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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

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Follow My Lead | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 7 | Do you talk to all your clients so callously, or is Tom special?

A/N: This will update every Thursday. There are 13 chapters. There are all sorts of kinds of D/s relationships. This is the one I choose to write this time.

MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Vivian Swann)

Summary: Tom and Vivian have both been unlucky in love, searching for something outside of the bounds of a typical relationship. When the two of them connect via a dating app, Tom is introduced to the idea of being submissive to Vivian. Which is the one thing he never knew he needed. Under the firm hand of Vivian, Tom learns what it means to submit and Vivian learns what it means to be in a loving dominant relationship. But not everyone seems to understand what they have and the best intentions can destroy the strongest relationship.

This Chapter: Vivian meets Luke and they decide to take their relationship public via a trip to Centre Court.

Warnings for story: Dominant/submissive relationship (sub!Tom), lots of smut including but not limited to: vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), edging, denial, teasing, use of restraints, spanking, multiple orgasm, anal play, use of toys.

Tag Lists Are Open! Let me know if you want to be added. Thank you for reading!

Vivian made plans to pick up Tom at his house on Friday night and go to see a movie. He did pretty well with the protocols, although he needed prompting to send Vivian text about his meals. Tom answered the door in just his jeans.

“Ma’am.” He held at his hand to Vivian.

“Sunshine.” She kissed, hand on his neck.

“I’ll finish getting dressed.” She followed him through the house and into the master bedroom. Vivian stopped as she took into the scene. Clothes everywhere. In piles on the floor and on a chair.

“Sunshine. Is this how this always looks?”

Tom shrugged his shoulders. “More or less, ma’am.” He dug through the closet for a shirt to wear.

“Clean it up now, please.”

“But we’re going to the movies. I can do it when we get back.”

“No, you’re doing it now.” She dropped her purse.

“It can really wait until after the movie. We’ll be late.” Tom continued to protest. He realized his mistake too late, spying the frown on Vivian’s face. “Sorry, ma’am.” His eyes cast downward.

“Get your hamper.” She sat down on the edge of the armchair in the room. Tom disappeared into the bathroom and brought out a large hamper.

“Put the clothes into the hamper.” She crossed her arms as Tom scoffed. With a sigh, he gathered all the clothes, not sure which were clean and which were dirty, not that it mattered at this point.

He smiled as he put all the clothes in the hamper and shut the lid.

“Now take them out.”

Tom’s mouth dropped open but complied reluctantly, pulling the clothes out into a pile.

“Now repeat that twenty times.”

“But the movie, ma’am.”

“Then I suggest you hurry, sunshine. And count it out loud.”

Tom grumbled as he repeated the task, counting it out. As Vivian tapped her foot, staring down at her phone. He picked up his pace as he could sense her irritation growing.

“Twenty.” He worked up a bit of a sweat and closed the lid to the hamper.

Vivian stood and kissed his cheek. “Good job, sunshine. Keep the place picked up. Now let’s go to the movie, we can still make it if we hurry.”

Tom threw on a pair of shoes and grabbed his phone and wallet while Vivian walked to the front door. They made it to the movie in time to grab concessions, but they missed a few previews. Vivian selected seats at the back with her hand on the inside of Tom’s thigh the entire time. Her fingers grazing his cock, causing Tom to jump.

“Do I distract you, sunshine?” Vivian whispered into his ear, nibbling behind the lobe.

“A bit, ma’am.” Tom hissed, squirming in his seat.

“If you stay still for the rest of the movie, you can have a reward when we return home.”

“What kind of reward, ma’am?” He smirked at her in the dark.

She squeezed his leg tight. “The kind that uses my mouth.”

Tom hissed. “Yes ma’am.”

Vivian’s interest in the movie waned as she found it much more entertaining to tease Tom. He did a much better job than she expected him to do so. Tom impressed her.

They waited until everyone else left the theater, in part to allow them some privacy and in part for Tom to cool down.

“Did I earn a reward, darling?” He wore a smug smile on his face.

Vivian sized him up as though turning the decision over in her head, before squeezing his arm. “Yes you did, darling. Now let’s head home.”

Tom didn’t let go of Vivian’s hand as they walked up the front steps to his house. He may or may not have dropped his keys trying to open the door in excitement.

“Living room, sunshine. Strip, hands behind your head.”

She swore Tom skipped into the living room and stripped off his pants, shirt and underpants, cock already semi-hard in anticipation. He folded them and put them on the same table as that first night.

“Good boy, sunshine.” Tom’s chest puffed. Her nail ran along his chest, trailing down his torso until running along his shaft. He inhaled sharply. “Very good boy.”

Vivian pulled off her own dress and panties and unhooked her bra. She folded them and handed them to Tom, who placed them on the same table as his own clothes.

Vivian lowered in front of him. “You will not move or touch me. If you do, I stop.”

“Yes ma’am.” Tom shifted his feet.

“Now for your reward.”

She licked the tip of his cock and he moaned. Vivian kissed along his shaft and cupped his balls, heavy in her palm.

“Yes, ma’am.” Tom hummed, his head falling back.

Tom’s moan made Vivian’s own arousal grow. She took him into her mouth and sucked hard. His hands clenched at his sides. Vivian hollowed her cheeks and sucked off Tom, sliding her lips and tongue along him while fondling him with her other hand. Tom grew close, his balls tightening in Vivian’s hand, and she popped off his cock and jerked his cock until he came in spurts on her chest.

Tom stood still and gazed down at Vivian, covered in him. It was beautiful.

“May I, ma’am?” Tom raised a knowing eyebrow.

Vivian nodded and laid back onto the floor. Tom crawled towards her. He nipped along her inner thigh, her hand grabbing the back of his head, steering him toward her core. His tongue licked along her, already wet.

“That’s it, sunshine.” She moaned.

Tom’s nose nudged along her clit and he pushed her legs wider. He pushed two fingers into Vivian. As he thrusted into her, Tom licked and sucked her clit. She tugged at his hair, sending jabs of pain through him, her nails digging into his scalp. Vivian ground against Tom’s face. The slight stubble rubbing against the delicate skin of her thighs.

“Yes, fuck your mouth, sunshine. So good!” Vivian moaned.

Tom pressed and rubbed against her clit and she came, shuddering against Tom’s mouth, which did not stop. Vivian pulled him away from her. Tom curled up against her leg, hugging it tight. She sat up and petted his hair. Tom hummed.

“I need to go home, sunshine.” Vivian cooed.

“I wish you would stay, ma’am. It is better when you stay.”

Vivian chuckled. “But I have nothing with me.”

Tom stood up. “One moment, ma’am.”

He hustled away and Vivian giggled at how his bare ass swayed as he walked away. He came back with a cosmetic bag and a pair of pajamas, identical to her favorites. Inside the bag were twins of the toiletries in her shower.

“How did you—”

“I took pictures one morning while you slept and then of the label of your pajamas. These seemed to be your favorites. I wanted you to be comfortable.”

She pulled him into a passionate kiss. “That is the sweetest thing, sunshine. You are so thoughtful.” Tom blushed. “Help me up, please.” He extended his hand to her and helped her to her feet.

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

They both showered and slipped into pajamas and then tucked under the sheets, Tom’s arm wrapped around Vivian’s waist.

Tom woke up to Vivian draped across his torso, her hair tickling along his jaw. He ran his fingers up and down her back and she nuzzled into his neck. Tom realized the relationship was still new. Hell, there hadn’t even been paparazzi photos yet or the obligatory Daily Mail article filled with innuendo and gossip. But everything felt right, like home. He appreciated how Vivian looked after him, not because it was her job, but because she genuinely cared.

Tom closed his eyes and enjoyed the heavy weight of her body on his chest until his stomach growled. He tapped on Vivian’s shoulder.

“Ma’am, what would you like for breakfast?” he whispered, drawing circles on her back.

“Hmmmm?” Vivian moaned, rolling onto her side. “Coffee…”

“Anything else?” He kissed her head.

“Food.” she grumbled.

“I think I can oblige. I am going to get up now.”

“Okay…”

Tom took care to lift Vivian’s head up and place it back on the pillow and cover her with the duvet, before tugging on a pair of boxer briefs and heading to the kitchen. He cooked up a quick breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast while the coffee brewed. Once everything was ready, Tom placed two plates on a tray along with coffee.

“Ma’am…” He leaned down and kissed behind her ear. “Breakfast is ready.”

Vivan stretched and sat up with a smile. Tom set the tray down and adjusted the pillows behind Vivian. He placed the tray over her lap and she inhaled the aroma of coffee and eggs.

“Smells divine, sunshine. Thank you.”

She handed him a cup of coffee before sipping her own. Made sweet just how she liked it. Tom sipped his own coffee. Vivian grabbed a piece of toast and held it out for Tom. He bit down on the corner, the crispy bread and butter coating his mouth. She followed with a piece of bacon.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He offered her a piece of toast and she snapped at it. They laughed and ate the entire breakfast. Tom moved the tray out of the way and curled next to Vivian.

“So what are your plans today?” She petted his head.

Tom shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing.” He gazed up at her. “Luke wants to meet sometime this week with you and me.”

Vivian frowned. “Did he say why?”

Tom stood to clear the dishes. “He mentioned something about going over what to expect at Wimbledon. The pictures, the fallout, what not.” He ducked out of the room.

Vivian furrowed her brow and tugged on one of Tom’s shirts and followed him. “Fallout?”

“I am sure once I show up on the arm of a stunningly beautiful woman at Centre Court, people will talk.”

Vivian raised an eyebrow. She was well aware of the notoriety of Tom’s relationships in the press. She did her research before jumping into the relationship.

“To be honest, I am surprised there haven’t been photos already.” She hopped onto the counter while Tom washed the dishes.

“I am as well, ma’am. Should I have Luke call you?”

“Hand me your phone, sunshine.”

Tom hesitantly reached across the counter and handed Vivian his mobile. She scrolled through his contacts and pushed one.

“Why are you calling me on a Saturday morning? What kind of problem did you create and now I have to solve, you tit?”

“Do you talk to all your clients so callously, or is Tom special?” Vivian snapped back. Tom reached for his mobile, but Vivian waved him off and smirked.

“Who is this and why do you have Tom’s mobile?” Luke questioned back.

“It’s Vivian Swann and I have his mobile because he gave it to me.”

“Well… I… I…” Luke sputtered.

“I don’t need your apologies. You wanted to meet with me this week. I’m available Monday at 10 a.m. Does that work for you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Luke snapped.

“I’ll see you then. I hope you have a lovely weekend, Mr. Windsor.”

“You too. Give my hellos to Tom.”

Vivian glanced over at Tom, who had a look of absolute horror on his face as his publicist talked with his domme girlfriend.

“I will, thank you. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Vivian grabbed his hand and pulled Tom close, kissing his lips. “Luke gives his hellos.” She purred at him.

Tom chuckled, his arms wrapping around her waist. His lips curled into a smile while he kissed her back. “Wow, Luke is really forward today. I must have a talk with him.”

“I have taken some liberties.” Vivian collapsed into giggles, peppering kisses on Tom’s face. “What do you say we have a lazy weekend, sunshine? Lie on the couch watching movies, ordering takeaway and just being lumps?”

“I like this plan, ma’am. May I suggest we start with a leisurely shower for two?”

“You read my mind.”

The two of them didn’t leave Tom’s house for the next two days. They made love on the couch, the bed and even the kitchen counter, when Tom waylaid Vivian as she put away the leftovers from lunch on Sunday.

“I can’t get enough of you, ma’am.” he growled as he thrusted into her.

“Me too, sunshine.” Her nails dug into the skin on his shoulders, leaving red crescent marks. Tom came and slumped against her after Vivian orgasmed.

Vivian should have gone home on Sunday night so she could get ready for work, but she didn’t want to leave Tom. She didn’t want to leave the comfort of his arms or the view of his boyish smile. So instead set her alarm to an obscene time and slipped under the covers to curl over Tom’s back.

Vivian needed three cups of coffee on Monday morning and was still a grump arriving at the office. Mary shooed away any unnecessary appointments and screened all Vivian’s phone calls.

“Ms. Swann.” Mary popped her head in at 9:30.

“Yes, Mary?” Vivian groaned, the coffee kicking in.

“You have that personal meeting at 10 a.m. and you emailed me on Saturday to remind you…”

Vivian jumped up and grabbed her suit jacket and purse. “Thank you, Mary.” She hustled out of the building, hoping traffic wouldn’t be too bad.

Tom paced inside Luke’s office, waiting for Vivian to arrive. Luke sat behind his enormous glass and steel desk, his eyes following Tom’s path.

“Are you nervous?” Tom jumped at the noise and laughed nervously. He ran his hands through his hair.

“What? No! Just hoping she didn’t get caught in traffic, that’s all.” His closed lip smile doing nothing to dissuade Luke.

“New suit?” Tom glanced down. Vivian had picked it out for him during a shopping trip. He had other suits, but he wanted to wear this one today.

“Yes, I believe it is.” Tom smiled.

“Bit fancy for a meeting with me. You usually turn up in that same fucking sweater and jeans. Trying to impress the girl?”

“No. I have other meetings today.” Tom lied. “And she is not “the girl” or “a girl” she is a woman, my girlfriend, and her name is Vivian. And I would expect you to speak about her in the tone and respect she deserves.”

“Lord, I hope he would.” Vivian kissed Tom’s cheek. “I like the suit, darling.”

Tom blushed. “I like your suit too.” He returned the kiss. Luke rolled his eyes.

“Okay, lovebirds take a seat.” He gestured at the two chairs in front of the desk.” Vivian sat, and then Tom. She reached out to touch his arm.

“So Mr. Windsor, I imagine this meeting has several purposes…”

“Well, actually—”

Vivian cut him off. “Please don’t patronize me with any spin talk. I’m a lawyer, bullshit is my business. Now I believe you wanted this meeting to discuss our upcoming outing to Wimbledon. Which is all fine and good, but I suspect you have also called this meeting to suss me out?”

Luke sat silently for a moment. “Yes, that’s correct. I’d rather know about any potential pitfalls ahead of time. You can’t be too careful.”

Vivian smiled. “I can assure you, I only have Tom’s best interests at heart. In fact, I even offered to sign a NDA, but he refused.”

Luke’s mouth dropped open, and he narrowed his eyes at Tom. “You—”

“It was rather romantic.” Vivian squeezed Tom’s arm. “Wasn’t it, darling?”

Tom sat dumbstruck. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was in no position to argue. “It was, darling.”

Vivian returned her gaze to Luke. “I am a junior partner at Watkins, Price, and Forbes, I graduated with my law degree from Oxford, attended Wycombe Abbey on scholarship, grew up in Sheffield, lost the accent. I have been sued three times, all due to work. Every time I prevailed. But you knew all of that, Mr. Windsor, because you do your job and do it well. So ask me what you want to ask?”

Luke blinked, his gaze darting between Tom and Vivian. “I like her, Thomas.” He wagged his finger at Vivian. “I like her a lot.” Tom beamed with pride. “You’re right. Now tell me what a basic Google search won’t. Tell what your best mate from Oxford might say to a reporter if offered enough money to clear her overdraft. Those dark secrets no one knows.”

Vivian gazed at Tom, looking for the silent assent to proceed. “Tell him everything, darling.” Tom reached out and squeezed her hand. “He’ll need to know sooner or later.”

“So I kissed a girl a few times at Oxford, no pictures and I can’t even remember her name. I had an ex who I needed to get a restraining order against about seven years ago. He is now in prison for assaulting another woman. I’ve had a few online dating profiles that are now deactivated. And…” She glanced at Tom one more time and he nodded. “… Tom and I engage in a D/s lifestyle relationship.”

“Well, that is not all that bad… Wait, what? A D/s lifestyle relationship? Tom would you like to explain?” Luke glared, nostrils flaring.

“I only brought it up because I have had a couple of similar relationships in the past. They all ended amicably, but you never know.” Vivian interjected. “D/s is dominant/submissive.”

Luke leaned back in his chair, processing the information. “Do the two, use like whips and masks and that sort of thing? Because Tom, your sex life is really…”

Tom and Vivian burst into laughter. “Luke, if you could see your face. Not yet.” He winked at Vivian. “But I will be certain to take photos.” Luke shot up. “Kidding! It just means an exchange of power. I have given the power to Vivian and in return she takes care of me.” Tom’s face softened. “Quite well I may so.”

“And you of me, darling.” They leaned over and kissed. Luke gagged in the background.

“Ok, enough, please stop making out in my office. I would like to keep my breakfast in my stomach. Now this D/s does it interfere with Tom’s job?” He directed his questions towards Vivian.

“Nope, I stay completely out of his work. It is imperative he remain autonomous in that regard. I do pick out his clothes for events and what not, but whether or not he chooses to attend something or film a project or not is entirely his purview. Just as he wouldn’t tell me how to prepare for trial.”

“And otherwise, you do what?” Luke asked. “I’m not talking in bed, but you said lifestyle. What else do you do for Tom?”

“Make sure he is eating properly, getting enough, keeping to his schedule.”

“That makes two of us.” Luke interjected.

“If you share his schedule with me, I am more than happy to help. He…” she pinched Tom’s side. “… has refused to share his calendar with me thus far. I’m stuck with the schedule he emails me on Sunday.” Tom glanced away.

“Done. Tom. I take it back.” Luke commented, straightfaced. “I don’t like her. I love her. In fact, if you screw this up, I might date her myself.”

Vivian blushed. She appreciated her efforts being valued but someone other than Tom, although it wasn’t necessary. She cleared her throat.

“So now that all the dirty laundry is out for all to see, let’s talk tennis.”

Luke slammed his hands on the desk. “Right, so the two of you will definitely be photographed. We have two options, deny a relationship or be honest about the two of you dating. If you want to deny, I can’t have the two of you kissing at the event. We can spin you two as just good friends until you are ready to reveal. But regardless, the papers are likely to post something. Vivian, I would tell you not to read the comments.”

“I would support that.” Tom piped in.

Vivian nodded. “Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of. I would like your email and phone number in case I need to get a hold of you or Boy Wonder over here.” Tom grinned.

“I like that nickname.” Vivian fished out a business card and wrote on the back. “There is my business information and my personal information is on the back.” Luke set the card down by his monitor.

“Luke…” Tom extended his hand. The two shook hands and embraced before Luke extended his hand to Vivian.

“I don’t know where he found you, but I’m glad he did.” Luke pulled Vivian into a hug. “If you break his heart, I will kill you.” he whispered in her ear.

“The same goes for you, Luke, old boy.” she smiled back, she squeezed his hand hard.

“You have some grip.” Luke commented, shaking out his hand.

“Thanks. Now if you don’t mind, I have some paperwork that needs my attention back at the office.” She grabbed her purse.

“I’ll walk you out.” Tom followed her. They walked in silence to the elevator, waiting for the doors to close behind them.

Once they did, Vivian grabbed the back of Tom’s neck and kissed him. “I do love you in that suit.”

“I wore it for you.” Tom tugged at her lower lip. “Do you have to get back to the office right now?” His hands teased along her side.

“What did you have in mind, sunshine?”

“Lunch.” Tom wiggled his eyebrows.

Vivian burst into laughter. “Are you ever not hungry?”

“Not when I am around you.”

“You’re wearing the tennis racquet tie?” Vivian called out from the living room. She leaned against a chair and fiddled with her swan necklace. She was nervous. This was a big deal. And after today, everything would change.

“Yes, ma’am.” Tom’s voice rang out. He stepped into the living room in his dark blue pinstriped suit and light blue shirt. His brown oxfords shining in the light.

“Has anyone ever told you how sexy you look in a suit, sunshine?” Vivian straightened his tie and picked off a piece of lint from the lapel.

“Ever heard of Tumblr?” He grabbed her purse. “We’ll be late, ma’am.”

Vivian wasn’t used to seeing so many celebrities. She did her best to not gawk. She clung to Tom as he smiled on his way into the stadium. Tom leaned to whisper into her ear.

“You are going to put holes into my jacket with your nails, darling. Relax and smile. You are doing great.” He kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, darling.” She kissed his cheek back.

“I hope the photographers got that.” Tom chuckled.

They made their way to their seats at the Centre Court. “You didn’t say Sophie and Ben would be here.” Vivian nudged Tom’s arm.

“Huh?” His head snapped toward Vivian’s hand to see Benedict and Sophie making their way to them.

“Sophie!” Vivian stood up to envelope Sophie into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Sophie frowned. “I told Ben to have Tom tell you.”

“I may have forgotten to text Tom.” Ben shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.

Sophie smacked Benedict hard on the arm. “Ow! Do you mind, there are cameras everywhere?” he hissed.

“Good, then they’ll know I’m mad at you. You are looking dapper, Thomas.” Sophie smiled.

“Vivian picked out at the outfit.”

“So sweet. And Vivian. that dress is divine.”

Vivian blushed. “Tom bought it for me.”

“Way to make me look bad, mate.” Benedict commented, still rubbing his shoulder. “You know you can tone down the perfect gentleman, Disney prince routine every once in the while? Give us mere mortals a chance.”

Tom smirked. “Now why would I do that?”

“I like him just fine the way he is.” Vivian piped up. Tom’s arm wrapped around Vivian’s waist as he tilted his head to kiss her. She reached up to cup his face.

“That goes double for me, darling.” Tom beamed down at her.

“I see the two of you have decided to go public. I heard camera shutters from here.” Sophie commented. “We’ll be back.” Sophie tugged Ben away.

Tom and Vivian settled into their seats to watch Nadal and Djokovic play in the finals. Vivian’s hand lighted on the back of Tom’s neck and shoulders. His knees tilted towards her, touching against her bare skin. Tom described the play in animated gestures, causing Vivian to laugh.

“I love when you get excited like this.” she commented.

“Like a puppy?” Tom offered.

“No, like an excited child. It is beyond sweet how your face lights up.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“When we get home,” Vivian leaned over to whisper in Tom’s ear, her voice low so the surrounding spectators couldn’t hear. “I’m going to blindfold you with that tie and spank your cute little ass with a tennis racquet. Is that understood?”

Tom crossed his legs, no easy feat in the cramped seating area and covered his mouth with his hand in case the paparazzi were watching. He bit his lower lip and leaned over to whisper back. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian smiled as she rubbed Tom’s shoulders and neck and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, darling. Now let’s enjoy the game.”

Tom shifted in his seat.

“Miss anything?” Benedict asked.

Vivian smiled up at Ben and Sophie. “Just making plans for later tonight.”

Sophie sat down next to Vivian. “Can we join in?” she asked innocently. Tom coughed.

“Darling,” Vivian turned her attention back to Tom, rubbing his back. “Are you alright? Have some water.” She handed him a water bottle. Tom took a long swig.

“I don’t see why not? I was trying to decide where to go for dinner. Unless the two of you need to get back home to the kids?”

Sophie grabbed Vivian’s arm. “I know a delightful little place not too far away.”

“Sounds delicious.” Vivian glanced over at Tom, whose face was an uncomely shade of white. “What do you say, boys? Want to join us?”

“Whatever you say, dear.” Benedict commented.

“Of course, darling.”

Vivian chuckled. “Isn’t it lovely when people just do what we want, Sophie?”

“Indeed it is.”

The rest of the match was torture for Tom. Vivian kept squeezing his knee and rubbing his neck which caused blood to rush to body parts he would rather not in public. She was doing it on purpose and there wasn’t much Tom could do to stop it.

“You’re teasing me, darling.” Tom hissed into her ear.

“Yes I am, darling. It’s not my fault, your mind is in the gutter.”

“Who put it there?”

Vivian shrugged her shoulders. “Guilty. But you know you love it.”

The match dragged on and Tom wanted nothing more than to beg off dinner and returned Vivians’ apartment but he knew she would never let him. She was enjoying torturing him too much.

Vivian made a point of ordering not only an appetizer and entrée but dessert and coffee. Tom picked at their dessert.

“Tom, are you okay?” Benedict asked as he sipped a decaf coffee. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Not going to lie, Ben. I am rather eager to get home.” He stretched and yawned for effect. He shot a glare over at Benedict while Vivian chatted with Sophie about her necklace.

“Right. Sophs…. we really should be going.”

“But I was—”

“I mean we should be going.” Benedict leaned over and whispered in his wife’s ear.

“Right, dear. The boys will need us. Vivian….” The women hugged. “… a delight as always. Tom…” Tom reached over the table to hug Sophie and Benedict.

“Love you, Soph. You too, Ben.” The couple quickly left the restaurant giving their goodbyes and promises to get together soon.

Vivian turned to Tom. “Did you just shoo away our friends so that you can get home sooner?”

“Yes, darling.” Tom smirked. “I am….” He tugged on his tie. “…. looking forward to the evening’s activities.”

Vivian’s hand grazed Tom’s crotch, and she noticed his cock already semi-hard.

“It would appear you are.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston smut #follow my lead #sub!tom

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bluebellwriting · 3 years

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Mom-Friend Looking For A Dad-Friend - Part 3

Sylvia’s POV

Sylvia knows she should feel guilty. You look so uncomfortable at the party, back pressed against the wall, eyes darting around like a stalked animal watching out for a hunter. Your arms are crossed over your stomach in what she recognizes as your signature move--something you always did during your one year of overlap at Starfleet when she dragged you to the occasional party--quite effective at hiding your body from the world.

You look so out of your element in the fit and flare dress she forced you into, even though you shouldn’t. Your curves look fantastic and after hours of deliberation you were both able to tame the signature Tilly Sisters Frizz TM. She’s actually quite proud of the smokey eye she was able to slather on you and the lipstick she convinced you to wear. You look beautiful, I mean, you’re her big sister, her first and bestest friend, of course you look beautiful to her.

But she’s hoping that you can see that in yourself too because she knows another certain someone on the ship sees you as absolutely enthralling.

Her eyes flit between you and the door, hoping that Saru will take the hint and actually show up. She’d been dropping little details to him all week about the party and how you had wanted to attend (which was a lie) to meet someone (another lie).

What? She’s desperate. She’s been watching her basically-Captain/resident dad of the entire ship quietly fawn over her sister for months and vice versa. She needed to up the ante if she was going to get you two together, and well, nothing is more motivating than jealousy. One thing about post-vahar’ai Saru that everyone was picking up on was that he was far more expressive and a lot less shy. Especially, Sylvia noticed, when it came to you. She actually heard him growl once at an ensign that got a little too close to you in the cafeteria.

Actually, said ensign is making his way over to you right now with two drinks and a drunken smirk on his face. Her eyes glance nervously at the door. Still no sign of Saru. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

(Y/N)’s POV

You were going to kill your sister. You hated parties with a passion. All the people rubbing against each other, rubbing against you and spilling your drink, the form fitting clothing. Especially the form fitting clothing.

Not to mention that the few times you have gone to parties always ended in you being abandoned by friends who found someone to go home with while you were left alone and feeling unwanted.

The other reason you’re absolutely miserable at this party is because the one man you actually want to dance with isn’t here. Because why would he? A room of his crew mates grinding against each other isn’t exactly his scene. But your eyes still dart to the door, willing Saru to march through those doors and take you in his arms like in a typical Earth romantic comedy.

Except why would he? You’ve been ignoring him for days and have most likely effectively destroyed any interest he could have had for you. He probably thinks you’re so shallow and immature and weird.

“Hey there.”

Your eyes meet the drunken smile of Mark, an ensign on the ship who has flirted with you on more than one occasion. He’s come to your office numerous times, always feigning emotional distress so that he has an excuse to flirt with you. You’ve turned him down time and time again, sighting that you were not interested. Mark doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“Good evening, Mark.” You straighten your back but keep your arms around yourself, mindful that the dress your sister gave you is low-cut and showing off more cleavage than you’ve ever showed in your life. You shudder when Mark’s eyes immediately wander to your ample chest. You push yourself away from the wall but Mark steps in front of you, effectively caging you in.

“I got you a drink.”

“Oh. Thank you, but I’m not thirsty.” You try to take your leave again, really just wanting to go home and wallow in a bowl of ice cream.

“Actually,” you continue, “I was just about to head out.”

“Aw, why?” He leans forward, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. “Don’t you want to dance with me, Doctor?”

“I’m not much of a dancer. Now if you will excuse me--”

“What the hell is wrong with me, huh?” Mark snaps and slams both cups on the ground. “I’m a nice guy. A good looking guy. You could do far worse.”

His words are slurred but none the less furious. His eyes are dark and glaring at you now, something evil within them.

You glance around for help but the music is too loud and there are just too many bodies. Nobody seems to notice your distress or the sudden violent nature of Mark.

“I’m sorry, Mark. I’m sure you’re very nice but I--” One of his hands punches the wall next to your head and you yelp.

“You’re fucking right! Better than any guy you could get with in your life, you fat fucking bitch--” In an instant you’re pulled away from the wall by a strong arm while Mark is lifted from the back of his collar and pressed harshly, face first into the wall.

Saru POV - a few minutes earlier

Saru stares at himself in the mirror, scrutinizing what is now the third outfit he’s tried on. It has to be perfect. Tonight has to be perfect. Because you’re perfect and you’re at that party waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet and damnit, that someone is going to be Saru. He’s not sure what he would do if you found someone else to dance with tonight, to hold and to love. It would completely destroy him. So yes, everything has to be perfect.

This whole week, Saru has been completely miserable. He’s sure you’ve been ignoring him and he’s not entirely sure why, except he’s completely convinced that he’s done something wrong. He’s tried reaching out, but you keep turning him away at every turn and it’s truly breaking his heart. He misses his meals with you, he misses relaxing in the observation deck with you, and he dreads seeing the exhaustion on your face when he passes your office (which he’s found time to do every day under the guise of “checking in on the med bay” -- everyone knows he’s definitely not checking in on the med bay).

And then there was Ensign Whatever His Name Is, who has become the bane of Saru’s existence. The last time you had dinner with him, Ensign Asshole decided to sit at your table and unabashedly sidle up to you. It wasn’t that Saru saw him as a threat, it did not go unnoticed how uncomfortable you were at the ensign’s advances and, let’s face it, Saru knows he’s far better suited for you. But it was your discomfort, and the way the ensign’s eyes lingered on you like you were a piece of meat for him to consume and then toss aside, that made Saru want to flip the table and launch the man across the room.

Maybe that’s why you’ve been shutting him out, though. Maybe for some inexplicable reason, you were incredibly attracted to this man and you were leaving Saru in the dust. His heart clenches and his stomach feels pained at the thought.

Saru runs a hand over this new outfit, debating whether you would approve of the color, if he should wear something more casual, or something fancier? Maybe something... form fitting? Michael had mentioned that humans tend to wear something a little tighter to seem attractive...

Michael alluded that you might be at this party tonight, and immediately he began thinking up ways to woo you, to show you that he was obviously the right man for you. Or at the very least, it would be a reason to talk to you, to figure out how to get back in your good graces. He doesn’t have to date you at all, he just needs you back in his life in any capacity.

A ping on his PADD interrupts his ruminating. He grabs it, smiling and hoping that it’s a message from you.

It’s not.

Sylvia: Are you coming?!

Saru: Yes. I just need a few moments

Sylvia: You need to come right now!!! It’s (Y/N)!!!

Saru’s eyes widen and his heartbeat accelerates in an instant. He tosses the PADD on his bed and makes quick strides to the common room where the party is being held. His mind races as he imagines what could have happened. Were you injured? Were you asking for him?

When he arrives at the party he stands in the doorway, scanning the many heads below him for the curly (h/c) hair he knows so well and loves so much.

“Saru!” Sylvia has been by the door waiting the moment he walked in to yank on his arm. She frantically points to a spot on the wall and looks at him with helpless eyes. “I can’t get to her. There are too many people.”

Saru’s eyes track from her finger to the wall, where he sees your small form cowering under that same ensign’s body. Seeing the fear in your eyes, the helplessness, and the tears starting to pool, stirs something deep and vicious in Saru. His instincts go into overdrive, like he isn’t in control of himself anymore. Or maybe he is, this new, fearless version of himself has taken over.

Saru marches forward, shoulders tensed and his mouth set in an uncharacteristic snarl. The crowd seems to part for the seething Kelpien until there is nothing between him and Ensign Dickhead, who can’t seem to read the room.

With one arm he pulls you out from your spot between the wall and this scum of the earth. With his other arm, he snatches the ensign’s collar, lifts him off the floor and smashes his head into the wall, holding him there. He growls, a low and savage sound. Everyone is looking at him but all that really matters in this moment is your wellbeing and the man who tried to threaten you.

Even though the ensign is off the ground, he is nowhere near as tall as Saru, who is looming over him. Saru leans down, ignoring the whimpers of pain from the ensign who definitely has a broken nose.

He snarls, “Don’t touch what isn’t yours.”

He wants to do more to this man. He wants to beat his head against the wall. He wants to drop him on the ground and kick his stomach until he can’t breathe. He wants to shove him in the airlock and hit ‘eject.’ He’s basically the captain, he can do it. But your gentle hands wrap around his free forearm, reminding him that you’re here and that everyone is watching.

He glances down at you with a serious gaze, looking to you for guidance. ‘What do you want me to do to this man?’ his stare asks. Because he’d do anything you asked him.

You give him small shake of the head and Saru drops the man immediately. As two security officers and your sister swarm the bleeding man on the ground, you tug on Saru’s arm, signaling him to follow you.

Your walk together is quiet. Saru still feels the anger coursing through him. He really wants to turn around and finish the ensign off, and he doesn’t particularly care how out of character this is for him. That man deserves every bit of pain Saru can muster for what he did to you, what he was going to do to you. But there’s also the stress, the concern that you are furious with him, that he was too violent, that he had startled you. Would you hate him now? Are you afraid of him?

You tug his arm one last time, taking him to... his room.

Third Person POV

You drag him inside and lead him to his bed. After a few moments, Saru realizes that you want him to sit. So he does. He’s still taller than you, but your face, your eyes, your lips are infinitely closer to his now. Your hands slowly trace from their hold on his forearms, up his arms and shoulders, to hold his cheeks. Your eyes look deeply into his own, and he can see that there are still tears in your eyes.

Instinctually, Saru’s arms find their way around your waist and tug you closer to him. You ease into him immediately because after that display, you know that there is nowhere safer than Saru’s embrace. One of his hands rubs soothing circles into your back while the other stays around your waist. Your head buries itself into his shoulder while your arms wrap around his neck.

You both stay like that for a few moments, relishing each other, acknowledging that you are both together and safe in the garden that is Saru’s room.

“You’re not mad?” Saru whispers.

“A little startled.”

“Oh.”

You pull away slightly but your hands return to his cheeks.

“I’ve never seen you so...”

“Angry?” Saru’s eyes are downcast, waiting for the moment you tell him yes, you were so vicious, I could never love someone so violent.

“Valiant.” You give him a shy smile with a hint of embarrassment.

Oh.

Both of Saru’s hands return to your waist and give it a comforting squeeze.

“Did he hurt you?” Saru’s eyes scan over you.

“No, no. He just scared me.”

He pulls you closer so you can lean your head against his chest. Like you weigh nothing at all, he lifts you onto his lap and wraps his arms around you again. You don’t know where this forward and overly affectionate Saru came from, but you’re not about to start complaining. You’ve dreamt of this after all.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “You really didn’t need to get that fierce with him.”

“I know, I know but... That wasn’t right. He was horrible and he was going to hurt you and you deserve so much more than that.” You shrug slightly, not fully believing him. Your whole life you’ve only attracted less-than-sub-par men and at some point you just started to assume that you never deserved better.

“(Y/N) Tilly I am being serious. You deserve the best that this universe has to offer. You deserve someone who will respect you and love you, who thinks you’re the most brilliant and stunning woman who has ever lived.”

“And who thinks that?” You reply meekly, really hoping he’s about to confess to you. But the mind is a horrible, merciless entity, dead set on dashing such hopes.

“Well... If it wasn’t already obvious,” Saru gulps and takes a deep, steady breath. “I think that.”

Screw you, mind.

“Really?”

“I do. I have thought so since the moment I met you and each moment spent with you has only reinforced how I feel.” Saru bows his head and nuzzles his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he whispers, as if those three words have the power to end his entire existence

You release a shaky breath and let your tears fall.

“I’m... I’m sorry,” you whisper and Saru’s shoulders deflate.

“You don’t feel the same,” he whimpers in the most pathetic way possible. It causes your heart to wrench.

“I was so convinced that you felt this way about Michael or, or somebody else, anybody but me,” you sniff. “And I was ignoring you because I couldn’t stand the idea of not being able to love you. You must think I’m such a child.”

You look away from him but his hand immediately moves under your chin and directs you to look up. He’s beaming at you, eyes glassy with joy, and it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

You lean up and capture his lips in yours, conveying all the love you feel for him. Saru inhales sharply through his nose but lets out a breathy moan as he leans into your kiss. His hands tighten their hold on you and pull you closer, until there is barely any space left between you both.

You pull back by barely an inch, not daring to stray too far from this man.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Saru beams at you, shyly, but the glow of that smile speaks volumes. He kisses you again, one of his hands moving to the back of your neck, securing you to him.

#they say write the stories you want to see #saru x chubby!reader #saru x reader #Star Trek Discovery #star trek

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smokeybrandreviews · 3 years

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Smokey brand Retrospective: Red Pill Me

Cinemacon has passed and there has been a lot of awesome sh*t revealed. On the top of that list, obviously, Spider-Man: Far From Home has me geeked to high heaven but there were a ton of other noteworthy reveals. There was some Batman reveals, a few Mission Impossible 7 and Top Gun 2 trailers, plus audiences ever got a surprise screening of Ghostbusters: Afterlife. Now, that would be great on it's own but cats even got a little sizzle real for Matrix Resurrections: The long gestating fourth Matrix film. Apparently, this thing is releasing in December. I am lukewarm at best. I have fond memories of the Matrix trilogy as a whole but, since it’s final release some twenty years ago, the Wachowskis have been revealed to be one trick ponies. They kind of suck at film making. I mean, i liked Speed Racer but i just generally enjoy Speed Racer. It helped tremendously that Christina Ricci was Trixie, too, but everything after that was kind of balls. I also really like V for Vendetta but that’s not real their movie, they just adapted it. I guess you can say that about Speed Racer, too. Anyway, in light of there near Shyamalan-esque track record with their films, i wanted to revisit the first three Matrix films and see if they hold up, to try and muster some sense of excitement for what comes next.

The Matrix

Of the trilogy, this is easily the best film. Everything about it is exceptional. The Matrix was a whole ass shift in the cultural zeitgeist. It was a lot of people’s first experience with accessible cyberpunk and I'll always love it for that. I’ll also love it for normalizing Hong Kong style action sequences and giving us the most breathtaking application of Bullet Time I've seen to date. The Matrix s why the theater exists. If you’ve never seen this thing on the big screen, you missed out on something very special. I had just just turned thirteen when it released and checked it out at the dollar theater. I had only ever seen anything like this, in anime. Seeing all of my favorite Eighties OVAs filtered through the big budget Hollywood lens was incredible. I even like the rather pedestrian narrative. I think the story worked for what the movie was trying to do. It’s a shame the Wachowskis have tried to rewrite history about the narrative as of late. I understand the underlying themes of identity and sexuality but come on? That’s some college film theory bullsh*t that got tacked on after the fact. Now, if the original script is to be believed, then, yes, all of that, but what we got is not so profound. This is a basic Chosen One narrative with Dope ass effects that were ahead of it’s time.

A fr as the cast, what can i say? These motherf*ckers were perfect. Keanu Reeves as Neo was inspired. It’s wild to say that because dude is a plank but it works. He’s the POV character, he’s who you see that world through. Making him a blank slate so to speak, helps with immersion and that is a world you definitely wan to be immersed within. This was my first experience with Carrie-Ann Moss and I've loved her ever since. Her Trinity fast became one of my favorite characters and I'm actually pretty excited to see where she is in the new film. Lawrence Fishburne as Morpheus was an interesting choice. I wasn’t mad and it worked perfectly but it was weird seeing him in such an active, action oriented, role. That said, for me, this movie is made by Hugo Weaving. He is absolutely monstrous as Agent Smith. He’s got this scene chewing energy that mirrors Christoph Waltz’s Hans Landa and we all know how much i love that Nazi f*ck so that’s really high praise. To this day, I've got his Humanity is a Virus speech memorized. It was just that f*cking good! The Matrix is an exquisite watch and it is absolutely mandatory viewing if you consider yourself a fan of cinema.

The Matrix Reloaded

Whoo, boy, talk about a drop in quality. Reloaded released four years later in 2003 and it screams Studio Mandate. I was a sprightly eighteen years old when this thing dropped and made it a point to see it opening day. I really enjoyed the first outing so i figured this one would be just as amazing. Indeed, i remember leaving the theater thinking to myself how decent of a sequel it turned out to be. It wasn’t better than the first but it didn’t sh*t the bed like most follow-ups do. Fast forward to present day and, after watching this thing again for the first time in probably fifteen years, it’s kind of f*cking bad. Like, as a cinematic experience, it’s pretty tight Everything is amped up. Tons more action, way more bombastic set pieces, stakes have been raised considerably; The Matrix Reloaded is everything you want in a summer blockbuster sequel. However, that’s it. Everything else is worse. The acting has become way too hammy and the new cast members fit into this narrative like a square peg in a round hole. Why is f*cking Niobe even in this thing? Who even is the Merovingian? Why is Mouse? The pacing is all over the place, too. Like, this thing stops dead in it’s tracks on several occasions but that’s not the worst of it.

The worst thing is the narrative. What the f*ck even is the story trying to be told in this movie? It doesn’t make any f*cking sense. The Matrix was, very obviously, a standalone film. That was a closed narrative. Neo’s story had been told. Everything after that is unnecessary. This movie is an exercise in the unnecessary. I appreciate all of how unchained and manic Smith is in this but, outside of that, what the f*ck was the point of this whole narrative? It’s filler. This movie is filler and it feels like it. The returning cast is serviceable and seeing Zion was interesting. I like how all the survivors are just sweaty black people. I literally hated everyone added to the cast though. Well, that’s not quite true. I rather enjoyed Collin Chou as Seraph. Dude was inconsequential but i love seeing Asian martial artists not name Li or Chan getting some shine. Also, Monica Bellucci is in this and i kind of just love her in general. Her Persephone is absolutely disposable but she looks damn fine in that plastic wrapped dress of hers. I literally can’t be bothered mentioning anyone else. They are that forgettable. This movie is that forgettable. And it’s arguably the best of the two sequels.

The Matrix Revolutions

Talk about going out with a thud. Man, i saw this with my best friend, rest in peace B, and we both hated it. He was an even bigger fan of The Matrix than i was so his disappointment was palpable. I’ll never forget his visceral reaction when that rainbow spread across the super happy Hollywood ending. Dude was hot and he had every right to be. The first Matrix set up this intriguing, immersive, world full of fanatic visuals, great piratical stunts, and a very through provoking premise. The second Matrix was your basic Hollywood sequel; More shine, less substance. But Revolutions? Man this is peak Wachowski fail. You saw hints of this messiah sh*t in the first, it’s literally a Chosen One narrative, but thy went all in on that sh*t in Reloaded. By the time Revolutions finished, this whole narrative was so far up it’s own ass, it didn’t know which way was up. It just f*cking ends. Everyone is dead and it’s over. The Wachowskis went heavy on the Jesus imagery, they were not subtle, and the f*cking conflict just ends. Robot don’t stop using people as batteries. Flesh and blood Humans still have to live in Zion. The only thing that’s changed is Neo’s dead and Agent Smith has been deleted. That’s it. The Matrix still exists, people are still trapped in it, and everything that happened in these films doesn’t f*cking matter. Literally right back at the start of the whole goddamn conflict. Revolutions is so f*cking disappointing, dude, by every measure of that metric.

Hugh Weaving is still pretty good as Smith and Keanu does his best imitation of white bread as Neo but, like, everything else is just so pedestrian. Plus, this thing is long. Like, unreasonably so. Why the f*ck is this movie two hours? The entire trilogy is kind of like that but it’s most egregious in this one. This story could be told in ninety minutes, just like Reloaded. Why the f*ck do i have an extra half hour of bullsh*t in this? Like, that whole “Neo Lost” arc was unnecessary, in both sequels. F*cking why? I don’t hate Revolutions. It’s not a “bad” film per say, it’s just disappointing. It’s the poster child for the law of diminishing returns. The Matrix Revolutions is the what happens when you let creatives with fresh egos, run amok with one hundred and fifty million f*cking dollars. So much spectacle but even less substance that Reloaded and that motherf*cker was a hollow mess. Still, The Matrix Revolutions is better than anything Michael Bay or Zack Snyder has ever made so i guess it’s got that going for it.

#The Matrix #The Matrix Reloaded #The Matrix Revolutions #The Matrix Trilogy #Smokey brand Retrospective #Keeanu Reeves #Carrie-Anne Moss #Hugo Weaving #Lawrence Fishburne

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babyybitchhh · 4 years

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Thotty Thursday: Part 2

The second installment of Thotty Thursday is upon us. Rejoice, heathens!

Now, let me just say that I’m picking dudes at random while trying to keep things balanced between old shows and new ones but ... y’all really bout to notice some patterns the more we do this so I’m just gonna wait for someone to call me out tbh. 😰

FYI, I like to think of myself as an equal opportunist thirster and if a dude is hot then he’s hot. I’m not one to question this shit. But when you get right down to it I have like four types: high IQ smarty pants, dummy thicc, dad and bad boy bastard. Our next snack belongs in the last category, without question.

He’s honestly prettier than me and that is not an exaggeration but don’t let his good looks fool you

This Arabian Nights styled dime piece has a mean streak a mile wide. Because of Reasons, ofc, but that don’t change the facts

Not only did he once punch a child in the face for no other reason than to assert his dominance (fact) he also pretended to cry in front of the person he hates most just to laugh about how they fell for his (flawlessly executed) act

He honestly may or may not have a few screws loose but that’s part of the appeal, you see. It adds a dash of spice to the meal

And you know what they say about crazy bitches in bed 😏

Full disclosure, I started reading Magi: Labyrinth of Magic before the anime aired and his name was originally translated as Judal so that’s what he’s always going to be in my mind. The official translation is Judar, and I respect that, but at the end of the day I do not know her

Judar who?

Can I also just take a moment to point out that gloriously long, thick braid he’s sporting tho

This man has hair for days and there’s just something I find incredibly attractive about that

I want to take it all down and carefully comb through it, play with it and style it again

Really show him the attention he deserves

If he decided to suffocate me with it, well, I guess I wouldn’t complain about that either

Now, the setting alone had my interest PIQUED right out the gate because I love Middle Eastern inspired aesthetics and I truly don’t think it’s utilized as a setting half as much as it deserves to be. It’s very beautiful imo and the anime team did a pretty good job of capturing that vibe but if I’m being honest I think the manga was better (up to a point)

However there ain’t nothing quite like seeing your man move on screen or hearing his voice with your own two ears and when I say Judal put on a show each time he showed up ... 🥵

I think I can safely say my pussy clenched whenever I got so much as a whiff of him possibly making an appearance, PHEW

He’s just so pretty and mean

My favorite combo tbh

“But why do you like mean boys so much 🤔?” You ponder aloud and my answer to that is “I don’t know. I just do.”

Judal gets my kitty purring for a variety of reasons but the biggest is probably that I can’t look at him without imagining myself as his feisty little slave girl, wearing nothing but sheer silk and delicate gold chains, completely at his mercy ...

Oops, did I say that out loud? 😳

I mean, can you really blame me when he’s running around in those baggy harem pants though?? Can you really???

So the first thing you probably thought was: damn. This guy kinda dressed like a thot 👀

And you’re not wrong

Does he HAVE to dress like that? Strictly speaking, no. But I am definitely not complaining about his fashion choices

His titties are so close to popping out of that tiny little shirt that we’d be getting nip slips left, right and center if he had any more meat on his bones than that and trust me when I say he did that shit on purpose

This boy is SUCH a fucking tease and he loves the attention it gets him - first and foremost because he’s used to being the CENTER of attention but we’ll get more into that a little bit later

Hes just a tad 👌 narcissistic, loves to show off, definitely bipolar and is in a constant state of feeling himself so he’s hitting all his marks as far as I’m concerned

In short, he’s perpetually oozing big dick fuck boy energy and I live for it

That’s why he’s always showing up with that stank ass attitude, he knows damn well he can pull the baddest bitch around AND her man too

He’d fuck you and your boyfriend at the same time just to prove a point, that’s actually how petty he is

Honestly though I’d like to see ANYbody maintain their resolve when he’s laying on the charm and Judal’s just cruel enough to do it for shits and giggles

Probably wakes up in the middle of his sprawling imperial bed at two in the afternoon and says something like “damn, I need a little pick me up today” and then proceeds to manipulate and harass his lucky unfortunate victim of choice

He’s relentless too and will stop at absolutely nothing to get what he wants, even if that means breaking you in the process

Again, I like the challenge he represents

But also I just like a man who can make me cry 🤷‍♀️

And I don’t doubt he absolutely would. Tears probably turn him on tbh and I’m positive he’s got a bit of a yandere streak too

Are y’all seeing those patterns yet??

So did you guys notice that wand he keeps twirling around like a goddamn baton?

He’s a magic user, or in this case a magi which means he’s literally at the top of the food chain in this universe

He’s special special

Every ounce of confidence he has is rightfully deserved and even tho he’s not the strongest per say, he IS extremely powerful and his destiny as a magi is to influence the world

THE WHOLE ASS WORLD YA’LL

That’s why he’s got such a big fucking ego

I promise these aren’t major spoilers, so you don’t have to worry about that

When he was still a (too precious for words) child, he was abducted by an evil cult so that they could manipulate him and use his powers to influence shit in a bad way. The exact details of what they did to him are hazy, but based on the snippets we did get it seems like they basically put Judal on a pedestal and raised him as if he were some kind of god or a king

I’m talking waiting on him hand and foot, giving him whatever he wanted, essentially worshiping him and using persuasive mind control magic to convince him that he’s the best thing to happen since sliced bread

And it worked

Can you tell exactly how fucked up this kid is right now

Keep in mind here that I’m not saying his screwed up personality isn’t the result of some seriously bad mojo

Magi are supposed to be what tips the scales of fate in this setting which, generally, means for the betterment of the world and this whack ass cult pointedly steered him down a path he otherwise would not have gone

But it’s this tragic past of his that really brings the whole package together

He could be a mean pretty boy for no other reason than because he wants to and I’d still drop into a split on his cock

I like mean for the sake of mean too

It’s just that knowing what made him the way he is gives us the perfect amount of insight to truly feel sympathetic despite all the bad shit he has done and will continue to do

Personally, it makes me want to be the one to show him genuine, tender affection no matter how much he’s initially appalled by the mere suggestion so in a lot of ways it’s similar to how I feel towards Hiei

But that doesn’t mean I want him to change and start being n - 🤢 start being nice - 🤮

He’s perfect just the way he is and there’s just something about big, confident egos that gets me going like little else

And Judal seems to truly believe he’s the greatest gift the world has ever received and he’s not wrong about that imo so yeah he definitely has an attitude problem

But that also means he’s a spoiled brat tho and he’s definitely one of those dudes who needs to be dommed on occasion to really get the full experience 👀

I am not too shy to pin him down and milk his cock for all it’s worth, that is all I’m saying fam

And can I just point out how breathtakingly gorgeous he’d look all flushed and sweaty, whimpering like a needy little bitch in heat while having his prostate relentlessly teased for hours on end?

Goodness, it suddenly got HOT in here, is that just me??? 💦

Ofc the only way that’s gonna happen is if he allows it - which I don’t see being a common occurrence - but that’s why you gotta take advantage of that shit when it does 👀

On the topic of Judal being spoiled, I want to mention that there are actually TWO very different backdrops that I can thot around with him in, and I like that

There’s the fantasy Middle East setting ofc which I personally can’t get enough of

I’m wearing the slave girl Leiah outfit in my mind right now btw

But he also spends a lot of time in this worlds version of ancient China complete with all the dramatic robes and elegant architecture to really set the mood

He has an entire imperial palace on lock and if that doesn’t get you even a little bit horny then idk what to tell you

The royal family for the most part treats him like one of their own despite not being related in any way, if that tells you exactly how much clout he pulls in this setting, and even tho they’re essentially using him for their own gain Judal doesn’t seem to mind it one bit

He likes being at the top and having the freedom to do whatever he wants so if that means doing a little dirty work for the Kou Empire then so be it

And I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be a ride or die on these little errands

Like, just imagine this pretty boy pulling up to you on his flying carpet (that’s not a joke or something I just pulled out of my ass btw) and asking if you want to come back to his crib for some fun

You say yes, because you might be a thirsty slut but you’re certainly not STUPID

And he straight up takes you to a fucking palace

Be honest with me guys, how fast do the panties come off tho?

Be real with me here

This is actually just the plot of Aladdin but with the gender roles reversed 🤣

Fr fr though, A Whole New World plays softly in the back of my mind every time I think about this dude, except it’s much darker and ... explicit 😏

But my point here is that Judal’s got basically everything he could ever possibly want so he really just needs a pretty little concubine at his side to complete the picture

And I dead ass feel like it should be ME

When I say this man could get it ....

OOF

He is TROUBLE in its purest form and I regret nothing about my choice in fictional men

Absolutely nothing

He could honestly fuck me up seven ways to Sunday and I’d thank him for the honor

Spit on me, king. Please. I don’t need nothing else to sustain me

Unless you want to throw some of that choice dick in for free? 👀

Lord have MERCY

#thotty thursday #judal #judal magi #magi labyrinth of magic

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isitgintimeyet · 5 years

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The Ties That Bind

AO3

Thanks for reading so far. This is the penultimate chapter in the story.

Thanks for @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and support.

Wee bit of angst... at first

Chapter 31: A Legal Precedent

Professor Callahan : Would you rather have a client who committed a crime malum in se or malum prohibitum?

Elle: Neither.

Professor Callahan: And why’s that?

Elle: I would rather have a client who’s innocent.

Legally Blonde

Jamie said nothing as Isobel drove them across the city to Geneva’s house. He sat still, his jaw clenched in tension, hands splayed on his knees. Isobel did not try to start any conversations. She wasn’t really sure what she could say anyway… nor what she should say to her mother and Geneva, especially if they expected her to ‘choose a side’.

Contemplating the situation, she felt that her best role would be to try to provide a calming and objective influence, much as she did with her students when dealing with hormone-fuelled teenage arguments.

Jamie was also contemplating the situation, but was not as clear as Isobel on his best role. His instinct was to go in all guns blazing, ready to shout and swear at Geneva and her mother, demanding that he be legally recognised as William’s father. He knew, however, that threats and demands would not help here, and could potentially harm his case, should it end up in court.

But there was also a sadness. He had believed that Geneva and her mother would stop the game-playing once William had arrived, that they would understand there were no winners or losers, just everyone wanting the best for the baby. And now, realising that his trust that they would ‘do the right thing’ had been totally misplaced, he was hurt and, being honest, was annoyed with himself and his naïveté. He had assumed everybody possessed a vein of decency, no matter how deeply hidden. John had tried to counsel him, to get him to seek advice, but he had been sure it would all work out, that there was no need to involve lawyers. And now he was paying the price.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as Isobel pulled up outside Geneva’s house. Unfolding himself from the confines of Isobel’s Fiat 500, he quickly strode up to the door and pressed the bell. A murmur of voices floated out from the other side of the door before it was opened by Louisa. Geneva was nowhere in sight.

“Jamie.” Louisa acknowledged his presence sternly.

“Louisa, can I come in? I dinna think we want tae be havin’ this conversation in the street.”

Reluctantly, she stepped aside to allow entry into the hallway, but no further.

“I think I made our… that is, Geneva’s position clear over the phone...” Louisa began, before noticing Isobel standing behind Jamie. “Isobel, what are you doing here?”

“I went round to see how Jamie was doing after your, er, news this morning. You can’t expect him not to be affected by it, so I wanted to check he was ok.”

“He was ok? Ok?” Louisa’s voice began to climb in pitch. “It’s not him you should be worried about. He had his chances, plenty of them. Both before and after William’s birth. A father should support his child and the mother. If he can’t, or won’t do that, then he’s no right to be called a father. It’s about honour and decency.”

Jamie had remained silent throughout Louisa’s diatribe, but could no longer hold his tongue.

“God, how can ye talk about decency tae me? I have been nothin’ but decent throughout these months. I’ve treated Geneva with respect, even wi’ the games she’s been playin’. She told me and ma friends that the bairn is mine. So now, what is she sayin’? I’m no’ the father? And that makes her, what? A liar and a fr...” Jamie quickly stopped himself from telling Louisa what he really thought of her daughter. This was not the time or the place.

“That’s right, Mummy. She said that to me too. She can’t just change her mind because it’s not gone the way she hoped!”

Louisa turned angrily to her daughter. “How dare you stick up for him? Where’s your support for your sister? Do you not want her to be happy?”

Isobel opened her mouth to respond as a baby’s cry cut through the air.

Jamie reached his hands out to Louisa, tears filling his eyes. “Please, Louisa, that’s ma babe, let me see him. Ye canna keep me from him. Let me through.”

Louisa remained motionless, her face like stone.

“Geneva!” Jamie yelled. “Come out here. Let me talk tae ye. Let’s clear this up. Geneva… Geneva!”

Gradually, William’s cries died away. Geneva remained out of sight. Jamie slumped against the wall, not knowing what to say.

Louisa broke the silence. “I think you should go.”

Isobel took his arm. “Come on, Jamie, I’ll see you home.”

Jamie passively let Isobel lead him away. Just outside the house, he paused and turned back to Louisa, framed in the doorway.

He spoke quietly, his eyes blazing, his voice cold with fury. “William is ma son. We all ken that. Geneva has been tryin’ to play me fer months but tae resort tae this… blackmail is what it is. Well, I hope ye’re proud of yer daughter. Ye talk about honour and decency, but the two of ye dinna even ken what the words mean. If ye did ye wouldna even think about depriving that bairn of his father jes’ out of spite. And this isna the end of it, Louisa, I mean it. Get a lawyer. I’ll go tae court if I have tae. What lies will the pair of ye tell under oath, eh?”

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

Once Isobel and Jamie had left, Claire drifted aimlessly from room to room unable to settle, her mind whirring with all the possible scenarios that could be playing out over at Geneva’s. She was thankful that Isobel was with Jamie, providing a calming influence and hopefully preventing him from doing, or saying, something he would regret.

She opened the door to the recently decorated nursery. It was all there, just waiting for an occupant. The pale wood cot, the matching changing station and wardrobe, and the rocking chair in the corner all stood barren and unused. The set of twinkling fairy lights she had bought that week were still unopened in their packaging. Who knew when that would change now? She sat down on the floor, leaning against the cot’s bars and wept.

The tears were not for herself, as she had not had the opportunity to meet William, to form any bond with him. No, the tears were for Jamie and for William. Jamie had had several months of anticipation, readying himself to be a father, only to have that snatched away from him. And William, unaware though he was, was losing a parent.

Drying her eyes, Claire switched into her practical mode. If they had to go to court, they would. John would give them details of a suitable lawyer and they would win. Surely no Sheriff court would decide in favour of that bitch and her mother.

But until Jamie returned, she needed something to occupy her mind. She suddenly remembered the half stripped bed, and then planned to clean the bathroom.

********

Finally, after thoroughly cleaning the bathroom followed by a much-needed shower, Claire heard Jamie’s key in the front door. She rushed downstairs to meet him. Jamie sat on the bottom step, his face tired and drawn.

“I couldna see him, Claire. I heard him greetin’ but Louisa wouldna let me near him. Geneva didna show herself either. I hope that's due tae shame, but I am no’ holdin’ ma breath on that.”

Claire sat on the step above him. He leant back between her legs and looked up into her eyes, searching for comfort. She stroked his face, her hands gently trying to sooth.

“I’m goin’ tae ring John. He’ll ken what tae do, won’t he, Claire? It’s goin’ tae be alright, isn’t it? It has tae be.”

She brought her face close to his, her curls, still damp from the shower, falling onto his cheeks.

“Of course,” she replied, forcing a bright smile. “It will all work out, you’ll see.”

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

The floor to ceiling windows of the ultra-modern city centre office block afforded magnificent views across the city. However, the spectacle usually went unnoticed by those waiting in the chrome and glass reception area - they tended to be more preoccupied with the legal issues that were about to be discussed (and also the bill that would no doubt swiftly follow).

Jamie and Claire were no exceptions to this, and John took no interest either, having looked upon that view many times before. The three sat together, Jamie in the middle. Claire’s hand rested reassuringly on Jamie’s constantly jiggling knee. Only the chewing of her lower lip gave an indication of her nervousness.

John broke the silence. “You know I’m here as your friend, Jamie. The only lawyer charging his usual hourly rate will be Ned. Don’t be misled by the way he looks, by the way. He’s one of the best in family law. He can be an absolute arse when he needs to be, scares the shit out of other lawyers too.”

“Mr. Fraser? Mr. Gowan will see you now.”

John led the way into a large office dominated by a wall of floor to ceiling windows. The furniture was a light wood throughout. One corner of the office housed a black leather sofa next to a bookshelf full of children’s games. The whole room was bright, airy, and modern.

John warmly greeted the human anachronism seated behind the desk. “Ned, good to see you again. How are you?”

“John, man, I’m champion.” Ned moved from behind his desk to shake Jamie and Claire’s hands.

A small man, he was dressed in a three piece tweed suit in earthy greens and browns, with a green paisley bow tie. A pocket watch chain dangled across the waistcoat. He in no way resembled a serious lawyer commanding an eye-watering hourly fee, but appeared more of an Edwardian gentleman ready for a spot of shooting or deer stalking across the Scottish moors.

“Mr. Fraser, I’m Ned Gowan, and ye are…?” He addressed Claire.

“I’m Claire Beauchamp, Mr. Gowan”. Claire held out her hand to him.

“Claire is ma girlfriend,” Jamie interjected. “She’s here fer a wee bit o’ moral support, as is John.”

He thought for a moment, then hurriedly carried on talking. “But she wasna ma girlfriend when all this started. That was afore I met her, ye ken.”

Ned smiled politely. “Och, Mr. Fraser, I’m no’ here tae pass judgement on ye or yer choices. Jes’ to sort out any, er, inconveniences from the choices ye may have made.”

Ned returned to his chair and motioned for the others to sit. Ignoring the large computer screen perched on his desk, he rifled through a stack of folders before selecting one and opening it.

“Now, John here has given me, wi’ yer permission, the background tae this, er, situation, but I do have a few questions I need tae ask ye before we agree the next steps. It may become a wee bit personal. I dinna ken if Miss Beauchamp will wish tae hear the details.”

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Gowan, but I am fully aware of the details. I’ll stay if that’s ok.”

Ned nodded his assent and, unscrewing the cap of his fountain pen, began to make notes. “Right so, a few questions, Mr. Fraser. Were you in a relationship with Miss Dunsany at the time of the child’s conception?”

“No’ at that time. We had been in a relationship the year before, but I… we… had finished a few months before the, er, conception.” Jamie was unsure how to answer the lawyer’s questions, but decided on a formal response.

“Mm hmm. But you did have sexual relations with Miss Dunsany around the time of the child’s conception?”

“Aye, we went out for a drink and I… slept wi’ her. But I decided it wouldna work between us and told her so. Then I had nae contact wi’ her until she told me about the bairn two months later.”

“So, at that time, you only had sexual relations once?”

Jamie blushed and studied his hands.

“I shall rephrase that question, Mr. Fraser. You had sexual relations with Miss Dunsany on only one occasion?”

“Aye.”

“And did you use any form of contraception?”

“Geneva, that is Miss Dunsany, told me that she was on the pill. I had nae reason tae doubt her as she’d been on the pill previously.”

“When she informed ye that she was pregnant, did she explicitly state that ye were the father?”

“Aye, she did. She told me straight that the bairn was mine. And she told our friends and her sister that same thing. I can gi’e ye names. I visited the hospital wi’ her.”

Ned finished writing and leant back in his chair. “Why do ye think she has no’ included ye on the birth certificate?”

“Geneva made it clear that she expected us tae become a couple again. When I told her that wouldna happen, she spent the next few months trying tae get us together and fer me and Claire tae break up. As ye can see, we are still together, so I think Geneva has done this tae spite me. She couldna get her own way, and, like a child, she is lashin’ out. Trying tae hurt me.”

“And what do ye want, Mr. Fraser? What are we workin’ towards here? Full custody o’ the child? Shared custody?”

“I want tae be on the birth certificate, I want parental responsibility. I’m no’ looking for full custody, jes’ a fair access tae ma son, wi’ agreed times fer him tae stay wi’ me.”

“A fair ask, Mr. Fraser. I will write tae Miss Dunsany’s lawyer and ask fer a meeting tae agree to a settling o’ this wi’out goin’ tae Sheriff’s court. If that meeting does no’ resolve this issue, we will make it clear that we are prepared tae go tae court, and that there are people willin’ tae testify that she acknowledged ye as the father. And we can remind her that denying this in court could lead tae a separate case against her fer perjury. The court can also demand a DNA test be carried out. But we hope it willna get that far.”

Claire sensed Jamie relax in his seat. She felt a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. There was light at the end of this tunnel.

Ned carried on talking. “Now, if ye are looking tae share the child’s upbringing, her lawyer will no doubt be askin’ for assurance about yer personal life and stability. Which is where ye come in, Miss Beauchamp.” He turned and spoke to Claire directly. “They will be askin’ questions about ye and yer relationship wi’ Mr. Fraser. Are ye currently co-habiting wi’ Mr. Fraser?”

“No…” Claire started to answer.

E“Aye,” Jamie interrupted. “Ye are. I mean it’s not official and ye still have yer flat, but we’re together more than we’re apart. We’ve spent months tiptoeing around Geneva, trying no’ tae upset her, but nae more. I want it tae be official. I ken this is no’ the most romantic place, but ye canna get more reliable witnesses, so what do ye say? I love ye, Sassenach and I ken ye love me. I’ve not planned this like this, but it’s been on ma mind fer months now. I have nae ring...”

Jamie took Claire’s hands in his and knelt beside her chair. “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, I love ye, I ken I always will. Ye’ve been with me when it’s not always been easy for ye. Ye are the only one fer me and I want tae spend ma life wi’ ye. Truly, ye are more than I could have hoped for and I count ma blessings every day that ye are with me still. Sassenach… will ye marry me?”

Claire stared into Jamie’s deep blue eyes, so hopeful and focused only on her. She tried to speak, but somehow the words wouldn’t come.

“Come now, ma dear,” Ned said encouragingly. “Remember, ye’re still on ma time and I’m chargin’ by the hour.”

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes and spilling over onto her cheeks. “Oh, Jamie, yes. Yes I will.”

Jamie reached up and pulled her head down to him, laughing and kissed her tenderly, tasting the salty tears on her cheeks. She held him close, oblivious to Ned and John watching with some amusement, pleasure and perhaps just a hint of jealousy. Breathing in the scent of Jamie’s hair, a new sensation crept over her, a feeling of unbounded happiness and… home.

#outlander fan fiction #outlander fanfic #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #the ties that bind #chapter 31

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smokeybrand · 3 years

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Smokey brand Retrospective: Red Pill Me

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heavyarethecrowns · 7 years

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A Royal Affair: Meghan & the Royals.

In 2013, Man Booker Prize winning author Hilary Mantel, best known for her Wolf Hall duology, gave a speech at the British Museum. In it, Mantel eloquently interrogated the trappings of royal duty for women, and used both Marie Antoinette and Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge (a.k.a. Kate Middleton) as her prime examples. She recounts being asked at a book festival to ‘name a famous person and choose a book to give them’. Mantel said she chose a book on the historical importance of Marie Antoinette’s fashion for ‘Kate’ because she felt that the Duchess had been trapped by the blank personality and image she was forced to present to the public:

‘It’s not that I think we’re heading for a revolution. It’s rather that I saw Kate becoming a jointed doll on which certain rags are hung. In those days she was a shop-window mannequin, with no personality of her own, entirely defined by what she wore. These days she is a mother-to-be, and draped in another set of threadbare attributions. Once she gets over being sick, the press will find that she is radiant. They will find that this young woman’s life until now was nothing, her only point and purpose being to give birth.’

It’s a damning point, but one made with utmost empathy, stressing the dehumanising manner with which Kate was and continues to be viewed: She can’t have quirks because that could reveal controversial opinions; she can’t get too large or she’ll be called spoiled or be bombarded with pregnancy rumours for years; she can’t be too daring with her fashion because that’ll inevitably upset someone. Mantel notes the limiting narratives open to a woman whose sole duty to the crown, whether or not it is admitted, is to give birth.

Later, Mantel talks of Kate as the ideal figure for the job because she seems to have been ‘designed by committee’ and a world away from the troubles her late mother-in-law caused the British Royal Family:

‘Kate seems to have been selected for her role of princess because she was irreproachable: as painfully thin as anyone could wish, without quirks, without oddities, without the risk of the emergence of character. She appears precision-made, machine-made, so different from Diana whose human awkwardness and emotional incontinence showed in her every gesture.’

I heartily recommend you read the full piece because it seems like not many people have. About a month after she gave the speech, to little public response, the tabloids pounced on it as proof of Mantel launching an attack against Kate. Think-pieces galore were spewed on the nastiness of Mantel, frequently going after her own appearance, all under the justification that poor Kate had been bullied by one of Britain’s biggest authors. No self-awareness was exhibited that very week when breathless news coverage of a public event Kate attended focused almost exclusively on her hair, her clothes and her baby bump. Mission accomplished.

I think about this piece a lot and how defensive it made so many outrage merchants over the mundane and narrow realities of our monarchy. That fairy-tale image has done very well for the country, even as it becomes costlier, less relevant and, like Buckingham Palace, starts to crumble. Still, the fantasy remains of the handsome princes, their future brides and the glitzy weddings that will bring the world together in harmony.

William and Kate’s big day was feverishly reported upon by media worldwide, even those who had disposed of their own monarchies. Other European nations had their princesses of humble beginnings - the estate agent from Australia who married the Danish Prince, the former newsreader who is now Queen of Spain, the single mother with a dark past who found love with Norway’s future king - but they’ve never attracted the love of the Brits (the dregs of imperialism will do that to the planet). Kate Middleton is also a different breed of princess from those fellow consorts: Upper-middle class upbringing with a monied family, private education, little career to speak of, and strong connections to the elite. It was easy enough to twist into the Cinderella story, but in reality it’s just the country’s most upmarket society wedding. The glitz wasn’t there, and the British media still crave it.

Enter Meghan Markle. Actress. Former calligrapher. Advocate for the UN’s Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women. Ex-lifestyle blogger and clothing designer. Girlfriend of Prince Harry.

I’m not sure the British media, particularly the tabloids, know what to think of Markle. She ticks all the boxes they’ve been begging for when on the trail of the wilder royal’s love life: She’s beautiful, glamorous, and a career woman with lots of prior coverage to reference. Of course, she’s also a mixed-race American divorcee with vocal support for feminism and women’s issues worldwide, and that may be too much of a discernible personality of their liking.

It’s harder to project ideas and concerns onto Markle than it was onto Kate when she was still just Will’s girlfriend, a position she held on and off for a decade before Diana’s ring was slipped on her finger. Kate never spoke in public, she didn’t seem to have many hobbies, and she was always photographed in motion. Her life in the harsh glare of the public looked to revolve around exclusive nightclubs, working for her parents’ company, and being the dutiful plus-one to Will. Every photo could be gathered into a collection entitled “Public Relations 101”, as she spent a decade being prodded by the tabloids, derided as ‘Waity Katie’, and speculated over to within an inch of her life, and still she never put a foot wrong. There were no shocking revelations, no seedy tell-all moments (bar one uncle, and even then nothing juicy was revealed), and even her family seemed ready for primetime. Kate and her fellow Middletons were Teflon to scandal, which boded well for the Windsors. It must be said that The Firm’s refusal to get involved with the dirt of the commoners is glaringly hypocritical given their own status as the most gaffe-ridden family in the country, complete with toe sucking, tampon fantasies and basically everything that comes out of Prince Phillip’s mouth. Then again, class gives you the privilege to call such things quirks and not stains.

The British press have seemed less interested in Markle’s potential family drama, even though it fits a more scandal-friendly model. That’s nothing to do with Markle, of course, but certain estranged members of her family know a good opportunity when they see one. Her half-sister is trying to sell a book that ‘reveals’ Markle’s alleged social climbing, selfishness and cruelty, although few people seem to buy the set-up. It feels too much like bitter gears to grind than a true scandal to unfold. Perhaps it’s just a tad too Kardashian for the tabloids, who prefer to get their gossip through sneakier means. That’s not to say she wasn’t attacked by the press: Her films were picked apart for nude scenes, her race was fetishized and posited as a potential problem for the royals, and every aspect of her life as questioned as a possible block to becoming Harry’s wife.

A more shocking bride would probably be the dream pairing for the Brits when it comes to how they imagine the future of Prince Harry. The heir has the weight of responsibilities; the spare is free to truly screw up. From the infamous Nazi uniform fancy-dress costume to the nude liaisons in Vegas hotel rooms, Harry has always been our socially mandated bad boy - not irreversibly bad in the way rock-stars can be, but a redemption story in the making. William could never truly get down or let loose like a typical undergraduate because the security required and potential for trouble was too high. It’s partly the reason he went to St Andrews, one of Scotland’s oldest institutions that also happens to be in a small town with little nightlife and a very insular student community (his original choice was allegedly Edinburgh). Harry was expected to be bad on some level: It’s younger sibling syndrome, especially prevalent in the royal family, from Princess Margaret to Prince Andrew. As long as he put in the work - joining the army, establishing the Invictus Games - then a little bit of fun was no big deal.

In that aspect, Harry dating a jet-setting Hollywood star (albeit a C-list one at the most generous reading) on a show that can get a little risqué is far more in his wheelhouse than some of his previous girlfriends, who have been more in line with Kate or at least that aspect of upper-middle class society. There was Chelsy Davy, a party girl but one with a very wealthy background as the daughter of one of Zimbabwe’s largest private landowners; then there was Cressida Bonas, a dancer and actress with a Lady for a mother and good private education. Markle is also privately educated, with an Emmy winning lighting director for a father, but that kind of schooling in America does not tend to carry the markers of power that it does in the UK, where only 6% of the general public attend private schools but they make up over 70% of high court judges and close to half of all Bafta winners.

Markle is arguably as tailor-made for the job as Kate was, but the key difference is that Markle’s work was done independently, and not under the gaze of a press waiting for an engagement ring. I remember the sheer glut of obsessive interrogation Kate faced from the press the moment she graduated from university, thus forcing her and Will to leave the safety of St Andrews and the press’s agreement to leave the prince alone while he studied. It seemed as though, every day, there was a new set of photos of her leaving her house or walking to work or leaving a nightclub. Sometimes she looked understandably dour but mostly she had the same muted expression on her face, a clear sign of appropriate training on how to deal with the paparazzi. Kate was always a woman achingly aware of what people expected from her, and the limitations put in place by her position as a royal girlfriend, meaning she had the clout but none of the protection since the palace don’t tend to officially step in and warn off the press unless she has a ring on her finger.

Nothing Kate did would ever be the right move in the eyes of a cruel tabloid culture: She was criticised for waiting on Will to pop the question, she was derided for her weight, her employment was questioned while new opportunities opened to her were dismissed as benefits given by merit of her boyfriend, her clothes weren’t classy enough and then they were too boring for someone her age, and her family were posited as the new Bennets in waiting, with a social climbing sister and a mother eager to get the best marriages for her kids. Through all of this, Kate still did all the right moves: She stayed silent, she didn’t run to the press or get caught in a fake sheikh sting operation, and she remained as dignified as possible throughout. Despite it all, Kate still had to be relatable, just like one of us, the fantasy we all could live. Keep calm and carry on. Short term criticism for long term gain.

Meghan, by contrast, was given an unprecedented declaration of public support from Harry and the palace after their relationship was revealed. Not only was she discussed by name, the press was called out for sexist and racist abuse levelled at her, and the prince made a strident plea for her right to privacy. Any support Kate received from Will on an official basis was delivered in much vaguer terms.

Markle has also worn many hats throughout her career and done so with the expected level of exposure for a supporting cast member in a USA Network show, a far less turbulent narrative than one of a future consort. Most of her acting work prior to Suits, where she plays paralegal Rachel Zane (Rachel is also her real first name), was minor bit-parts in film and TV, from soap operas to procedurals. She appeared in two different iterations of CSI but has never done a Law & Order stint. Her filmography is not one that inspires Grace Kelly comparisons but it does reveal the typical life of a working actress, the kind of narrative that’s overlooked in favour of the bright young things who break it into the big time La La Land style. As someone who grew up adjacent to Hollywood, it’s easy to imagine that Meghan was aware of the harsh reality of the industry and knew a back-up option would be required. Her Northwestern University degree is in theatre and international studies, and her time as a student included an internship at the U.S. embassy in Buenos Aires, so a step into the humanitarian world made sense.

Her charity work has included becoming a Global Ambassador for World Vision Canada (she is Toronto-based as Suits is filmed there), where she travelled to Rwanda for the Clean Water Campaign, collaborating with One Young World, where she gave a speak at their annual summit, and becoming an official UN Women Ambassador. Her focus is on issues of poverty, gender equality and modern-day slavery, and all the ways those intersect. She’s written for Time on the stigma of menstruation in developing nations and how that can prevent access to education for girls. Vanity Fair even honoured her as a humanitarian to watch, photographing her alongside Fatima Bhutto and former President of Ireland, Mary Robinson. Celebrity philanthropy is an issue that’s raised many concerns over the decades, with some questioning the ultimate effectiveness of it when more attention is ultimately paid to the star and not the cause. Markle seems like a good exception to that rule: Before Harry, she wasn’t wildly famous so offered less of a distraction, and she had the education and work to back up what she was doing.

She also has hobbies and side-hustles that made her easy to define, as witnessed by her once active social media presence. One of her ventures, The Tig, was a Gwyneth-style blog with a focus on food, lifestyle and her humanitarian interests. The site was part self-promotion, part sweetly executed shine theory. She wasn’t afraid to get political, discussing the civil rights movement and racism’s impact on her family; she delighted in some Eat Pray Love shenanigans involving food and travel; she even offered BFF-esque advice to readers on everything from beauty to self-worth and voting. Nowadays, you can’t actually read the site, as Markle shut it down in April of this year, declaring that ‘it’s time to say goodbye.’ Around the same time, she also stepped down from her role as a brand ambassador for Canadian fashion store Reitmans, where she had helped to launch her own ‘accessible’ line of business-smart pieces. Her social media content has dried up too.

Immediately, engagement talk started up, because what other reason would she have for wrapping up satisfying and profitable business opportunities if not for an upcoming wedding? The prospect of having to give up so much of yourself to take on the role of wife cannot help but feel like a duty from another time, one that can be extremely dehumanising. It’s one Kate was familiar with: Allegedly, her commitments to Will in-between his duties and work made it hard for her to find flexible employment, thus exacerbating years of ‘Waity Katie’.

If Meghan does indeed marry Harry, everything has to go: The American citizenship, the acting career, her personal freedom, and her ability to live publicly within her own means and control. She will be expected to continue her charity work but probably with less say in the way she conducts it. Her clothes will be safer, any public speeches she gives limited and tightly edited, and she certainly won’t be sharing any of it on Instagram. Like Kate, she’s had time to grow used to fame and exposure, so the transition will be far easier than it ever was for 19 year old Diana Spencer, but the spectre of the Princess of Wales will loom ever-present over her dutiful life.

Basically everything Kate does is compared to Diana - ooh, were the polka dots she wore when leaving the hospital with Prince George a deliberate call-back to Diana? Would Diana approve of the children’s upbringing? Didn’t Diana have shoes like that? Remember when Diana also went to a charity event like Kate? She cannot help but be an heir to the potential the world hoped to see from Diana before the fairytale dissolved. For Meghan, that will be an inevitable problem, but not as immediate as the constant comparisons to Kate, which began almost as soon as the relationship was revealed. Outfits were compared and asked who wore it better, rumours flew about apparent tensions as well as instant friendships, and every dedication was made to prove that the pair were just like one another, despite evidence to the contrary. There will be less pressure for Meghan to breed but the intricacies of her reproductive organs will be scrutinized to the death if she isn’t pregnant quick enough. If a marriage takes place, you can rest assured that the eagerness to craft a catfight narrative will be evident from the get-go.

There’s a solid chance Meghan and Harry may already be engaged after going on holiday to Africa, where Will also proposed to Kate. We could see the dream-come-true Cinderella story play out all over again, all in service of a woman who has worked too hard and achieved too much to be labelled so narrowly. The monarchy is a splintering institution that thrives from appropriate decoration. Will and Kate have provided that for several years now, smiling and waving and occasionally wearing the same outfit twice just like the rest of us. Duchess Meghan will not be a person so much as a brand combined with a fantasy and the weight of centuries of historical expectations. The press will love her, then be cruel if they don’t think she’s doing things the way she’s supposed to. Hilary Mantel knew the cost of such inevitable cruelty, something that’s often omitted when talking about her now infamous speech. As she put it, ‘We don’t cut off the heads of royal ladies these days, but we do sacrifice them, and we did memorably drive one to destruction a scant generation ago. History makes fools of us, makes puppets of us, often enough. But it doesn’t have to repeat itself.’

SUBMITTED

I remember the press going after Mantel, saying she was attacking Kate.

I remember it because if you read what she said she was attacking the press not Kate and so you knew they were but hurt over her attacking them!

#duchess of cambridge #kate middleton #meghan markle #prince harry #article #submission

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