tongue slowly sliding out to wet his lips as his eyes lingered.

If you didn’t get ahold of yourself soon you’d be dragging him out the back door behind you and seeing how far you could get with him before your mind brought reason back to you. And as tempting as that sounded, that’s not what you were doing here. Blinking hard a few times, your eyes darted out of the window beside you, trying to break whatever trance his eyes had somehow put you into again.

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “Any hobbies?”

Michael huffed out a laugh, the sound catching your attention again. He was shaking his head as he raised his mug to his lips with his other hand. You watched as his throat bobbed while he drank the coffee down, your tongue running along the back of your teeth as you shifted in your seat, all too aware of the heat from his hand wrapped around yours.

“Ya know where I’ve been the past eight years, yeah?” he asked, lowering his mug back to the table. “Didn’ exactly have the opportunity for hobbies.”

“Okay,” you said slowly. “So you go back home after this and then you do what? Sit on your sofa and stare into the void? There’s got to be something you enjoy.”

He chuckled as his hand not holding yours rose up to scratch at his beard. Your left hand curled around your mug, desperately trying to ignore the way your fingers itched to feel the rasp of it beneath them.

“So I’m goin’ home alone after this?” Michael teased. “That what you’re sayin’?”

Your own brows rose onto your forehead, lips parting in surprise as you gaped back at him. “I–I wasn’t saying that, exactly,” you stammered out.

A slow smile spread along Michael’s mouth, his hand rubbing along his chin as he continued to watch you from across the table. There was definitely some sort of look in his eye, something that had your pulse at a consistent, increased pace again.

“I enjoy readin’,” he said. “‘M not really into watchin’ shows, but I read.”

It took you a moment to realize he was answering your question about his hobbies. But as you sat across from him, your coffee almost finished, you’d found your brain was still stuck on one thing. Shifting again in your seat, you tried hard to focus on the conversation and not how badly you wanted the man you were talking to. The fact that he enjoyed reading was only adding to his attractiveness.

“And uh, what exactly do you like to read?” you asked, the question coming out unintentionally a little breathless.

Michael seemed to catch the change in your tone, his head tilting to the side as he quietly studied you for a moment. You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting to keep yourself from inviting him back to your place right here and now. Though it was beginning to feel like a losing battle. You felt like you might combust if you sat here much longer with him staring at you like that and you pretending like you weren’t dying to do more than just talk.

Clearing your throat, you tried to shove those thoughts away again.

"Actually, let me guess," you began, trying to focus on the conversation. "You don't seem like you'd be into horror and suspense."

"Get enough o' that in my life already," Michael agreed, nodding.

Your eyes narrowed as you examined him closely. "Not romance, either. Or science fiction," you ruled out, noticing the way his smile grew. "Nonfiction?"

Michael shrugged a shoulder. "Dependin' on the topic, yeah."

Becoming interested in this guessing game, you rested your elbow on the table and leaned forward, your right hand still entwined with his. Michael copied the gesture, that flicker of something still in his eyes, his mouth seemingly permanently drawn up into a grin as he lessened the gap between the pair of you at the table.

"Historical fiction?" you asked.

"On occasion," he replied huskily.

Pressing your lips together, you wondered how the hell he was making this conversation so hot. The way he’d gripped your hand a bit firmer in his wasn’t helping.

"Mmm, not a mystery reader," you continued, watching as he shook his head. "Classic lit?"

Michael’s grin widened further. "I enjoy some, yeah," he answered.

Resting your chin in your hand, your index finger absently tapped against your lips as you thought. You only became aware of the gesture when Michael’s eyes dropped down, staring at your mouth yet again. That's when you'd intentionally began running your finger back and forth along your bottom lip slowly, enjoying the way his eyes followed the movement. Apparently you weren't the only one thinking about that right now.

"I'm guessing you're not into bodice rippers," you teased, intentionally directing the conversation towards sex.

Michael’s brows shot up onto his forehead, his eyes returning to yours. "Bodice rippers?" he asked with a laugh. "Is that what I'm thinkin' it is?"

You grinned, nodding. "Yeah, you know, smut. Those books with the overly buff men on the cover and a woman who's heaving bosom looks like it's about to pop out of her top?"

Michael cracked up, his eyes creasing as he tried to contain his laughter. "No Grace," he answered, his shoulders shaking with his barely contained mirth, "I can't say that I read… bodice rippers . But now ya got me wonderin' if you do."

A large smile drew wide across your own face. "Oh I have an entire series of them I wrote," you told him enthusiastically, fighting down your own laughter when his mouth dropped open in shock. "About a pirate and a virgin–well, I guess she's not a virgin anymore. Not with everything they've done with the buried treasure they've found…"

Michael continued to gawk at you from across the table and you swore you saw pink tinge his cheeks. When you saw him struggling to form a coherent thought, you burst into a laugh.

"I'm kidding," you assured him. "I don't have a smutty series about a pirate–but I bet you I’d make a fortune if I did."

He visibly relaxed in his seat, a laugh falling out of him. "Ya definitely had me there," he said. "Wasn't sure if ya were serious and how I was s'posed to respond to that."

"Yeah, I could tell," you said with a laugh of your own. "Pretty sure I made you blush, Mr. Kinsella."

His hand squeezed yours as he chuckled again, his eyes falling back down to his mug. “I don’ know ‘bout that,” he muttered.

“So what are you reading?” you asked him finally.

“Currently?” he asked, continuing when you nodded. “ East of Eden.”

Eyebrows raising onto your forehead, you hummed out a curious noise. The corner of his lip twitched.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said innocently with a shrug. “You seem like you’d read Steinbeck is all.”

His eyes narrowed playfully at you. "And what's that s'posed to mean?" he asked.

"That you should probably find something lighter to read," you teased.

You picked up your coffee mug and downed the rest of your latte, enjoying the bemused expression on Michael’s face as he watched you. Setting the empty mug back onto the table, your eyes dropped back down to your enjoined hands. His thumb suddenly brushed a light stroke across your knuckles and you felt that excited, giddy feeling wash over you. Yet again you found yourself wishing you weren't in a public setting.

“D’ya want another coffee?” he asked, head gesturing to your now empty mug.

“Actually,” you began slowly, eyes gradually returning to his face, “Do you…maybe want to head back?”

Something flickered across his face at your question, an expression so fleeting you barely just caught it before you saw him quickly control his reaction. He cleared his throat, picking up his almost empty mug of coffee, his focus on the remaining liquid as he spoke.

“Already wantin’ an end to this date?” he asked.

“I was thinking more like…moving the date back to my place?” you suggested. “Megan isn’t home and well, you wouldn’t have to keep glancing out the window and being on edge.”

“If that’s what ya would like to do,” he said casually, his eyes still almost nervously avoiding yours as he downed the rest of his coffee.

“And is that what you would like to do?” you questioned back.

Michael paused, his gaze very gradually drawing up from his mug to meet yours. That flicker of something was in his eyes again as he stared back at you for a moment. You felt a heat rising up to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment this time. You wanted to see where this was going to go, and you certainly weren’t thinking about stopping things like last time.

“I’d like that, yeah,” he eventually answered.

You tried to fight back the smile on your lips as Michael released your hand finally, grabbing your empty coffee cup along with his and telling you that he’d take care of them. Your eyes lingered on Michael’s back as he stepped away to deposit them on a nearby cart. Rising from your own chair, you slipped your jacket back on and mentally prepared to face the chilly morning air that seemed to be a constant in Dublin.

When Michael had made his way back to you, your heart skipped in your chest at the sight of his offered hand. Eagerly you slipped yours into it, smiling when you saw his own smile light up his entire face. He led the pair of you out of the coffee shop, his head darting around looking out the shop windows as he walked, clearly keeping an eye out for anyone who looked suspicious.

He’d held the door of the shop open for you, only releasing the hold he had on your hand to do so until you were outside on the sidewalk. His hand swiftly grasped back onto yours, entwining his fingers through your own when you both fell in step beside each other. Biting your lip, your gaze dropped down to your feet as you walked, your shoulder brushing alongside his with each step.

For a few minutes the pair of you had walked in comfortable silence, your mind on the things you’d like to do to him back at Megan’s place. Though you found yourself wondering what he was thinking about right now and if it was something along the same lines.

“I hope–hope ya had a good time,” Michael said nervously, finally breaking the silence.

Your hand squeezed his reassuringly as you glanced at him beside you over your shoulder. His head turned, a small smile on his mouth as he took in the look on your face.

“I did,” you assured him. “Wouldn’t be inviting you back with me if I hadn’t.”

“Quite bold of ya, too,” he mused.

A coy smile spread along your lips in response. “And quite bold of you to assume that’s what I meant,” you countered.

Michael’s expression quickly shifted to something sheepish, his mouth opening and closing for a moment. He looked absolutely adorable as his pace slowed beside you and he grew further flustered.

“Oh, I–I just thought–I mean, you’re right, I shouldn’ have–” he broke off, clearly trying to find the right words.

You laughed, shaking your head and watching his expression slightly relax at the sound. “I did mean that, actually,” you told him. “But you’re cute when you get flustered.”

Michael breathed out a laugh, his head ducking down as his other hand came to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’ think anyone’s called me cute before,” he muttered.

“Well I just did. And I think you are,” you pointed out, eyes still lingering on his handsome face. “Among other things,” you added, the words spilling out of you before you could stop them.

Michael looked up at you from underneath his lashes; there was something undeniably hungry in his eyes as he held you in his stare. That desire you’d been feeling all morning was only steadily growing within you as you saw his eyes scanning your face in the silence that followed, searching for something that you sincerely hoped he found there. But something caught his eye just past your shoulder, his focus shifting as his lips thinned. His expression quickly became serious and your eyes narrowed curiously back at him.

Michael straightened beside you, his posture going rigid as his head spun forward. His hand tightened around yours as he quickened his pace. You were forced to increase your stride to keep up as he pulled you along beside him.

“What–”

“Can’ tell if we’re bein’ followed,” he responded in a hushed tone. “Just keep your head down, pet. Act normal. Don' want somethin' happenin' to ya."

Your heart sped up in your chest for a different reason now, adrenaline flooding you at his words. Someone was following you? Someone looking for that bounty on Michael’s head he’d told you about this morning? The familiar cold prickle of fear rose the hairs along the back of your neck, your jaw tensing as you grit your teeth together.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted someone on the other side of the street. There was a black hood pulled up over their head, making it impossible to make out their face. Their hands were stuffed in the pockets of their sweatshirt, but with them so far across the street, you couldn’t tell if there was a gun in one of their pockets or not. It looked as if they had turned their head towards the pair of you across the street before focusing back on the sidewalk before them.

Were they following Michael then? Here to shoot him and claim the bounty Eamon had put out?

Michael abruptly tugged you sideways, startling you as he pulled you down a small side street. You willingly followed after him, still practically being dragged behind him until he suddenly stopped and turned, grabbing both of your shoulders in his hands. He pushed your back up into the brick wall of the nearby building without warning, a surprised gasp falling out of you at the impact. Michael's arms were soon caging you in between them, the front of him coming to press against the front of you. His face was just inches from yours now, panic and fear written plainly in his eyes as yours met his.

"Just stay right there, pet. I got ya," he murmured, his left hand moving from off the wall to gently cradle the back of your head, easing it down to rest against his chest. "'M so sorry. Didn' think anyone was followin' us when we left."

You didn't respond, too busy trying to control your own increasing panic. Your hands fisted the material of his sweater as your heart thundered loudly in your own ears. Eyes snapping shut, you tried to focus on the smokey cinnamon scent of him, letting it fill your nose as you buried it further into his chest. Michael pressed himself more firmly to the front of you when you'd exhaled an audible, shuddering breath.

"'S'alrigh', I got ya," he whispered, his cheek resting along the top of your head, his other hand still firmly cradling the back of your head to him. "Won' let anythin' happen to ya."

Seconds later you felt Michael tense against you, his entire body going rigid as he covered you with himself. Your fingers curled tighter around his sweater, the solid bulletproof vest underneath it reassuring you in this moment that he would be alright–he had to be. You heard his breath catch in his throat with how closely you were burrowed against him as you waited for what felt like the inevitable, tears pricking at your eyes.

But nothing happened.

The moment felt like it dragged on for minutes, time slowing down, but no gunshot ever rang out. Very slowly Michael raised his head from the top of yours, but he didn't release his hold on you so you remained latched to the front of him. Whoever had been across the street must’ve passed by already now, but Michael was clearly trying to wait them out to make sure they really weren’t about to double back and shoot him. It was a few minutes before he finally broke the silence, your body feeling like it was stuck in a state of panic while you waited.

"I–I think they're gone," Michael whispered. "Musta been nothin' after all."

His hand on the back of your head gently smoothed down your hair a few times, the comforting feel of it drawing a shudder out of you. Gradually you pulled away from his chest, finally releasing the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Michael was looking down at you, an apologetic smile on his face.

“Ya alrigh’, Grace?” he asked softly.

Nodding, your hands continued to keep a firm hold to his sweater underneath his open jacket. Michael’s hand on the back of your head slid forward, gently cupping your cheek and tilting your face up towards his. That sorrowful, regretful look was back in his eyes again as they held yours. Your heart continued to beat wildly in your chest from a mixture of the residual fear and adrenaline, along with the admiration at how easily Michael chose to shield you with himself in the heat of the moment.

“‘M so sorry, Grace,” he repeated. “Fuck, I shouldn’ have taken ya out this mornin’. I didn’ think it’d be a worry today because–”

You lunged forward, closing the brief space between the pair of you and cutting him off when you pressed your mouth to his. Hands releasing the death grip you’d had on his sweater, they came up to grab either side of his face, holding him firmly to you. It took Michael a second to recover from the shock of your action before he was kissing you back, one hand wrapping around the back of your neck and the other gripping your hip. You gasped into his mouth when he pushed you back into the brick wall, his tongue slipping inside when you did.

You moaned next–a loud, throaty sound that only spurred him on. Michael’s tongue was feverishly lapping at yours, the feeling leaving you breathless as your hands made their way back into his hair, gripping the dark strands firmly in your fists. You didn’t know if it was due to the fear of being shot, the flirty, lustful thoughts you’d been having for the duration of the date, or a combination of the two, but you found yourself needing him.

Without thinking, completely forgetting that you were still in public, your hips pressed forward into Michael. His tongue slid back out of your mouth, his teeth biting down on your lip and tugging in response. He rumbled out a noise from deep within his chest as he nipped at your lip. You whined at the sound, pulling at his hair and trying to urge him to continue. Releasing your lip from between his teeth, Michael shook his head briefly. The pair of you stood there on the side street, clinging to each other and breathing heavily.

“Not here,” Michael panted out.

Eyelids falling shut, your head rolled back against the brick building behind you. He was right, now wasn’t the time. Reluctantly you released the grip you had on his hair, your hands instead coming to land against Michael’s chest. You took a moment, trying to catch your breath and calm your body down–from the kiss and the panic–as you felt both of his hands coming to rest along your hips. You could hear the way he was breathing heavily before you, just as out of breath as you were.

After a minute you finally opened your eyes, focusing back on him in front of you. Michael’s shoulders were heaving a little less visibly now, one corner of his mouth curling upwards at you. Licking your lips, you tried hard to push those thoughts aside for the duration of the walk back to your place with him.

“Why don’t we just–just continue this when we get back?” you suggested.

“Probably a better idea,” he agreed.

Michael extended his hand towards you and you easily slipped your hand back into his. The pair of you made your way down the side street and towards the sidewalk, but Michael had come to a stop just before it, making you wait behind him while he surveyed the area. When he seemed satisfied you were safe, he gave your hand a little tug and the two of you continued on your walk.

The entire walk back felt like it had taken forever with every flirtatious look the pair of you kept sending each other. You’d both tried to make conversation, but it seemed only one thing was on either of your minds, making it difficult to keep a topic going for long. By the time you’d reached your street, Michael had already convinced you to come back to his place instead because it was always empty, unlike your place where Megan could theoretically show up unexpectedly.

That was how the pair of you found yourselves once again wrapped around each other. Michael had been reaching for his house key in his pocket to unlock his front door. Unable to wait, you’d grabbed onto the edge of his jacket and pulled him towards you. He didn’t hesitate to respond to you this time, his mouth diving straight down towards yours.

He was kissing you feverishly again, clearly still as worked up from earlier as you were. His hands flew back to your hips, gripping them tight as he walked you the handful of steps backwards until you’d hit the stone fence behind you. Your own hands slid up his chest, wishing you could rip the vest off of him now that you were back because you wanted to feel him beneath your hands instead.

His mouth soon broke from yours, his lips making their way down to your jaw. His beard lightly tickled against your skin as he trailed a few open mouthed kisses along the length of it, a moan vibrating in your throat. The moment he sucked a patch of your skin into his mouth, your eyes rolled back and your head landed against the brick wall behind you. Your arms wound around his neck, fingers digging into the thick material of his jacket as you sighed out a noise of pleasure. His mouth felt so goddamn good.

As he continued to focus on your neck, one of his hands slid down from your hip, making its way around to palm your ass over your jeans. His large hand squeezed and the sound that it drew from your throat would’ve been mortifying if it hadn’t caused him to suck another patch of skin along your neck into his mouth.

“ Fuck, Michael,” you breathed out.

You could feel the wet heat building between your thighs when he drew back from your neck, his plush lips damp with his saliva. His face was slightly flushed, that hungry look in his eyes again. God, you needed him badly.

Throwing all thought out, you pulled him towards you with the arms you had wrapped around his neck. Your lips crashed onto his, kissing him with every bit of that urgent hunger you felt burning inside of you. The pair of you were panting for air against each others' mouths, the kiss a mix of teeth and tongue as you gave yourself over to your desire. When you’d sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, your tongue dancing along the length of it, Michael had let out a groan that had your cunt clenching around nothing.

Releasing his lip from your mouth, your heated gaze locked onto Michael’s. The pair of you were still wrapped around each other, lips swollen from all of the kissing. Michael’s hand was still slowly kneading at your ass over your jeans as your lips parted, the words ‘I want you’ about to fall from them, but then an irritated voice rang out from just behind Michael and the pair of you froze.

“Ya got to be kiddin’ me, Michael!”

He immediately broke away from you, taking a few steps back as your hands inevitably fell to your sides with him now out of reach. Breath still coming in shallow pants, you felt a sharp pang hit you in the chest at how quickly he’d broken apart from you at the appearance of Amanda.

“I've been callin' ya all mornin', Michael," she continued bitterly. "I came over here to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’ important and I find ya over here pawin' at her? Ya shouldn' even be draggin’ an outsider into our shite with everythin' goin' on!” Amanda snapped.

"Amanda," Michael began, his tone placating.

“What if somethin' had happened and I couldn' get ahold o' ya, huh?" she barreled on. "Somethin' like what happened to Jaime? Because ya were too busy lookin’ for a quick fuck with the neighbor?”

Michael ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he eyed her. “Now’s not really the time for this, Amanda,” Michael shot back.

For some reason the fact that he hadn’t immediately clarified that you weren’t just a quick fuck had your chest tightening uncomfortably. Surely you meant more to him than that, even if you two didn’t know each other quite that well yet, right? It had seemed like you’d had a good date, and Birdy had said he seemed interested in you. Yet still, it hurt all the more that he’d not corrected her because you knew that Amanda had certainly meant something to him in the past, considering he’d had an affair with her despite her being married to his brother.

Did she still mean something to him?

“It’s important, Michael,” Amanda said, her eyes taking a moment to rake you over with a look of disdain. “Certainly more important than whatever is goin' on here.”

“Can’t it wait?” he pressed.

Amanda’s eyes narrowed back at Michael. “ No, Michael, it can’t. Your family needs ya. More than your neighbor needs ya for a fuck,” she growled, gesturing a hand at you. “ She’s not important. Family is.”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief at her words and the blatant disrespect in them. Gaze flying towards Michael, you expected him to say something–anything at all–but all he did was sigh, his shoulders sagging as he did. Slowly his head turned over his shoulder back towards you, a sad, apologetic look in his eyes.

“Grace,” he began, “I’m gonna have to deal with this right now.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. Was he serious? He was going to let her talk about you like that and then just ask you to leave? As if that’s all you really were was a quick fuck at what was now becoming an inconvenient time?

Eyes hardening back at him, you felt anger and jealousy beginning to burn inside of you. How had you misread this situation so badly? You thought there was more going on between the pair of you, but apparently that was one-sided. Of course he’d just want a fuck fresh out of prison, and you were easy pussy next door, weren’t you? Seemingly desperate yourself.

Michael’s brows drew together at the change in your expression, confusion slowly drawing across his face as he turned towards you more fully. His mouth opened as if he was going to say more, but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it, Michael,” you retorted coldly, beginning to make your way past him.

“Grace–”

“And don’t call me, either,” you added.

“Grace,” he tried again.

You saw Michael reach out to grab your arm as you passed by, but you pulled it out of his reach. At the end of the driveway, you saw a faint smirk spread on Amanda’s lips as she watched the scene unfolding before her, crossing her arms over her chest as you neared. When you walked past her, it took every bit of your strength to resist smacking that pleased look right from her face.

You rounded the stone fence and made your way back to Megan’s house, ignoring the sound of Michael’s voice behind you. He only stopped calling your name when you heard Amanda tell him to–as if she apparently still had some pull over him.

Drawing the house key out of your coat pocket, you bit the tip of your tongue as you unlocked the front door. You didn’t want either of them to hear you crying; you were waiting to do that after you’d locked the door behind you and buried yourself in your sister’s couch cushions where no one could witness the tears.

Because of course he must still want her, even after eight years in prison. What an idiot you were to think you were more than easy sex to him. You were just a distraction from her.

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x f!reader #michael kinsella #kin amc #kin fanficiton

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lostmyremembrall · 1 year ago

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📖𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐴 𝐻𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑇𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝐽𝑜𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 1𝐾 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡! Now closed

It was neatly placed on your pillow, silently staring up at you as if it’s always belonged there.

You sighed, knowing where it came from. How he managed to sneak into the girl’s dormitory, you had no clue.

You let your exhausted body sink into the edge of the bed before taking the neatly wrapped box, sensing the placement of the gift by its owner was intentional, blatantly claiming a spot on your most private space as its own.

“Merlin, not again!”

The exasperated voice of your roommate, Imelda, rang from across the room, catching sight of the silver ribbon that slowly fell to the floor.

“This man needs a hobby,” Imelda fumes. "...some nerve sneaking into a girl's dormitory."

“Mm-hmm,” you let out a heavy sigh. She was right.

The number of times this man forwarded you gift after gift with no explanation. The number of hours you and Imelda dedicated to discussing who this could be.

The first one, you found in your Transfiguration textbook. The book naturally parted to reveal an ornate bookmark– goblin-made, with intricate golden lines of a man holding the woman’s face to plant a kiss. It was a famous painting, that much you knew. You wondered at first, whether you had mistaken someone else’s book for yours. But as you turned to the back of the cover, your name, printed neatly in your handwriting. It was a gift from someone, you decided in the end. Someone with extremely adept fingers from the looks of it. Enough to steal your book and return it to your satchel unnoticed.

The second one, was revealed at the bottom of the cauldron at the end of the Potion – as you were cleaning out your potion. It was a wonder how they managed to sneak it in without you noticing. It glimmered against the black cast iron: a brooch of a phoenix, mid-flight through the clouds. Whoever this was, he had a proclivity for a dramatic display of his spellcasting as well, it seemed.

Ruby earrings, silver hairpins, rare, expensive books; and so on, the gifts kept coming from this mysterious, bold, yet shy person. After the third gift, you and Imelda concluded this person had developed a massive crush on you. With a penchant for green and silver wrapping – perhaps an overt expression of his loyalty to his house–, the image of a dashing Slytherin man had also settled in both of your minds.

“I bet he’s rich.”

You nodded without raising your head from the box you now held. Ignoring the sender’s image that was progressively beginning to resemble a flamboyant peacock, you studied the gift wrapping. Now more curious about the sender than the gift, you had grown a habit of searching the wrapping for hints instead of its content.

“Just going to say, you could have the decency of sharing.”

You raised your eyes to meet the playful smirk on Imelda, who was on her stomach, scratching her head before an unfinished essay for Runes. The gift, however, seemed to have called for an impromptu break from the work.

“What?” she raised a challenging brow. “You’re going to get more, anyway.”

She jests, but you did not miss the hungry glimmer in the depth of her eyes. “Your greed’s showing, Imelda,” you shook your head, trying and failing to suppress a grin.

“Nothing wrong with that,” she jabs her nose slightly up in the air. “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, after all.”

“I am your best friend, Imelda!”

“Ha! You would be, if you get me a diamond.”

“What is it this time,” Imelda now jabs her chin towards the small box, the essay now tossed to the floor. "He better get you a diamond or two."

“I think you may have skipped a few important steps, Imelda-” Trying to hide the growing blush on your cheeks, you open the box. But, you couldn’t help but swallow your words at the brilliance that greeted you upon opening the lid.

Inside the small box was a beautiful ring, topped with large, transparent jewellery that seemed to light up the whole room.

Imelda was quick to leave the bed at the shock that graced your features.

"Ha! Guess he does know what a girl wants!"

Imelda bursts into laughter, but even her jest fell short of your ears. The diamond that demanded your attention looked too close to a wedding ring. In fact, you were certain it was.

The wedding ring from a man with no name. Seemingly too heavy for you to bear, the ring was quietly put away into the closet without ever being put on.

------------

You clutched the letter in your right hand that arrived first thing in the morning, feeling a sense of hammering in your ribcage at the idea of finally meeting this… peacock. This man who had the audacity to sneak into the girl’s dormitory. To gift you a wedding ring.

You just had to see what this man was made out of.

In your left pocket, the wedding ring to be returned right back at his face.

A victorious smirk etched into your lips, your pace quickened to the Slytherin common room. So, they were right. You thought back to Imelda’s longing face at the breakfast table, barely keeping herself seated from following you to see the man herself. The curiosity was killing her, but Imelda would be pleased to know she was right.

Slytherin and affluent. Your mind wandered to the list of men that fit the description. Perhaps he was a Malfoy, a Black… or even a Lestrange.

Despite your eagerness to find the sender of the owl, you managed to find enough composure to fix your uniform before whispering the password. You descended the stairs, the underground air and the waterfall mist cooling you. With everyone rushing to breakfast at the Great Hall, it was going to be simple enough to spot a single person.

You hopped down the last step and looked around the common room to find the room… empty.

Flabbergasted, you blinked a few times. You reread the instruction to meet in the common room: perfectly legible handwriting that indicates the windows looking into the Great Lake.

Still, there was not a hint of life in the common room save for the stunted expressions of the statues of noble women and men past. You huffed and settled on the chaise longue looking over the kelp and seaweeds.

The longer you waited, the tapping of your feet against the stone floor slowed, and your fingers ceded playing with your hair.

He had the audacity to boast about his aptitude for magic. For a man who dared not show his face, he demanded praise. Silently screaming for your attention from wherever he hid. A bookmark in a textbook. A brooch left inconspicuously in a cauldron. Then, a ring on a pillow. Every gift must have been carefully planned to progressively shorten the distance to you and test your reaction. To have your imaginations running wild picturing a brilliant, affluent prince with an excellent taste for elegance. After all those gifts, he was not just going to pass on the opportunity to claim those titles for himself.

Still, the time still ticked away, and a quick glance at the watch indicated 10 minutes past the promised time. You heaved a heavy sigh, knowing that as much as you were curious to meet the person, this man was going to get you late for Charms.

You were about to leap up to your feet, when you suddenly felt a presence on your left. You froze, feeling his heat radiating against your cheek from the sudden proximity.

“You weren’t going to leave before our date even began, were you?”

The velvety voice. The teasing tone that always tried to contain a smirk. You knew that voice.

“T–, Tom?!” you jumped, swerving your neck to face the last man you expected to see at this moment.

There he was. Your oldest friend, his sharp eyes studying the curvature of your face, reading your every thought and emotion. His jet-black hair contrasting the pale features that almost seemed sickly in the aquamarine lighting of the common room. His chin resting on his arms, as they crossed on top of the back of your chair.

“You seem surprised.”

Greeted by a charming tilt of his head, any trace of your reminder to return the ring was erased from the mind.

“But–, but,” unable to form a string of words, your eyes blinked rapidly. Tom Riddle, someone you’d known since the first day of class. Someone you didn’t know was ‘capable of having a crush.’

In the midst of confusion, any embarrassment or excitement that you may have felt from the close proximity had vanished completely. The next words that fell out of your flabbergasted lips were a declaration more so than a question.

“But–, you don’t like me.”

As you shook your head in disbelief, you saw the confusion in the droop of his brows, his lips still curved in that quiet self-conviction.

“Of course I do,” Tom murmured as if it was the simplest –and the only– truth he’s ever known in this vast world of unsolved mysteries.

“I’ve always liked you.”

The phrase was said with such ease as if he’s told you a hundred times over.

You were still shaking your head at the impossibility of the situation that presented itself. “So, every one of those gifts. They were from you?”

Tom’s lid slowly shut with a single nod, his long lashes casting a shadow over his sunken eyes.

Your eyes darted back and forth, thinking back to that presumptuous peacock you’d been picturing in place of where Tom’s smile was. It made no sense… but the boastful nature, the Slytherin house pride, the aptitude of spellcasting… It all clicked together.

Except…

“How did you afford all of this?”

Tom’s air of nonchalance faltered for a moment, his eyes widening just briefly at the seemingly irrelevant question.

But, he was quick to regain his composure. “I’ll do anything for the love of my life,” his right hand bounced once before languidly dangling off of the back of the couch once more.

Love. Ignoring the heavy word that he so carelessly tossed into their conversation, you pressed on.

In the end, he relented with a sigh. His eyes narrowed into slits and soon, Tom was smiling before you, waving his two fingers in the air, the diamond ring nimbly held in between the sides of his fingers.

A shadow cast over your eyes as you couldn’t bring yourself to join in his exulting triumph.

“... you stole them?”

Your voice was solemn, afflicted by the bile that was brewing and spilling over in the pit of your stomach at the idea. You almost wished you hadn’t asked.

Tom noted the change in your tone, for once, his grin dropping to reveal a defensive wall. “What difference does it make?” his voice bounced off of the stone walls. “My feeling is true for you.”

Tom continued, eager to stop you from staring at him with those morose eyes. “And who’s to blame an underprivileged, penniless man, hopelessly in love?”

You parted your lips, only to bite down on your lips at the sight of him beaming up at you. You’ve never quite seen him like this. His dilated eyes shimmered with so much hope, so much longing as they followed every line that shaped your face. You swallowed your words. Passion. Infatuation. Affection. Whatever it was that Tom felt for you, it was ‘true’ for him.

“You don’t have to give me anything, Tom.”

You managed to string out the words, defeated, knowing that once Tom had made up his mind, there was no stopping him.

“Nonsense,” Tom grinned, relieved that you’ve been seemingly persuaded. “My love deserves only the best.”

“I–,” you tried to quell the shaking in your voice, thinking back to the countless exorbitant gifts you’d received in just this past month. “I don’t want it.”

Tom furrowed, visibly hurt by your rejection. “Very well,” he studied the ring still held in between his fingers before tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll save it for when it really matters.”

He proceeded to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ears, unflinching under your remorseful scrutiny and still returning that enigmatic smile. You couldn’t stop him; a sigh only escaping your lips at the almost juvenile concept of love he seemed to hold.

“I almost forgot.”

You watched wearily as he began to fish something out of his inner pocket. “You’re going to get me late for Charms.”

“Oh, I assure you,” his eyes glimmering in excitement. “I am well worth getting late to Charms.”

A gasp escaped your lips when you caught sight of the most ravishing necklace that appeared before you. Your astonished eyes only followed his hands as he wrapped it around your neck and clasped the chain behind you. Though distorted, you were able to catch your reflection in the glass pane before you. The most opulent emeralds gleamed in the dim lighting of the common room. Even through your uniform, you felt the cool touch of the five large emeralds that were clearly too incongruous and unfit for a student.

“Only the best for my love.”

You felt his arms wrap tightly around you before his cheek nuzzled against yours, and your eyes shifted to find Tom’s ghostly features reflected next to you, entranced by the sight of you.

The necklace was heavy on your neck. Reflecting in the deep green of the glass, you witnessed a coward in your sombre eyes. Too pessimistic and persuadable to stop Tom.

In his misguided understanding, Tom added, perhaps in his attempt to compromise, or quell your anxiety. “I will repay them. Eventually.” His velvety voice reverberated against your skin, spine and skull as if he was speaking directly from inside you. “When I have enough.”

A man who chose to serenade you through possession.

You wondered, whether enough would ever come to this man.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for requesting this anon. And as always, I am so sorry it took so long to get to yours! Things have been very busy, but I sincerely enjoyed writing this.

The bookmark is Klimt's famous painting, The Kiss (1908) I'm surprised by the slightly dark turn this story took. But, I hope you noticed the double meaning of 'possession' in the 2nd to last sentence! Possession as in objects, specifically stolen ones. And possession as in Tom taking possession of the reader by claiming their space/boundary little by little (and the collar-like necklace in the end).

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eemamminy-art · 5 months ago

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Extremely difficult top 5: Top 5 butches

I've sat on this for a long time because I wasn't sure how I wanted to approach it! Do I pick real life butches, butches that are expressly called as such in their medias, or characters that I interpret as butch?

Ultimately, I opted for the last option, because I think that will be the most fun in terms of me trying to argue my case lol

Faris Scherwiz — Final Fantasy V

"James Kidd" / Mary Read — Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag

Agrias Oaks — Final Fantasy Tactics

Vi — Arcane

Zero — Final Fantasy XIV

Further rambling and pictures under the read more cut because oh my goodness this is. Long.

Faris Scherwiz — Final Fantasy V

This character awoke things in a young me, playing a fan translated ROM of FFV. Faris is this pirate captain, initially presented as a beautiful man, later revealed to be the lost princess who made a new life for herself after being lost at sea.

She thinks of herself in masculine terms, and has an honor among thieves sort of outlook. She does put herself, her crew, and her friends first, but she's not so cowardly as to run away when she sees the world is at stake and there is a higher calling for her as a warrior of light. She's very loyal and brave, but lacks the chivalry of a knight.

She's fearful to go back to the life she had before as a princess, because she loves the person she is now. The only thing that really gives her pause is that her sister very deeply wants a relationship with her, and she has reservations about growing close to her and thus to the life she left behind.

"James Kidd" / Mary Read — Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag

I know Mary Read was a real person but stick with me here. We all know AC plays fast and loose with portrayals of real life figures so I'll be proceeding as if talking about the fictional character, not the real life pirate.

When in her persona as James Kidd, he is as smarmy as can be on the outside, but hints that there is a deeper complexity to him. He's deeply enigmatic and flirtatious. He's clever, and drips juuust enough temptation to guide Edward onto the path of the assassins.

When she reveals herself to be a woman, she keeps the same demeanor as always. It's a secret she keeps close to her chest, and reveals it only to use her body to her advantage to create a distraction. Her dedication to her friends and to her freedom matters far more to her than her presentation.

I'm grateful that even despite the era in which this game came out, there's not a total personality switch after the reveal. She's still so much herself, regardless of how she physically appears or which names or pronouns she uses. She makes it clear that she considers herself a woman, in spite of how she normally presents, and she's just bursting with so much confidence. Goals, honestly. She's a hugely inspirational character to me.

Plus I mean. Oh my gosh. She has this rumbling, sultry voice with a Yorkshire accent. Swoon.

Agrias Oaks — Final Fantasy Tactics

I want to first preface with an anecdote, that the lesbian subtext between Agrias and Ovelia is so overt that while growing up, my brother's best friend refused to believe Agrias was a woman and headcanoned her as a male knight to justify it in his head (he also headcanoned Ramza as being a woman to justify the gay subtext between him and Delita.. 😂 lmao FFT is extremely gay please play it)

But onto Agrias herself: she is really the textbook definition of a knight. She would give everything for her kingdom and her princess. She is lawful good to a fault, which is not an easy feat in the world of Ivalice. Chivalrous, devoted, stern but kind when it comes to Her Highness... 🥺

So normal about them... they are like THE yuri ship in final fantasy, but not a lot of people played FFT!! 😭

They even mention it in FFXIV in Orbonne Monastery... love wins......

Vi — Arcane

Going to first say I don't play league of legends, mobas give me hives lol but Vi was phenomenal in Arcane. I am missing a lot of context for the character because of that though, so my take on her is purely based on her portrayal in Arcane.

She's headstrong, she lets her emotions get the better of her, she gets into fights, she's scrappy as hell, she's protective and devoted. What stands out sooo much is that, these are traits you might find in a male protagonist in other media, but the way Vi goes about it is just so in touch with her womanhood. Just a more masculine womanhood.

All of the characters in Arcane are written so well, but I found it very very refreshing for there to be so many well written women with all sorts of personalities and archetypes, and not just the usual tropes you see for female characters.

Zero — Final Fantasy XIV

I waffled a little bit on this pick, because the butch identity is very much about demeanor as much as it is appearance-- if not more so.

Zero is a little bit of an odd duck in that way. She has some very vulnerable, sensitive moments. She's sometimes downright meek. Overall she is cool, confident, business-like, and has her own sense of morality forged by her losses, her time spent bound in contract as a voidsent, and the harsh world of the Thirteenth.

I admit, I initially found her softer moments a little off-putting. Putting it into perspective though, butches do have these moments of vulnerability and softness. It's something really key in the dynamic of butch and femme, that where butches are strong and protective, they need stability and soothing from femmes. A feminine strength to heal the damage that the world has inflicted on the butch while she stands as a shield to herself and other women.

I don't think it was the writers' intentions for her to read that way, I'm pretty sure this is me seeing what I want to see lol. But I think it's still nice! I only didn't notice at first because I play as a gay male wol so her being vulnerable with him activated my fight or flight response. But outside the context of my own OC as the warrior of light, in the context of maybe a female wol (or better yet an experienced and no-nonsense femme like Y'shtola 👀) it's really nice to think about. I think also the pacing of the Endwalker patches didn't do her many favors, but when given time to reflect on her character arc, I think there's a lot of room there, especially when interpreting her in the context of a butch/femme relationship.

She is also pretty new to the whole human thing. She's like a baby butch, still very soft. She can bite and hit hard, but when things break through her shell, they cut deep. Which makes her worthwhile adding to this list, in contrast to the others who are much more experienced and able to protect themselves and others.

#thank you for patiently waiting my answer #and thank you for reading this long ass ramble lol #butch headcanons #headcanons #ask meme answers #replies #faris scherwiz #mary read #james kidd #agrias oaks #vi #ffxiv zero #endwalker patch spoilers

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mochegato · 7 months ago

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Whiplash

Roy surveyed the bar before making his way in. It had a good size crowd, active but not boisterous, amiable but not overly friendly. Definitely the kind of place he could drink in without having to worry about getting pulled into an unwelcome conversation, or a fight. More importantly, there was an open spot at the bar… next to a beautiful woman.

He moved to take the spot quickly before anyone else realized their mistake at not taking it and ordered a drink. Again, the universe seemed to have blessed him because the bartender hadn’t been paying attention and had set his drink down so close to the woman’s drink it was almost touching hers. He waited a beat then reached for his drink at the same time as the woman, which he may or may not have been, but totally was, intentional. She yanked her hand back like she was afraid he’d snap at her. “Sorry.”

He shot her his most charming, winning smile. “No, it’s completely my fault. I should have been watching where I was reaching.” He took a sip of his drink to give her a chance to do the same or turn away if she had absolutely no interest, he couldn’t be the only one who had hoped to avoid conversation that night. He had changed his mind as soon as he saw her, but that didn’t mean she had.

When she continued to smile in his direction, he took it as an invitation to continue. “My name is Roy,” he started, leaving a lull for her to fill in.

Instead, she hummed and held her drink up to toast him. “Roy, what a beautiful name.”

He snorted. Not the response he was expecting, but he had always appreciated a bit of snark. “Right. Something I hear all the time. How beautiful and completely not red neck my name is.”

She smirked at him but quickly schooled her expression into faux seriousness. “That’s good to hear. You should hear it often. Everyone should be told they’re special.”

“I would love to say that about your name,” he coaxed gently.

She shrugged; her eyes darted away as she took another sip. “I’ve heard it before. I don’t need to hear it again. I’d rather hear about something I control, that I did.”

He nodded, pulling back slightly. That was a feeling he could understand. He wasn’t a fan of false flattery either… okay, maybe he was a fan of it from women he wanted to hook up with, but not from people he wanted a real relationship with and clearly, this woman wasn’t interested in sycophancy. “That’s fair.” So, tell me what it is that you do.”

She snorted and raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded confidently. He turned toward her to prove she had his full attention and waited patiently until she responded.

She looked him over appraisingly, like she wasn’t quite sure if he was worth the distraction from her drink. “You first.”

Her voice held a hint of challenge that Roy simply could not back down from. Well, he could, but where would the fun be in that. “I’m a CIA agent,” he announced dramatically.

She rolled her eyes but then leaned closer. “Ooohhh, an overt agent.”

He grinned and waved his hand dismissively while he took another sip. “Secret agents are so Cold War.”

“Tore down the walls and the secrets,” she hummed.

His smile widened impossibly broader and clinked his glass to hers. “Exactly! How about you. What do you do?”

She narrowed her eyes as she thought how to respond, but her lips quirked up in amusement and he knew she wouldn’t refuse. “Create art,” she finally answered. Roy nodded as he took in her response. Again, not the response he’d been expecting. He’d been expecting something snarky, but he couldn’t be upset about the honesty. He started to respond but she continued before he could get a sound out. “… and chaos. More chaos than art if I’m being honest.”

He barked out a laugh and watched as she tipped her glass up to finish the last of her drink, her lips still quirked up, evidence that she was entirely too entertained with herself, which just made him want to draw her out more. But when she turned back to face him, he could see it on her face, that she was going to end their time together. He wasn’t willing to let her do that though. Not yet. Talking with her was the most fun he’d had in quite a while, and he really wanted to continue it. “Let me buy you a drink.”

She eyed him amusedly then hummed and leaned back in her chair, eyes darting away an almost guilty look flashing across her face. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Why not?” he asked. His voice was kept intentionally light, non-accusatory, non-demanding. He was having fun and he wanted to keep having fun not pressure her.

She kept her eyes on her glass as she responded, but her body continued to face him. “Might give you the wrong idea.”

“Oh? What idea is that?” Again, his tone teasing and light.

She continued to watch the glass in her hand as if it might answer the question for her. When no answer came forth after a full minute, she finally spoke up. “That I'm looking for a relationship.” He took a beat to register what she said. He had loved their interaction so far and would love to try for a relationship, but he was also willing to take whatever she was willing to give him.

He opened his mouth to offer something less serious, but she cut in before he could. “Or a situationship,” she continued, as if she could read his mind. He bobbed his head to the side and opened his mouth again, but she cut in yet again. “Or a one-night stand.”

He chuckled and nodded. Message received crystal clear. She was not interested in him. But he still wanted to give one last push. “And you're not?”

“I'm not. Not right now. Not yet,” she answered quietly.

He nodded and looked away to mask his disappointment. When he looked back, any remaining disappointment dissolved. Her eyes had unfocused, a flash of something close to the haunted look he was all too familiar with appeared and was gone almost instantaneously. It was that look that convinced him she really did mean what she’d said. It wasn’t him. She was working through something on her own, but damn if he didn’t want to help her get through it and lose that haunted look. “How about a non-committal drink? No expectations, not even to talk. Just to make your night better. I'll even walk away while you drink it.”

“No. I'm not ready for that either,” she finally returned her sad eyes to his. “But thank you, sincerely. You should stay. I’ll walk away. I wasn’t planning on being out long tonight anyway.”

Seeing the troubled look full on was harder than he expected, doubling his desire to make her smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you off. I’m sorry if I came on too strong. I tend to talk without thinking… if I’m being honest, I do a lot of things without thinking. It’s not uncommon,” he joked.

If nothing else, he could walk away feeling like he’d taken a step toward his goal, because her mirthless look dissolved into giggles. “You absolutely did not… scare me off that is,” she assured him genuinely. She took a moment to think about it, cocking her head to the side as she studied him. “Or come on too strong. In fact, you have been the highlight of my night, month… past few actually. I’ve really enjoyed talking with you.”

“I’d give you my number for when you are ready… but I get the feeling you’re not ready for that either,” he offered. There was a bit of hope in his gaze, her giggles earlier had been a good sign, but likely not enough. Healing was never easy even for the healthiest people.

Her smile dampened, but she kept her eye contact, not shrinking from him this time. “No. But I do hope you have a good night.”

He reached out like he was going to pat her arm but pulled back at the last moment and patted the bar instead with a mirroring smile. “You too, beautiful.”

He shifted his eyes to his glass to remove any pressure or make her leaving awkward. And yes, he knew he should have shifted his body from facing her as well, but he didn’t want her to think he was dismissing her, leaving him in this awkward position, body open and face diverted. If Oliver could see him, he’d be appalled at his lack of vigilance while leaving himself so open. To be clear, he could still track movement around him, in fact, better than if he had fully turned to the bar, but Oliver never lost a chance to lecture him.

He didn’t regret the decision though, because from his periphery he could see her stand then hesitate, almost sitting back down, which got his heart racing at the possibility, but ultimately she pushed away from the bar only to pause so a crowd of people could pass. He consciously forced himself to stop registering her movements and ordered another drink, giving himself a second to recover his pride.

Typically, he wouldn’t have let the rejection affect him, especially from a random woman in a random bar when he hadn’t been looking for anything anyway, and especially when she’d let him down so graciously, making it incredibly clear it wasn’t about him. But he’d thought there was a connection and a spark and for a moment he’d had hope.

Suddenly, his world was rocked by a force colliding with him, pressing flush against his body and wrapping their arms around his middle in a tight hug before he could even react. “Mon amor! I missed you.”

Roy blinked down at the figure, his arms wrapping loosely around her before his conscious mind registered that it was the French Fire Flower who had launched herself into his arms. Once his brain fully caught up with the situation, he smirked down at her. “Not that I’m objecting, but I’m getting a bit of whiplash here.”

It was only then that he noted the alarm in her eyes. “Please,” she pleaded quietly.

His arms tightened around her automatically, like a Pavlovian response to that combination of her wide eyes and anxious tone. His eyes flicked over her shoulder and instantly spotted someone shoving people out of the way on their way toward them. He kept his body and face pointed toward her but carefully tracked the man’s movements. “That asshole the reason you’re not ready to date yet?”

She nodded so minutely he wouldn’t have picked up on it if he hadn’t also heard a whispered, “Yes.”

He leaned down like he was whispering sweet nothings to his long-missed lover, only partially pretending to be lost in her touch, as he tenderly ran his hands through her hair. “How long ago was the breakup?”

She swallowed heavily and took a moment before she answered. “A few months. Um… like four.”

He grunted and leaned close enough for his lips to ghost over her ear. “And he’s crawling back?”

“More like creeping back like Jason Voorhes,” she grumbled. “Just keeps coming back no matter how many times I shut him out and more aggressively each time.”

“Hey, fucker! Get your hands off my girlfriend!” the man roared the instant he broke through the last of the groups around them.

The moment the words started coming out of his mouth Roy could feel the woman freeze and almost cower away from his anger. Roy eyed him up and down, an icy hardness in his gaze as he stood and pushed her slightly behind him, but still keeping her hugged up against his side. The man was smaller than Roy, not in height, but in breadth. Where the man was lithe and fit, Roy was muscular and solid. The comparison became more apparent when Roy turned to face off against the man. “Excuse me?” he growled.

To his credit, the man only slightly faltered, almost imperceptibly and seemed to recover quickly. “I said,” he reiterated, standing up even taller to glare back at Roy, “Get. Your. Hands. Off. My. Girlfriend.”

Roy could feel her groan more than hear it. She opened her mouth to bite back but Roy interrupted before she could. “I’ll touch my wife however and whenever I want to. That’s why I married her in the first place.”

Her eyes widened and her body stiffened for just a moment, but thankfully she appeared to recover quickly, pasting on a smile and pretended to melt into his side. It was convincing enough the tension could easily be written off as due to the confrontation, not an unexpected lie.

“You got fucking married?” He demanded glaring at her. He tried to shove into her space, but Roy moved again moving in his path and stepping forward, forcing him to retreat a step, which only seemed to infuriate the man further. He tried to peer around Roy to get close to her, but no matter how far he leaned, Roy met his movement.

“I did,” Roy answered with a cutting smile.

His eyes snapped to Roy’s. It was almost comical how red his face got from those two words. Roy’s smile got sharper at the reaction. If there was one thing he’d always been good at, it was knowing how to piss someone else off. “I wasn’t talking to you, asshole!”

At that comment, she refused to let Roy respond and piped up before he could. “Do not call my husband an asshole,” she hissed. Roy’s smile turned genuine and pulled her back into his side before dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

“What the fuck!?! Marinette, baby. What is going on? You… we were going to get married, have a family! What about our five kids? Baby, I still want them with you.” His voice was velvety smooth, his eyes pleading and contrite.

Roy braced himself for Marinette to fall for it. He wouldn’t blame her, really. If Roy hadn’t seen ploys like it from spies trying to secure information and women trying to lure Dick into a relationship, he might have believed it was authentic as well. But he was praying to whatever deity existed out there that she didn’t fall for it. He didn’t know her well, but even if he hadn’t been able to tell she was creative, funny, kind, and sweet, nobody should end up with a dirtbag like that guy.

But even from their short interaction so far, he knew that she was all those things and more and deserved someone better. She’d clearly known that at some point because she’d dropped his loser ass, but he knew from personal experience how easy it was to fall back into toxic relationships. He squeezed her, hoping to transfer some strength, because if she fell for it, he had no idea how he was going to talk her out of it.

By some miracle, his effort seemed to have an effect. Marinette stiffened in his arms and leaned into him for a second before lashing out at her ex, pushing into his space with all five foot four inches of her ready to fight. “You wanted five kids, and if you still want them, I’d suggest trying for them with Sarah or Sandra, or whatever her name was. I’m afraid I didn’t catch her name before she rushed out of the room to get dressed.”

Roy barely controlled his reaction, somehow managing to keep it to a rough exhale when he wanted to guffaw loud enough for the bouncer outside to hear him. He squeezed her hip again, this time in a show of support and approval of her cheek and hoped she understood the message despite not knowing him well enough to have learned the difference in touches.

“Baby, I love you,” the ex cooed. He reached out for Marinette to graze his fingers along her jaw but Marinette jerked her head back, inadvertently burrowing further into Roy’s chest. The ex’s eyes narrowed at the action, but he quickly covered it with a penitent expression. “It was just a mistake. She was a mistake. She meant nothing to me.”

“She clearly meant more to you than our relationship,” Marinette scoffed. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, which again brought her further into Roy’s embrace.

His lips thinned and his jaw tightened, but this time he was a few beats slower to mask it before responding. “Baby, I…”

“Cheating on someone as amazing as her?” Roy cut in, drawing the ex’s attention to him instead of Marinette. She wasn’t in this alone and he wasn’t going to let her face his ire alone. “How stupid do you have to be? I’ve been self-destructive before, and I mean self-destructive, but even at rock bottom, I wouldn’t have been that dumb. But I guess there are just some guys that would cheat and some that wouldn’t.”

“You can stay the fuck out of this. You don’t know me!” the ex roared at Roy, completely losing is composure and not even bothering to try to mask his anger and frustration like he had before.

“And I never will,” Roy granted with a slight taunt in his voice.

“And I wish I never did,” Marinette agreed. She sighed heavily and lost the rigidity in her stance, slumping slightly and shifting some of her weight onto Roy, who shouldered it effortlessly. “Leave, Noah. This,” she motioned between them without meeting his eyes which were now wide in mock supplication, “is never happening. We aren’t some star-crossed love story, riddled with misunderstandings and miscommunications. You aren’t the romantic lead. You’re the asshole I leave before my life gets better.”

His eyes instantly went from pleading to hard and hateful. “Gets better,” he spit. “You won’t be able to find better than what I gave you. You were always a bitch I had to put up with. I was only with you out of pity because nobody else would want you, not for more than a cheap fuck. In two months, you’ll be alone again and crawling back because nobody else would ever really want you.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Roy growled. He pushed Marinette behind him and punched Noah in one smooth motion, not giving Noah the chance to anticipate the action. He hit him hard enough to lay him out on the floor with one punch. “Nobody speaks like that to my wife,” he roared over Noah’s prone body.

“Mon dieu! Are you okay?” Marinette exclaimed. She rushed around Roy to survey the damage and Roy felt his heart sink as he saw her panicked expression. He’d not only given her a front row seat to him being violent, an aspect of himself he tried to save for when he was suited up, he’d hit someone who had been important to her. They hadn’t had enough time for him to show her he was more than just some crazy, aggressive neanderthal.

He almost definitely just completely destroyed any chance he had. But regardless, he refused to regret it. That man was the worst kind of filth. The kind that thought they were allowed to treat the people around them like they were disposable. The kind that thought they were inherently better than everyone else while the only evidence of that they could provide was their own bad behavior. The kind that were destined to be miserable and spread that misery to everyone around them.

He almost jumped when he felt delicate hands gently grasp his hand and lift it closer to her face so she could examine it, close enough, he could feel her breath on his skin. She tenderly brushed her fingers along the back of his hand and over his fingers only to turn it over and continue the pattern on the other side as well. Her fingers barely pressed hard enough for him to feel them, but they still electrified his skin, shooting jolts through him and stealing his breath. He managed to tear his gaze from tracing her fingers to meet her eyes.

“You're asking him?” Noah screeched as he attempted to get back up, swaying slightly, still reeling from the punch.

Roy flexed his hand a few times to stretch out the muscles, never removing his hand or gaze from hers. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I know how to throw a punch.”

Marinette dropped her eyes to his hand again, a concerned wrinkle developing the longer she examined it. “Wait just a second!” she exclaimed then turned to the bar.

Roy followed her movements, not noticing the small, sappy smile tugging up the corners of his lips, but he did notice Noah finally managing to raise up to his feet. He managed to tear his eyes from Marinette to fix him with a withering glare threatening enough to make Noah falter almost tripping over a chair behind him, only managing to catch himself at the last minute.

“Ever disrespect my wife like that again and it’ll be a year before you can walk out of the hospital, if you even ever can use your legs again. In fact, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself if I ever even see you around her at all. So, I would highly recommend you just disappear from her life. Assholes like you are a dime a dozen and that’s after inflation and still overpriced.”

Noah glared back but Roy straightened up even further and flexed his fist. The movement didn’t go unnoticed. He held his ground for just a few seconds before scoffing. “She’s not even worth the time I spent on her anyway.” Roy jerked toward him and Noah scattered like a cat seeing a cucumber.

Marinette returned just as Noah had disappeared into the crowd. She didn’t even seem to notice he was gone, let alone look for him, just focused on Roy’s hand. She ushered him back to his seat and gently lifted his hand onto the bar and delicately set the ice on it not meeting his gaze. “I’m so sorry for that! I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. If I’d known you might be in danger, I never would have…”

“Hey,” he dipped down until he could meet her eyes and smiled, “I’m fine. Thank you for the ice. It was sweet of you to take care of me.” He motioned to the chair she’d been sitting in earlier for her and helped ease her into it. “Are you okay?”

“You're the one that's bloody!” she exclaimed, almost getting back up to drive home her point.

“But you're the one that he was trying to hurt,” he pointed out. He intentionally kept his voice smooth and calm hoping to sooth her nerves, as though his tranquility could be absorbed like osmosis.

She still wouldn’t meet his eyes, instead unnecessarily adjusting the bag of ice to better cover his knuckles. He used the distraction to motion to the bartender for another round of drinks. “Yeah, it happens,” she finally shrugged. “Not the worst I’ve heard.”

“That's a goddamned tragedy,” he hooked a finger under her chin to urge her face up to meet his gaze, “because you're amazing and he’s nothing more than an asshole. And, not to scare you but after hearing that, I kind of wish I’d hit him harder…” he winced thinking about how hard the man had gone down. He wasn’t looking to go to prison. How was he supposed to convince this amazing woman to date him from prison. “…maybe not harder. But a few more times with the same force if it would make you feel safe and erase your frown.”

She scoffed and turned to focus on the glass that just appeared before her, but after a beat glanced up through her lashes and offered a weak smile. “Thanks. But to be honest, his words don’t really hurt anymore.”

He nodded and pushed her drink toward her. “Good. I’d say you’re a hundred times him, but at best he’s worthless, and any number times zero is zero, so that wouldn’t be accurate.”

She snorted and took a drink. She stared at the drink for a second before glancing at him from the side and smirking. “They teach you math like that at spy camp?”

For the first time since Noah had appeared, Roy smiled, a full, toothy, joyous smile. He nodded. “It’s day two. Right after how to punch assholes and use those little cigarette lighter camera things they used to have.”

Her laugh permeated through him straight to his core and warmed his entire body like stoking the hearth. She tipped up her glass to finish off the drink and took a fortifying breath before turning to him. “I think I’m ready to take your number… and give you mine.” Her voice wavered slightly, but there was still a determined chord running through it.

He blinked at her comment, a bit caught off guard, but a slow smile spread across his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I should have my husband’s number after all,” she added shyly.

His smile turned into a full-on grin. “Not to push my luck, but can I have my wife’s name as well?” He’d heard her name from her ex yelling it, but he wanted it to come from her. He wanted her to entrust him with that part of herself. “Or should I just give you mine to take.”

“It’ll get a bit confusing if we both are called Roy,” she observed overly innocently. He rolled his eyes, but his lips stuck in their amused slant. “I better stick with Marinette,” she shrugged. He inhaled like he was going to start speaking but let it out silently instead. She raised an eyebrow at him. “No witty comment? Have I dumbfounded you with my name?”

He shook his head slowly. “I know better than to tell you how beautiful your name is, but I do think it could be better.”

“You don’t like my name?” she asked. The uncertainty in her voice cut directly into Roy’s heart.

“I do,” he granted quickly, before she could ruminate too long in her misperception. He shifted closer, crowding into her space, his knees brushing on either side of hers, his eyes intently focused. “It’s beautiful, just like you, I just think Marinette Harper sounds even more beautiful,” he smirked.

Her heart stuttered at the low, confidence in his voice. She took a breath before returning his smirk and leaning toward him. “And what makes you think I’ll take your name?”

“You won’t tell me your last name, so…” he inhaled dramatically through gritted teeth and shrugged helplessly, “we’re going to have to use mine. No choice.”

“Oh, so tragic,” she commiserated.

“It truly is,” he agreed sadly.

The smile that had spread at his comment eventually eased into a quieter one. She straightened up and held her phone out for him. “I really do have to get going, but I really would like to get your number.” Roy looked from the phone to her a few times before entering the number and standing as he returned it. Marinette glanced down at the phone and smiled. “Sexy Husband?” she asked.

He grinned brilliantly and held his hand out for her. “So you don’t get confused. And for the record, I have no intention of letting my wife go home alone.” When she hesitated, he quickly clarified, “not while your ex might be waiting outside the bar or your place to ambush you. But I will if you want.”

Her smile returned, content and genuine and she took his outstretched hand. “Thank you. I’d like that very much.”

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#maribat #roynette #arrow april #prompt - CIA agent #Roynette Week

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