#these books are so aggressively straight with all this talk about men and women and how different they are she couldn’t handle beloved | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fiddleturnips · 6 months ago

Text

At this point I should seriously just drop the pretense of writing fanfiction and make this whole thing an original narrative. Anyway, here's Stan and Ford and the Lesbians:

Note: this story is playing fast and loose with pronouns and queer culture. This is to reflect the fact that these are two cishet men in a lesbian space in the 1980s. It's intentionally written to come off as ignorant, but well-meaning. The narrator is unreliable.

Stan has been getting used to the new routine with Emma-Mae and Fiddleford. They love him, he loves them, and he never knew that you could love family life so much.

But: he is still very much a heterosexual man being thrown into a homoromantic relationship for the first time. Some things are going over his head, and he's struggling to really understand them. He talks to Ford about this; since Ford isn't in the same bedroom situation, all of the others tend to vent their frustrations to him. In this particular instance, Stan is struggling to really know how to take care of a partner who does not like to be touched sexually, but loves to touch others. It feels unfair and imbalanced. It feels like Fiddleford might not really be a part of the sexual experience in the same way, like he might feel left out or used if things continue this way.

Ford, as we have established, has a rather extensive book knowledge of queer culture -- despite having very little sexual, romantic, or gender experience himself. Ford does not fully understand how Fiddleford feels, but he has an idea of who might be able to help.

The problem is... he also fears that to ask for help would be an intrusion. He knows that this is not their community.

He knows it's a risk.

But, science demands risk, so one day, he and Stan tell the other two that they're taking a day out together as brothers, and then they drive into the city.

When they walk into the bookshop, they can feel the tension. This is not their place. They are not wanted here. They are clearly men, clearly straight, and clearly uncomfortable in this aggressively women-only environment. This is the nineteen eighties; queer subcultures can be reclusive and secretive, guarding themselves ferociously against anyone who might be on the side of the law. The fine grains of sex and gender that the 2000s developed, with its free availability of information and universal decriminalization of homosexuality, do not yet exist. Everything about these two big, scruffy, normal-looking men who are clearly not from around here clashes with the intended demographic of the store.

Ford walks up to the counter, awkward as anything. Stan tries to make himself inconspicuous by reading the shelves. The titles are strange, but no stranger than he'd seen on other shelves. They speak of a world that he is not only not part of, but has been intentionally shut out of since birth.

"Excuse me," says Ford, to the red-lipped dyke behind the counter. "I know that we aren't your usual customers, but we're looking for some information that I don't think I can get anywhere else."

She stares at him like he's speaking a different language. There is a second woman, a high femme in heals and perfect hair, who watches with the sort of open, disdainful curiosity you'd see at a zoo. Ford feels small and out of place, but he continues, lowering his voice like they're in a library.

"M-my brother, he has recently entered a, um, a relationship, and h-his partner is - well, his partner does not like to be touched. And I know m-men must experience this sort of thing often enough, but, ah, I have only heard of the phenomenon among women."

The moment, the very moment Ford genders Stan's partner - the moment the ladies realize that these two brothers are not intruders in their space, but pilgrims seeking help - everything changes. The femme woman's eyebrows raise in curiosity, the red-lipped cashier's face becomes animated and attentive.

"Hey, Jay, these guys might be up your alley!"

To Ford's shock, the person who emerges is a man. No, wait - she's... ? Ford does not know if the person who emerged is a man or a woman. He reminds himself yet again that this is not a place where you assume, and that the person very well might not be considered either. This individual, presumably a butch lesbian but perhaps something else, radiates steadiness like the captain of a ship. Ford is suddenly certain that this is the one in charge here.

"How can I help you?" the person asks. The voice is a low alto, or perhaps a high tenor. It does not help.

"My name is Stanford Pines," Ford says, hoping that the use of a real name will be seen as a peace offering - you know me and I am not asking to know you. "This is my brother."

"They're looking for some stone materials," the Femme says to the newcomer. "They seem cool."

The newcomer regards him for a moment, then nods. "You familiar with this kind of stuff?"

"I am, somewhat," Ford says. He feels his shoulders sink with relief. "Only from what I've read, obviously. I do my best to be educated on sexual matters. This is new territory for my brother and his-" - Ford stumbles over the right word - "-lover."

"Yeah, gimme a sec. What's your budget?"

Ford feels even more relief. Money is much easier to exchange than good will. "Fairly high. Probably higher than Stan's patience."

Stan cringes. Ford realizes his mistake, thata first name might a private detail.

Ford swallows, though, and goes on: "But the man he's involved with is an avid reader, and likely needs the encouragement much more than either of us."

"Yeah, I'm not a big reader," Stan mumbles, blushing and hiding his head in his collar.

Their guide explores the shelves, picking out books from the stack with practiced agility. She or he or whatever the gender is brings a sizeable stack to the counter, divided into sections.

"These three are required reading. They should help you get an idea of what you're getting into," the guide says over Ford's shoulder, looking straight at Stanley - who is still avoiding the counter. "The green one is a pretty easy read. I usually give it to younger girls. This is one I've recommended to guys with dicks before. These two are just general use, good to have in the house."

"Ah, I recognize a couple of these," Ford says, beginning to feel more comfortable as the talk gets academic. The femme raises an eyebrow at him, and he shrinks back again.

He's an outsider, he reminds himself again. Don't get too haughty.

They check out. Ford pays in cash. He leaves a sizeable tip, not really caring if it was wanted or expected but knowing that money leaves a mark.

As he rejoins Stan and they begin to walk out, Stan says:

"Do you think he'll go for it?"

And Ford replies:

"Stanley, you know he'll do anything as long as you're the one to ask it of him."

And then, from behind him, a high tenor (or low alto) voice says:

"Wait."

They stop in the doorway and turn back.

The captain of the shop is leaning against the counter. She stares intensely at Stan. She points at him.

"Come here," she says.

Stan swallows. He's never been this intimidated in his life. He walks back toward the counter. This weird lesbian bookmonger commands more respect from him than his own father ever did at his scariest.

Ford, in a moment of cowardice, hangs back.

"Tell me about him."

Stan pushes his hands deep in his pockets. His eyes shift away. He swallows again; his throat is dry.

"He's, uh, he's cute. And real nice. Not like anyone I've had before."

"Is it your first time with a man?"

Stan nods.

"What your brother just said - what was he talking about?"

"Well." Stan looks at the shelves. He looks at the ceiling. He's suddenly protective of his lover, doesn't want to speak badly of him. "He's amazing. Nobody better make fun of him, alright? Don't care if you're a lady or not, sorry I really can't tell, but I'll clock you hard if you make fun of him."

She laughs hard at that low in her chest. The lipstick cashier grins wide.

"Let's say not a lady," she - he? - says. "But on my honor, I won't speak bad about your boy."

"He-" Stan takes his hands from his pockets and begins to play with his sleeves. "He's been through some shit. And he needs someone to take care of him. And he loves it so much, it makes him real happy when I'm there."

Beginning like that, baring his heart to this total stranger, does something to Stan. It does something more than alcohol, more than long sleepless nights on the road. And suddenly, all at once, it's pouring out of his heart, out of his mouth, stinging his eyes, the words are swallowing up the entire rest of the world:

"And he deserves the whole fucking world, you know? He likes it when I order him around a bit, but not, like, all dirty and mean about it, he just likes knowing he's safe, and that I got him, he can let go for a while. He, he trusts me so much, like nothing else, he's like a little baby bird or something or, or a puppy, just needs someone to remind him it's okay. And I'd do anything to take care of him, nobody ever gets to hurt him again if I'm around. But he's kinda, he, he needs it, y'know?"

Stan suddenly looks up, because he needs to see it in this bookstore butch's face, needs to know that he understands, that there's sympathy, and what Stan finds there is the rapt attention of someone who one hundred percent knows exactly what Stan is saying.

"He never knows when to quit! He forgets to take care of himself, and he gets caught up in his head or the nightmares when they get bad, and sometimes I just gotta - I just gotta tell him, y'know? Tell him to sit down and eat something, or go sleep and I've got him while he does, and he, well, he listens to me, y'know? He does what I say. Even when I'm dumb sometimes, way dumber than he is, he, he looks up to me like I'm a fucking rabbi or something, and then he does anything I tell him, and that's, that's, that's terrifying. Dumb idiot like me, and I have the most amazing guy in the whole world and I just, I'm scared of breaking him. Scared I'll screw up, like I screwed up everything else. But I can't, I ain't gonna screw this up. I'll do anything not to screw it up."

Stan runs out of steam. The lipstick cashier is tearing up and pressing her own cheek with one hand. The femme has an arm around her.

"Oh, honey," the femme says, the first words from her mouth this whole time. It's high and bright and as pretty as the rest of her.

Stan drops his head, embarrassed, sure he looks like a stupid sap, the uggliest guy in this damn bookshop, pressing back the tears so hard his cheeks hurt.

The bookmonger puts a strong, heavy hand on Stan's shoulder. Then he lifts it and cuffs Stan's head.

"Hey," he says. "We're all scared. It's worth being scared. It's totally, one hundred percent worth it. And you? I can tell you're gonna be great. Even if you screw it up, remember how you feel right now, and remember that you have something right now that most people never have in their lives. Even if you lose him someday, you remember that."

Stan squeezes his hands into fists. "I don't want to lose him."

The bookmonger shrugs. He doesn't argue.

"Well, anyway," he says.

He grabs a pencil and paper, scribbles an address and the name of a shop on it, tears it off and hands it to Stan. "You head to these guys, you tell them some of what you just told me, about how this guy relies on you to order him around some and how you don't wanna screw it up. They'll help you out."

Stan reads the paper, puzzled. It is embarrassingly obvious from the name that this is a sex shop.

"Uh, okay," he says.

"Now get out," the bookmonger says, although there is little force in the words.

Stan leaves with Ford. As they go, the femme's voice carries: "Oh, they're adorable."

The bookmonger replies: "Eh. Give it time."

Outside on the sidewalk, Ford holds the books in one arm, and they look down at the address. It's a few blocks away, easy enough to reach on foot.

"Well," says Stan, "can't be any more embarrassing than this was."

Part Two shall come whenever I have the time and motivation

#Fiddleturnips #Fiddlestan #Lesbians!#stanford pines #Stanley Pines #fiddleford mcgucket (mentioned)#Captain Bookmonger #I need to proofread this but I'm posting it now anyway #Stan and Ford do not know the word “contralto”#Lipstick Cashier #Judgemental Femme

8 notes · View notes

bitsandbobsfromrandomfandoms · 3 months ago

Text

Heterosexual Porn, Female Sexuality & M/M Fanfiction

TW: Social Trauma, Discussions of Sexual Assault

When I was much younger, I couldn't explain what it was that disturbed me about porn created for straight men.

I'm sure that it will come as a shock to no one that there are a number of disturbing themes show up consistently that I haven't seen anyone actually talk about it.

So I'm going to try.

If on the off-chance there are people have read great books or articles that discusses this subject, let me know, I would love to read it.

Porn and the sex industry is still treated as if it's taboo. A necessary evil that people reach for furtively when they have the itch and abandon just as quickly.

But I actually think that by examining the tropes and themes that come up repeatedly and consistently in porn, we can learn something about the underground nature of men, what they want and what they find desirable.

For example, there is an entire channel on PornHub called Porn Force and most of the videos seem to feature very young, very petite women who are being absolutely dominated by men during sex.

I'm not saying it's every single video and I don't want to argue about semantics. I'm also not here to discuss the consensual nature of these videos.

What I am here to discuss is how it looks from a woman's perspective and what it looks like is complete sexual subjugation.

The woman are moved around and treated as if they are little more than sex dolls.

They are there to be used according to the man's whims. She doesn't look an active participant in the act. She is just there to take whatever the man gives her and it also doesn't look like these women can say stop or say no to something that the man wants when he really gets going.

If there are women in the world who enjoy being treated this way, I have yet to find them.

I'm also suspect that if they do exist, then their sexual relationships with men is likely D/s in nature and that parameters are negotiated safely between the partners.

At least I really hope so.

You get where I'm coming from with this?

There seems to be an appetite in men for sexual domination of their partner. And not just domination... sometimes even violence and aggression.

There is a brilliant quote from Oscar Wilde that says “Everything in the world is about sex — except sex. Sex is about power.”

And I don't think that when we engage in relationship, the subject of power can be left out, especially when both partners regardless of gender, want to maintain their separateness, their human rights, their boundaries and their autonomy.

I think the physiological nature of women's bodies forces us to take a submissive role during sex since its penertrative aspect is naturally invasive to women.

And maybe the truth of that nature is why so many of the religions and patriarchal constructs espouses that women are meant to be submissive to men.

Now. Make no mistake, I don't believe that for a second.

Despite the nature of our bodies. Feminine vulnerability is a gift to men and to demand submission from woman in all other aspects is also to deny women our humanity and autonomy.

But any way... I think that women understand deeply that men desire sexual submission or at the very least they want to be uninhibited when it comes to sex in a way they probably can't be with women they truly respect.

For example:

In the last 24 hours I have 2 reddit posts about men who stealthed women (secretly removed a condom without her knowing) during sex [x][x]

Which brings me to my next point.

Female sexuality is complicated.

At every turn, we have to fight. Fight for our bodily autonomy. Fight for our reproductive rights.

Fight for our sexual rights. The second reddit post broke my heart. The girl said she was prepped for about a minute before the guy just "shoved it in", she later found out that he'd removed the condom although she explicitly stated to him in past encounters that she did not want to have unprotected sex.

What was worse was that she couldn't seem to decide if she was assaulted or not because she had consented to have sex. (In my mind she was very clearly assaulted)

But my point is sex in the real world for women is just too real at times.

Too painful.

And I think it's perhaps one of the reasons why women retreat into m/m fanfiction.

It's an escape. An avoidance of the very real dynamics that exist between men and women.

And not only that, the differences between how men and women experience arousal cannot be ignored.

When men actually care about women, they care to make the experience wonderful for them and that means time & foreplay. I'm sure there are many men who enjoy this just as I'm also sure there are just many who don't give a shit.

But because of the strength differential between men and women, I have to wonder if that also means that men are naturally more inhibited when they have sex with women.

Women seem to think so.

Look what you made me do by cicak

Geralt understands how long sex can last, always feels sorry and guilty for the women he beds who don’t understand that stamina was one of the most successful mutations he gained. He hates how easy it is to push that little bit too far into pain unless he’s careful (and he’s always careful, he loves women, loves their pleasure, never lets himself get carried away) but now there’s a man behind him and he realises that he can take it, that they made him perfectly for this by accident, so he can take all that male stamina and strength into himself and enjoy it like a glutton, enjoy it in the way he only has been able to a handful of times in his life, match every stroke with his own power.

HP Custom Brooms by marguerite_26

Harry loved a tight grip, an almost punishing pace. A wank that women could never aspire to.

(Side note: both of these stories were fantastic beyond reason and I can’t rec either one enough)

I think, under the surface, when straight women perceive gay or homoerotic relationships or we imagine these sexual situations involving men, we have also this tendency to imagine that men don't have hold back when they're with other men.

They can be as rough, as shameless, as uninhibited and as dominant as they want. We imagine also, that other men are better built to take it and enjoy much better than a woman would on the account of being stronger physically.

I think that women enjoy the idea of uninhibited men through fiction in a way the probably wouldn't in real life.

And I also think the sexual freedom that men have and women don't in a patriarchal society is something women experience vicariously through m/m fanfiction.

There are a lot of complicated reasons for why women love this kind of fiction.

Personally I don't think I've come to terms with myself as a sexual being. There are barriers and inhibitions and shame.

I'm exploring this topic because it is important to me to understand. My body. My sex. It all seems starved for my own compassion.

Just as porn for straight men can tells us important things about male sexuality, I believe porn for women can tell us plenty about female sexuality.

But it is not as clear cut. So many fanfictions deal with love, romance and courtship. Sometimes it also just about exploring a thought, a feeling or an idea that but may not be personal in the slightest but just fun to entertain for a little while!

Fandom as a whole has become a space for media to exist outside conservative-white-cis society. So to say it's solely about porn is reductive and wrong.

But at the same time?

And for straight women especially, I think there is a social trauma hiding underneath —especially for women who harbour a great love of m/m fanfiction. I think there is internalised misogyny there that is never discussed because it's against the rules to do so.

I think that many straight women who struggle with a deeply rooted shame or have trouble connecting with their own sexuality in their real-life interpersonal relationships, have retreated into m/m fanfiction because it gives us a safe place for exploration of both ideas and desires and secrets wants.

I don't even know how to talk about this. Much less pull it out of the dark, pull it apart.

I'm wondering how to unwrite from within me:

this deep instinctive fear of men

this shame about my own sexuality

my resentment and anger towards the patriarchy

my contempt of men and my avoidance of them

internalised misogyny and whatever way it exists in me, and how I might've projected it, unknowingly, onto other women

everything in me that I feel was thrust on me by the outside world that I did not choose but have been socialized to just accept and now must take responsibility for.

I can tell this is perhaps just one post in what is sure to be a litany where I will probably rant and rant to my heart's content.... or until all the bad things bleed out.

Like an exorcism. Or something.

#fandom discourse #fic recs #m/m fanfiction #journal post #feminism #female sexuality #ao3

0 notes

alarrytale · 6 months ago

Note

Hi Marte. Have you heard of Ch.appell R.oan? She is out as queer and talks a lot about being attracted to women. She has songs about men and women. Her career is starting to take off and her recent album has done well considering she isn't mainstream yet. She was an opening act for Ol*via R*drigo and was recently at the Boston Calling festival and had a big audience. Recent articles say that she is going to become pop's next big thing. Which would be amazing considering she has sapphic songs. I really hope that if she becomes mainstream that she'll keep doing what she is doing and not change to suit a heterosexual mainstream audience. She's gaining so much popularity now and it is through her sapphic songs. It is why people like her, or they don't care about her identity and just enjoy her music. So I hope she doesn't change. It is what sets her apart from other female artists. I really hope she makes it mainstream. How amazing would it be to have more songs about same sex attraction. On twitter sapphic songs, movies, books etc are growing in popularity. I don't know if that transfers to 'real life'. I hope so. B*ygenius is growing in popularity too and there is a recent band of men and women who are all queer but I forgot who! It seems like more artists are CO now at the beginning of their career and they're being picked up by labels. I really hope this continues, that more and more out queer artists will make it mainstream. But where does this leave artists with established careers? They've got a fanbase who have probably been manipulated into thinking the artist is straight. It seems harder for established artists to CO when in the past it seemed harder for newer artists to CO. Billie CO is a step forward. She has a song about women and people seem to like it. I just worry about the likes of Harry being left behind. If he CO when he's 40+ it's not going to have any impact. If record labels invest in more queer artists it'll mean that closeted male artists will have to stay closeted to appeal to the straight women. It seems hard for them to CO. Will they be able to do it?

Hi, anon!

I love Chappell Roan! I've talked about her a bit before. So no need to star her out on this blog - i've got nothing but praise for her. She's currently my top played artist on spotify. She's such an interesting artist, banger songs and i really love her unique voice. I watched her Tiny Desk concert and her Coachella set a month or so ago, she's so good live too.

I heard Lunch by Billie followed by Good luck, babe by CR on the radio yesterday and i thought it was so queer. I love it. Queer mainstream artist are doing so well and i'm so proud of them.

I don't know how the closeted established artists will react to younger artists coming out, and out artists going mainstream. In a way it will get harder for them to come out because they have to compete. Being out and queer is a novelty now and a USP, but if many artists come out the novelty will wear off and they have to find another USP. Being queer can't be their whole personality. That's a good thing, because being queer will be more normalised, but the advantages of coming out won't be as great if you're not in the first wave and get to use it as a selling point or for attention.

I don't think it's impossible at all, but if you're the last one out, and everyone else has already paved the way for you, written all the queer songs and had all the same sex relationships then you have to find other ways to stand out and be original that will make people pay attention to you. And with so many new and upcoming talented out queer artist, that don't have baggage or aggressive homophobic denials on their shoulders, it's going to be hard to compete.

#queer convos #coming out #chappell roan

1 note · View note

ploncc · 1 year ago

Text

This might be poking at a hornet's nest, but given the whole Mishonry Road bit, I think an interpretation of what The Left Hand of Darkness has to say on sex/gender could be something along the lines of:

"The current focus of gender liberation relies upon distinct gender categories (i.e. man and woman) and opposes the oppression of one by the other. However, this only serves to uphold the idea that there exists distinct categories of people (i.e. women and men), with therefore differing humanities, and as such (it will not be hard to conclude, if not by us, then by those in the future), different rights. Instead, sex should only concern us in matters of reproduction. Otherwise, it is irrelevant. By making sex an irrelevant detail in the majority of our lives, we stop categorizing people due to reproductive capacity or non-capacity and attributing to them different kinds of humanity."

Which I've said before but I think I have to say again: that's fucking fascinating. The idea that deconstruction of sexism, at a certain point, requires the deconstruction of sex (and gender) itself is....wow. Potent, for sure--regardless of whether you agree with it or not.

But what really fascinates me is how little I hear this interpretation being referenced. Like, I'm assuming that if you're interacting with this post, you've read the book, so you know the sexual system on Gethen, you've read the Mishnory Road bit even if it didn't stand out to you, you've understood some of the basic themes, you know how Genly Ai reacts to being shown his originating gender system at the end of the book. This isn't an out-there interpretation of the text. My other post where I talk about Genly Ai deconstructing his sexism so hard he's barely left with any gender system at all has a shocking number of notes given how relatively few of us there are talking about the book (still).

But it is, maybe, sort of Out-There feeling as an actual stance? It feels good to claim that sex is irrelevant unless reproduction is involved, as is presumably gender since we wouldn't be raising children any differently on the basis of reproductive capacity or non-capacity...until we realize that "no sex/gender" also means "attraction on the basis of sex/gender ceases to be relevant." Which is a huge problem for many gay, lesbian, straight, and bisexual people. And who knows, if the idea that sex and gender are irrelevant ever catches on, maybe that'll be a big social change that'll make our future generations look at us like we're insane for clinging to the idea of being attracted on the basis of gender/sex the same way we look at past generations clinging to the idea of god-given, naturally occurring gender roles. But right now, that idea is scary. Yes, it would destroy the ways of life for a lot of people we don't like (assuming you're the kind of person that dislikes the aggressively straight, cisgender, 'no coloring outside the lines' crowd), but it would also destroy our way of life. See? Scary.

If the above interpretation of The Left Hand of Darkness is ""right,"" then at some point, we have to figure out whether we're wiling to leave the Mishnory road.

If it's wrong, then no problem--it's just odd that we don't often talk about it as an interpretation.

#the left hand of darkness #ursula k le guin #sexism #gender

0 notes

maoam · 5 months ago

Note

Can you talk about Naruto’s internalized homophobia? Also what do you think of when he said men will be men on that animal island?

Naruto most likely sees how the world around him works, and it affects his behaviour, especially since he craves for acceptance.

Notice the difference in his reaction when another guy says he likes him in part 1 vs part 2.

(Sorry for a bit poor quality, it was difficult to find an accurate translation, most were viz translations which didn't convey this convo very well). In part 1 he's just annoyed, because he doesn't like Kankurou as a person. He didn't even think about that "I like you" could have certain other implications. But in part 2 he's straight up creeped out by Kakashi saying the same thing, eventhough the meaning and intention is the same in both.

Naruto's reaction to Kurama mentioning his kiss with Sasuke was also way too over the top. Like really comical. Naruto was putting on a show in front of everyone. But whenever he's with Sasuke, he forgets all about this, he is fine with waxing poetry to Sasuke, or Sasuke being close to him...

My guess is since he went through puberty he also learned things about himself and thus started to become more sensitive to such things. Thus internalized homophobia.

Take this scene for example. He seems a bit uncomfortable being there. Sai was probably made to be like this (inappropriate, talking about p*nis all the time, being compared to Sasuke, challenging Naruto about his fixation on Sasuke) so Kishi could introduce more such themes into the manga. He's rather clever about this.

Another guess (it could be both combined) would be that since Jiraiya is so aggressively straight man (to the point he has to introduce himself by saying he's not into men lol) living with him for those years during the timeskip could have affected Naruto's mindset even more. But it's funny how Kishi keeps stressing over and over how Naruto finds Jiraiya's er*tic books boring. Also unlike Jiraiya who peeps on women for p*rverted reasons, Naruto does it as a prank, and in order to practice his oiroke no jutsu. Kishi is trying to show how they are different. I remember on one discussion forum one guy actually brought up he noticed Naruto's changed behaviour after he came back with Jiraiya! Like that he was even more gay and more sensitive to gay things. See, other people notice too.

Then he calls Konohamaru's boy-on-boy jutsu "nasty". Naturally, it's a shonen, Naruto can't have a comically interested reaction like Sakura to something like that, it wouldn't fly. Thus the internalized homophobia. But I also think he didn't want to see Sasuke who he's possessive over being with Sai like that lol. And Naruto really isn't one to talk considering what he came up with later.

Look how proud he looks. Little hypocrite. He's been working on those twink bods more than rasengan lol. Kishi wasn't very subtle with that comment. Also Kishi fought for this moment with his editors for YEARS because he just really needed to write this down. It was just that important to him...

Of course Naruto's repression comes up when it comes to Sasuke as well. Here he admits Sasuke is attractive, but then immediately backpedals on it. His real feelings just slipped.

Later, he was thinking about Sasuke, his mind consumed by Sasuke, but when Sakura and Sai appear his whole body language changes and he immediately claims he was thinking about a date with Sakura. He didn't want to be vulnerable nor let anyone know about his real feelings at the moment. He is hiding behind a heterosexual facade.

But sometimes Naruto doesn't even think of backpedaling on it. He is with his supposed "crush" yet unlike anyone else who would try to get closer or maybe flirt, he is just thinking about Sasuke. This is actually a moment that made many people raise their eyebrows. Including people who didn't like narusasu, or people who didn't ship anything. Specifically because it's written like a clickbait, as in Naruto says "he is happy" and Sakura going "huh?" and because she's his supposed crush who is taking care of him as I said most readers would expect next page have Naruto say something that would emphasize his crush on Sakura. But no, he goes on about Sasuke. No matter how much ss/nh insist we see gay everywhere, many other people picked up on Kishi's writing at many points during the story. But anyway, even with the internalized homophobia, Naruto's love for Sasuke is so strong he can say crazy things about Sasuke to other people and to Sasuke himself that things like "I'm starting to like you" (a completely average thing to say to another person) can't compare to, and still be unbothered by it.

Finally there is the interaction with Minato. Naruto wants to look good in front of his dad so he hesitantly agrees Sakura is his girlfriend, despite how in the previous arc we were shown that Naruto knew Sakura still likes Sasuke, and was angry at her when she tried to confess to him. So he is obviously not serious about Sakura being his girlfriend, but he is saying it to Minato hesitantly. Yet when his dad is leaving he doesn't want to lie anymore.... but he's also hesitant about admitting he hasn't found a girl like his mom wanted.

About the last part, I think it's referring to the armadillo scene? I think it was Kishi's typical humour, like how Naruto saw Haku in makeup and feminine clothing, and assumed Haku was a girl, but then was told Haku is a boy and went "oh okay, I didn't know that kind of thing existed". Here there was instead an armadillo that somehow looked like it was wearing makeup (??? idek or at least looked feminine) and since Naruto needed to write down whether the animals were boys or girls (a ridiculous cover up mission they made up to hide the war was going on from Naruto lol) but then it was flipped over with everyone else and Naruto saw its penis and went "even if heaven and earth switched places, a male is still a male". I guess Kishi likes this kind of thing lol... his dick jokes...

I know it says "the world might flip over" here but I know it's actually that proverb "even if heaven and earth switched places" that's often used in Japanese.

EDIT: this got flagggged by tumblr so I had to edit sus words, let's see if it can be posted now.

#sns #narusasu #sasunaru #oh god finally I managed to finish this...#and there's still about a million drafts left

6 notes · View notes

hellfiremunsonn · 2 years ago

Text

Don’t ever do that again. Eddie Munson x Reader

Don’t ever do that again (Inspired by that fight scene in perks of being a wallflower)

I do not allow my writing to be republished anywhere other than my own blog without my consent

Summary: The popular kids of Hawkins high bullying you wasn't something you were unfamiliar with. It was almost routine to walk through the metal doors and hear comments, jabs, insults, hurled at you left and right, about you, your boyfriend, your sexuality and your friends. But it never bothered you too much. You were friends with someone of the coolest and most annoying people in the school and you wouldn't have it any other way. It did however, bother Eddie.

(This fic has no smut. Younger audiences are able to read this without any explicit content. but I will still be marking and labeling my writing as 18+)

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Word count: 2552

Warnings: blood, fighting, homophobic comments, the word ‘lesbian’ used negatively, swearing, established relationship, fem reader.

(I want to add that being part of the LGBT+ is nothing to be ashamed of and these words are not insults. I myself am part of the LGBT+ Community and would never maliciously use these words towards someone. This is all in the name of writing, and the timeline of stranger things being set in the 80′s, being part of the LGBT+ community was not something people often talked or bragged about, especially in high school. I do not condone using these words as insults, nor do I use them as insults in my day to day life. Its how I feel Jason would address this situation and what slurs he would use)

♡♡♡

The lunch bell rang and I exited my English class making my way to my locker before heading to the cafeteria. It had been one of those days where time seemed to go by way slower than it actually was and it was agonizing. The only thing that was getting me through the day was knowing I would see Eddie at lunch.

Attempting to switch out my textbooks with one hand someone on the other side of my locker door slapped the books out of my hand and onto my feet in front of me. I rolled my eyes closing my locker looking over to see the group of familiar faces. "Jason" I said giving him a nod "and ladies" I said addressing many of the cheerleaders standing behind him minus Chrissy Cunningham. The only popular cheerleader who didn't involve herself in the bullying activities.

It was a cruel routine at this point for them to bother me, and most often right before lunch. "Where's the rest of you freaks?" Jason asked. Venom in his words.

He never liked me because I wouldn't pretend to like him. Pretend he was a good person, when he really wasn't and I pitied Chrissy for ever being with him. He also didn't like that I was open about my sexuality, being attracted to men and women, but to him, I was a'freak' and a lesbian' and that Eddie and I used each other to hide our sexualities by being in a 'straight' relationship which was so far from the truth.

"Probably at lunch like everybody else Jason" I said as I turned towards them now, crossing my arms over my chest. "Or did you forget how to tell time again?" I said mocking sympathy and patting him on the shoulder. He slapped my hand off of him aggressively.

"Don't touch me"

"Or what Jason? You gunna hit me? Show everyone how much of an asshole you really are?"

He scoffed leaning back slightly. I could tell he wanted to say and do more than he could, but his reputation was more important. "I won't do anything but they might" He said gesturing to the girls behind him.

That's when my stomach dropped a little. The girls had cornered me before, and would beat on me secretly in the girls bathroom after locking the door behind them.

And just like then, they lead and pushed me into the girls bathroom, locking the door behind them. Pushing me against the wall they ripped my backpack off of me, dumping the remains onto the floor, and dropping my books into the toilet. I didn't often fight back. Because at this point there was no use, it was me against all of them not a fair fight. But seeing them drop my personal books, ones I loved ad cherished into not only water, but toilet water hurt more than anything they could to do me physically.

Today that was all they did. Ruined my belongings and left me. Once they finally retreated out of the bathroom I slid down the wall letting a few tears roll down my cheeks before I aggressively whipped them away with my sleeve. I retrieved my books from the water and dried them as best as I could with the hand dryer that lazily blew lukewarm air through the soggy pages.

After fixing them as much as I could, I brought the books back to my locker and finally made my way into the cafeteria Jason and his groupies snickering and whispering homophobic comments towards me as I walked past them.

Before sitting down at the end of the cafeteria table with the rest of the gang, I gave Eddie a quick kiss to his temple. Turning towards me beaming he said loudly. "There's my gorgeous girl! I was just about to send a search party out for you!" Dropping my bag onto the floor near my feet I went to sit when Eddie reached towards me with both hands. "No come back, maybe kiss me on the mouth" His hands cupping my face to pull me into him. I giggled into the kiss as he littered my mouth and cheeks with small pecks. "Get a room" Dustin groaned, followed by a fake gag from Mike.

"Oh shut it Henderson" I sad elbowing him in the side. "Don't you have a girlfriend you kiss?"

"Yeah but you two are like adults, people who take care of us, it's gross" he shook his head and returned to his conversation with Mike.

I rolled my eyes and smiled placing my backpack in my lap to get out my English notebook to finish my essay groaning when I noticed my notebook had not survived the wet paper backs I tried to quickly transport into my locker. Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Why is your shit all wet?"

"I uh, I dropped it when I was in the bathroom, and you know how the floor is always so wet in there" I tried my best to sound nonchalant. Eddie didn't buy a single word that left my mouth but I carried on as if I couldn't feel him staring between me and Jasons table. I leaned over into Eddies side and squeezed one of his hands. "It's no big deal Eddie" I whispered into him. He was stiff, and I could hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

"That's bullshit (Y/N) and you know it. I'm sick and tired of them fucking with you just because you're with me, and for you liking women" He said the last part through gritted teeth. He had his fair share of homophobic comments thrown at him often, but he was more annoyed about them being thrown at me. "Have they seen women?" He questioned with a laugh. "How can you look at them and not want to kiss them?"

I frowned furrowing my brows. I hated that he thought they teased me because of him. I loved him for everything he was. We hadn't said those words to each other yet, but I knew he loved me back as much as I loved him, and I didn't care what other people thought of him, or me, or all of us at this table. So if I had to endure a little bit of teasing then so be it.

"I don't care Eddie" I moved my hand to his thigh which was aggressively bouncing up and down underneath the table. I kissed his shoulder a few times, moving the hair away from his face. I placed a gentle hand on his cheek turning his face towards me slightly as his gaze from Jason finally left and his eyes instantly softened when they met mine. "I don't care baby" I said giving him a half smile.

The rest of the day went on, and felt a lot quicker after seeing Eddie. Not to mention it was Friday which meant I could stay with Eddie until late Sunday night, and I could hold and kiss him and remind him how much I loved him.

A thankful sigh left my chest when the final bell rang. I shoved my things into my locker and rushed to meet Eddie by his van. Running towards him I jumped into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissed him hard. "Someones happy to see me" He said pulling back to look at me. Hands firmly on my waist.

"I'm always happy to see you Munson" I said squinting up at him through the sun. "And I'll never understand why" He said peppering my face with kisses again. "Cause I like you stupid" I said shoving my face into his chest.

"Well I like you back stupid" He said into the top of my head.

Our sweet moment was ruined as the loud voices of Jason and his posse burst through the school doors heading towards Jasons car, only a few spots down from Eddies van. Eddies grip on my waist tightened when the group stalked towards us slightly.

He kissed me on the forehead before moving away from me abruptly almost causing me to fall over from the sudden movement. "Eddie don't!" I said turning to follow him. He stalked over to Jason, grabbed Jason by the collar of his jacket and pulled him away from his car with Jasons posse close behind him, threatening glares ready to strike at the drop of a hat.

Eddie stood close to Jason mumbling something that I couldn't hear. I grabbed onto Eddies arm. "Eddie, c'mon, he's not worth it" I tugged at him slightly but he didn't budge.

Eddies breath was rapid as he stood with his face close to Jasons. Eyes ablaze with fury. I tugged on his arm a few more times cursing him silently as the rest of the students that still lingered the parking had gone quiet in anticipation. His shoulders slightly relaxed and he let go of Jason taking a step back.

He turned around, facing me and we began walking back to his van when Jason spat "yeah, listen to your little lesbian, Freak"

One swift motion and Eddie was already on top of Jason, a bloody nose already ruining the jocks previous 'perfect' complexion. But it wasn't long until all the jocks had Eddie on his back while Jason threw punches to him.

"Eddie!" I yelled running towards him trying to pull off one of the jocks but was pushed back and elbowed in the nose in the process. Falling back into the crowed. Max and Mike held me back from trying to intervene anymore knowing I would only end up getting myself more hurt. I hadn't even realized they were around still, and felt slightly embarrassed but I still struggled in their grip.

Falling into them and onto my knees sobbing and yelling Eddies name. Tears and blood rolling down my face while I watched as they hit Eddie over and over again.

"Jason!"

A loud voice rang out, and it was Lucas, recently part of the popular group from being on the basketball team, but he was always one of us. Lucas pulled Jason back by his collar just like Eddie did and landed one aggressive punch to his face, almost knocking him unconscious.

Lucas shook his hand as the rest of the jocks watched in shock. "Get the fuck off of him" He spat. They listened and they all backed off, scurrying to Jasons side. The jocks quickly got into Jasons car and sped out of the parking lot of the school loudly. and I flinched at the pitch of the tires screeching as they left.Eddie seemed to be untouched apart from a small split in his lip.

Lucas reached a hand out to help him up and Eddie gave him a slap on the back. "Thanks man"

"Freaks gotta stick together" Lucas said shrugging with a small smile.

The crowd around us slowly dispersed but I still sat on my knees panting. Drops of blood splattered on my knees and floor. Eddie glanced in my direction coming to his knees in front of me holding my face in his hands.

"Baby" He said softly "Are you okay?". A small whimper left my mouth as I pulled him into me tightly causing him to fall back a little. He held me tightly as I sobbed into him. Max and Mike giving Eddie a nod before taking off to go home.

"Don't ever, do that again" I choked. I leaned back to look at him.

My perfect boy. Hair disheveled, a small sheen of sweat across his forehead, and that bright red cut on his bottom lip. He ran his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping the tears away as best he could. I leaned back to aggressively take off the long sleeve shirt I was wearing leaving me in a black tank top I had on underneath. Wiping my nose with my shirt, not caring that the blood would most definitely stain it. Eddie took my crumpled shirt from my shaking hands. Tilting my chin up towards him he inspected my nose, carefully rubbing, and dabbing away any excess blood I missed. "Good as new" He said quietly and kissed me very gently on the tip of my nose.

"I mean it" I said still angry. "Don't do that, ever again. I don't give a shit what they have to say. About you, or me, or the fucking fourteen year olds we hang out with. I know who I am and I know who you are and I don't care what they think, I want you safe Eddie, always, and today was the farthest things from that, he could have killed you, you know how Jason is, and now he's not going to stop until you're hurt more than he is" I huffed, feeling fresh hot tears in my eyes.

"I'm sorry...I really am, I just- I can't stand it when they talk about the person I love like that" He said looking off into the now empty parking space where Jason once stood

love.

He said it. Those words I've been dying to hear and too afraid to say. He said it. I felt my heart hammering in my chest.

"You love me?" I said softly.

"Of course I do" He said returning his hand to my cheek. I leaned into it smiling. "I don't expect you to say it back, you say it whenever you're ready to say it"

I rolled my eyes and leaned forward kissing him a little too hard and the slight pain in my nose made me wince a little but I didn't care.

Pulling apart from him reluctantly to catch my breath I whispered "I love you so much Eddie Munson".

Eddie pulled me into him with one hand and threw the other hand up in the air with a fist. "The hottest girl in Hawkins loves me!" He yelled.

I laughed and threw one of my hands over his mouth as he laughed into it. "Quit your yelling Munson and take me home. I wanna show you how much I really love you"

"Oh?" He said raising his eyebrows as a small smirk formed at the corner of his mouth. "Well what are we sitting around for sweetheart? lets go!" He leaped up off the ground helping me up with two hands and throwing me over his shoulder towards his van. I giggled against him, struggling to get a good breath with his shoulder digging into my stomach. "Eddie!" I squealed kicking my feet slightly. He slowly flipped me back over and onto the passenger seat smiling widely. He kissed me once more before closing my door and climbing into the seat next to me. One hand on the wheel and one hand firmly on my thigh as he drove a little too fast back to his trailer.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson AU #Eddie Munson Stranger things #Stranger things #Stranger things fic #Stranger things imagine #Eddie Munson smut #Stranger things smut #smut #hellfiremunsonn

112 notes · View notes

omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 3 years ago

Text

A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head.

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you.

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks.

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication.

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile.

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed.

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it.

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly.

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off.

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically.

He glares.

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar.

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks.

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible.

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole.

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-”

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye.

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands.

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent.

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line.

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water.

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there.

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you.

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat.

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be.

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten.

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls.

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you.

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers.

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.”

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble.

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens.

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center.

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy.

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered.

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder.

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

#harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #rick flagg #bloodsport #bloodsport x reader #robert dubois x reader #robert dubois #idris elba #suicide squad #suicide squad 2 #dc #dc smut #dc fanfiction #fanfiction #smut

310 notes · View notes

sirensmojo · 4 years ago

Text

"Crossroads" - Michael Gray x Reader

Warnings: Big fluff.

Summary: You visit Michael in the hospital for the first time in years after his departure from your village.

*Masterlist*

A/N: this is my first Michael Gray fic, plz take that into consideration...

“There’s a girl asking to see you, Sir.” The nurse informed Michael, “Do you accept the visit?”

“Who is it?” His eyes lifted up from the white bedsheet he was staring at, blankly.

“A certain Y/N.”

At the announcement of your name, his dull eyes lightened up, but it didn’t last. His mind suddenly got clouded with the hundreds of questions he usually was asking himself when alone.

Were you alright? Did you get out of town as you promised each other, were you still visiting his “mother” on Wednesday's afternoons, were you angry at him for leaving you?

“Yeah, let her in.” His answer was full of apprehension, making the nurse unsure of letting you in. She stayed there watching as the man shifted position, trying to get comfortable as he knew your reunion wouldn’t be easy. “I said let her in,” Michael squinted his eyes at the nurse seeing she was still there, and that’s when she got out.

He exhaled deeply, mentally preparing himself but he couldn’t escape the tremendous flow of emotions washing over him.

You were his first love, the first girl he ever saw as a woman, even if you were still quite young. He just couldn't ignore the way he felt when he used to be with you, even after all this time, even after going out with other girls, your face never left him.

“Michael.” You hesitantly entered, unsure of the fact coming in here was a good idea.

You were in town for quite long now, but never took the time to search for him. Not because you didn't care, it was the opposite.

He had never kept from you his wish to leave your little village and you thought that maybe having you in his life now wouldn't bring him anything but memories of a place he wanted to forget.

But as the time passed, you realized you couldn't get him out your mind, no matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did, it all came back to him in the end.

His smile, laugh, touch and love, you missed everything.

You knew very well the Peaky Blinders, just like every Birmingham residents, and you knew he was one of them.

You used to tease him back then about him leaving the village after burning it or something, and here you were, him being part of a gang. This couldn't fit your Michael best.

He was a very intelligent, talented, kind and good person, but you always knew that deep down, this tranquillity was hiding a darker side, a deeper meaning of who he was.

It wasn't a surprise at all for you when you heard about his new life, you were even quite happy that he could express himself and evolve in a favourable environment.

He seemed preoccupied with something but his eyebrows unknitted at the sight of your face.

Your finger waved curls were perfectly falling on each side of your head, and Michael’s eyes were falling over your olive designed dress, tassels falling right under your knees.

He always loved this green on you, and that only hit you now.

The aggressively sexy green dress you told him you would, one day, wear in the streets so everybody could be shocked and talk about how a woman should dress.

If you remembered this detail this morning you wouldn’t have come in this dress. Now, Michael was looking at you with those gleaming eyes and you knew that when his eyes will lift up to yours, you’ll find in them the same sparks behind his iris as when you were younger.

Maybe coming in here truly was a bad idea.

“Y/N,” he kept a stern face but you were reading him like a book. His hands were clammy, his jaw clenched, his shoulders tensed along with all his muscles.

You could see he was as nervous as you, and you also knew that if you could read him that easily he probably could do the same with you.

Michael was sitting on his bed straight like an “I”, and that’s only when you sat at his side that he leaned backwards on his pillows.

That idea of knowing each other despite time and distance was what helped you to breathe out the air you didn't realize you were holding, leaving your chest less heavy.

You didn’t dare to stay in his eyes, too occupied searching for your cigarettes anyway. You got one out of their case and handed it to the man that was shamelessly staring at you.

“You changed.” Were his first words, and you couldn’t blame him.

Michael grabbed the cigarette and stuck it in between his fine lips before you came lightening up the tip of it for him.

When he left you were still growing up, rough look and only wearing the elegant blue pants your mother accepted you to wear. You were obsessed with pants and used to always argue about the fact women couldn’t wear them.

“Not a bit, and you haven’t either.” You teased him. It was obvious he changed, even the way he was talking was different, and you couldn’t even imagine what else in him had changed if the external changes were that evident.

His eyes drifted to you once again, what a surprise it was for him to see you dressed up as you were with your high heels.

Men have looked at you before, but the way Michael laid eyes on you was different, you found fondness in it, perhaps love? Because after all, there was still love between you, right?

Else his chest wouldn't raise that quickly and he wouldn't flutter his eyes when you would catch him staring at you.

He chuckled and offered you a warm smile before puffing on his cig. He got lost in thoughts for a moment, doing the french inhale.

Nevertheless, Michael seemed so much more distant than what you remember. Either he was staring, either he was blanking looking into the void.

He never talked too much either, but presently his silence could kill you. You just wanted to feel his hands all over you again, but you couldn't jump on him as if your story happened yesterday.

The atmosphere tensed, “I knew you would start smoking.” You let out in a huff. “Mrs Johnson was so wrong about you, it wasn’t me corrupting you, you always had it in your blood.” You concluded, the words escaping from your mouth as you were failing to stop them.

You got a cig for yourself and Michael watched you carefully, following each of your movements as if you were to disappear in a cloud of smoke if he’d just blinked.

“No,” He clenched his jaw and shook his head as his eyes darkened, "I found it here."

"Find you?"

He nodded slightly as puffing on his cig. 'You don't ask why I'm here?" He raised a brow towards you.

"I read the news, you're a peaky boy now." You winked at him.

"It's not what you think, Y/N." He was chuckling, shaking his head to both sides.

"Well, my Micheal wearing suits and being part of a dirty business, that's what I think and that's what it is. And that's sexy." You were so concentrated imagining him in his suit you didn't realize you called him yours, but Gray noticed it, which led to his lips stretching into a smile.

"I knew you were about to tell it." He flicks his fingers, looking at you with squinting eyes.

You took advantage of that exchange to look at his face, examining each of his features and internalizing everything you missed during these years apart.

"You're sexy Michael, deal with it already." You stated outright.

You always liked that about him. He wasn’t talking much, not with his words at least, but his eyes bore enough emotions by themselves. If they could talk they would spill hundreds of words on the paper with no difficulty.

"Yeah? Well, I prefer when you tell that in other circumstances."

His words echoed in your head and you didn't know if he was making a sexual reference or if he just woke up the horny you.

You tilted your head to the side a second, puffing on your cig before the tip of your fingers instantly reached for his soft skin. You were rubbing the side of his face gently with your knuckles when you remembered something.

“I left the village over a year after you, my mother died and I just couldn’t stay there, you know.” Talking was your way of coping with the fact you were reunited with your teenage love.

“I’m sorry.” His facial expression changed, he now understood why you were here. Not that he was unhappy about your visit, but he wouldn't have thought you’d ever leave this village.

“Everything I know is there” was the answer you gave him every time he encouraged you to go to the cities to try to make a living out of clothing. London, Birmingham, whatever, as long as you would be able to be who you wanted to be, and live your passion fully.

You wanted to make clothes and Michael had always been your number one fan, solely because he was the only one to see the gorgeous dresses you were sewing, but still your number one fan.

“I’m currently working to be able to own my workshop. So everything’s fine.”

He peeked at your lips while you were doing the french inhale, but ended up staring at your lips as if they were mesmerizing him.

You ignored that as well as you ignored all the signs he still felt things for you since you came into his room.

“Michael, the reason for my visit is family. I Know you found your biological mother and all, but you got another family out there, right?” You got up and joined the table to crush your cigarette into the ashtray, a vain attempt to prepare you for what you were about to announce. “Mr Johnson’s gone... I heard he died in his own bed.”

You threw him a glance, you wanted to know what he was thinking at this moment because his face was unreadable. Even though you knew him more than he knew himself, you grew apart from each other, and here was standing in front of you, a version of Michael you did not know.

He was blankly looking at the void in front of him, fisted clenched around the sheets.

You got closer to him, putting down the ashtray on the nightstand and sat down at his side again, but this time you slipped one of your hands into his as your other one, slowly turned his head towards you, so you could look at him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered as you were nearing your face to his.

It’s when you felt a little squeeze on your hand that you completely dared to give yourself to him, leaning a slow kiss over his lips.

You then pulled away, but before you could go anywhere, you felt his free hand at the back of your head, pulling you closer for another kiss, this one being feverish.

Of course, he was still loving you. It couldn’t be any different.

His hand shifted from your head to your cheek, his thumb rubbing it softly. His tender fondles contrasted perfectly with the roughness of his kisses. They became needier and needier, as if he waited to do this for a long time.

You both finally let go of the other’s lips when your lungs were screaming for air, your lids directly opening into the other’s eyes.

Here we go again, that twinkling light dancing at the back of his deep blue eyes.

“Something actually changed there,” You caressed his lips with your index, “I didn’t remember your lips tasting this way, neither you being that much of a good kisser.” Your suave voice murmured inches away from him.

You were so close you could feel his warm breath against the sensitive skin of your lips.

“Well, teach me.” His voice aroused something inside of you, and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together.

PEAKY BLINDERS TAG: @retromafia

(ask me if you want to get in one of the tag lists)

#Michael Gray x Reader #Michael Gray #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders imagine

161 notes · View notes

renaroo · 4 years ago

Text

Other History? More Like Other MYSTERY

as in it’s a MYSTERY how the hell this got past an editor the week before Pride Month are you fucking kidding me?

I was kind of hoping for more than like... a week of being back on tumblr before I breathed fire and ripped a comic book to shreds. But we all know why I’m here.

There are so many preemptive things to get out of the way before I rip into this thing...

John Ridley as a writer in other forms of media has been incredibly accomplished and an important additional voice to entertainment industries. I do not wish to take away from that or to minimize the impact of voices like his.

But, you know, he’s a voice in media. Not the end-all, be-all to all marginalized people worldwide who can substitute his perspective for any nonwhite straight male voice. And I don’t think that has ever been more apparent than the continued spiral down the drain that has been every issue of The Other History of the DC Universe since the first.

DC’s “new” approach to everything being canon and everything mattering is dumb and filled to the brim with ways it’s going to backfire and reveal itself to be the eye sore of publications that it’s aiming for, but I was curious to see how they would try to incorporate these characters’ long and contentious histories in the comics with the real world issues they often were billed to tackle, and try to fit it into the current pop culture landscape. That was the whole reason I had my eye on this comic to begin with.

By the second issue we were getting some stark warning signs because as much as I appreciated hearing an authentic perspective on how the Teen Titans brand carried on while neglecting its landmark Black teen heroes (Mal Duncan and Karen Beecher), there was a note of cruelty added to the issue that felt otherwise misplaced and uncharacteristic of the tone being set.

There was no reason to have a significant portion of that issue dedicated to Mal and Karen’s monologues taking some aggressive words out on Roy Harper specifically for being an addict.

Perhaps it was a quirk of writing from a flawed perspective or a show of how righteous upset and anger could be turned outward to other people suffering in a vy for your own empowerment.

I’m now pretty sure that wasn’t it at all. I’m pretty sure because it kept getting worse every issue and it’s culminated in today’s issue where the retelling of Renee Montoya’s story managed to be petty, cruel, shockingly pro-police brutality int its adulation of Jim Gordon and especially Harvey Bullock, and managed to make a well-rounded and very beloved Latina lesbian and just retrofit every stereotype she never had before to her without regard for what it did to her story or to the stories of people around her.

Honestly, lapsed faith and a poke at the damage that Catholic guilt can have on especially queer believers is kind of my jam, so it’s not that I wouldn’t be down for a story with that perspective. I could even understand exploring that with Renee. But not at the expense of her established history.

Which is a question all of its own. Here we have the skeletal structure of Renee’s life events that we have read before (in much better stories), but they are surprisingly out of order and also shockingly twisted in a way to make EVERYONE as unpleasant as possible.

And in a way that has convinced me that either John Ridley has never read comics featuring Renee, or that he was mandated to change things that had no business being changed.

According to this issue Renee hated Batman and other superheroes? Which, ah, I don’t even know where that could come from. Ever since the animated series where she got started, Renee’s whole bag has been “the acolyte of Jim Gordon, only other cop who supports Batman”. Like I don’t even know how you get around that.

But according to Ridley she’s hated them all along as an extension of her internalized homophobia and self-loathing. Great.

What follows out of that is that apparently? Renee and Batman specifically butted heads over wanting to rehabilitate Harvey Dent? As in Renee wanted to help him and BATMAN was the one flipping out and saying Harvey was a sociopath and couldn’t be helped.

Like. I’m starting to question if Ridley has read Batman comics before. I don’t know where that interpretation could possibly come from? Bruce and Harvey were friends? Bruce has always held out hope for saving Harvey from his psychosis? It’s like. THE storyline for Two-Face.

The cop stuff... I don’t really know how to talk about the cop stuff to be completely honest. If you mention the LA Riots on one page and a few pages later try to frame it so that over policing and methods of brutality weren’t a thing until 9/11... I don’t know what to say to you.

I’d say maybe I was being ungenerous here except there were two characters who got entire full page spreads about what good cops they were. And one of them was goddamn Harvey Bullock with the explicit commentary that Renee USED to be uncomfortable with his torture methods and general brutality but figured it was “okay” because he knew how “innocent people screamed different” and that he “never collared someone and it didn’t stick” because. Y’know. Police violence and falsifying evidence never go hand in hand. what the actual fuck ever right?

The timeline for Renee and Kate’s relationship is also completely changed which means that we get to add a trope I just LOVE as a lesbian personally, which is that lesbians can’t keep relationships and can’t keep from cheating on their loving partners. Especially when they are butch.

And I’m not talking about Renee cheating on Kate. Oh, no. Ridley decided Kate was the Other Woman during Renee’s relationship with Daria.

And just.. the cruel commentary that Renee had about both Kate and Daria throughout. It made my skin crawl. The way she talked about other women in general made my skin crawl. “Uncomplicated women” “Broken souls” “Can’t be with someone better than yourself”

So I actually planned to go into a full rage post about just the queer content because 1. my lane and 2. it honestly affected me so bad I was shaking and tearing up in anger a bit. Every single friend I know who loves Kate and Renee, see themselves in Kate and Renee, have been the same kind of mess I am after this.

The NASTINESS of the internal monologue. I don’t know how to explain it more than this is how poorly men think of flf and to have one use a character so meaningful to the community to spout this hatefulness has revolted me in a way I... haven’t had happen to me for a while.

I was going to talk about the weirdness of just... randomly deciding to retcon Renee’s parents into being undocumented when that’s never been a thing before and just doing NOTHING with it the whole while after. Or how it’s pretty questionable how Renee suddenly became so adherently Catholic when it’s never been portrayed like that before (that’s Hel B’s bag, JPV if you squint) but it’s entwined with any of her commentary on her ethnicity p sus too but I don’t have the nuance for that discussion right now.

Rena Rants are back and what a fucking JOKE this comic was.

I didn’t pay for it and neither should you.

P.S. bringing back Tim Fox and calling him “Jace” is dumb as fuck too

#VICTOR #CHARLIE #Rants of Unusual Size #Rena Rambles #Wednesday Spoilers #The Other History of the DC Universe (2019)#Renee Montoya #the Question #Kate Kane #Batwoman #character assassination #for who?#take a pick #I didn't even touch on her calling Vic instead of #In the name of the moon fuck you my dude

78 notes · View notes

whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years ago

Text

you want me [request]

Pairing: Negan x Younger Reader Pronouns: She/Her Warnings: Language Era: Pre- Apocalypse Summary: Falling for your dad’s friend, you do everything in your power to make him yours, only problem being you’re far to young for him.... for now! A/N: thank you @jinxeee for trusting me with this request and for being my MUSE <3 I hope you love it just as much as I loved writing it <3 ITS IN TWO PARTS BECAUSE I GOT FAR TOO ENGROSSED WITH THIS!

You hated your parents stupid parties they insisted on throwing almost every month, you’d watch as your mother would scramble around the house like headless chickens making sure everything was perfect. Your father would keep himself busy with trips to the store to get whatever food or drinks were on his list. There was only one thing that made the night worth making small talk with your parents, co-workers and friends, Negan, oh god even his name sent your stomach into a whirl. Negan had been friends with your dad for a while now and became a regular face at your home, it was almost love at first sight for you, the way he held himself with so much confidence and talked to you like an adult. You’d find yourself thinking about him during class, when you’re out with your friends... hell you’d even dream about him.

Your parents didn’t realise that you’d actually put effort into your appearance now, they probably just thought it was some teenage hormone thing. You stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching your mum run over the wooden flooring with the vacuum for the 5th time today. Your thumbs pulled at the hem of your skirt, hoping your parents wouldn’t notice how high it rested on your thighs. They weren't, of course, far too occupied with the lay out of party food on the counter of the kitchen. Your mum however did comment on how nice your hair looked curled and how you should do it more often. You listened to the same lecture they gave you every time someone was coming over, how to behave and all that patronising crap.

As people came spilling in, you knew not to get your hopes up just yet, Negan was always the last one to swagger through the door so you just sat on the sofa, twirling one of your curls between your fingers. Without warning, a large hand grabbed a hold of your shoulder, your eyes immediately finding who the hand belonged to. The butterflies in your stomach became more and more aware of the gaze that sat on you. “Hey kid! Shouldn’t you be asleep... isn’t it a school night” your eyes rolled at his teasing words but on the inside you became instantly weak at the tone of his voice.

“I'm not a kid!” you retorted pulling yourself up from the sofa. You followed the man into the kitchen presumably looking for your dad. You managed to get ahead of him, your walk changing almost instantly attempting your best sexy walk but to any onlooker it was just plain awkward. You peered around at him, catching his confused gaze which only made your teen heart throb much more aggressively. “What? You don’t like my outfit?” the teasing tone of your voice made the older man shudder a little as he reached the counter, placing down a bottle of gin he brought along with him. You leaned against the counter directly opposite him, your fingers finding your curls again, your lip taking the brunt of your teeth as you naturally eyed up the tall man.

Negan kept his eye on you, watching your actions with caution as he unscrewed the lid from the bottle. Once his mind had come to a conclusion as to what you were playing at, his muscles relaxed and he allowed a chuckle pass his lips.” What are you doing kid?” His question made you stand up straight almost immediately, catching you completely off guard. “You wanna be some sort of jail bait for one of these losers?” his words felt like daggers going straight through your heart.

“No!” you snapped at the man, pulling at your tight shirt attempting to become a little more modest. He gave you an unsure nod before he met you on your side of the counter island.

“Look, i'm a flattered kid but erm – you not exactly my type” you couldn’t bear to look up at him, the embarrassment was far too much for you to deal with right now “You’re just a kid, far too young for me!” Though he was teasing, he couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty. He remembered how strongly girls loved at that age and he couldn’t bear the thought of having to break your heart like this but it had to be done.

You didn’t speak a word to anyone else that night, you took yourself to your room and cried yourself to sleep, well that was the plan anyway but you couldn’t. The rage wouldn't allow it. If he wanted a mature girl, you’d give it to him. You spent most of the night throwing things out of your closet that seemed too adolescent for ‘grown ups’ and watching videos on how to do your makeup to make you look more mature. You had approximately two weeks to get your act together until you saw him again at your dad’s big birthday barbeque.

You spent the last two weeks changing almost everything about yourself, all for this day. You sat in your garden watching over the brim of one of the books you stole from your mum, Women are from Venus Men are from Mars. You had no idea what it was about nor did you care to find out, it was all part of your plan to prove to Negan you were in fact a woman. Everyone was in their own little circles talking over cold beers and almost burnt hot dogs, your gaze looking through each and everyone of them before settling at the large gate that allowed access to your garden. You saw it move ever so slightly, causing your heart to stop for a moment... There he was, looking as irresistible as ever, time seemed to slow down as he made his way in allowing you to take in every inch of him. Time came rushing back as soon as you saw his perfectly sculpted hand pulling something in with him. A girl.

Your book dropped from your face, allowing the fluster of red that gathered in your cheeks to show. Who the hell was she!? Why is she here and why the hell is she hanging off his arm like some cheap bracelet. Despite wanting to, you just couldn’t look away as she flaunted her win over you, your breathing became uneven without you even noticing. Negan looked for you in the crowd of people and once he saw you, all flustered and angry he shot you an innocent smile accompanied with a wave to be sure he got your attention. He made you watch as he pulled the women he had dragged in, into a hug. What the fuck was he playing at.

You couldn’t move from your spot, you thought everyone was pointing and laughing at you for even thinking your plan would work. It could have but you never got the chance to try it, not now that miss big tit’s, blonde hair was here. Granted no one was actually even looking your way at all and it wasn’t like you had a ‘I heart Negan’ shirt on but still the situation was far too embarrassing for you to even try to socialise right now. You buried your head in your hands, attempting to cover up your crimson cheeks.

“Y/N, Come here!” The ringing of your dad’s words caused you to groan before you reluctantly pushed yourself away from the deck chair and dragged yourself to his side.

“Y/N, This is Jennifer... Negan’s girlfriend.” Finally you had a name for the bitch, you plastered the best fake smile you could possibly muster at this moment and held out your hand for her to shake, she did of course.

“So nice to meet you, Tiffany!” you smiled, your hand gripping hers a little tighter than you initially planned.

“it’s Jennifer” she finally pulled away making you feel like you already had the upper hand

“Whatever” at the sound of your cheery tone you felt your dad’s arm nudge you slightly, your eyes rolling underneath your sunglasses.

The night was going fine, all things considered. Negan continued to wrap his arms around Jennifer whenever you even looked in his direction but you decided to go the grown up route about it and simply avoid him. The sun had set and the air was getting pretty cool, a few of your fathers friends had already left. Laying back in the swing chair that occupied the back porch, you let your thoughts occupy your mind. Why was he even doing this? Did he really think that getting a girlfriend would prove some sort of point? Like getting Jennifer would prove some sort of point? Your thoughts couldn’t get away with you too much because at that point you were brought back to your dull reality at the sound of someone clearing their throat. Your eyes circled the area before they settled on the exact man you were just thinking about. He stood tall over you, a sinister smirk occupying his face. You snapped up as soon as your thoughts caught up with you, sitting straight now on the chair though at the velocity of your movements, it made it swing slightly.

“What’s wrong, where’s Tiffany?” your question only caused his smirk to grow as you allowed your head to hang slightly.

“Jennifer and she’s waiting at the door for me. We’re heading home” his voice was so deep it sent vibrations through your body. Allowing your gaze to finally meet with him. “Just saying bye!” a small laugh left his lips before you stood up.

“Bye” you answered simply before pushing past the man.

“What, not gonna say bye to Jen?” you stopped dead in your tracks, your face starting to flush again and your hands slightly shaking, taking a moment to process your actions. Finally you turned to him, mimicking his smirk.

“Oh so you did all this to make me jealous?” you teased, stepping a little closer to him. The power you felt as you watched his expression go blank. “You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble, Negan... really!” Finally standing so close to him, you could feel his body heat against your cheeks. Standing up on your tiptoes, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug allowing your lips to rest against his ear. “You can have me whenever you want” you whispered as seductively as you possibly could, ignoring the swirling of butterflies that swam around your stomach. You couldn’t soak up the feeling of his body against yours for long as he pushed you away as gently as he could. His hands landed on your hips, as he came to your level.

“Never gonna happen kid!” You’ve heard it before but it still stung, not giving you any time to react, the older man made his way past you and out of sight.

Every holiday or party after that he would bring a new Tiffany to the house, flaunting her in front of you at every chance he got but you never backed down, you did everything you could possibly think of to degrade her in front of everyone and at the end of every night you’d hold onto him a little bit too long like a lioness marking her prey. Nothing prepared you for his last minute appearance at Christmas though! Strolling in, in that stupid Santa hat and that stupid bimbo. The audacity of him to ruin my Christmas like that, to corner me like that! What made it worse was the gift he got you, a fucking Barbie. You made some quick retort about how you were too old for Barbie’s and how Tiffany would probably enjoy it more, he’d correct you on her name like usual but the boxed doll was a constant reminder of how he managed to get under your skin every single time

Part Two

#negan x readrer #negan x y/n #negan x you #negan x younger reader #twd negan fanfic #twd fanfic #twd x you #the walking dead Negan #the walking dead fanfiction #negan x you pre apocalypse

69 notes · View notes